#I think these terms need to be widely taught

[auckie]

I think the things that offend me most nowadays in like, smaller interpersonal interactions rather than grand, sweeping trends in culture, are when people chose to not partake in a wide set of things. Like musical close mindedness, or refusal to try different foods from different cultures. Not watching an entire subset of films bc they’re ‘french’. Avoiding reading bc you say you have adhd and it’s too hard. Like dude I get it, I’m busy. I can be picky. Everyone can. But the willful ignorance of closing yourself off to those VAST portions of the human experience, and not having curiosity and a lust to learn and explore art that was made by someone worlds apart from you either in terms of their culture, era, whatever. I dunno man it just pisses me off so bad. I think it’s arrogant. Like oh you’re comfortable in your safe little bubble huh? And you’re enforcing its barriers with the excuse that you’re autistic and have sensory issues. With music made by black people?? lol okay. It is pretty presumptuous for me to assume malicious intent but I think those prejudices are borne from either the comfort of being someone who’s wealthy and probably white not feeling the need to learn past what they think is enough, or it’s a reflection of a society that’s taught you to prioritize what it shills— popular, current (white, depending where you live ig) artists who are making streamlined, easy to digest content. Often when I meet people with these issues they’ll have one particular ‘niche’, and it tends to be like. 70s music. Victorian literature. Anime and Japanese games. But they’re still not really investing beyond the media presented. Like there’s so much more to Japanese culture than liking some cartoons put out between 2010-2020. You don’t gotta become some sorta Einstein who learns the background of every little freak in FGO yeah. But don’t you wanna aim higher? Aren’t you interested in any of the historical figures? And nothings wrong with hopping onto a trend. You read Dracula bc of that Dracula daily thing. Cool! Read more. Some people will say they’re chronically ill or disabled and can’t get outside. That’s okay. The internet is full of things you can read other than fanfiction, YouTube has a shit ton of free music. There’s Wikipedia and free articles online if you have questions about things. Yeah nobody is spending four hours a day looking at the national archives website and studying art history but it’s imbued in the things around you, and youll absorb it ambiently as you go along. you dont have to be a jack of all trades and cover every major genre of every major medium, but it never hurts to try! I really love seeing ppl ask too. Bc it can be kind of humiliating to admit to what seems like some jackass hipster that you’ve never delved into, idk, Serbian films (lol not that one). And hopefully if whoever you’re asking will give you honest good recommendations and not berate you. I’m kind of berate a straw man rn I guess. The hostile tone def doesn’t lend to an atmosphere of sharing but I cannot tell you how many times I’ve rbed anything involving specifically jazz only to see someone rb and add the stupidest comment on the post, or in the tags, or go into my inbox to be like waaah I don’t like jazz bc it’s boring and old and for pretentious hypocrites who hate neurodivergent people! Like what are you TALKING about. Fine if you don’t like it but don’t try and rationalize that as a moral standing you shit lark. And just as they’re allowed to dislike jazz I’m allowed to not really enjoy people who don’t like jazz. Or country. Nautical knots. Knit wear. Watching urbex YouTubers get their shit rocked by squatters. Korean food. Pachuco fashion and stupid ugly low riders. Bollywood films. and they don’t want to try any of those things either yknow? The next thing I’m getting into is circuit bending.

[owlespresso]

dogged pursuit. dr veritas ratio. pt 1 of ? summary: you've been appointed as the bodyguard of one doctor veritas ratio after a failed attempt on his life. he's easy to get along with, so long as you learn when to plug your ears and focus on his washboard abs. tags. suggestive content, reader insert is a bit of a freak

—

The planet of Orchestron-IIV is a classic vacationing spot. Though it’s covered by floodplains and forests, the real attractions are its coasts and its tropical islands—a region lovingly named Sene Verde. White sand beaches stare out into the glistening waters, where the capital city sits beneath the waves. You’re sure the underwater city is a sight to see. 

Pity that your client’s itinerary doesn’t include a visit to it. Instead, you’re stranded in an IPC-sponsored villa, a three-story home with three bedrooms and a pool which is ridiculously large for being right next to the ocean. Veritas, Intelligensia Guild prodigy, notorious bastard, and smoking hot piece of ass, prefers it much to the beach. He lounges next to it or inside of it, stretched underneath umbrellas or beneath the cool chlorinated waters. 

You don’t really get all the complaints going around about him. He’s pretty easy to work under, as long as you follow his every command. Which, as a bodyguard, is not very many. He’s pretty capable of handling himself. He made that much painfully clear from the moment you first met. You recall, fondly, the fit he pitched after he learned you’d be shadowing him through this entire trip. 

You don’t remember the specifics of what he said. Just a lot of belly-aching. You were too busy staring at his arms to really care—and that slutty little cut out on the side of his outfit. And really, what business does a scholar have wearing something so revealing? Surely, his students must be beside themselves at how distracting it is. He’d nearly wrung your neck when you posed the question, only half in jest.

Throughout the past two weeks, you’ve come to understand him better, you think. He comes from a planet where nudity isn’t that big of a deal. He wants people to know more things, and thinks it should be free for people to gain said knowledge. In the long hours you spend together, idling between his various meetings, he tries to teach you. At first, it begins with complex theorems and equations you never had any hope of solving. Then, surprisingly, he adjusted his ravings to be gentler on your poor, uneducated brain.

As big the stick up his ass is, he sticks to his principles. He always makes time to talk to you, to explain the vast mysteries of the universe in terms that you mostly understand. 

“I don’t really get the wind,” you say, dropping unceremoniously onto the beach chair beside him, stretched beneath the shade of another wide umbrella. You rest your cheek on your forearm, look him up and down through half-lidded eyes. He’s wearing satin robes today. They’re milk white, with golden embroidery, little patterns stretched across the sash tied around his waist. They reach only his mid-thigh and drape over only half of his torso. The rippling muscle of his chest and taut abdomen are bare for you to admire, his nipple pebbled atop the bountiful curve of his pec. 

He looks like you’ve just spat in his coffee, eyeing you exasperatedly over the tops of his sunglasses. “You don’t get the wind?”

“Like… where it comes from,” you drawl, absentmindedly dragging a finger over the course material of the chair. “I didn’t go to any fancy school growin’ up, so…”

This is your favorite game. 

He purses his lips and narrows his eyes, as if contemplating if engaging with you is worth it or not. In the end, he falls prey to his own, most fervent desires: the urge to dispense knowledge and the cloying need to make his intellect known.

“Well, the basic principles would have been taught in a rather elementary course,” Veritas says, matter-of-fact, in a way that means he isn’t intentionally looking to demean you. “Wind forms due to differences in pressure within a given planet’s atmosphere. The amount of it—or whether it happens at all varies from planet to planet.” he begins—and you linger in the sound of voice rather than the words themselves. You already know the basics of what you’ve asked. You just like to hear him talk. 

Because once he gets to talking, he can hardly ever stop.

Sometimes, he isn’t good at it. He’s abrasive. He agitates the IPC’s clients. You can see it in the taut pull of their shoulders, the way their lips twitch to fight their oncoming frowns. He’s too direct. He doesn’t mouth off, per say, but there’s something in his demeanor that lets them know he thinks they’re not as intelligent. It’s all tight handshakes and tight smiles in the end, but when he’s at last alone with you, shrugged off the heavy mantle of mandatory pleasantries, he fumes.

Midday has lapsed into early evening. Blue burgeons and encroaches on all the sun had once touched. The shadows grow long and the temperatures at last begin to dip, though remain balmy as you tread up the sandbar. A series of wooden staircases zigzag up the slope, leading up to your villa’s street. You trail after him as he talks—rants, really.

“They reached that conclusion based on a survey done by a prospective Genius Society member—one who doesn’t even specialize in the field!” he says with an exasperated sigh, kicking up grains of soft white sand. “He likely hasn’t even set foot upon Orchestron-IIV. How are we supposed to trust the word of a man who hasn’t even directly interacted with its native population?”

“Good point. I guess you can’t,” you agree, nodding factually. The stairs creak underfoot as you reach them, beginning the small climb up the bar. You don’t really remember the fine points of the argument—some prospective IPC investment in an underdeveloped, neighboring planet, one plagued by mysterious weather phenomena and potentially combative native populations. 

“They should have consulted Aventurine before dragging me all the way out here for consultation. He would have known better than to trust such a half-baked proposition, and with such little data to back it up!” he repeated, as if in disbelief, before looking at you sharply. “Do not tell him I said that. This conversation stays between us, and us alone.”

“I like it when we keep secrets together,” you sigh dreamily, skipping up the last few steps with a flourish. The sunbleached wood creaks beneath your leather boots. He tosses you an eyeroll over his shoulder.

“I’m serious,” he fixes you with a fiercely scrutinizing look. “If he is to receive any of my praise, it will come from me, and me alone. And when I deign to give it.” 

The relationship your charge has with one Aventurine should, in all respects, be of little to no interest to you. Yet, you are still human. You fall prey to petty curiosity as easily as any other. The good doctor would no doubt pitch another fit were you to pry now, so you simply guess it’s a power thing between the two of them. You don’t know Aventurine well enough to think otherwise.

“You seem awfully close to that guy,” you remark instead, testing the waters. 

“We’re business partners. Nothing more, nothing less. When the IPC is in need of my expertise, it is he who they reach out through and he who I collaborate with most often,” Ratio informs you, crisp and unfeeling, like he didn’t just say something incredibly odd and potentially possessive about the individual in question.

��Mm,” you hum in assent, pretending all of that is normal. “Well, keep on your toes around him.” You reach the top of your ascent, tailing him onto the quiet streets. Most of the avenue’s occupants are likely still on the beach or further in town, enjoying the resort city’s nightlife. 

Veritas looks at you, then, something sharp in his eyes. “And why would you say that?”

You tilt your head to the side as you regard him, coming into step beside him. He slows down his strides, eyes suddenly flinty, countenance withdrawn into something deliberating, defensive.

“He’s high up in the IPC, isn’t he? I wouldn’t trust any of those Stonehearts further than I can throw ‘em,” you say with a small shrug. 

“And yet, here you are on their behest.” Veritas says.

“Awh, you caught me,” you give him a roguish smile, lifting your hands in a gesture of surrender. “But answer me this: does anyone really trust their employer? I’m not gonna bite the hand that  feeds, but I’m not gonna love on it, either.”

“I see,” he says with a small sigh, and that strange steeliness vanishes. The taut line of his shoulders loosens and his eyes shut for a long moment.

“It helps that I like you, too. You’re real easy to work with,”

He gives you an incredibly skeptical look. “Am I?”

“Yeah. Why so surprised?” you give him a toothy grin. Even he knows how insufferable of a reputation he has. “You get fussy sometimes, but it’s not a big deal. And I like hearing you talk, so it’s not a big deal.”

“I am not ‘fussy’. I have standards befitting someone of my intellect and station,” he says, looking down his nose at you. He pauses beneath one of the street lamps as it flickers on, yellow light glimmering on all the gold bobbles attached to his ridiculous outfit. He opens his mouth to speak again, to give you another tongue-lashing, but he must realize by now that you like those, so he shakes his head and sighs instead, like you’re the difficult one. “Forget about it. I have better things to do than dawdle around with you.”

He’s still pissy from that meeting, earlier, you observe passively. Your gaze lingers on his back as he speed walks away from you, broad muscle rolling beneath taut, pale skin. Your mouth waters. You follow him.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi, I have a question for you about TWST. Do you think that in terms of medical care and technology our world is more advanced in some ways? I had this one idea that in TWST they don’t know CPR because they have magic. Also do you think that they had a moon landing or a space race?

On the contrary, I think Twisted Wonderland’s medical care and medical technology is more advanced than ours, if not just as advanced. Twisted Wonderland has many of the same inventions as we do (cars, smartphones, social media, etc.) and even magical variants of those (a magical wheel/blastcycle is a magic-powered motorcycle), so it doesn't make sense to me that medicine and healthcare would be the one area where the real world is ahead of TWST's. Twisted Wonderland would be more advanced than us because magic would allow them to enhance their technology to surpass what we are realistically capable of. Technomantic assistive devices integrate elements of both technology and magic to assist those with impairments. Additionally, healing potions (which accelerate the speed of one's recovery) existed as far back as 400 years ago. For those skilled in potionology, they may whip up antidotes on the spot with the right medicinal herbs.

I also don't think that the existence of magic completely negates the need for regular first aid procedures. Non-magical methods and skills must still exist since the majority of the population are non-magical. Among humans, 90% are completely incapable of magic and of the remaining 10%, most of them are not able to produce enough magic to so much as lift a cup. Very few left are competent enough to become skilled mages, and even fewer are competent enough to become medical mages. Why would the entire healthcare system of the world be entirely based in magic when so few people would be capable of administering that kind of care? CPR and first aid exist in the first place so the common everyday average Joe can help others until actual medical personnel can arrive. It wouldn’t make sense to gatekeep these skills or for them to not have been invented simply because magic is A Thing. In fact, magic is not widely accessible and is implied to be kept for the elite and well-off (more on that here and here).

“Not many humans can use magic, so we turn to chemistry for stuff like this,” Trey says in his Silk Adorned vignette when explaining to the group how the colors of fireworks can differ. The existence of regular sciences—devoid of magic—implies the existence of regular medicine as well. Remember too that not all schools teach magic, therefore regular subjects must exist and be widely taught in non-magic schools.

It should also be noted that, even with magic, it's not a perfect solution for every ailment out there. For example, the healing potions in 7-68 do not instantly restore Lilia to full health; he notes that he must still rest and that his magic is still depleted to the point where he cannot fly back in the direction he just came from.

Magic was also not always viewed as a positive either; a few hundred years ago, it was viewed as a frightening thing. Mages were referred to derogatorily as “witches” and “wizards”. Most societies were not structured around magic (and still aren’t to this day, with fae seeming to be the exception). This means that normal medicine and related first aid must have still existed since magical medicine was presumably not widely accepted.

All of that was to say that I’m pretty sure Twisted Wonderland still has CPR, among other means of non-magical medicine and healthcare 😅

Now as for your final questions, I do think that Twisted Wonderland has achieved space travel. Idia was able to launch Ortho into space in Wish Upon a Star, so the technology is definitely there. It should also be noted that spacesuits and astronauts have been mentioned in the 4koma, which implies the existence of space travel. Again, I’d also like to point out that TWST’s general technological advances are about on-par with ours (including modes of transportation), so there’s no reason not to believe they haven’t gone to space as well.

I don’t think there was a Space Race though? That’s an event that happened in our history, and we know that TWST, while borrowing ideas from irl does not cleanly align with reality. For example, the fictional countries we visit have elements from many cultures (Sunset Savanna has onsen eggs, which are Japanese, not African; Harveston has fashion and foods from various Nordic cultures, etc.).

For historical events… I think Twisted Wonderland is more likely to get its inspiration from Disney movies rather than look to actual irl history. It gets into too much muddy political tension otherwise, which I totally understand TWST wanting to keep out. There were probably other circumstances that led to the advent of space travel in Twisted Wonderland.

[pizzaronipasta]

It deeply confuses and saddens me that people so readily dismiss older video games as being lesser. Several of my favorite games of all time are among the oldest in their genres, and frequently get unfairly written off as "dated." It's a shame really, because these titles are diamonds in the rough, and ought to be recognized as the absolute gems they are.

A perfect case study for this topic is Metroid, released for the Famicom Disc System in 1986, and for the Nintendo Entertainment System in 1987.

This game is immaculate. It features some of the best design I've ever seen. Its atmosphere, aesthetics, narrative, gameplay, and controls are all on point. Its worst flaw is its buggy programming. And yet, a lot of people seem to hate it. They respect it as the precursor to its widely acclaimed sequels, especially Super Metroid, but not a lot of people appreciate it for its own merits. Why is this? I suspect there are three main reasons.

The first reason is that it doesn't directly tell you much. Most people nowadays play it on an emulator, and don't think to consult the manual, which would have come with a new physical copy and clarified some points of confusion. The manual even has a partial map of Brinstar, the game's first area, and suggests making your own maps as you play.

Even so, the manual doesn't tell you everything. The game conveys most of what it needs to through gameplay. Its opening moments demonstrate this expertly.

When you start a new game, Samus appears facing the camera. There is nothing visibly stopping you from going left or right, and nothing to indicate which way the game wants you to go. If you're used to games like Super Mario Bros., you might assume you have to go right.

If you do, you'll come to an impasse. The only way forward is too narrow for you to fit through. So the only way you can go is left.

Doubling back, you'll find you can go left from where you started, and come across the morphing ball. When you grab it, you'll seemingly be trapped. The place you jumped down from is too high to jump back up to, and the only other visible path is a narrow passage like you saw earlier. Obviously, you need to use the morphing ball to escape. The game has taught you this without a word.

You'll probably remember the impasse from before. Since you were given the tool to solve a similar situation, you'll naturally think to try it there as well. Thus, the game has taught you the core elements of the search-action genre, or as it eventually came to be known, the metroidvania: as you explore, you will reach obstacles; further exploration will reward you with the means of clearing those obstacles; and remembering where you encountered obstacles will reward you with swift progress.

But Metroid is not done teaching. Once you resume progressing to the right, you'll reach the bottom of a tall vertical shaft.

When I say this thing is tall, I mean it. The same pattern of platforms is repeated around a dozen times before you reach anything of note, and the whole thing is crawling with simple enemies. Up until this point, a player will probably have fought nearly every enemy they could; after all, defeating them removes them as obstacles, and rewards you with health pickups, which you'll need since Samus starts with only 30 out of 99 units of health. But here, attempting to kill every zoomer (yes, that's what the spiky things are called) will make your climb either extremely slow and tedious or extremely costly in terms of health. Unless a player is unreasonably persistent, they are likely to get bored or frustrated and begin evading the enemies instead. The fact that you can't damage the rippers, the only other type of enemy in this room, further helps to signal that the player needs to pick their battles. And so, yet another critical lesson is wordlessly taught: that you don't generally need to go out of your way to kill enemies, and that avoiding combat can save you time and resources.

Metroid continues teaching the player like this from start to finish. With patience, caution, and observance, you'll learn the game's ins and outs without even realizing it. The problem is that many players don't play with this approach, because of...

The second reason I think people dislike the game: preconceived notions of what old games are like.

NES games have a reputation for being unfairly difficult. The usual explanations for this are that they were still being designed like arcade games, which were meant to get as many quarters out of players as possible, and that they also used difficulty to artificially bloat play time, creating the illusion of better value for people buying them. There is some truth to both of these, but the phenomenon is largely overstated. Nevertheless, this reputation precedes games from that era.

As such, when players today approach a game like Metroid, they aren't expecting an actual well-designed game. They're expecting a brutal experience full of cheap bullshit and cryptic nonsense. When they get to that vertical shaft, they don't consider that they might be doing something wrong, they just assume that it's supposed to be tedious and frustrating. And so they never learn the game's lessons. When they find themselves turned around in the sprawling nonlinear level design, they're predisposed to getting overwhelmed and giving up, at which point they consult...

The third reason I think people dislike the game: walkthroughs.

The way people perceive old games, as described above, has led to the proliferation of walkthroughs. Now, there's nothing wrong with referencing a guide when you're stuck, or when you're trying to track down things you missed, or in other such situations. However, following one to the letter for the entirety of your playthrough ruins games like Metroid. When you have a handy set of step-by-step instructions on how to win, you have no incentive to engage with the game. You have no reason to even try learning level layouts or remembering what's where. Metroid ceases to be a game, and instead becomes a checklist.

It gets worse, though. When you always know precisely where to go next, the time you were expected to spend exploring and getting better at the game gets completely cut out. You don't have time to master the combat. You don't have the opportunity to get a feel for where secrets are most likely to be hidden. As your progress increases, your skill does not. Therefore, following a walkthrough like this leaves you sorely unprepared for the challenges in store for you. And so games like Metroid end up feeling like brutal experiences full of cheap bullshit and cryptic nonsense. A self-fulfilling prophecy.

In conclusion, please give older games a fair chance. Engage with them as earnestly as you would with modern games, and never rule out the possibility that you might be doing something wrong. And above all else, keep your walkthrough usage to a minimum.

There's a whole world of fantastic new experiences waiting for you. Enjoy.

[siswritesyanderes]

OMGGG YANDERE BRIDGERTON PLEASE

Okay, brainstorm.

I'm torn between wanting the characters to be ruthless in the non-violent social sense that leaves their opponents destitute, or leaning fully into "They're rich enough to get away with murder."

So, I'm thinking the Bridgertons are just ALL yanderes. It's just a family thing; just yanderes all the way down. They banter about it. Violet and (the dad; I forgot his name) were yanderes for each other, and their children are all amazed at how well their mother survived losing him so suddenly.

In their childhood, the Bridgertons are all platonic yanderes. (When they do have childhood crushes, they don't usually feel yandere towards those; they're just cute little childhood crushes.) With their friends, they tend to be highly protective, or clingy, or jealous. Any one of them will kill for their family without a second thought and bury the body on their own land. Maybe someone hurts little Eloise's feelings, Daphne tells their older brothers, and Anthony, Benedict, and Colin sink a body in the river that night. Or rather, Anthony and Colin do, while Benedict preserves their alibi.

(At this moment I'm going to write about the canon relationships of those of them who have those. I'm open to asks about what specifically you're looking for.)

Daphne is yandere for Simon. She has modeled herself to be the perfect diamond, and Simon, as much as he tries to be, cannot make himself harder than a diamond. In fact, he is moldable, and fragile, and she adores him. Simon is not a yandere and also doesn't really get that Daphne is a yandere. He hasn't been romantic like this with anyone before, so he doesn't know what a normal level of possessiveness is. He's been taught that women need to be wary of him, not vice versa. Her genuine innocence to matters of the flesh shields her from a lot of scrutiny. How can someone who has never touched herself be thought guilty of taking undue license with a man? How could someone with such wide, naive eyes be thought guilty of manipulating anyone? At every step, she guides him into the palms of her hands, and she loves how he succumbs.

If she ever had her eyes on someone other than Simon, in keeping with my fondness for poly yanderes, most likely she would first verify that Simon likes the person, too. It's not beyond her capabilities to guilt him for liking someone else and leverage that to get him to go along with whatever her plan is to pursue this unconventional relationship. But I think she would pick a gentler way to convince him, and only resort to shaming him if he resists the gentle approach. Maybe the one they both love can be hired as a "nanny" or "tutor" for their children, and they can enjoy their intimate company in the comfort of their own home. That could work even if the person marries someone else, and anyway, who's to say the unfortunate rival won't trip on a slick road or drunkenly fall into the Thames?

Anthony thought he felt that Bridgerton obsession for Siena; he pursued her relentlessly on the basis of what he believed he was supposed to feel. When that didn't pan out and he still felt basically like his normal self, he decided that he must not be like the rest of his family. And good! Because he didn't want to fall in love anyway.

Then he met Kate, and suddenly his ruthless self is unleashed in full. She was the sun in the morning, the air he breathed, and he needed as many hooks in her as possible to make sure she didn't go anywhere. When she seemed to distrust and resent him, he courted Edwina. Now Kate had to be around him. But as he wormed his way closer to her, she planned to leave for India as soon as Edwina was married. That couldn't be allowed. Every step he took was contrived to erase the possibility of Kate leaving him. Honestly, we could say that he deliberately caused her to fall off her horse, if we wanted to. Kate does recognize that he feels and behaves abnormally toward her, but once she comes to terms with being romantic with him in the first place, she's able to handle his yandere side pretty easily.

If he ever had his eyes on someone other than Kate, he might kidnap them in secret. Again, he just needs them not to leave. Kate finds out, because she's on top of everything always. She isn't really yandere, but she already manages his obsession with her on a daily basis. Now, she manages his obsession with the new person, the ethics of kidnapping, and the need to contain the scandal of what he's done, by basically helping him to craft a plausible narrative around what happened. (Maybe they found you in the woods, having gotten lost and ill, and were keeping you in their home until you were well enough. You're still not allowed to see anyone; who would question the Bridgertons? Kate makes sure you're comfortable and reins in Anthony where necessary. He worships her for being so understanding of his needs.)

I haven't seen season 3 yet and so I don't have a full handle on Colin right now.

Benedict will gladly pine forever. He has a kind of romantic enjoyment of the sensation of yearning, so he could paint his love and watch his love and tease his love forever. But, given the expectations of the society they live in, his love might be obligated to marry someone. He will very amicably ruin anyone his love courts. Scandals everywhere. Without the slightest dip in his wistful smile, he will set everything into place to have his rivals socially destroyed, in the ton, and when his love is left with no one else to court, then he will appear with all the love in his heart. If the person is looking for a husband, then he's their last chance. If they're looking for a wife, then Benedict will cleverly contrive it so that they read as best friends, artistic partners, whatever else. Maybe his love has found themself to be inexplicably cut off from any money and resources they once had. The crucial thing is that he will never have to vie for attention. He only has to introduce himself, and they will concede to his love willingly. And then he'll unload his deluge of paintings and sculptures and poems onto them. He might do this with Madame Delacroix.

Also, maybe Penelope's a yandere? Just separately. Idk, she has too much subtle power to ignore.

[cozymochi]

Hi it’s🍍 anon again! Hope you’re having a good day/night!

I’d love to hear your yap sesh, but which events do you see your ocs participating (being coerced) in?

Tia’s a given since she’s the prefect she’ll be in every event (being the absolute girlboss that she is)

ITS MORNING FOR ME SO I GOT ALL DAY. Well it was when I started writing, lmao.

For the main in-game events we’ve seen? None. Well, excluding Scary Monsters, Beanfest and Port Fest. But, those are like, school-wide participation with mobs so that doesn’t really count, does it? Also Master Chef/Culinary Crucible I can also see happening since that’s also a school thing. …And maybe Spectral Soiree but like, the entire school got kidnapped to sent to the ghost realm for a party, so that probably doesn’t count either. 💀

(I am very much treating them as NPCs who have virtually nothing to do with whatever the main cast do, since… well, they are NPCs in the grand scheme. …With faces.)

With existing events, it’s hard to say, because if it isn’t a schoolwide event, my brain automatically will take in the reality that they well, weren’t there. At least not as mains. But, chalk up my hesitance mostly being from my distaste of throwing characters into situations they weren’t initially present for. If I do do it, I’m very much a “if something gets added in, something else needs to be cut out” for balance reasons. With exceptions of course. I’m not hyper strict “grrr canon this canon that”, I just think having limits nets better results for creative problem solving.

…Though, If I’m reading vignettes, I do sometimes slot the boys onto faceless NPCs if it makes me lawl.

You cannot tell me that the faceless guy who tripped in Diasomnia and almost sent a plate flying into Malleus’ face wasn’t Cecil sakshshgshsvj (See: Sebek’s Tsum)

BUT… If Fairy Gala having a “Remix” taught me anything, and the many many Halloween events, it’s that completely alternate versions of previous events starring different characters can happen and just kinda be there. I think it would be very funny if they had tsums, that’d be chaotic. It’s a little easier to work with if it’s an alternate version of an existing event or say, a seperate starter concept or Hometown events.

…

OKAY PREAMBLE OVER, NOW FOR THE REAL CRUD.

Optional further reading of my dumb conceptual yapping under cut.

[THESE ARE ALL THEORETICAL CONCEPTS. There are no visuals and virtually no stories beyond extremely early pitches. It’s not clear if I’ll ever act on these. Some more likely than others but, it’s hard to say. No promises.]

Cecil Mugwort

> Revenge of Pumpkin Knight (Halloween Event)

Piggybacking off of the original Scary Monsters and taking place the night the festivities end. Featuring Idia’s beloved B-List movie, Pumpkin Knight. Except, the “Sleepy Hollow” allusions are at the forefront. Fun and games are over, it’s time to do some real scaring. Especially towards plebs who can’t respect good material if it bit them in the face. Aside from that gambit, the plot of this is currently murky.

I just want Cecil to the Ichabod Crane in this situation who is going to be the main brunt of an extremely elaborate prank by Idia. (He has partial inspiration from Ichabod, not huge, but I did look at him in terms of vibes.)

Cast not established.

> Unnamed Mage Competition (Cecil Hometown: Currently unnamed village, Shaftlands.)

There’s a magic competition of some sort in his quaint little hometown. He drags some school peers with him. I do not have the details for this sorted out, but a theme about siblings is something I’d like to be present. That, and learning about Cecil at a more personal level outside of school. As of now it’s mostly referencing two different eps of Sofia the First, but mushed.

Cecil’s older fraternal twin sister, Claudia, would be introduced.

Potential Cast: Jade, Cater, Silver, MC/Grim

> Sam’s New Years Sale

It’d be funny. Put him in retail.

————

Nyoka Wadjet

> [REDACTED IN PROGRESS THING. CANNOT DISCUSS IT.] Halloween Centric.

> Unnamed event (Nyoka Hometown: Currently unnamed city, Sunset Savanna)

I do not have the details for this sorted out, but it would serve as a follow up to the previous. Something about the Wadjets in particular and some sort of weirdly specific shenanigan. It also involves exploring the reptilian culture in Sunset Savanna.

The new face that could be introduced is not established yet, it’s still up in the air. There are no names or designs yet.

Potential Cast: Ruggie, Trey, Sebek, MC/Grim

> *reads smudged hand* Sam’s New Years Sale also

Put him in retail.

————

Emilio Estrada-Alvarez

> Unnamed “Carnaval” event (Emilio Hometown: Shining Peninsula, *Unknown Country).

Emilio finally relents to his cousins pestering, and opts to return home for a big ass Carnaval. This really huge country-wide event with loud music, food everywhere, competitions, costumes and all sorts of good times. Most notable for the bedazzling lights implemented throughout. In his town it’s about celebrating light and love between others of all kinds and how it’ll shine forever or something. It’s meant to reflect the standards set by a Queen from legend who wielded a scepter whose love for others and her people was said to be able to control light itself.

This year his cousins family is spearheading the event in his town. She’s more swamped than usual since it’s her first time doing that, and wants Emilio’s help. And Emilio, being the dip he is, drags others with him. Though given who he chose, he might be trying to prove something. Also being crowned King of Carnaval is cool, maybe he wants that. Shenanigans ensue. As any hometowns go, Emilio will be explored further outside of school.

Emilio’s cousin Marisol would be formally introduced.

Potential cast: Ortho, Jamil, Malleus, MC/Grim

Shoutout to my various consultants who are not on tumblr.

> Unspecified “Día de los Muertos” type event. (Halloween Event, location not established)

Exactly what it says on the tin. No real further info here beyond that because it’s the most obvious thing. It would be very relevant to Emilio in particular on a personal level. Shoutout to dead parents.

> Port Fest Alternative Remix

Something about boats now, probably. He likes sailing and is competitive.

——-

[kiya-sparks]

Uhm-

This is my first ever post so here’s a small fanfic about Gaz from modern warfare adopting a child he finds on a mission :|

Uhm here it is ig:

The heat was oppressive, the kind that seeped into your bones and made you question every decision that led you here. Kyle Garrick, better known to his comrades as Gaz, adjusted his grip on his rifle as he moved through the desolate town. The mission had been straightforward—intel suggested that enemy forces had been using the abandoned area as a weapons cache. What they hadn’t expected was the eerie silence, the stillness that felt wrong.

“Clear on my side,” Price’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Same here,” Soap chimed in.

Gaz swept through a crumbling house, his boots crunching on broken glass and debris. The wallpaper was peeling, the furniture overturned. It was a ghost town. But as he moved into the living room, something stopped him in his tracks—a faint sound, almost like a whimper.

“Hold up,” Gaz whispered into his mic.

“What is it?” Price asked.

“Not sure. Checking it out.”

He followed the sound, heart pounding, until he reached a closet. Slowly, he opened the door, his rifle raised. What he found made his stomach twist—a little girl, no older than six, huddled in the corner. Her blonde hair was tangled, her face smudged with dirt, and her wide blue eyes stared up at him in fear.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz muttered, lowering his weapon.

The girl flinched, curling tighter into herself.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, crouching down to her level. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Her eyes darted to the gun, then back to his face.

“Gaz, report,” Price’s voice came through the comms.

“I… I found a kid,” Gaz said, still trying to process it himself.

“A kid?” Soap sounded as surprised as Gaz felt.

“Yeah. She’s scared out of her mind. I don’t think she’s been here long.”

Price’s tone shifted. “Bring her out. We’ll figure it out from there.”

Gaz extended a hand to the girl. “Come on, love. It’s not safe here.”

She hesitated but eventually reached out, her tiny hand slipping into his. It was cold, and it broke something in Gaz to think of her alone in this place.

---

Back at the makeshift base, Y/N , as they learned her name was, sat wrapped in one of Gaz’s jackets, clutching a cup of warm tea. She hadn’t spoken much, just short answers to their gentle questions.

“Parents?” Soap asked quietly as the three of them stood off to the side.

“Gone, I’d wager,” Price said grimly.

Gaz’s jaw tightened. “We can’t just leave her.”

“We’re not going to,” Price said. “But this isn’t exactly a daycare. She needs a stable home.”

The words hung in the air, and Gaz felt something stir in his chest. He looked over at Y/N , who was staring into the cup like it held all the answers. There was something about her—maybe it was the way she’d clung to him during the ride back, or the way she looked at him now, like he was the only safe thing in her world.

“I’ll take her,” Gaz said, surprising even himself.

Price raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that, son? This isn’t a short-term commitment.”

“I know,” Gaz said firmly. “But she deserves better than being tossed into the system. I can give her a home.”

Soap smirked. “Didn’t peg you for the dad type, mate.”

Gaz shrugged. “Guess I am now.”

---

The transition wasn’t easy. Y/N was shy, often retreating into herself. But Gaz was patient. He bought her toys, books, and a tiny pink bike she instantly fell in love with. He learned how to braid her hair, how to pack her lunch for school, and how to comfort her when nightmares woke her in the middle of the night.

The rest of the Task Force became her extended family. Soap was the goofy uncle who taught her Scottish slang, and Price was the gruff but caring grandfather figure who always seemed to have a Werther’s Original in his pocket for her. Even Ghost, with his intimidating demeanor, had a soft spot for Y/N, often bringing her small trinkets from missions.

One evening, months after he’d taken her in, Gaz sat on the couch, watching Y/N color in one of her books.

“Daddy?” she said suddenly, looking up at him.

Gaz’s heart stopped. She’d never called him that before.

“Yeah, love?”

“Are you gonna go away?”

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. He set his mug down and moved to sit next to her.

“I’ll always come back,” he promised, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “No matter what.”

She studied him for a moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. She went back to her coloring, and Gaz sat there, overwhelmed by the weight of her trust.

For years, he’d thought his purpose was on the battlefield, protecting the world from threats. But now, as he watched Y/N hum to herself, he realized his most important mission was right here at home.

[maxdibert]

Hello :))

I was reading some of your posts and I found them very interesting and educational, so I decided to ask.

What do you think Severus' relationship with the other DEs was like and how do you think it changed from the first war to the second? Cause I think thats another place where the power dynamics in Severus' life were very strong. Also why would Voldemort give the "poorest and least relevant", in terms of status, of the Death Eaters a favor as great as forgiving Lily? Did Voldemort have a different relationship or perception of Severus than the ones he had with/of thr others?

I think the similarities between Tom Riddle and Severus are enough to generate an involuntary respect from Voldemort towards another halfblood who was trying to get out of the mud he had been pushed into. I say involuntary because Voldemort would probably never want to admit that he sees his "old self" reflected in someone who is considered pathetic by the rest of the society he frequented (blood purists).

Reading some of the Sirius' posts I was thinking that Bellatrix's vision (in the second war especially) of Severus could be a lot like the one Sirius/James had, torn between that sense of superiority that was taught to them and the insecurity of knowing that somehow the halfblood was gradually taking away the place of other purebloods way more important (Lucius and all of the pureblood who were not in the inner circle) next to their lord. Why does Voldemort allow this displacement? What does Severus provide (aside from the information, he is a spy but I belive he could had leave Severus out of it and keep him just as an informant I he really wanted to) that no one else can give him?

This is longer than I expected, but just wanted to know what you think and Im not sure if you already talked about this. Hope you are having a good day I love your posts🫶

This is quite an interesting topic. Personally, I think of Severus as the Slytherin equivalent of Remus or Peter: someone who associated with the strongest out of necessity. Probably people like Lucius (who was older and likely already involved in shady things) must have noticed his potential. On top of that, it was obvious that he wasn’t someone with many social skills, and it was also apparent that he didn’t have many resources, making him perfectly manipulable. Severus was someone who wanted to fit in and find a safe space, and in exchange for that, he was probably willing to "sell" his talent. No wonder spells like Levicorpus became widely known throughout the school. Some people theorize that maybe someone else read the Potions book, but I think it’s more likely that Severus shared his magical successes with his housemates as a way to gain validation and respect as a wizard. His housemates probably used his spells here and there, and that’s how they spread. That seems the most logical to me.

I think the dynamic must have started and continued as something very paternalistic, like, “Let’s take in this one here who has no name or bloodline but has a lot of talent and is willing to do anything for us.” This is very common in gangs, cults, or religious groups: welcoming highly vulnerable individuals and exploiting their gaps and needs. And in this, I think Lucius probably played a significant role, judging by how, throughout the saga, various characters reference how well-regarded he is by Severus. In my personal headcanon, I think Lucius saw potential in Severus and wanted to make him his project: turning the poor boy who didn’t even have a penny to his name and was of mixed blood into someone who could demonstrate that, through effort and the "right" ideas, he could become “useful.” Kind of like the token figures that far-right parties use to excuse their racism and misogyny, saying they have racialized people or women to justify their positions. A way of proving that the problem isn’t the people themselves but rather their unwillingness to "adapt."

This idea holds a lot of weight in my imagination because I think that, in those early years, if someone could set the premise that someone like Severus should be respected in his house, it had to be someone who commanded respect within it. Lucius was older, had been a prefect, had a name and power, and the relationship between the two characters suggests that he could have been a sort of “mentor” to Severus. This would also explain his close relationship with Narcissa and how she knew how to get to his house without any trouble.

The issue with Voldemort is more complicated. Maybe Voldemort saw his talent and found it useful. Severus was an expert Occlumens to the point where even Voldemort couldn’t read his mind, a potions genius, and an excellent Legilimens. Perhaps he primarily valued the talent of his followers, seeing them as tools to achieve his goals. Maybe he thought it was a trivial matter to grant Lily the chance to live if it meant keeping one of his most talented followers happy. What’s clear to me is that, due to his inability to understand others’ emotions and feelings, Voldemort underestimated Severus’s request. Maybe he thought it was just a crush and that Severus wanted to shag her (I think this because of his comment about Severus supposedly having plenty of purebloods to choose from) and that once he got what he wanted, he’d move on. Typical horny young people stuff. I don’t think he stopped to consider the deeper implications of that request because he wasn’t someone who could see beyond his own navel, and he tended to underestimate his followers. I don’t blame him; most of his followers were fanatics who were easily manipulated. It wouldn’t be strange to assume he lumped Severus in with the rest, thinking that given his background and the fact that he joined the Death Eaters under Lucius Malfoy’s wing, he was just an impressionable kid desperate for a father figure (like Barty, lol).

I think unconscious similarities might have played a role, although I don’t think Voldemort saw Severus as a reflection of himself because Voldemort is far too narcissistic for that. In fact, that narcissism is his greatest weakness since it blinds him to others’ emotions and leads him to make mistakes (Lily sacrificing herself for Harry, Severus betraying him for Lily, or Narcissa betraying him for Draco). In that sense, I think if Voldemort could have liked something about Severus, it would have been the fact that it was thanks to his talent and wit that he managed to position himself above people who had everything from birth. That and his disdain for his Muggle side due to daddy issues could also be part of it. Still, it’s hard to know because I don’t see Voldemort as very rational in this aspect—he’s more of a narcissistic psychopath. Perhaps he also thought that since Severus came from nothing, he might have more hunger for power than anyone else precisely because he had nothing, and maybe that appealed to him. Whatever the case, it’s clear that Tommy didn’t know how to interpret or deeply analyze people, at least not beyond what suited him. His massive ego caused him to underestimate more than one person, which later cost him the war.

Of course, Bellatrix couldn’t stand him. Bellatrix and Sirius are very similar and behave in similar ways, only Sirius has fewer mental issues and is on the "good" side. But both are impulsive, loyal to a fault, somewhat sadistic, and prone to letting their anger take over. In HBP, we can see how Bellatrix distrusts Severus and the way she can’t stand him. Obviously, it’s not the same kind of hatred Sirius has for him, but it’s clear they have a very strained relationship to the point where Severus enjoys being rather sassy with her and throwing some verbal jabs. It’s evident she doesn’t respect him because he’s a half-blood and is somewhat envious of his position with Voldemort. Meanwhile, he doesn’t respect her because he knows she’s a crazy fanatic. At least Bellatrix is more honest than her cousin and wouldn’t hesitate to admit that Severus’s origins pissed her off. Sirius, in that sense, was always far more hypocritical. I’m not exactly sure what Severus offered Voldemort to earn his complete trust, and I think it’s a shame Rowling took many things for granted in her story and didn’t bother to expand or explain certain parts because there’s a lot of material there. Referring to what I mentioned earlier, I think it likely had to do with a mix of the talent Severus had demonstrated in disciplines similar to those Voldemort mastered and the fact that Voldemort tended to underestimate those around him. Perhaps he thought Severus, given his background and history, was more susceptible to blindly following him.

(This turned out a bit long, almost Biblical—my apologies, lol.)

[yamnjamslam]

hello friends, i'm posting this here because i don't have an ao3 acc yet and i'm spiraling over the fact that emmrich was 7th in the most romanced poll!! so, here's a purely self-indulgent drabble with my antivan crow rook cairo de riva (pictured in my pfp) tyvm (:

this takes place after the events from the game so beware spoilers!

_____________________________________

classes at the grand necropolis were in full session. mourn watch apprentices hailing from all corners of thedas gathered into the capacious lecture hall for a talk by the famous professor emmrich volkarin. the senior necromancer was more than eager to jump right back into teaching after being a member of the team that defeated the elven gods and ended the blight. as much as he had loved the adventure and the friends he made during that time, he always felt most comfortable in the walls of the necropolis doing what he truly loved, educating the up-and-coming generation of young scholars. the rows of seats were completely full by the time the talk was about to begin. the voices that were chattering about silenced as soon as a tall slim man approached the lectern.

“good evening everyone! i am professor emmrich volkarin, some of you may know me and others might not. no matter, i am more than excited to get to know you all this year and teach you everything you need to know about the wonders of the fade, spirits, and how to hone your skills in necromancy!” the professor’s voice protruded through the lecture hall, echoing off the walls so that even those in the far back could hear him. emmrich proceeded to approach the wide chalkboard that was in the center of the room and scribble down some important terms and diagrams.

cairo couldn’t understand a single thing that was being taught but was enjoying it all the same. being that he was the only one there that wasn’t part of the mourn watch, he was obviously not the target demographic for what he deems “this nerd shit”, but he was there nonetheless. he had probably heard the same lectures from the professor back at the lighthouse when cairo would barge into the man’s tower, take a seat at his desk, and demand to be educated. he loved seeing emmrich’s passion for his craft, the way his eyes lit up when one of his student’s raised their hand to ask a question, or the “wow”’s from the crowd when he performed an astonishing demonstration.

but, what the crow was really there for was the whispers from the crowd. he had developed a particularly keen sense of hearing throughout his time as an assassin so he was able to tune into the gossip that was circulating through the lecture hall while the professor spoke. most of the idle chatter was students discussing the topic amongst themselves or proposing thoughtful questions to one another in the hopes of asking for more clarification. however, some comments that floated to his ears intrigued him. “i heard the professor rejected the offer to become a lich!”, “yeah, apparently he did it to save that skeleton companion of his that’s always roaming around the necropolis…”, “ohh, well that’s understandable”. cairo had to agree with that one.

“the professor was part of the veilguard right?”, “yes! he fought beside lucanis dellamorte, first talon of the crows… ugh he’s so hot…” cairo had to hold in his laughter when thinking about how the first talon was probably sitting in the dellamorte villa right now, sipping a steaming hot coffee, completely unbothered, while being swooned over by a poor delusional mourn watch apprentice. priceless. “what? have you seen taash the dragon hunter? they can swing an axe to my head and i’d thank them!” cairo thought about the fact that taash was probably out in rivain right now, rummaging around a dragon lair, sweat dripping down their forehead from the harsh sunlight, probably daydreaming about throwing harding on their bed and… oh no, he couldn’t even imagine it, it was way too graphic.

“do you think the professor would ever have a relationship with one of his students?” now it was really getting good… “i dunno, don’t you think he might have a wife at home or something? he just seems like husband material for sure,” oh they were damn right about that. cairo was a malewife emmrich supremacist if he did say so himself. “you think he might be into guys instead?” one of the apprentices joked. cairo almost laughed aloud that time.

when the crow idly glanced at the clock, he realized two hours had gone by and the professor was already making his final statements. finally, it was his time to shine. suddenly, as emmrich was walking back to the chalkboard, an object flew across the lecture hall at the speed of light, landing just a hair away from the man’s head. the entire room gasped in surprise and began frantically looking around for the culprit who had disappeared like a shadow through all the commotion. the professor, eyes widened in shock, turned his head to gaze upon the cause of his near-death. when he observed it further, he noticed it was a dagger with a familiar design on the handle and a sticky note taped to the sharp end. emmrich released a breath he didn’t know he was holding as soon as he saw what was written: the words “i love you” scribbled inside a poorly drawn heart. he couldn’t tell if his own heart was beating out his chest from affection or the thought of his almost murder.

with a bejeweled hand, the professor pulled the dagger out of the chalkboard and placed it onto the lectern, “i apologize for the brief… intermission. however, that is the end of the lecture for the day, i hope to see some of you around the necropolis and feel free to come to me with any inquiries you might have! thank you”. he announced with a kind smile. the lecture hall erupted into voices as the apprentices packed up their things to leave and resume their studies elsewhere. they filtered out one by one until the capacious room grew quiet and only one occupant was left…

emmrich took a deep breath to compose himself before… “rook!” he called out loudly. promptly, cairo jumped down from the rafters and landed steadily on his feet, a wide grin gracing his features, “how’d you know it was me?” he teased as he leaned against the lectern, arms crossed over his chest. the professor rolled his eyes, “i don’t know many other crows who would write such a thing on their knives,” he replied. cairo couldn’t help but laugh, “awe come on, lucanis loves you too,” he joked, slipping the knife into his fingers and twirling it around with ease. “he’s also busy being the first talon… speaking of which, hasn’t he given you any orders yet?” emmrich questioned curiously. cairo tapped the dagger against his temple as if he was lost in thought, “hmm, now that you mention it… there might be one or two…” he admitted with a playful wink. emmrich’s jaw dropped and his eyes thinned at his lover, “darling… you can’t keep doing this!” he protested. cairo scoffed loudly, “look, i was lucanis’s boss before this, there’s no way i’m gonna take orders from that freak. and i say that with the most love in my heart” he chuckled as he spun the blade on his finger. 

“oh my… well then, he was right when he called you a menace,” emmrich teased. cairo threw his head back with a laugh, “and you love it,” he replied, pointing his dagger at the man. emmrich nodded his head with a chuckle before changing the subject, “so, what did you think of the lecture, dearest?” he questioned, turning around to start erasing the chalkboard as another professor would be needing it later. cairo leaned across the lectern, “well i learned that lucanis and taash have some avid fans and that your students have been questioning your love life,” he responded. emmrich’s eyes widened, “what did they say?!” he gasped. cairo bit his lip and acted as if he was struggling to remember, “i believe one asked if professor volkarin would be interested in dating a student… then the other shot back by arguing that he might have a wife at home since he’s so “husband material”, and the last one wondered if he might be interested in guys. all very good questions which i’m also curious about… so what’s your answer professor?” he revealed with a shameless grin. emmrich’s cheeks grew pink out of embarrassment, “instead of asking such silly questions they should have been focused on the lecture!” he denounced, his erasing becoming more aggressive. cairo merely watched in amusement at his lover’s flustered expression and admired how cute he looked, “what’s the matter? scared to talk about your relationship?” he joked.

upon hearing that, emmrich froze up, his hand completely coming to a stop and his breath hitched.  the crow’s eyebrow rose in confusion at the sudden change of attitude, wondering if he might have said something wrong. soon enough, the senior necromancer had placed the eraser down and turned to look at cairo with sorrow in his eyes, “i’m aware that was only a joke but… dearest, you know i wouldn’t want to hide our relationship unless it was absolutely necessary, right?” he confessed, stepping closer to take the male’s hand into his own. the coldness of the the jewerly that adorned emmrich’s hand felt familiar and comforting as cairo intertwined their fingers, “i know… i get it, not everyone is understanding of the age gap.. i told you, i’ll be here no matter what so… you know, whenever you’re ready, there’s no rush” he asserted, his normally playful demeanor vanishing for the moment as his expression grew serious. emmrich’s heart fluttered at the sentiment, he was overjoyed to have found someone he can forge a serious, healthy, and hopefully long-lasting relationship with, something he had never thought he could achieve in all his years.

“darling…” he uttered as he stepped even closer so their bodies were almost touching. cairo’s eyes thinned as a teasing smile returned to his features, “you sure you wanna do this in a lecture hall, professor?” he questioned. emmrich looked around at the rows of empty chairs, then to the clock to make sure it wasn’t time for the next class to start. once he had confirmed they would be safe for the moment, he leaned in and softly pressed their lips together. cairo was quick to reciprocate, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s neck and rising on his tippy toes to deepen the kiss. after a few moments, the two leaned back for air and the shorter male rested back on his heels. as they stared into each other’s eyes, they couldn’t keep smiles off their faces, happy to be able to spend precious moments like this together after all they had been through. “i love you,” emmrich whispered, wanting only the male in front of him to hear despite there being no one else in the room. cairo chuckled, “and neve called me the sappy one,” he teased, sticking his tongue out playfully. the professor rolled his eyes before joining his lover in laughter. 

“ROOK!” a familiar voice shouted from not too far away as the couple was busy lost in each other’s gazes. at the sudden interruption, cairo quickly unwrapped his arms from the man’s neck and shuffled away while emmrich did the same, both pretending to look unbothered after being caught red-handed. however, when they looked towards the source of the voice, they both released breaths they didn’t know they were holding, “manfred?! you scared the shit out of us…” cairo choked back a laugh as he watched the skeletal apprentice skitter over to the front of the room to stand beside the professor. emmrich placed a hand to his rapidly beating heart and wiped imaginary sweat from his brow, “thank goodness it was just you manfred… what have you been up to?” he questioned, noticing that the skeleton’s robes were slightly more singed than they had been before. “FIRE!” manfred shrieked as he summoned two small flames from the palms of his hands and waved them around vigorously. cairo and emmrich exchanged worried parental glances at each other before emmrich took the skeleton’s wrist bones into his hands and placed them at his sides, “manfred, what did i say about using your fire so recklessly? come, i must go speak to myrna and vorgoth about this…” he sighed before motioning manfred towards the exit of the lecture hall.

cairo watched the two figures approach the door before emmrich turned and met his eyes with a smile, “darling, will you be coming over for dinner?” he called out inquisitively. the crow twirled his dagger with a smirk, “if the first talon doesn’t chew me out for too long, then yes,” he chuckled, “but if not, you know i always have room for dessert,” he winked teasingly, fully aware of what he was doing. the professor with cheeks as red as ventaori robes promptly rushed out the door with manfred in tow and cairo was left by his lonesome, giggling to himself over how cute his lover is.

end.

[breakfastteatime]

Greez has been disappearing into his cabin a lot lately. Whenever the ship is safely in hyperspace, autopilot engaged, Greez makes sure everyone has what they need in terms of food and drink and then just... disappears.

"Is it something we said?" Cal asks.

"No," Cere reassures him after a sip of her tea.

BD asks if it's because he accidentally tracked bogling droppings into the ship.

"No," Cere says without looking up from her datapad.

Cal and BD share a look. Both shrug.

"Do you know why he's disappearing?"

"Mmm hmm."

"You gonna tell us?"

"Nu uh."

"Thanks, Cere, that's real informative. Glad we had this conversation."

"You'll find out soon enough," she says. "Some things are worth waiting for."

The next morning, Cal awakens when something is shoved onto his head. Arms flailing, brain somewhere between a dream and reality, he finds Greez grinning and BD scanning at his bedside.

"Suits him, don't ya think?"

BD whoops and wags.

Cal reaches up and grabs what's on his head. A rush of emotions go through him, chief among them determination. I will teach this kid self-preservation if it's the last damn thing I do. It's a knitted hat, the blue and orange wool matching his poncho. He stares at Greez. "You made this?"

"Eh, my great-grandma taught me more than you know. No more running around ice planets without that hat, understood?"

Eyes wide, throat aching from the effort of not crying, Cal nods. "Understood." Somehow, his voice doesn't crack.

[alpaca-clouds]

About the Development of Myths

Okay, I will talk about more of the specific gods tomorrow again (starting first with the other gods from Stray Gods and then just looking over a variety of gods - I might start just with the greeks and then... venture into other mythologies). But first let me talk about the entire basis of what I have been talking about so far with the origins of Pan and Persephone: Their mythology is not a fixed thing.

Something that I would say education in general really fails on is properly expressing the amount of changes that cultures go through. I wrote about this before just in terms of history: There is not THE middle ages, not THE ancient Egypt, not THE ancient Greece and so on. All of those historical periods lasted for at least a thousand years. Now imagine that in like 500 years someone goes and looks at the 20th and 21st century as: "The World War and Globalisation period". Which I think there is a good chance this will at some point be known at (assuming we do not manage to eradicate our species before that, that is). Yet, you and I both know that if we were talking to someone from 1923 there would be very little we had in common.

Sure, this effect got massively accelerated thanks to the internet. But... You gotta have to assume that the Roman dude from 100 BC would also live in a very different world from the Roman dude of 200 BC. Because a hundred years is always going to involve a lot of change.

The reason we look at those old cultures as unchanging is, that they do not change anymore. And everyone who is neither working with that kinda stuff, nor is a complete geek, will just look at that culture as ONE FIRM THING rather than something fluent.

This is also true in terms of religion and related traditions, though we in the west are even more prone to it than other cultures. Because we do assume Christianity as this one thing. And the bible as this one unchanging thing. Hence the core believe is the same and, so the reasoning goes, was always the same. In fact, if you went to a religious school it is kinda how you were taught. The bible is one thing and always was the same thing. Only... It wasn't and even the basic we hve now does not matter.

Just look at the many Christian subreligions. They all in some way or form believe in Jesus, the one big God and all of that - but what they take from that widely differs. And the bible really does not have a big impact onto what ideals they hold and how they hold mass and how they pray and what not. If you think about it, you will easily see that, right? And if you just look a bit into what you might have learned about history in relation to Christianity, you will also know that this has changed. The role of Jesus has changed. How much the Holy Spirit is looked upon as an active actor. Which saints get venerated. All of that has changed a lot in just the last 50 years. And has changed a ton between the different countries.

And what I now need you to keep in mind that this was the exact same with the Ancient Gods and the religion attached to them. That holds true for the Greek Gods, the Roman Gods, the Egyptian Gods, the Norse Gods... all of them. The way they were worshipped changed over those thousand(s of) years they were worshipped.

So, let me once again talk about the Proto-Indo-European culture. Which is always a doosy and I love it.

The Proto-Indo-Europeans originates probably in the areas of modern day Ukraine and/or Romania and/or southern Russia some time around 5000 BC (scholars argue a bit about the exact temporal placement, just that it was somewhere between 7000 BC and 4000 BC). We do not really know a lot about them, because they did not write stuff down. But we do know that they had horses, were patriarchal, and that they worshipped a polytheistic pantheon that at least involved a Sky Father as one of the highest gods, who controlled the weather and was especially associated with storms and lightning.

These Proto-Indo-Europeans started breaking apart and travelling. Some into Asia, some into Europe and the Arabian/Persian areas. They brought with them their language and religion.

Now, it should be noted that they were not the "original humans" or anything. And that whereever they went... in most areas there were already other people living there, with whom they intermingled. Also whatever land they ended up settling was different, had different environments and this was included into their religious practice. Which made their religion over the years differ bit by bit. So from their pantheon sprang a lot of the pantheons we know today.

But... again, a lot of places they settled had already people living there. Who had their own worship. And that stuff often was also included and merged. Sometimes those other worships were very far reaching, sometimes very local. But some of those deities were picked up and either made part of whatever pantheon was there to come or was merged with an already existing god. And this happened again and again during the time that whatever pantheon was prayed to.

How do we know that, if it was not written down?

Well, mostly due to some archeology, but mostly due to comparative mythology and comparative linguistics. Two fields of science that basically involve people going over a lot of languages or mythologies (which, by the way, at times also includes fairytales and other oral narratives that are not necessarily held as "true", but still told) and basically finding things the reoccur. As well as going back over whatever written stuff we do have and noticing the shifts happening between a text written in 600 BC and a text written in 200 BC.

Now, for all the stuff we have two things that help a lot: a) The old Hindi writings and b) the written stuff from Egypt. Because both go really far back and were very well documented in writing. So basically we always can compare stuff to that and see shifts more clearly.

But, yeah... Technically all the pantheons are very much related. At some point Zeus, Jupiter, Diespiter, Thor, Tinia and Tian originated from the same character. You can even kinda see it in how similar the names are. Susanoo in Shinto-Mythology probably came from this, too, at least in the iteration we actually know about. (There can be some arguments made that a lot of the Shinto gods were shifted through the Buddhist contact, as the original indigenous Japanese cultures were very likely not Indo-European in origin. But given that the Ainu are the only culture whose oral tradition managed to survive this long, while the others either vanished or merged in a way influenced by Buddhism, which comes from Indo-European culture... yeah, it is there now.)

So, what I am saying: Mythology is shifting and always has been shifting. Same goes with religion. Hence the evolution of the Greek Pantheon.

Fun fact: Through comparative mythology we can also find the origins of YHW, the Abrahamitic god. Or God, as you might know him. He is a fascinating one, as he probably started out as a local god associated with harvest and weather in Southern Egypt and was then picked up by the Semitic cultures. He got a more pronounced role in the Canaanite pantheon, where at some point he merged with Baal, the war god. And through some trials and tribulations he finally ended up merging with El(hoim), the top god of the pantheon, with a part of the Canaanites splitting from the culture and developing into what would become the Jewish culture.

Super fascinating stuff. I love it.

[thealogie]

my new pet theory after reading American/British cinematographer blurbs about all the previously mentioned examples is that it actually isn't one specific thing, it's the general commitment to allow imperfection and give an image a soul instead of following all the purely technical cinematography "rules" to a t.

like sure, you want something to be sharp, well lit, you want to have contrast instead of flatness, you want to compose something along thirds so it looks balanced to the human eye, you don't want everything to be super grainy etc etc but the thing is we've gotten to a technical point where it's very easy to do all of these things and when you do all of them at the same time it just looks soulless and terrible.

So what you can do to avoid that is:

Shoot on film (challengers)

Use vintage/exotic lenses (challengers, civil war)

Allow actors faces to go into darkness, allow imperfectly exposed images, allow black, crank up the ISO of the camera and use tiny amounts of light only (better call Saul)

Color grade in a genius way (add noise, grain, do things with saturation and contrast that aren't the technical standard)

Play with framing and what we're used to seeing as a balanced image (Mr robot)

Play with movement in unexpected ways, for example zooming or moving very rigidly (Wes Anderson). When handheld first became more of a mainstream thing it was so new and exciting as well!

Play with formats, colors (black and white), weird view angles (fish eye) and more.

If you're interested in cinematography even a little bit watch poor things. It does many of these things at the same time, incredibly well and in a way that actually supports the story too.

There's a cinematographer who says once he's done setting up a shot, having framed and lit it and thinking it is perfect, he always turns off one light. Or he kicks the camera a bit so the framing changes in an unexpected way. He says otherwise the perfection will suffocate the image. I think that might be what we're seeing with good omens.

I think franchises are more likely to fall into this rut of delivering a technically perfect product. Especially when there's a lot of vfx and post production down the pipeline there are so many factors a dp can easily get scared to not deliver what is needed in the next step. When something aggressively has to be sold to & by a streaming service like Amazon there is often pressure to take no risks. Comedy as a genre also has less examples of a wide range of different good cinematography styles. When I think of the word comedy the term "high-key" (aka well lit) comes up as we were taught in film school, according to the sit com standard. And modern day fantasy/magical realism comedy? I think is hard to pull off in a way that actually resonates and creates something new (not to say it couldn't have been done better sgdjdjs. looking at Gavin Finney's filmography I don't see anything particularly significant so...)

That's my two (three... five) cents. Thanks for the research rabbit hole on this Sunday evening 🫡

I love that this inspired a whole very nuanced and well researched essay on a Sunday. Thank you!!!

[elbiotipo]

Isn't Argentina as much of a settler state as the USA, Canada and Israel? Say, what happened to the Indigenous and the Afro population after independence?

The independent Argentine state commited genocide against the native peoples of Patagonia during the "Conquista del Desierto", and the less known yet not-less brutal colonization of the Great Chaco, by displacing or outright killing native populations. With regards to the Afrodescedant population, there was not an organized campaign of genocide, but rather a process of "invisibilization" where Afrodescendants hid their heritage to assimilate to eurocentric society, same with mestizo people. These are historical and current debts that the successive Argentine state has not repaid or adressed properly despite recent advances.

Sarmiento was the first and main architect of the conception of Argentina as a country for European inmigrants that "to modernize" needed to get rid of the native and afro-descendant population, the now celebrated figure of the gaucho, the same people who fought for independence, was disgusting to him. Julio A. Roca was inspired by the genocide of the native peoples of the United States and tried to use the same mentality and tactics here. Despite there have never been formal laws of racial separation, this mindset continued as part of state policy until roughly the early-20th century and still shapes national attitudes today.

Despite the desires of these men to destroy them, they ultimately failed. Over a milion (probably undercounted) Argentines belong multiple native peoples, with 30-40% of Argentines (depending on region) from partial or full native descent and 4-7% from african descent. Culturally, because of the aftermentioned process of invisibilization and the way the concept of race expresses itself in Latin America, there are fewer people who identify themselves with such groups than genetics show: racism still exists against "morochos", that is, brown-skinned people, compared to the Eurocentric ideal.

These are not hidden facts, they are taught in Argentine schools and universities, widely discussed and regarded as shameful, and they still shape our society and politics.

When I read the term "settler state" it confuses me because every Latin American country is a settler state, because by definition they were colonized by Spain and Portugal. Independent nations in Latin American inherited the racial and colonial mindsets of their "parent" empire. From Chile and Brazil, which also commited similar genocides on native lands following the procesess of the Spanish and Portuguese, to the opression of native and afro-descendants in favor of the european-descended elite in places like Perú, Bolivia and México, and the overall "blanqueamiento" (whitening, or however you want to call it) theory common to all Latin America where mestizaje was encouraged to "whiten" the popluation. Every Latin American nation was born, like it or not, from these violent processes.

The genocide did not begin with Argentine independence, it began in 1492, and it continues to this day. Similiarily, it has not started or stopped with a single administration or another, and it expresses itself in multiple ways. The only way to solve such deep rooted problems is by the state assuming its political, social and economical debt, but also for the entire mindset of society to change, which will take generations. I like to think we are progressing on that front, but when I see recent events such as the repression in Jujuy, I also know we have decades, if not centuries as my grandfather says, to go.

[starfieldcanvas]

hi not an expert but i thought i’d say something about the sysmed thing you posted

systems are formed by trauma at a young age causing a child’s personality to not form into one singular personality and instead split into multiple.

but theres also some people who “create” their system because they wanted to be a system, which just really isn’t possible. (or also “will” their system into being)

but i know most systems problems with the people who “create” their system (endogenic or willogenic) is the massive spreading of misinformation

i know people with did or osdd who when first realizing they were a system, and even still now, are told by endos that their trauma “isn’t enough” and that they’re endogenic too which also hurts people just discovering their a system thinking their endogenic because their trauma wasn’t enough or they don’t remember their trauma (which is a big part of did & osdd anyway, systems are typically formed to help the person deal with (by not dealing with) their trauma) and then people aren’t able to get the help they need

so, to someone pretty thoroughly outside the discourse, this largely reads like you've just got two different groups of people with similar conditions, and some people within each of those groups loudly assert that the other group cannot possibly be having the experience that group claims to be having. some traumagenic systems insist endogenic systems are "not really possible" and some endogenic systems think traumagenic systems "aren't really traumagenic" instead of both groups just taking for granted that obviously multiple kinds of experience can coexist without either invalidating the other.

it sounds strikingly similar to transmed discourse, so I understand why the "-med" language got borrowed.

about a dozen years ago I was up to date on the DID wiki page and was therefore fairly confident that so-called "multiple personalities" were all (I had to look this term up just now) iatrogenic, that is, caused by psychiatric leading. So when I came around to accepting that systems did seem to exist even in people who had never been to therapy, I assumed we were all lifting a middle finger to psychiatry's attempt to dismiss the system phenomenon. It's rather odd to learn that now there's a contingent insisting that they have psychiatric legitimacy but their endogenic "cousins" do not. like... y'all trust psychiatry to know what does and does not exist? when they largely didn't think traumagenic systems existed until very recently, and many within the institution still think it's 100% iatrogenic?

(i double checked with my local psychology graduate and indeed he was taught in school a decade ago that DID was a fringe diagnosis that did not really exist in modern practice.)

it's really just like transmeds then, isn't it? traumagenic systems have only barely gained a little bit of respect within the system and are still widely disbelieved, but instead of taking that as a sign that maybe psychiatry has only a very limited understanding of this phenomenon, some have decided to throw their endogenic cousins under the bus in a feeble, futile attempt to legitimize themselves.

whether or not endogenic systems really do "exist" in a meaningful way, i find the insistent rejection of them by people who are also frequently disbelieved by the institution to be shockingly shortsighted.

the primary objection to the possibility that endogenic systems exist cannot really be "some of them are assholes who spread misinformation". as that has literally nothing to do with whether or not they exist.

(and I feel obligated to ask if the "misinformation" in question is more often than not just "it's possible to be an endogenic system." because aphobes used to claim the statement "it's possible to be asexual as a minor" was grooming. so I don't take those kinds of accusations at face value anymore.)

or is it really just "the field of psychiatry has not agreed this experience is possible yet, so I am obligated to argue with anyone who reports their lived experience as counterevidence"? because as I have said, that just sounds like every past failure of the psychiatric imagination. advances in psychiatric research are very valuable, but if you're not familiar with the ways in which psychiatry as an institution tends to fall short of capturing reality, then you can't be trusted to wield its evidence in a responsible way.

are there contingents among the endogenic and traumagenic folks who simply believe in describing their own experience in appropriately limited terms, rather than aggressively insisting their experiences are universal for all systems???

[riverxsong-ao3]

The Knights of Walpurgis: Chapter 21

The holidays ended tragically earlier than any one of them wanted them to, sending them back to the tender mercies of Umbridge and her Oversight Committee just days after Tom’s sixteenth birthday celebrations. The train ride back was quiet and morose, Draco staring out the window as Ginny clung to his side, clearly soaking up what little time she had left with him before they would have to pretend to be enemies once more. Harry, too, curled up against Tom, dozing against his shoulder, pretending not to wait for the other shoe to drop – for Umdridge to punish them for being too affectionate, for Snape to dig a little too deeply into his memories, for Dumbledore to put the pieces together. For these last, few, precious hours, they all had each other. Even Ron and Hermione seemed to be tucked up together closer than Harry’d ever seen them, and it left him wondering.

True to his fears, disaster awaited him as soon as they passed through the castle doors.

Umbridge was waiting for them, a wide grin spread across her face, her eyes bulging out maniacally. “There you are, Mr Potter, Mr Riddle,” she said, mockingly pleasant as they crossed the threshold with their trunks. “The two of you just seemingly disappeared well before break started, and I found myself wondering – why exactly could that be?”

“Family emergency,” Harry said scathingly, at the same time Tom remarked, “None of your business.”

Umbridge’s smile grew wider. “Oh, but I’m afraid it is my business,” she said gleefully. “You see, since you’ve been gone a number of Educational Decrees have been passed, most importantly Decree number thirty – no student may leave Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry outside of term breaks without first obtaining permission from the Grand Overseer. I’m afraid you’ve both broken this rule, and will be punished accordingly – unless you’d like to explain yourselves and plead your case?”

“Absolutely not!” Harry exclaimed. “‘Family emergency,’ that’s all you need to know! Whether someone was killed or simply took ill, that’s beyond your purview!”

“You’ll find it’s not, Mr Potter,” Umbridge replied, smiling nastily. “It is entirely at my discretion whether a student’s extenuating circumstances warrant an unscheduled trip out of the castle – and as neither of you have any family, I cannot accept that as an excuse for your absence.”

“Excuse me?” Harry snapped. “Have you forgotten my godfather’s existence? Have you forgotten the Weasleys, who literally adopted me according to Muggle standards? Just because Voldemort killed my parents doesn’t mean I have no family! And as Tom is my intended, that makes all of them his family as well!”

“Mr Potter,” Umbridge chirped, “you are forgetting Educational Decree Twenty-Five –”

“No, I’m not!” Harry fairly shouted. “You may be able to control our movements and relationships within the castle, but outside of school you have nothing to do with us! It’s perfectly legal for two men to marry each other, and that’s precisely what we intend to do as soon as we’re of age!” Harry rubbed his thumb against the ring Tom had given him, the one passed down through the Gaunts that was currently concealed by Parselmagic. “You might be able to punish us for open displays of affection, but you can’t prevent two people from simply loving each other!”

Umbridge’s expression had gone quite sour, her nasty grin fading into a tight, pursed scowl, as though she had accidentally sucked on a lemon. “How utterly disgusting,” she snarled. “It seems you two need to be taught a lesson on skirting around the rules I’ve put in place to make Hogwarts a respectable establishment of education. No more unscheduled trips out of school for either of you – and no more Hogsmeade’s visits, I think.”

“What?” Tom snarled, and Harry understood his indignation immediately – whether he agreed with the idea or not, Hogsmeade had been Tom’s venue for meeting with his Death Eater spy. “That’s ridiculous, Harry and I have broken none of your rules whilst on Hogwarts’ grounds!”

“Haven’t you?” Umbridge asked, her tone girlish once more, setting Harry on edge. “I have it on good authority that the two of you spend your nights in the same bed – what utter distress that must cause your dorm mates, to bear witness to such degeneracy. We’ll have to see about setting up separate rooms for the two of you, perhaps even alter your schedules so as to keep you apart.” She giggled. “I’ll let you two go now – head on down to your dorm, but don’t get too comfortable!”

[zzoomacroom]

Fic: Tutoring Sessions

Dreamling, Smut, Professor Hob/Student Dream, Dom/sub, Brat Dream

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/?

Read below or on ao3

“I won’t sugarcoat it: Caxton was a bit shit at printing, relatively speaking. So why are we still talking about him, you ask? Well, given that there was no standardized version of the English language at the time—”

Whatever doubtlessly fascinating point Hob was about to make dies on his tongue. His mouth goes dry and his brain dribbles steadily out of his ears when he sees the student in the front row, sprawled low in his seat with his legs spread wide. Neither the flimsy fold-out desk nor his painted-on black jeans do anything to hide his raging erection.

Dream Endels is smirking wickedly at Hob, clearly pleased to have rendered him speechless. Hob glares back at him from behind the podium as he shuffles through his notes and tries to salvage his lecture. He’s furious with Dream, yes, but he’s even angrier at himself for allowing this to happen. And it goes without saying that he’s also desperately aroused right at the moment.

Dream, all willowy limbs and perfect cheekbones and bewitching blue eyes, has given Hob nothing but trouble since the start of term. Always flirting with him and showing up to class in crop tops and miniskirts that leave even less to the imagination than his current ensemble, sucking on his pen and pointedly asking Hob if he could do any “extra credit” to improve his grade. The perfect brat.

At first, Hob refused his advances on principal. But god, was he tempted. In any other context, no one but the most prudish busybodies would bat an eye at their relationship—Dream is 21, Hob is only 34, and this is the 21st century; it’s not that scandalous. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. Still, Hob’s never wanted to be that sleazy professor who sleeps with his students and gets into messy entanglements. At least, not until he’s tenured.

It didn’t take long for Dream to wear him down, though. He’d shown up to Hob’s office in an outfit better suited for a fetish club than a university campus and demanded “private tutoring sessions,” which was frankly an insulting thing to ask of someone with a PhD. And it’s not as if Dream needs tutoring anyway; his essays are brilliant, with far more depth and insight than Hob would expect from any undergraduate. He actually would’ve liked to discuss them with Dream sometime, maybe over coffee—purely for scholarly reasons, with no ulterior motives, of course.

But the afternoon—and indeed, Hob’s entire life from that point forward—had taken a decidedly different turn.

When Hob sighed wearily and directed him to the campus tutoring center, Dream dropped the coy act and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was accustomed to getting his way and would make Hob’s life a living nightmare if he continued to reject him. Hob laughed and, before he could think better of it, took the lad over his knee and gave him the good, hard spanking he clearly needed.

“It’s about time someone taught you a lesson,” he’d said. “No one’s ever said no to you in your life, have they?”

Dream hadn’t answered, merely let out the sweetest little whines and whimpers before promptly coming in his pants. Hob nearly passed out as all the blood in his head rushed suddenly to his cock, and if he weren’t so overwhelmed by raw lust he’d have noticed the dangerous flare of affection warning him that this was the point of no return; keep going and he’d be well and truly fucked.

So what had he done?

“Tsk tsk. Oh darling, that is pathetic,” Hob scolded. “Can’t even control yourself, can you? You need to learn some discipline.”

He yanked Dream’s dirty panties off and stuffed them into his mouth while Dream scrambled to bend over the desk, presenting his cute little arse for Hob to fuck. It was fast and rough and, honestly, the best sex Hob had ever had in his life. The whole thing was surreal, like… well, like a dream. One minute he was a boring, mild-mannered literature professor, and the next his life had suddenly turned into a bad porno film.

Things only spiraled from there. It was rather alarming how easily they slipped into their roles, how well their dynamic worked for the both of them. How very, very compatible they were. And it’s not just sexual, even if they both pretend it is. Hob really likes Dream—he’s smart and funny, and Hob has caught glimpses of the sweetness that hides beneath his bratty façade. And that’s why this whole thing is such a bad idea; because it won’t ever be anything more than this, no matter how badly Hob might, hypothetically, want it to.

But Hob is in too deep now (literally and figuratively). He couldn’t break it off even if he wanted to; Dream’s family has more money than Hob can even conceive of, and he has no doubt that Dream could deliver on his promise to make his life a nightmare. So Hob figures if he has no choice but to be trapped in a porno—at least until Dream graduates, gets tired of him, and moves on to bigger and better things—he may as well enjoy it.

Some of the things they get up to could actually be considered “tutoring,” if one is very lenient with the definition of the word. Sometimes Dream warms Hob’s cock with his mouth while Hob reads his essays and picks apart his arguments, perhaps more critically than he would with any other student because he knows Dream likes a bit of humiliation. Other times, Hob quizzes him and spanks him for every wrong answer (or every right answer, or simply whenever he feels like it). Most of their “tutoring sessions” end with Dream sucking Hob off, or Hob sucking Dream off, or eating him out, or fucking him, or any combination of the above.

Which brings them to now. Hob knows exactly what’s going on, even as he sweats and stutters his way through the excruciating final minutes of the class. His lecture notes had been open on the desk last night when he’d bent Dream over it and held him there by the neck, his cheek pressed to the scattered pages while Hob railed him until he cried. Hob looks at the paper in front of him and, sure enough, there are crinkled bits where the ink bleeds together, splotches of dried tears and saliva.

So Hob knows that Dream isn’t sitting there with a massive hard-on because he’s all hot and bothered about Caxton’s Eneydos. No, the little shit’s gone and developed some sort of Pavlovian response to Hob’s lectures. He narrows his eyes at Dream, who confirms his suspicion by flashing him a shit-eating grin and an honest-to-god fucking wink.

Oh, he’s going to pay for that.

After class, Dream saunters into Hob’s office, still sporting a semi and looking like the cat that got the cream. Hob locks the door and grabs him by his stupid, sexy leather choker, tugging him close. Dream’s eyes darken, black eclipsing blue, and he heaves a hot, shuddering breath against Hob’s neck.

“Thought you could get away with that, did you?” Hob growls in his ear. “Can’t believe what a shameless whore you are. What makes you think you can go around letting everyone else see what’s mine?” He punctuates that last word by firmly taking hold of the bulge in his lover’s trousers while simultaneously shoving his tongue down his throat. Dream moans into his mouth and ruts against his palm, his arms slowly snaking around Hob’s neck.

“It’s not my fault your lectures are so stimulating, professor,” he gasps when Hob finally lets go of his collar, his head lolling back as he peers up at him through kohl-smudged lashes.

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you get to go showing off your pretty cock in public. That’s for my eyes only, Dream.”

“I am hoping for more than just your eyes,” Dream purrs.

“Oh, I know exactly what you want, sweetheart. But trust me,” Hob grunts as he hoists Dream up and carries him to the small sofa in front of the desk, “you have no idea what you’re in for.”

He sits and flips Dream face-down across his lap, wrenching his jeans down to his thighs and delivering a sharp smack across his flawless pale arse.

“No knickers today? Tart,” Hob tuts as he spanks him again. “You were counting on getting fucked, weren’t you?” Dream mewls wordlessly in reply. “I know, love. I know. But that’s a reward for good boys, and you haven’t exactly earned it.” He gives him several more quick, hard swats before soothing his hand over the tender, reddened flesh. He’d keep going, but Dream enjoys being spanked a little too much for it to work effectively as a punishment. “Right then. On your knees.”

Dream slides off Hob’s lap and kneels in front of him, his trousers slipping further down around his slender hips and his rosy cock bobbing up against his stomach. He’s so fucking pretty like this, with his face flushed and his eyes brimming with tears. He’ll be even prettier when Hob is done with him. He wants to see him wrecked, eyeliner running down his cheeks and lips painted with Hob’s cum.

Hob unzips his trousers and frees his cock, which by now is painfully hard. Dream sways forward as if magnetically drawn to it, his mouth already open and glistening with spit. His pink tongue darts out to catch the pearl of pre-cum that wells up from the tip of Hob’s prick, but Hob stops him by grabbing a fistful of raven-plume hair and pulling his head back, baring his throat and forcing Dream to look up at him. His gaze is sultry and sex-drunk, and his Adam’s apple bobs gracefully beneath the perfect alabaster skin of his neck as he swallows in anticipation.

“Someone’s eager,” Hob chuckles, more gently than he’d intended. He almost forgot he’s supposed to be angry; in fairness, it’s not easy to stay angry at Dream when he’s staring up at him like… like that. The words ‘adoring’ and ‘worshipful’ come to mind, although that’s probably wishful thinking on Hob’s part.

Christ alive, Hob thinks for probably the hundredth time since he and Dream began their… whatever this is. What am I doing?

Ah. Now he remembers.

“My greedy little cockslut,” he sighs as he feeds his length into his lover’s mouth, pushing deeper, deeper, until he’s entirely enveloped in warm, plush velvet. Dream swallows around him, his tongue sliding deliciously along the underside as he adjusts to the solid girth probing into his throat. “Didn’t even gag. I’ve trained you well,” Hob says, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut at the praise, a muffled moan rumbling from his chest and vibrating around Hob’s prick.

He keeps his iron grip on Dream’s hair as he begins to fuck into his mouth, slowly at first, then quickly building to a brutal pace. It doesn’t take long for Dream to achieve the thoroughly debauched look that Hob was hoping to see: soot-black tears roll down his flushed cheeks, and saliva dribbles from his swollen lips down to his chin. He’s a mess.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this,” Hob pants. Dream makes another strangled noise of pleasure and reaches down to touch himself, but Hob snatches his hand away and tugs harder on his hair. “Ah-ah, naughty boy. Not yet.”

Dream obediently puts both hands on his knees, and Hob’s free hand finds its way to the back of Dream’s head, moving him back and forth in time to his thrusts. Hob looks down to see a rivulet of pre-cum oozing steadily from the younger man’s throbbing dick, while his fingers clench into the fabric of his jeans, bone-white knuckles above black-lacquered nails. He’s itching to get his hands on his cock, but he’s holding back because Hob told him to, and that’s enough to send Hob right up to the edge.

“There’s my good boy. Look at that, you can behave yourself after all,” Hob grits out. Then, without warning, he buries himself to the hilt in Dream’s mouth, holding his head there as he comes explosively down his throat. Dream chokes a little, but manages to swallow it down, gasping and sputtering once Hob finally lets him up for air.

He hauls Dream back up into his lap and kisses him fiercely, licking the taste of himself from his lover’s palate. Dream has gone all loose and pliant, his lips twisting into a dopey, cum-glazed smile, though Hob can feel how fast his heart beats as he sags against him, burying his face in the older man’s shoulder and sobbing hoarsely when Hob finally gets his hand around his cock.

“I’m going to let you come,” Hob whispers in his ear, their cheeks pressed together, “even though you’ve been such a brat today. Enjoy it, because it won’t happen again soon.” The words don’t even appear to register to Dream, and Hob feels a treacherous surge of tenderness upon realizing that he’s fucked all the thoughts out of his pretty little head. He smiles fondly to himself as he thumbs at Dream’s slit, smearing pre-cum down the length of his shaft. It takes only a few deft strokes before he’s spurting thick ropes over Hob’s fist, whimpering softly and clinging to his chest as he mouths absently at the collar of Hob’s shirt.

Hob cleans them up and gets Dream settled on the sofa while he rummages through one of his desk drawers. He comes back with a bottle of water, a large bar of chocolate, and a small black box that Dream pretends not to notice, even though Hob sees the way his eyes dart curiously to it. Hob’s next class isn’t for another hour, so they have some time for a cuddle. He may have been angry with Dream—although the sex did take the edge off considerably—but Hob prides himself on providing good aftercare, especially since he knows Dream wouldn’t bother hydrating or eating anything unless Hob makes him. This part is secretly Hob’s favorite; sitting here, with Dream draped over his chest, neither of them pretending anymore, just being together… it’s honestly as good as the sex—maybe better—and that’s saying something.

“So,” Hob says, clearing his throat and shaking off the incipient daydream of a life he can’t have, “I got you something. Was going to save this for another time, but you earned it with your behavior today.”

He hands the box to Dream, who jolts upright and smiles bashfully at Hob (God, he’s so cute when he’s not being a brat) before tearing the package open like a child on Christmas. He pauses, the smile fading from his face and his brow furrowing in confusion as he examines the stainless steel object in the box. Then his face goes crimson, his eyes widening in horror as he realizes—

“It’s a cock cage,” Hob grins. “Since you keep getting those embarrassing erections during class. You can’t control yourself, so I’ll be deciding when and if you come.” Dream gulps. Hob laughs. “What, did you think you’d gotten away without a punishment?” Dream still says nothing, merely stares at the shiny contraption in his hands, and for a moment Hob worries if he’s gone too far. “Well? What do you say, dove?”

“Th-thank you,” Dream murmurs, almost too softly to hear. Hob beams; it’s not often he hears those words from his arrogant little prince of a lover.

“Yeah? You like it?”

Dream nods fervently, leaning back and spreading his legs wider so Hob can lock him into the cage. “How long will I have to wear it?” he asks.

Hob shrugs. “We’ll see. Depends on how good you can be for me,” he says, kissing the tip of Dream’s nose. “Oh, and you know that plug I got you? The sparkly pink one? I’d suggest wearing it tomorrow. You don’t have to, but I’m going to fuck you the second office hours are over, so you might want to be prepared.”

“Yes, sir,” Dream whispers. His blush has, by now, spread to the tips of his ears and down his neck, and his dick is making a heroic endeavor to harden inside its confines. Hob is right there with him; if he were a younger man, he’d be ready to go again just from hearing those words. Dream so rarely calls him “sir,” and when he does it’s usually said with a sneer and a roll of his eyes. Not this time, though. This time he means it, and Hob clenches his jaw, choking back a swell of complicated emotions that threaten to burst from his mouth, probably in the form of a very embarrassing noise.

“Good lad,” Hob says gruffly, zipping Dream back into his jeans and helping him to his feet. He grasps him by the chin and steals one final, searing kiss before giving him a firm swat on the arse. “Off you go, then.”

Dream smiles at Hob over his shoulder on his way out the door. Not one of his snooty little smirks, but a real, genuine smile. Hob winks back at him, and once the door is closed and he’s finally alone, he buries his face in his hands and groans.

Yep, he’s absolutely fucked.

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