#and before i can conclude this.. dissertation if you will

[thefinestbrandofeefa]

clocked this one earlier than i did asexuality.. i think what im feeling is.. executive dysfunction… WHO PROMOTED THAT IDIOT AMIRITE???

recently its started to take me 2-3 business days to complete an action that would take 10 minutes and even then, sometimes there is delays in delivery and the package gets shipped elsewhere.. its a mess

[gunsandspaceships]

Many degrees of Doctor Stark

It is widely known that 616 Tony has several doctorates. The number varies from 3 to 7, but it doesn't really matter whether he is 300 or 700% Doctor. He is one. And he doesn’t use his title 99.999% of the time.

Ok, but what about the MCU?

It is never mentioned whether Tony has a PhD or even a master's degree. Kinda weird. Both the absence of mentions and lack of degrees, since Tony is so smart and productive.

Let’s check, maybe he actually has some.

Here we have a file from a deleted scene from The Avengers (2012):

As we can see, the work is sloppy – there are inaccuracies in his hair color (it’s not black, it’s brown), and the fact that he speaks French was not included. Can we rely on this paper? Let’s not 100%, but we can still use things that don't contradict the movies.

The fact that he received his BS in Engineering from MIT does not contradict this, so we can mark it as valid. He started in 1984 when he was 14 years old and graduated in 1987 when he was 17.

We see no further education in the file. But we know something that this file doesn’t. We watched the movies.

Remember, in Civil War at 0:13:25, in the scene where Tony sees his parents for the last time, Maria tells Howard, “Be nice, dear, he’s been studying abroad”. Tony is 21 here, this is December 16, 1991. Looks like he is on winter break.

But wait… Didn’t he graduate in 1987 and stop then? Well, Maria tells us he continued.

Between 17 and 21 there are 4 years. What could he have done in these 4 years? A lot, right? He is smart and productive, we know that. A master’s degree usually takes 2 years. Tony could earn it in 1. 1 or 2, we still have 2-3 years that we need to fill with some kind of studying. I doubt he just went back and got another bachelor's or master's. That said, he was working on his PhD.

We don't know where. “Abroad” is a very broad concept. Maybe he went to Europe to study at Oxford? We do not know. Perhaps he stayed at MIT and just went somewhere else for the fall semester. We do not know. But he did go somewhere for (most probably) a PhD.

The question is: did he finish it?

Well, his parents died in Dec 1991, and we know from the first Iron Man (0:04:50) that Stane was the interim president of Stark Industries from that date until 1992. Most likely, Tony became CEO before his birthday, that is, May 29, which corresponds to the stated age of 21. He had a few months between.

We don’t know where he was in his degree at that time. But we know he is smart and productive. He doesn’t need 4 years to write a dissertation.

So, there are 2 options:

1) He did not complete his doctorate and devoted himself entirely to the company;

2) He completed it in the few months he had and then took over the company.

Here’s the evidence for the second option:

“Confusing matters more, a recently deleted LinkedIn profile for Tony Stark indicated he received doctorates in engineering physics and artificial intelligence.”

Source: https://alum.mit.edu/slice/who-iron-man

Given all the information and analysis we have, as well as a little logic, we can conclude that Tony has a Ph.D. Even two. He had time to do them. Why doesn't he use his title? Well, maybe for the same reason 616 Tony doesn’t? He doesn’t usually brag. Check out this post if you have any doubts about my statement.

Here are some additional hints:

He gave lectures at scientific conferences (IM1 and IM3 - Bern 1999).

His scientific expertise was not limited to engineering and his company's affairs (all the movies, but specifically I can point you to IM3– the scene with Maya Hansen and her Extremis-enhanced plants in Bern).

“He must have graduated after 1990, because the '90 Brass rat was the first one with the skyline on the edge.” MIT alumni commentary https://alum.mit.edu/slice/who-iron-man

Conclusion (actual): call him Doctor Stark, guys, he deserves it. Despite his modesty about his scientific achievements, Dr Stark has a couple of master's degrees and at least two PhD degrees in the MCU - in engineering physics and artificial intelligence.

[kouyou-arc-when]

hi! just finished reading your 10k dazai character analysis and it got me thinking...i'm not sure how recent it is and i've never sent an ask on here before so sorry if this is isn't something you care about anymore! i want to start off by saying i really love your interpretation of dazai, i feel like there's a lot of people who "analyze" him and conclude that he's emotionless and evil, or center his entire personality around his suicidal tendencies. i also really liked reading about his thinking and emotional process and how it translates into his actions, instead of treating all of his behaviors like they are controllable and intentional all the time. i'm currently writing an assignment where i have to discuss a character portraying mental illness, which is why i read your post (dissertation?) and it got me thinking way more than just looking up the symptoms. but now i'm wondering if you have any more thoughts or new interperetations of him based on the chapters that came out recently! I also wanted to ask if you think his symptoms fit other types of personality disorders, and why? personally i've seen a lot of evidence from people that he has BPD, but i disagree because the most commonly referenced traits of his that exhibit BPD are the traits that are used as evidence for most other mental health headcanons for him, and I think that he has more defining characteristics for other disorders. but idk. depression is obviously a given, and i am interested in doing more research into antisocial personality disorder to see how much dazai portrays it after reading your paper. i recently did a research paper on CPTSD and thought of him, but i come up blank thinking of other possibilities! If you have more thoughts or ideas on this topic i would absolutely love to know, i really enjoyed reading your analysis and will probably go back and read it again! sorry this is so long...dazai gets me thinking.......you know how it is

I wrote such a large ass reply that I had to make a post -_- I am so sorry. You can find it here:

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

Hope for the present, not the future

Reading the previous post on this blog by Christina, I can’t help but feel… a lot of déja vu, actually. I don’t mean to be blasé at all, because everything that Christina alludes to and talks about in that article is concretely, depressingly relatable. From this side of the Atlantic, I’ve been grimly avoiding looking too deeply into what “Project 2025” entails, because honestly? If it happens, it will happen and I won’t be able to do anything even if I know every up-to-date detail about it, so why borrow the trouble? I have enough in my own life (and country’s politics) already, but being geographically situated next to America is really uncomfortable, in that their problems are almost simultaneously ours, and if they’re not, the entangled political-economic-sociocultural mess makes it that way. And yet my reaction to news of upheaval, disruption, and impending doom is to say “okay” and then go back to my little solarpunk ways of living and being. Given all of the strife that bombards my consciousness on a daily basis, why am I still writing hopelessly naïve articles about compassion and optimism et cetera on the internet? It’s a serious question, not really a rhetorical one. I wrote this article to see if I could come up with an answer; I think I recognized a few different factors, but I’m curious to know what you think after reading through the article. Let me know in the comments.

My father is quite sure that Trump is going to annex Canada,* given our reservoirs of freshwater, and the fact that history is rhyming pretty hard right now in his view as the child of immigrants who left their home after the ravages of World War 2. That one started with Germany annexing Austria, and look how that went. He’s not alone in that opinion, either. However, and perhaps this is the anti-anxiety medication and antidepressants speaking, wars have happened before, a lot, and are happening now, a lot, and people living and dying violently happens pretty much every day; it might just be our turn next. Sucks to suck, but that just seems to be the way of the world, and living on this planet means running the risk of The Bad Thing Happening. Hm, maybe it’s post-car-accident trauma or whatever, but random happenings (not even malice aforethought!) ruins peoples’ lives every day and that’s the way of the world.

Maybe I’m more positive because my family (both sides; my Oma and Opa lived through the war as well before coming to Canada) lived through an apocalypse** that was a political violent upheaval and war in Europe; they were poor farmers already, they had nothing when the politicians decided that the war had ended, and they still managed to make a pretty good life for themselves and their families in the aftermath. So I’ve seen that people can live through these things, and their lives do get better. Eventually. You have to scrimp and save and deal with racist bullshit and work menial jobs for a good long while, but I am programmed to believe that you make it there in the end, because I am living proof of it. So I might be biased, and too focused on that end result.

Or it might be because I recently spent six years studying post-apocalyptic fiction and have read through a myriad of imagined ends … as well as the imagined worlds that come after those ends. Grant you, a lot of those worlds are pretty terrible places to exist! But they do exist. And there are people (the protagonists that we follow) who are working to make it a better place. Kind of like solarpunks are now, actually. To tl;dr the takeaway of the fourth chapter of my dissertation in a very blasé way, horrible death is already a foregone conclusion in the post-disaster/-apocalypse scenarios, so the best thing to do is to make life as good as possible for the people around you for as long as you can to the best of your abilities until you expire.

Looking at the news, it’s easy to conclude that the world is full of doom and gloom and awfulness. Just following the reports coming out of Gaza and the Congo alone makes it pretty hard to imagine humanity acting worse than we already are. But it’s not actually all of humanity committing war crimes and exploiting children and adults with literal slave labour. There happens to be a lot of people who think that behaviour is abhorrent, and are organizing against the inhumane treatment of others (including earth others); there are, in fact, many communities of caring individuals who will stand up for human rights. I don’t think it’s incendiary to say “Hm, maybe you shouldn’t hurt someone else even if they’ve hurt you.” I feel like this is something we try to teach our children and bake into our narratives of who is actually heroic and who isn’t.

The people in charge might be okay with the cost of their political agenda being human suffering, but it helps to keep in mind that, in many cases, they’re a pretty small percentage of a pretty large amount of people. It’s true that in a lot of the so-called democracies we have in the Global North right now, there is a lot of support for terrible people with terrible ideas - but it is also good to keep in mind that the political systems we operate in are, each of them, abysmal. As the saying goes, “democracy is the worst political system, aside from all the other ones.” Jokes aside, reading about the stats of First Past The Post elections, voter suppression, and more can be at the same time disheartening as it is encouraging: there are good people in the world, but a lot of their votes do not count for much … if they can vote at all.

Despite that, I think it is important to participate in one’s political system, no matter where they are located. Especially at the municipal level - that is where I find that some of the most progressive, exciting work is being done. In my opinion, if you aren’t especially thrilled about government, it’s not really very smart to disengage from it, because involved or not, you’ll still fall victim to those who manipulate the political system and you will not know how to fight back. Sun-Tzu says to “know thy enemy” and I’m not suggesting you embark on an entire political science degree, but if you have the capacity for it, participating in direct democracy, attending council meetings, volunteering with a local union or political organization will give you the skills you need to understand and become familiar with the policies affecting your life … and also give you the tools with which to change things. This piece (article and full poem “To Throw a Wrench in the Blood Machine”) by Kyle Tran Myhre discusses voting as just one tool in a toolkit in more detail, in a very nuanced although US-politics centric way, and the line “But those who fight monsters have taught me: short-term and long-term thinking are not mutually exclusive” is very relatable. Solarpunk is about both-and, not either/or.

People survive dark and dangerous times by organizing, by reaching out to each other, by enacting practices of care. Maybe caring for you takes the form of making a poster for your local tenants’ union and NOT going to the rally. Maybe it’s watering the little tree next to your bus stop in a heat wave. Maybe it’s organizing a neighbourhood potluck, or just showing up to the one that someone else organized, signalling solidarity with your presence. I have found that being a body that is present is often such a boon to an organizer, regardless of whether or not your participation goes beyond that.

This essay is rather wander-y and I hope not too Pollyannaish. But I’ve had the sinking feeling that life was only ever going to get worse since I was 23; that’s over a decade that I’ve had to get used to this expectation of future ruin psychically, so perhaps that’s coming out. I don’t really expect things to get better, and I don’t know that I ever have. The only thing that really interrupted my internal narrative of cynicism and doomerism was solarpunk! And I still have to dose myself up with it, deliberately choose to reframe my mindset, whenever I start to spiral. Because I do, a lot, when I think about futures. There’s a reason I’m medicated - there’s nothing off with my brain chemistry, though; instead, everything’s off with the world. I marvel that more people are not clinically depressed or diagnosed with anxiety given the state of things.

As far as I can tell, my hope is thus a very present one: it is sparked by other humans who get together in groups to make life better for other people right now. Life can be terrible, miserable, and dark. The universe can seem vast and uncaring. But somewhere there’s a soup kitchen, and a coalition of people writing their government officials for more affordable housing supports, and they’re caring in this moment about the things that are also happening in this moment and the people who live around them now, and they are not deciding not to act because of a calculation based on a possible future outcome (although certainly that is part of their assessment of the situation, it is not the deciding factor). So I might not be part of those groups, but just knowing that they exist and are working towards justice but also being just now and kind now and acting with compassion now… maybe sometimes that’s what I need to hold on to in order to keep the dark at bay.

I want to write one more paragraph that talks about why then, for me, solarpunk is more oriented towards the now, not to the future. I think I needed to start with a solarpunk that dreamed of possible futures so that I could actually begin to see how I could work in the now, and solarpunk futurism gives me a goal. But personally, solarpunk presents is where it’s at.

—-

*I find it darkly funny that our next prime minister is almost guaranteed to be the alt-right-courting Conservative politician Pierre Poilievre, who has on many occasions criticized our current PM for weakening / destroying / doing bad things to our relationship with America (economic/political/etc). If Trump gets in, Polievre will have to deal with him first hand - and he will either welcome foreign troops with open arms (as many Canadians wish they were Americans, oddly enough) or bumble his way into being bravely run over by tanks.

**I remember interviewing my Beppe in grade three about her childhood experience of WWII and she talked about evacuating down roads where there were dead and bloated cows and human bodies (mostly soldiers) torn apart on the side of the road. Before the end of the war they were eating tulip bulbs and potato peelings in the basement of their home while Nazi troops occupied the main floor. Very apocalyptic. I figured everyone’s grandparents had stories like this, though, and by the time I was fourteen I was so sick of hearing about World War Two, because our history curriculum seemed kind of obsessed. I got it at home AND at school. Ugh, apocalypse, whatever, let me get back to reading my Animorphs plz.

[gojonanami]

Dearest Sab,

I can't even find the words to express how much I have enjoyed reading chapter six and this series as a whole.

For me, this series holds such a special place. I have had so much fun watching its inception, reading each part, thinking about it, and I am so happy that it concluded on such a wonderful note. I think I will look on this time fondly – I have truly had such a fun time reading your work, engaging with your page and watching this story grow.

As for this chapter, I truly really enjoyed it. It's so good. I loved the way you chronicled their journey. I am so amazed – you're honestly such a fantastic writer. The dialogue literally made me cry.

I think the lines said by Suguru were some of the most romantic lines I've read. I was literally, physically moved as I read them. They're just so potent. You can literally feel his love through the screen.

This chapter was so enchanting that I just can't find enough words to chronicle it. It's such a beautiful stories that I can wax on and on and write pages on your story. I just know that I can write a 5000 word response to this series – the length of a short dissertation.

I am still reeling from the scenes. They're replaying in my head. From the beginning scene, to the scenes with Yuta, to Suguru's dream, the ice cream date, the presentation, the reconciliation...

And, oh my gosh, Yaga knowing? Ah, of course he'd know! And it ended up being so sweet...

And the scene in Suguru's office? His passion, want and love? It was so romantic, I literally had to pause and stare up at the ceiling because I was feeling myself getting heart eyes. It's so good.

And the end too?? The poodle?? And getting a new place? How sweet?

(Also, you set up Yuta's part so nicely. Looking at his future? What a cool way of doing it!!!)

This is such a beautiful series. I love it so much. I love Professor Geto so, so much. He's so, so cute.

Thank you so, so much for producing this gift <3

I know you've written before about worrying about writing long stories, but honestly, I have enjoyed them so much. I loved reading each part – they read so well & they flowed so well.

I'd like to acknowledge how much work you've put into this series. I respect you so much and admire you so, so, so much for writing so much and so well and so cleanly.

Thank you for writing this series which holds such a special place in my heart. It is truly a gem. A beautiful, beautiful gem.

Dearest anon,

this is so sweet — I can’t find the right words to reply to this 😭💕the series holds such a special place in my heart too and the fact so many of you resonated with it means the world to me. the engagement and love you all had for this series was the thing that kept me going and kept me inspired so thank you really 💕😭

I’m so glad 💕 I’m sorry it made you cry but also thank you 🫶🥹😭 it’s one of the highest compliments a writer can receive 🫶 it means so much to me that you especially enjoyed this part since it is the conclusion to the series and I’ve seen so many of my favs ruined by a lackluster ending which is why I went about this s particular way and way it took me two weeks to write it (even though I’m on break between jobs at the moment).

that is so sweet and if anyone wrote an essay about my fic I think I would sob because this ask is already enough to make me cry haha. I’m so glad the scenes were memorable — I was worried it wasn’t cohesive enough and truly tried to make sure it was.

Yaga wasn’t supposed to know but as I wrote it, I thought it would be perfect for him to know 😭 and to help them find each other again.

after how much happened in that goddamn office with me toying with all of you, I had to let them do it at least once hahaha.

ahhhh I’m glad you liked the ending — I had that last scene in mind from before I started part five — I only knew I was going to reference the first scene of part one. the rest came as I wrote it. and the set up for yuta came after since I added it in since I nearly forgot to add it in there.

thank you so much for reading and for your lovely words — I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. I do worry about it haha -/ it seems like the stories that are popular are just smut — and I like including smut but I also love writing complex human relationships (not bashing pnp in any way because smut is so freaking difficult to write) and so my fics are long — and obviously that’s not for everyone. It makes me happy that it flowed well 😭😭😭 I always worry about that!!

thank you so much for reading and for being here and for your incredibly kind words — there’s no words I can find to thank you for being here and sending this my way. 🥹💕 I hope you’re here for the other stories I wrote 🫶

[narwhalandchill]

random 1.2 story ramble on dan heng incoming, not rly going anywhere w it

also like. its late rn but one of these days i rly wanna read a bit more into and try to form a more coherent view on like. what exactly jing yuans revelation about dan hengs secretly and purposefully botched reincarnation by the elders seems to imply

bc its clear that despite dan heng not wanting to identify as and not being dan feng in the exact sense theres definitely setup that seems to suggest a lot more muddled of a situation than what an usual vidyadhara hatching rebirth would conclude

and like this kind of. what is the line between a self and a past self? what really differentiates you from someone with your body but a different memory and life story? how much of a past life can you remember before you can no longer deny that they too have partially come back to life through you? anyway the psychology and philosophy of that is literally my shit. im obsessed with it. im cracking my knuckles thinking about it. ive written actual dissertation length rants on this about other characters in similar predicaments its such good stuff Man.

imo how id put it off the top of my head without the research done yet or anything just my own vibes is just. i dont think dan heng is dan feng but i also dont think hes not dan feng. i think his desire to separate himself from dan feng to a very black and white degree is something that is more out of his own emotional needs at the moment after feeling trapped by his past sins for so long as opposed to like. a rational assessment of where his situation truly lies. i get why dan heng feels the way he does but i kinda have a feeling theres still a lot he will have to come to terms with as his/dan fengs memories continue to return to him

[dissertationwritinghelpforstds]

Thesis writing Structure

There is no one right way to structure a thesis; instead, the structure will be influenced by the discipline you are working within, the questions you pose, the methodology and theoretical frameworks you use, and the issues you want to cover. This resource outlines two very common thesis structures.

Common Thesis Structures

Type 1: Introduction, Methods, Results, and Discussion

This structure is used across a wide range of disciplines and can report on anything from simple lab experiments to complex systematic research projects in the natural, health, or social sciences, as well as engineering and computer studies. The emphasis in these fields tends to be on observation, experimentation, and strict, replicable protocols of data analysis.

Example: Typical Structure of a Type 1 Thesis

Abstract: All theses have sections such as a title page, table of contents, list of figures, and an acknowledgments page before the main sections.

Introduction: The literature review may be part of the introduction or a separate chapter, depending on the amount of literature that needs to be discussed.

Methods

Results: In some disciplines, the results and discussion sections are combined within one chapter.

Discussion

Conclusion

References: All theses have a reference list following the conclusion and may also include an appendix.

Type 2: Alternative Structure

This structure is widely used for theses in Humanities, Creative Arts, Education, and Business, especially those that are discussing theories, issues, and situations rather than experiments or other scientific approaches to data gathering and analysis.

Example: Typical Structure of a Type 2 Thesis

Abstract

General Introductory Chapter: May or may not be named ‘Introduction’.

Literature Review: Reviewing of relevant literature may be positioned as a separate chapter and/or be positioned within introductions to individual chapters, depending on the topics and complexity of discussion required.

Body Chapter 1: Each chapter may deal with a different topic and a range of sub-topics. Body chapters can be given titles that indicate their content or role in the thesis. Each body chapter includes its own introduction to the sub-topic, a conclusion to the argument presented, and is explicitly linked to other chapters.

Body Chapter 2

Body Chapter 3

Body Chapter 4

Concluding Chapter: May or may not use the heading ‘Conclusion’.

References

Each chapter in this thesis structure will typically include its own introductory section, definitions of terms, and its own conclusion. Each chapter may also have its own literature review related to the particular issue or topic being discussed, although it is also common to place all literature review material into one chapter immediately after the introductory chapter.

To ensure you gain a wider understanding of possible structures for your thesis, you might:

Look at successful theses that have been produced within your discipline.

Talk with your supervisor.

Look at theses that have used similar research designs or methodologies to the ones you want to use, whatever discipline they might be from.

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[ukdissertationhelper]

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Choosing the right topic is the foundation of a successful law dissertation. Ensure your topic is relevant to current legal debates, has sufficient available research material, and is feasible within your timeframe. Popular areas include human rights law, criminal law, corporate law, and international law.

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Acknowledgements

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Literature Review

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Discussion

Conclusion

References/Bibliography

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[grandhotelabyss]

Could you speak to Joyce’s real-world relationship to Wilde? Had he met him, how much do we know about his (Joyce) reading of him (Wilde), was there some continuity between their social circles?

Wilde's fall happened in London when Joyce was only 13, years before Joyce was in touch with the Irish literati. He certainly knew people who knew Wilde—Yeats, to take the most famous example—but I don't believe their circles overlapped much. As far as his reading, aside from allusions in his fiction, the main text of interest is his essay, "Oscar Wilde: The Poet of Salomé." He published this biographical piece in Italian in the Triestine newspaper Il Piccolo della Sera in 1909 on the occasion of Strauss's opera of Salomé opening in the city. The essay isn't online, but you can get it in the Oxford World Classics volume of Joyce's Occasional, Critical, and Political Writing. Here's my reading of the piece from my doctoral dissertation, necessarily oriented toward my own thesis:

In a 1909 article on Wilde that he wrote for the Triestine newspaper Il Picolo della Sera, Joyce demonstrates his grasp of the essence of Wilde’s fraught achievement. Joyce’s short piece of workmanlike journalism on Wilde, written during the ten-year process of composing A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, is for the most part painfully condescending. It reduces Wilde to “the logical and inevitable product of the Anglo-Saxon college and university system, a system of seclusion and secrecy” and speculates eugenically on “the epileptic cast of [Wilde’s] nervous system” (150).[*] Even so, Joyce rightly concludes that Wilde’s work was a “polyphonic variation on the relationship between art and nature, rather than a revelation of his psyche,” which is to say that Joyce comprehends the difficulty and sophistication of the questions Wilde’s work raises for the novelist, ostensibly committed to mimesis (151).

That Joyce sees the import of The Picture of Dorian Gray’s generic innovations is shown when he incisively quotes Wilde’s own defense of his novel: “Oscar Wilde’s self-defence in the Scots Observer should be accepted as legitimate by any bench of impartial judges. Each man writes his own sin into Dorian Gray (Wilde’s most celebrated novel). What Dorian Gray’s sin was no one says and no one knows. He who discovers it has committed it” (151). This might at first seem like nothing more than a simple quip meant to vindicate Wilde from charges laid by those who, then as now, moralize over others’ transgressions to conceal their own. But it actually encodes a nuanced understanding of what Wilde’s destruction of the realist novel of temporal progress and explicit social criticism portends for the twentieth-century novel. Each reader, Joyce implies, now becomes a writer of the text in the act of interpreting it. This shifts the burden of criticism, whether moral or political, onto the reader, who becomes a critic of society in the act of reconstructing the text of society as it manifests itself in the form of a novel. Furthermore, the identity of author and protagonist, once ensured by the protagonist’s intellectual and moral growth over the course of the progressive narrative to the stature of the author, now shifts to an identity of protagonist and reader. Readers investigate a psyche made, like their own, of cultural discourses and thus come to understand their own subjective constitution.

_______________________

[*] The piece’s occasion is a Triestine performance of Strauss’s Salomé, based on Wilde’s Symbolist drama. Joyce’s perhaps surprising de haut en bas posture toward Wilde could be explained as self-protectiveness: the latter sexually-dissident cosmopolite Aesthete tries to avoid a too-close public association with the earlier one, perhaps for fear of incurring a similar fate. On the other hand, considerations of class/religion in the Irish context may be the explanation, as the downwardly-mobile petit-bourgeois Catholic takes discursive revenge on the privileged Protestant member of the professional/colonial elite.

[ladiesandwitches]

"But if what you're saying is true, doesn't simply having the newspaper, having access to that knowledge, negate the events entirely?" Scully posited in quiet challenge. "That paper, if it really is from the future, is from a timeline in which you never visited, never had access to that information, and therefore everything is already changed. The future isn't fixed, Dr Brown, it isn't immutable...it's constantly changing, responding to decisions we make in the present. It isn't some fixed destiny we're all heading towards."

It was one of the great discussions of theoretical time travel; how much could or couldn't be changed by someone hypothetically moving forwards or backwards in time. All timelines existed in a world pre-time travel or existed because of the time travel; it was a paradox of never knowing what was changed or what was already altered. Even if time travel did move from the theoretical to the practical, it didn't change the fact that the future was too unknown, too dependent on hundreds of thousands of small factors in the present, to ever really be certain. But Emmett Brown seemed to be of the opinion that not only was the future a fixed point, but that his own actions could be capable of directly changing it.

She was beginning to believe it would be exhausting to be in his mind; it was almost exhausting simply being in the room with him.

"Believe me, Doctor Brown, I have seen more than my fair share of cases which have challenged so much of what was thought to be known about this world, realities and discoveries that show us that the science we know only takes us but a distance towards the truth, but all that still requires evidence. Solid proof. What my partner usually begins with is an idea and an urban legend," she concluded with an affectionate exhaustion. She wouldn't change Mulder's way of seeing the world, but that didn't mean it didn't sometimes tire her.

The talk of time travel, however, a real, honest scientific discussion, with the thrilling possibility of something real and tangible, that it might actually be achieved, only energised her. As she listened to him describe the years and money it had taken, the effort towards his supposed success, Scully felt inside her the kind of eager excitement she'd had when researching her dissertation.

"But wouldn't the energy required be simply too much for the human body to handle?" Scully asked, already drawn in, unable to resist the temptation of something so scientifically astounding that any other breakthrough would pale by comparison. "Besides, every debate about time travel only hypothetically accepts the possibility to travel forward in time, not backward. To be able to travel not only into the future but into the past would require the--"

Scully's growing enthusiasm was cut off by Mulder's return, the door slamming a little against the wall.

"Let's go get your car," he announced with an eager grin, moving further into the room.

"They agreed we could take him out of custody?" Scully asked as Mulder took her hand and pulled her out of her seat effortlessly, the thrill of a time machine clearly making him feel more carefree than usual.

"What can I say? I'm charming and persuasive, Scully" he replied, looking down at her with a grin, before turning to the time travelling doctor. "Your car is still at the crash site. Apparently thinking you're an alien has made local law enforcement reluctant to get too close until it's been checked for radiation. I informed the sheriff that the FBI would be more than happy to help with that."

"That's how you got him to agree to taking doctor Brown out of custody," Scully realised aloud as she looked up at him.

"I simply offered our services," he replied with a knowing grin and Scully sighed, fast coming to the inevitable conclusion that this was a pointless battle. She turned to Emmett Brown, finding herself hoping he wasn't insane, realising that some small part of did desperately want this to be true, that they'd be driving out to look at an actual time machine. The more logical, cynical part of her brain however said to prepare herself for disappointment and to look at nothing more than the dangerous vehicle alterations of a mad man. She took a breath.

"I suppose this means you'd better come with us, Dr Brown."

As she passed Mulder on the way to the door, she put a finger at his chest pointedly. "But if this thing turns out to have radiation after all, you're on your own."

❝It's not the newspaper itself so much as it is the events published in the newspaper. What I found is the first in a series of increasingly unfortunate events for his family that results in him losing both of his children in the span of two days.❞ Just recalling the events makes him shudder. ❝I didn't have the heart to throw it out and the information about the event was extremely valuable, so I brought it back with me.❞

Emmett sighs heavily, hunching over in his seat from the sheer weight of the knowledge he should have never learned, yet knows he could never part with. ❝I learned a lot of disturbing information regarding the trajectory of his life and while I know I'll be able to fix that problem in the future, I can't guarantee anything I try to do will prevent the events that send him on this downward spiral.❞ It would be fixing a symptom, not the cause. And the cause is Marty's inability to maintain any sort of composure when being called a name—but if their proximity over the years hadn't taught him by now that an insult is just a weapon of the weak and only has power when given it—

He shakes his head. There may be no correcting that problem.

But if nothing else, he can spare the McFly twins a terrible tragedy. The sins of the father should not be passed on to the children and they deserve a fighting chance.

It doesn't take any sort of complex mental gymnastics for him to understand Agent Scully's scepticism the more he unveils about the night of the first temporal experiment. Sometimes, when he sits and thinks back on the individual events that not only led up to Marty's displacement, but that occurred during that paradoxically too-short and too-long week, it all seems unbelievable and he had lived it.

❝Accidentally,❞ he reiterates, placing heavy emphasis on the word. ❝He wasn't even supposed to be in the time machine that night. But there were❞—Emmett pauses, hesitating for a fraction of a second as the chill of fear cuts through him, draining some of the colour from his face—❝we were attacked.❞

❝I did the first thing I could think of. I told him to run while I got their attention and that's what he did. He got in the car and ran for his life. I know I disengaged the time circuits, but he must have activated them during his escape and didn't realise.❞

That's another problem I'll have to sort out once I get back. If they'll be looking for me... God, if they come after Marty—

Emmett clears his throat, unwilling to take a ride down that slippery slope right now. There's more than enough worry to be found seated right across from him, in the probing and expectant gaze of Agent Scully, in the uncertainty of his own fate, and at least this problem has a clear and tangible outcome for better or for worse: either Agent Mulder will return having secured his release or he is stuck here for the foreseeable future.

❝No,❞ he concedes, the colour slowly returning to his complexion, ❝it doesn't automatically make it true, but it does suggest that maybe his way of looking at the world bears some merit. That there's a possibility, no matter how crazy it sounds. If there's evidence that supports his theory, even if that evidence goes against every preconceived notion we have of the universe or every commonly held belief, then it warrants investigating, doesn't it? It may just be the case you're not seeing the whole picture yet.❞

A sceptic and a believer. He has to admit his curiosity as to how they ended up partners in such a unique unit.

The words of an old colleague come flooding back—belief belongs in religion, not in science—and while he can appreciate those words now, he's always had trouble accepting that as the whole truth. Belief should never cloud a scientist's judgment or blind someone to the truth when the evidence disagrees with a beloved theory, but its importance as a driving factor cannot be underpinned.

He meets her gaze, offering a small half-amused smile. ❝How? By making it my life's work. Thirty years of research, trial-and-error, my entire family fortune, and the unwavering belief that time travel is possible and not just something out of science-fiction. And a few calculations that would make even the finest mathematician's head spin.

❝The tricky part was designing and assembling the necessary equipment. For a while, the energy requirements were the biggest hurdle; the amount of energy it takes to achieve displacement is astronomical. So everything had to be either built from the ground up or had its preexisting design heavily modified. Which you'll see for yourself when we get back to my car.❞

[speenach]

"she's sneaky and smoked out, it's starting to show..."

summer 2017, i found out i got doxxed, and i deleted my 7-year-old blog in a panic. i copied the ten-ish most recent entries from my password-protected section into a word doc and said goodbye. i shouldn't have had to (no one should).

i was a vibrant, self-actualizing 24-year-old -- just two years out of the closet, two years into my grad program, two years in community with radical organizers. that very same day, i got my first frames in a long, uninterrupted line of dainty eyewear. i'd gone from "the bisexual haircut" to a swooping pixie just months prior. i had transitioned from visitor to actual student in my philosophy department, after leaving my medical school class in 2016. i grew a crush on hank green and more than one of the senior students. i had my first shot at ethical non-monogamy.

i had been a witness in a failed sexual assault investigation that drove my friend and roommate of the time out of our med school cohort, and my friends and i were drafting our own impact statements for a second, impending investigation by the federal title IX office. my letter included that i'd been groped in fall 2015 and derided by classmates the entire school year.

as her case concluded, at least at the university level, my roommate was moving out (to continue her training, fully funded at a peer institution), and i was moving way, way closer to my activist friends in a different part of the city. my rent basically halved. i could walk to political meetings and the bars afterward. i was happy to fill my instagram with queer theory and flowers while supporting the hangouts that'd later fall to COVID. i fell in love and started the never-ending ✨process✨ of wrangling my jealousy. cats died, experiments ended, i finished coursework, i cut off my parents, i fell in love again, and cats were adopted.

i missed the friends i'd trauma-bonded with and moved away from, but the gap was filled with organic intentions, and we grew a space of chosen family. they come over and love me, and we drink sparkles.

my closest comrade became like my gay mom, then like my sister as i grew up a bit. we're all trying as hard as we can. i worry i'm not there for her enough. i'm reconnected with my bio sister, but i don't think i make much time for keeping in touch. i overthink everything. there are people i think about almost every day who i haven't had a substantive conversation with in years, but/and the way everything has played out is okay.

i think i'm coming back to tumblr partially as a way of telling people, i care about you, i want you to know what's going on in my life, even when i'm irrationally anxious about taking up time with a one-on-one.

i also wanna show off build confidence as a writer before i'm supposed to birth my dissertation late this year. then, i'll meander back to medical school and finish it. i'm pretty sure i'm going to be a child and adolescent psychiatrist. i'm currently recovering from a cold that has taken me out for days and munching some fancy biscotti from a sweet in-law. i have dinky hobbies that i love, it's 2023, and i just turned 30. 💫

[this part of the post was supposed to be the youtube video for RAC's "Never Let You Go" cover, ft Hilary Duff (wow, nostalgia!) and Matthew Koma (who I don't know, but sounds great with my childhood idol); i posted this jan 11, 2023 and by may, the vid is down lol. something something about how quickly the internet deteriorates. now, the lyrics below just link to the spotify URL.]

...but even if i changed, what's wrong with it?

[illfoandillfie]

A Different Kind of Education: I Is For Impact Play (Chapter 8)

ADKoE MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Series Summery:  After being broken up with for not being kinky enough, Reader seeks out her professor to give her some private tutoring so she can win her boyfriend back.

Chapter Summery:   A new week and a new lesson, but also a new challenge. How can you possibly find the courage to talk to your professor about your period?

Warnings: Modern AU, smut (18+), slow burn romance, dom/sub dynamics, dom!roger and sub!reader, professor x student sex, dialogue heavy, conversations about and mentions of menstrual cycles/periods, discussions of impact play including: spanking, kicking, slapping, punching, floggers, paddles, crops, whips, and canes

Words: 10,391

A/N: Better late than never, right? Big apologies for taking so long to get this one up! Once again I've had to split a single topic into multiple chapters lmao. This one is mostly the theory part of the lesson and a bit of an info dump, but the next part will focus more on the actual smut.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini 

@80s-roger @libsterslobsters @okilover02 @cjand10 @dealorgirl32 @youngpastafanmug @onceuponadetectivedemigod​

You knew it was something you’d have to deal with eventually, that having your period would affect your lessons with Roger. But still you felt reluctant to broach the topic with him. It wasn’t something you generally discussed with people, especially not your professor (even if you were regularly sleeping with him). And you could already hear the lecture he’d give you about why you shouldn’t be embarrassed to tell your sexual partner about your cycle, and about how he’d taught reproduction enough to not be phased by it. The problem was you weren’t really sure how you felt about having sex during it and you knew even less about whether Roger would want to. You were definitely going to have to talk to him about it, no matter how much you didn’t want to. So, wondering when the best time to bring it up would be, you checked the curriculum he’d written for you. Impact play. That was the topic for the week. Roger might consider you clueless about kink (as you’d learnt during the previous week’s munch), but you at least knew enough to know that impact play meant spanking. For a moment you were distracted from your worries about the conversation you were going to have, rather excited by what you’d just read. Spanking was one of those things you’d been expecting to try. When you thought about BDSM, spanking was the second thing to come to mind after bondage. It was one of those things Dylan had hinted at being into. A couple of times during sex he’d given your arse a slap and, though you’d never really asked for it you also hadn’t told him to stop. He never hit too hard and it added a bit of excitement so there was no harm in it. And you suspected he might be interested in pushing it further if you ever suggested as much. So, to know that Roger was going to run you through the basics of it and show you how it felt, you couldn’t help but be a bit excited. And maybe you’d be able to keep things over the clothes to start and you wouldn’t have to tell Roger about your period after all. The good thing with having an implant was that it reduced the duration of your period. It would have been nice if it stopped it entirely but at least it shortened it and made it a little lighter. So maybe you could organise a second session later in the week for the more hands on part of the lesson, and not have to explain at all. You left your apartment feeling happier and excited to see Roger that night. But you didn’t have to wait so long to see him.  

You’d barely taken two steps inside when a familiar voice called out Ms Y/L/N and you found Roger walking towards you, his hand raised in a lazy wave.  “Hi Professor,” you smiled, surprised but happy to see him, “I’m just on my way to class, what’s up?”  “Oh, in that case,” he glanced over to a group of students ambling past you, “do you have time for a meeting before you leave this afternoon?”  Your heart rate sped up at the serious way he looked at you over his glasses, “Umm sure.”  “Good. I’ll see you this afternoon then. Don’t forget.”  You nodded but a new worry had taken over your mind. There was only one reason he could want to talk to you. Your degree. If it was anything to do with his tutoring sessions then he would have just said it when you got to his place that evening. No, it must be to do with your class work. Maybe something had been wrong with your last exam? Possibilities were turning over in your mind as you resumed your path to your first class, each worse than the other. Maybe you’d misunderstood a question and gotten it completely wrong. Maybe he’d had to fail you. Maybe your overall grade had dropped. Maybe he was going to call the whole tutoring thing off because you’d gotten too distracted and done so badly on your recent assessment. You spent the entire day trying not to get too worked up about it, trying to tell yourself that if your work had slipped even a little he would have called to talk about it earlier, that if it really was as bad as failing his subject you’d have discussed it long before now. By the time your last class of the day ended you were somewhere between terrified about what Roger was going to say and relieved that you were about to find out.  

Your hand was shaking as you knocked on Roger’s office door and pushed it open at his word.   “AH, Ms Y/L/N, shut the door please and take a seat.” he said, shifting a stack of papers to the side of his desk. It was only once you were sitting that he seemed to look at you properly, “Are you alright? You look a bit pale.”  “Professor I’m so sorry, I swear if something was wrong with my last exam then it wasn’t because of our lessons and I promise I’m not letting them distract me at all. I put so much time and effort into studying and if-”  “Woah, woah, hang on. No one said anything was wrong.”  Your breath caught in your throat and it seemed to take you twice as long as it normally would for you to understand what he’d said, “There’s not? Then....why am I here?”  “It’s about tonight’s tutoring session.”  “Oh?”  “I wondered if you’d be okay making a small change to the plan.”  “S-so nothing's wrong with my work?”  Roger shook his head, “Your work is impeccable Ms Y/L/N. Sorry, I didn’t realise you’d assume the worst. I had no intention of worrying you like that. I was intending to mention it this morning but you seemed to be in a bit of a rush and I didn’t want anyone to overhear so...” he gestured vaguely towards you with his hands.   You let out a relieved chuckle, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders, “What was the change you wanted to make?”  “Do you know what we’ll be focusing on this week?”  “Impact play, Professor.”  “Very good. And do you know what that entails?”  “It’s like spanking isn’t it?”  “Spanking is definitely part of it, yes.”  “Cool. But you’re not wanting to switch topic are you? Only I’ve been kind of looking forward to this one since it’s like proper BDSM stuff....or like, not that other things aren’t I just mean that spanking is part of what I initially imagined, y’know?”  Roger held up his hand to quiet you, “I understand what you mean Ms Y/L/N. And it’s not that I want to change the topic, I just wanted to change where the lesson would take place.”  “Okay...” you were a little surprised by that. Where else could he have in mind when your lessons were supposed to be secret.  “I thought we might have the first lesson here.”  “Here?!”  “Keep your voice down, Ms Y/L/N. Not here exactly, not this office. In the first-year bio room actually.”  “Why? Isn’t that kind of risky? What if someone saw?”  Roger shrugged one shoulder, “It might be, but I think what I intend to show you could be covered as a biological experiment. Let me explain,” he said upon seeing your confused face, “So, as you no doubt remember, first years do a lot of dissection of various animals, working their way up to human.”  You nodded, remembering hours spent bent over various carcases and cadavers.  “Well, I thought it might be beneficial to show you some of the impact play tools we can use, demonstrating how they work and what effects they can have, but I don’t want to demonstrate them on you straight away. Luckily, it just so happens that one of the animals my first years are studying right now is pigs, so I thought we might use a pig carcass instead. Pig and human flesh are quite similar so you should get a decent sense of how being spanked with various tools will look and the impact they would have on your skin. We can compare being spanked by hand to flogging to a crop and so on. All without experiencing any pain at all. Of course, it is a dead pig so it won’t be exactly the same and you probably won’t see the same levels of bruising you would on a living human being, but it’s a good starting point. Plus this way you could try wielding the tools too, so you can get a sense for how they feel to use them and how much force is required to make them work.”  You were taken aback by the explanation and had to stop your jaw from falling open as you listened. But Roger waited patiently for you to think it over and you quickly concluded it was a good plan. You could easily write it off as related to your dissertation if anyone saw and asked what was going on. It wasn’t at all related but Roger was about the only person who knew what topic you were researching so no one else would pick up the lie.   “Okay then, let’s have the lesson here.”  “Excellent. You really don’t mind hanging back?”  “Not at all.”  “Good. I think we should possibly wait until a little later before we start, just to let the place clear out a bit. Perhaps we could get some dinner and eat it in here before we head down to the room. You can tell me how you’re getting on with your dissertation.”  “Okay, I like that idea.”  “Shall I duck out and get us some food then? What would you like?” 

After what could only be described as a minor argument about the merits of Mexican food, you and Roger eventually settled on a nearby Greek place. He tapped the order into Uber Eats and then went to wait for the delivery out on the street so the driver wouldn’t have to find their way through the numerous carparks and laneways on campus. You ducked out to your own car to drop off your bag full of books, though you kept your laptop to make notes on. It would also make your story seem more legitimate if anyone did stumble onto the lesson and ask what was going on. The thought of the lesson made you smile. Partly because you were keen to learn about the topic but also partly because you knew there was no way sex would be part of it. Roger would definitely draw the line at fucking his student in his classroom where anyone could catch you. And if you were going to be spanking a dead pig then you wouldn’t be asked to remove clothes or anything like that. So you wouldn’t have to discuss your menstrual cycle with Roger at all. You’d just say you were busy until later in the week when your period stopped and organise the follow-up lesson then and Roger wouldn’t be any the wiser. It was perfect. That, in addition to knowing nothing was wrong with your actual schoolwork, put you in a very good mood and you could have whistled with joy as you made your way back to Roger’s office.  

By the time you’d finished eating, the sky outside the window had changed from a mix of warm pinks and yellows as the sun set and was gradually darkening the longer you watched. It was only when Roger glanced at his watch and saw that it was a quarter to seven that he decided the building would be empty enough for your lesson to start. He grabbed his own laptop as you grabbed yours and then led you along the corridor and down a set of stairs, taking you towards the back of the building where the hands-on biology lessons were held.   Roger made sure the door was shut and locked before dumping his belongings onto a desk. “Can you give me a hand?” he asked, before moving to the door to a walk-in freezer at the back of the room.  Together you hoisted a large pig carcass onto a cart and wheeled it out into the main room.   Roger then ducked back into the freezer returning, after a little rummaging, with what looked to be a child’s toy crate. It was made of yellow plastic and seemed light enough that Roger had no trouble hoisting it onto one of the desks, but it was not full of children’s toys. You couldn’t see everything immediately but poking out of the top was a long black handle with a leather flap hanging off the end.   “Is that what we’ll be using then?” You were eyeing the box warily.  “Yup,” Roger began pulling the items from the box one by one, laying them out on the desk, “I brought the box in earlier and hid it down here so no one would stumble onto it. I didn’t want any awkward questions. Or to have any of them stolen since they’re mine,” he added with a chuckle.  You looked over the collection with interest, some of the objects familiar to you and some only vaguely recognisable, “Is that a hair brush?”  “It is,” Roger winked playfully, “Kink can be very D.I.Y and the back of a hairbrush makes for a good makeshift paddle. The front of the hairbrush can be fun too actually. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m going to go through everything individually, explain what they are and what sort of effect they have and I’ll demonstrate them on our piggy participant. There’s also a few things I don’t have which we can run through at the end, sound good?”  “Sounds great.” You sank into one of the nearby seats, pulling your laptop towards you, ready to take notes.   “Right well. Impact play is a BDSM practice where one partner strikes another for sexual gratification. As you rightly said earlier this includes spanking but there's a little more to it than just that. You can slap your partner, punch them, kick them, whip them or flog them. There’re numerous ways to play with impact and as with all BDSM it’s important to negotiate what you want before you start. Being struck can leave marks of course. Brusies, welts, scratches, right through to cuts that draw blood. For some people, the marking aspect is an important part of their enjoyment, and they might go so far as to intentionally make the marks more apparent. But whether or not you want visible marks might be influenced by your job or the season or your social life or any number of other things. Personally, the marks are secondary to why I enjoy the forms of impact play I partake in. But my feelings aside, the nature of our lessons and the secrecy required, means I won’t intentionally be marking you anywhere that isn’t easy to cover up. If you even want to try it out. You might see everything today and decide it’s not for you and that would be okay.”  “I don’t think there’s much danger of that Roger. Dylan’s spanked me a little before and I’m interested enough to try more.”  “In that case then, you should know that physical pain is part of impact play no matter what aspect you try. And it can bring up more mental pain too, depending on the individual. Which is why I want to start with testing some implements on this pig. We can go through a few things and you’ll get a sense of them and then we can talk about what you might actually want to try or if any of it seems wrong for you. I’m also going to be much more diligent with your safe word in these lessons than any before. So what is your safe word?”  “Pizazz, Roger,”  “Good. Remember you can use it whenever you need to, even today. If things get too much for you I want to know.”  “I know. I promise I’ll use it.” You were struck by how serious Roger’s tone was but understood it, after the conversation you’d had during your previous lesson. And, for the first time, you wondered if this would be a topic Roger would find hard to teach.  “Thank you. I’ll check in with you every so often, especially when we move onto the practical lesson and you’re experiencing it firsthand. So, if I ask you what your safe word is, I need you to respond as loudly and as quickly as you can. It’s a way for me to gauge how well you’re coping and to make sure you’re still capable of using it.”  “That makes sense.”  Having assured himself of your understanding, Roger took a deep breath and smiled again, “Well, I have a range of different implements you can use here today but we’ll start with the most basic,” he held his two hands in front of him, palms towards you, fingers wiggling, “Hands.”  You smiled at his showmanship but your gaze lingered on the offered view. His hands had always seemed quite lovely, even when he was just teaching you biology. The way they moved so delicately as he demonstrated necessary scientific processes for the class, or rapidly twirled pens around his fingers to impress new students. Of course, you’d felt them too since you’re first private lesson, the way he caressed you and held you. His fist tightening in your hair and his fingers plunging into you and making you moan and the way he’d gently stroke your skin as you were both regaining your breath. You were excited to feel the power in them as he spanked you.   “Spanking is entry level impact play. Everyone and their mother has heard of it. It’s a common thing to see in pornography and even in Hollywood movies when they want to show sex as kinky. And because you don’t need more than your hands it’s easy to experiment with. Do you want to see what it looks like?”  You nodded and Roger stepped closer to the pig, angling himself so you could see.   Suddenly there was the sound of a clap as Roger’s palm hit the pig’s flesh.   “See how my hand was open and my palm was flat?” Roger demonstrated again but slower so the hit barely made a sound, “But what if I do this?” He hit the pig again but changed the position of his hand. The sound of his hand colliding with the pig was deeper the second time around, “If you cup your hand, curve it slightly, you can change the way the spank feels and sounds. Just like clapping.”  You experimentally clapped your hands together, first with open palms and then with each hand cupped so that the fingers wrapped around the back of the other.  “Now you give the pig a try.”  Feeling a surge of nervously excited butterflies, you got out of your seat and took your place at the pig. With a breath and a swallow you quickly brought your hand down. The slapping sound seemed to echo in the quiet room but it wasn’t as crisp as the noise Roger’s hits had made. With a look to Roger for permission, you tried it again, creating a slightly more impressive sound.  “Good, now cupped?”  You did it again, curving your fingers in a bit and bringing it down again. It felt more awkward than the open palm hit had so you repositioned yourself to hit the pig from a slightly different angle and tried once more.  “Don’t be afraid to pull your arm back further. The more your rear back, the more force will be in the spank. Like this,” he pulled his hand back past his ear and swung down hard, the spank echoing around you. “Of course, you can also spank from a nearer point too. Spanking, and a lot of impact play, is best if you mix it up a bit, don’t stay in one rhythm too long, do some spanks with your fingers spread, or change how hard or fast they are. I might give a sub two or three hard hits each with a pause between but then I’ll switch to a more rapid series of spanks that don’t have as much force behind them but come faster.”  You nodded and experimented with taking your arm back further, testing out ways to change the strength of each spank, until Roger finally called you to stop.  “How did that feel?” he asked as you took your seat again.  “My hand tingles.”  “That’s normal,” Roger laughed, “in fact it’s one thing I really enjoy about spanking by hand. The sub isn’t the only one who feels the spanks, the dom gets some of the pain in his hand too, especially if the intensity ramps up or there's a section of quick-fire spanks. And that can a) help the dom understand what the sub is feeling and work out how long the scene should go and b) brings a sort of intimacy to the scene that is harder to achieve with a tool.”  You hummed as you noted down what he’d said, “Have you ever spanked someone so much you injured your wrist or anything?”  “No.” Roger shook his head, amused by the question, “My wrists are pretty sturdy. But a few times I’ve been left with a stingy, tingly hand for an hour or two. Which brings me to an important note about pain. There are two main types of pain you can experience in impact play. We refer to them as thuddy and stingy.”  “Thuddy and stingy? What is this, an afternoon kids show?”  Roger rolled his eyes, “The names are simple but they explain exactly what they mean. Some types of impact will have a stingy sensation which is usually superficial. It won’t go deeper than the first few layers of skin and probably leaves the skin feeling warm and a little tingly or like sunburn, y’know? It’s typical of spanks and slaps. Thuddy pain is deeper, it gets into the fat and muscles and tissue and aches more. And I’ll go through which tools cause which sort of pain as I get to them. Generally though, people who enjoy impact play have a preference for one or the other.”  “And your preference is what?”  “Thuddy. Definitely. Although I prefer inflicting stingy.”  You hummed thoughtfully.  “Now, I’ll go into details about ways to actually incorporate spanking into a scene later. We can talk about it while we’re negotiating our scene. Today is just about the practicalities and sensations involved in the different types of impact play. So are you okay to move on?”  “Yup, definitely.” And then, sensing Roger might ask, you added, “Pizazz.” feeling pleased when you saw him smile. 

“I don’t expect us to delve too deep into them but I think I should touch on kicking, punching and slapping. Kicking and punching are things I’ve not done. They can, obviously, be quite painful. But they’re pretty self-explanatory. From what I understand about it, and what I’ve heard others who enjoy that kind of thing say, kicking and punching can both be very intimate, similar to the way spanking by hand is, but in a more primal or animalistic way. Punching is, of course, done without any accessories but kicking often includes footwear of some kind. A lot of time it’s something like a steel-toed boot or something with a bit of weight to it.”  “That isn't something I want to try.” You’d learnt a lot about how far kink went so weren’t completely shocked that some people would enjoy something as forceful as kicking, but it did take you by surprise to hear Roger talking about it.  “What about slapping?”  “How is that different to spanking?”  “Well, you’re right, they are similar. But slapping generally refers to slapping on the face whereas spanking is usually on the, uh, derriere. Of course you can slap or spank other parts too. For clarity’s sake, if I say slapping assume I mean on the face whereas spanking is anywhere else on the body.”  You thought about it for a second, “I’m not sure if I’d be game to try it but I do want to know more.”  “Slapping can be fun. Again, it’s not one I do a lot but I have played with it in the past. It comes in handy for particular scenes and there’s a fairly bratty sub I’ve worked with who responds really well to it. The most important thing to know is that if you are slapping someone’s face only ever aim for the cheeks. There’s a lot of fragile places around the face and it’s close to the brain so you need to be careful not to do any lasting damage. Never hit the temples because you hit them with enough force and it can kill a person. Nose and ears are off limits too, anything that is important.  You knew enough about biology to know Roger wasn’t making those rules up for fun. Noses were easy to break and hitting an ear too hard could damage someone’s hearing. But face slapping did still intrigue you. 

“Well, I’d say the next – let's call it the next level – of impact play is paddling.” He picked up what looked to be a wooden plank with a handle. It was an inch or two longer and wider than his hand with small holes cut out in a repeating pattern over the flat side so you could look right through it. “They don’t always look like this. Paddles come in lots of different shapes and sizes. This is a wooden one but they’re also frequently made of leather and sometimes the leather ones will have one side that’s a little more padded than the other. That gives you a bit of versatility with the pain. You can start off lightly with the padded side to get you in the zone and then during the scene switch it to the firmer side that hurts more. Or, if you don’t have access to a paddle at all, you can substitute a hairbrush.” He picked the hairbrush up and waved it back and forth.  “And that-” you pointed at the hair brush, “will feel the same as that?” you pointed at the wooden paddle, not quite able to reconcile the two in your mind.   “Not exactly the same but close. Honestly you can get really creative with impact play and not spend any money to get nearly the same results. I mean a plastic hairbrush might take a few extra hits or a little more force to really bruise someone but they’ll still end up sore from it. Or, if the hairbrush doesn’t do it for you, dig through your draws and see what else you can find. Wooden spoons, cutting boards, rulers, leather belts, spatulas, rolling pins, ping pong paddles, anything you can get your hands on. Just be mindful of how easily they’d break or them causing more pain than you expect.”  Again, you weren’t necessarily surprised by the lengths people would go to for sexual gratification, as Roger had put it, but it was a bit astounding. Still, you noted it all down just in case.   “Now a paddle generally falls under the stingy category but you do tend to get a deeper bruise than with your hand. Different factors could alter the way it feels too. If you put less force into it the pain will fall more on the thuddy side, same goes for if your hits are slower. But the pain call also be influenced by the size of the paddle, the material it’s made out of, the texture of it.”  “Texture?”  “Sometimes paddles have added texture, so they aren’t just a smooth, flat board. They might have metal studs that are more raised than the surface of the blade – the part you hit with – or ridging that will imprint the skin. This one has holes in it which definitely changes the feeling, makes it more intense. As you strike and the blade hits, the holes do two things. They stop any air cushions forming that would lessen the impact and they sort of push the skin into the holes which means the pain isn't completely even along where was hit. Plus it also leaves these cool circle marks behind which is fun.”  You realised you’d held your breath through the explanation, eyes following the paddle as Roger waved it through the air and ran his hands over it unconsciously. You hoped he had something more beginner friendly at home, though you couldn’t pretend you weren’t turned on by the way he wielded his weapon.  “Using it is quite similar to spanking but your hand isn’t hitting, it’s holding onto the paddle handle. So you just pull back,” Roger’s arm went back and the paddle swung backwards,” and then hit,” he swung his arm forward, the paddle cutting through the air and landing directly against the soft flesh of the pig. It made a satisfying thwack sound on impact and when Roger’ brought it back again you could see the circular patterns he’d talked about.   He demonstrated a few more times before he handed the plank to you.   It was heavier than you’d been expecting, solid wood, but the handle fit into your palm comfortably. You ran your hands over the flat part, what Roger had called the blade, and felt the holes with your fingers. The weight made it a little hard to swing but not impossible. You managed to mark the pig as well, stroking the circular imprints with your fingers.  “Try the hairbrush,” Roger said, swapping it for the paddle.  Its handle wasn’t quiet as long, but it was lighter and you found your hits were harder with it, without you even trying.   “Something to be aware of if you use an ordinary household item, or even just a different sort of impact toy. Because it’s lighter you can pull it back further and swing harder. A dom has to be aware of how much is going into each hit and how much their sub can handle.” 

“So what’s after paddles?”  “Floggers.” Roger picked his up off the table, “This is a fairly typical flogger. As you can see it’s made of black leather. It has the handle which is the thickest part and then a number of smaller tails. The tails is where you get the most variation which can be a stylistic choice or just a side effect of its price and overall quality. There’s a trick for knowing if a flogger is good quality or not. It should be pretty evenly balanced between the handle and the tails, so you should be able to do this,” he held out a finger and balanced the flogger on it carefully, the handle pointing out one way and the tails dangling over the other.   You thought for sure it would tip forward onto the tails and tumble to the ground but it hung there perfectly.  “Sometimes there will be more tails or they'll look different but no matter what, it should be balanced.” Roger gave a practiced flick of his hand so the flogger leapt into the air and he was able to catch the handle before it fell. “From a more stylistic point of view, you could get a flogger with less tails but they’ll be made of braids of leather which makes them heavier and thicker. Braided tails are also likely to have knots in the ends which can be a bit scratchy and even draw blood. They don’t have to be made of leather either. Rubber floggers are also popular. The tails on them tend to be more rectangular in shape, still flat but they have more edges and it actually feels like you’re being hit with more tails then there really are. And if you’re looking to really fuck someone up you can get hemp floggers. Sometimes they’ll look similar to this leather one but hemp is fairly stiff material and sometimes the tails will be shaped so that they’re sort of squiggly rather than flat lines. The squiggles hurt like a bitch, especially if they have knots at the end. Definitely start off with simple leather and work up once you’re more experienced.” Roger dragged the ends of the tails over his hand as he spoke, “I’d say this falls into the more thuddy type of pain. It can cover a large area of your body since the tails spread out and each of them creates an individual pain point. And because you’re being hit six or seven or nine or however many times at once, you can build up quite a rapid movement over a short period of time.”  You eyed the dancing tails as Roger moved his hand through them, “How long are the tails? Isn’t it a bit dangerous to have so many bits flying in all directions?”  Roger laughed, “Well yeah, kinda. I mean, that’s BDSM for you though, it gets dangerous which is why we’re all obsessed with safety. It’s a good thing to have noticed though, well done. The tails on this one are on the shorter side but some floggers will have much longer ones which means the dom can stand further back and still inflict a lot of pain. But you’re right, you do have to be mindful of the length and where they’re flying because a longer tail can potentially wrap around to somewhere you aren’t intending to hit. For instance, if you’re standing behind a person and flogging the back of their shoulder, you don’t want one of the tails to fly past their shoulder and around their neck. That would be incredibly painful and probably not what they expected or wanted from the scene.”  “So you have to take into account the length of the tails when you’re negotiating the scene then? And know where on the body to focus the hits so you don’t risk causing the wrong sort of pain and ending it early.”  “Exactly. That’s why negotiating the scene is important. Then both the dom and the sub will know what they want to achieve, what they want to get out of the experience, and they can tailor things to fit better. A lot of doms who are into impact play are likely to have multiple versions of their favourite toys – I myself have a few different paddles at home, I just didn’t bring them all in with me today – so by talking through what you want they’ll be able to choose the style of toy that will best fit the scene.”  “So how do you use a flogger then? Is it the same as spanking and paddling where you just swing your arm forward?”  “Sort of. Floggers have a few different ways to use them. There is of course the single strike option where, yeah, you do just hit them like you would with a paddle. I find that you don’t need to bring your arm back so far though, the movement comes from your elbow more than your shoulder.” Roger bent his arm so his hand and the flogger were roughly head height and then brought it down on the pig, “And you can change the angle of your single strike so that you hit them overhand or underhand or from one of the sides.” He demonstrated each direction as he said them, first bringing the flogger down from above, then swinging it up from below, then from the right side and finally a backhanded hit from the left. “But you don’t have to just pick a side to hit from. Paddles and hands are limited in how you can swing them but floggers have more movement. One way to use them is to swing them in a circle.” He moved back towards the pig to demonstrate, standing side on so that the tails whipped around and struck the pig, “I like starting off with circles because you can keep the pressure quite light. The tails sort of brush over the sub as they pass and it can be a good way to slowly build up. And then you can move into a figure eight as you get a bit harder.” Roger shifted his circles so they made a sideways eight in the air, subtly adjusting his stance so that the tail swished over the pig’s skin on both the forward and back motion.   You watched, awe-struck by how easily Roger swung the flogger, falling into a rhythm quickly. It wasn’t hard to imagine how he’d suddenly change the speed or the force of the swing when you were least expecting it.  

You were brought back to the present by Roger clearing his throat as he stilled the flogger, “The figure eight is why you should practice your backhand swing as much as any other. Because the tails will hit the sub on both the forward and back swings and you want them to be as even as possible.” He flipped the flogger in his hands, holding the handle out to you.   It felt smooth and cool in your hand, lighter than the paddle had been. You swished it experimentally, trying to get a sense of how it felt in motion.”  “Show me your overhand hit.” Roger said, leaning back against the nearest desk to watch.   You tried to imitate how he’d swung it, elbow bent, flogger raised.   It must have been good enough because Roger nodded and said, “how about underhand?”  He kept calling out different directions for a while, testing your reactions but you felt it helped you get a better grip on the toy and you found yourself adjusting how you held it so your movements became more fluid.   Roger watched you as you tried to keep up, his eyes locked onto your hands. Had you been looking, you might have caught sight of him subtly adjusting himself in his pants.   Finally, he seemed satisfied that you could successfully single strike from any direction and asked you to try the circle and figure eight motions.  They were harder to start, more awkward as you tried to work out the best way to move the flogger, and you caught Roger chuckling.”  “Oi, stop laughing,”  “Do you want some help?” he was still smiling but his request was genuine and when you nodded he stepped towards you. One of his hands moved to your waist as the other lay over yours on the handle of the flogger.  You tried not to grin too much as he did exactly why you’d hoped, and you felt him so close behind you.  “Like this,” His arm gently directed yours, the flogger beginning to move in a smooth circle.   “Oh, not so hard then,” you laughed, half turning to face him, “Y’know if someone walked in now this would be pretty hard to explain.”  His eyes darted to your lips, “Good thing we locked the door then.”  You hummed, waiting to see if Roger would close the gap.  He did a few seconds later, leaning in to kiss you softly. But the movement caused you both to forget about the flogger, your hands falling out of rhythm, and the tails whacking against your outstretched arms as they fell.   “Ow,” you both groaned, Roger stepping away from you.  It was disappointing but the disappointment was a little confusing. Surely you weren’t hoping for your professor to kiss you when you had no intention of sleeping with him that night.   Roger laughed, “Maybe that’s enough of the flogger today.”  “Might be for the best. Good thing I was so bad at it, otherwise we might have been really hurt.”  “You weren’t that bad. You actually looked good with it before I brought in the circles. Quite sexy really.”  “Thanks,” you said softly, trying to hide how pleased you were at that praise, “What else is there then?” 

“There's only one more that I can demonstrate but then there’s a few others I’ll touch on quickly too. So the last one I own is a crop.” He picked it up off the table, his fingers sliding along the length of it’s handle as he spoke, “This one I would put in the stingy category. It’s fast and sharp. Again, you can get crops in a few different styles. They will all have a handle like this, long and thin and probably with a slightly thicker point towards the end that’s easy to hold onto. The difference will be in the bit you hit with. This one is based on the sort of riding crop that's used on horses, so it’s quite plain. There’s just this loop of leather which hangs off the end. But others can be more decorative. I’ve seen crops which had ends shaped like hearts or that had studs pushed into them. Some of them are padded and some have a more rounded shape. We like our variety.”  “It looks scarier than the others I think,”  “Yeah, they’re quite intimidating aren’t they. And if you do it right, it’ll make a noise through the air, which just adds to how intimidating it can be.”  “Can you show me how to swing it now?”  “Absolutely. Now, you want to stand a bit further back with a crop because there is such a long handle. And the magic is in the wrist with these. You just flick the wrist and...”  You could hear the whooshing sound of it flying through the air before it cracked against the pig.  “Now some crops are more bendy and some are more stiff so, if you get one, you’ll want to practice swinging it a bit before you use it on a person, to get a feel for it. The flexibility of it might dictate how you stand or how strong the swing has to be. Give this one a go though.”  You felt oddly powerful as you took the crop and tightened your fist around the end. For a moment a vision of you decked out in leather dominatrix gear popped into your head and you nearly laughed. Unfortunately, the intimidating whooshing noise Roger had achieved was not as easy for you to make as you’d hoped, and the imagined power soon dissipated as you struggled to make the weapon sing.   Roger however was not disappointed. “It takes practice,” was what he said when you lamented your inability to create the sound, “And you don’t have to have the sound to make a good hit. It’s just kind of cool.”  When you still seemed disappointed he sighed.  “If it’s any help, I can’t always make the sound either. And besides, I wasn’t intending to use that one on you, unless you really, really want to. I mostly brought it to show you as an interesting part of your theory lessons. And so you’d have a sense of what a cane is like, even though I don’t have any of them to demonstrate.”  “A cane? Like....caning? Like what Victorian kids used to have done if they misbehaved or whatever?”  Roger laughed, “Kind of, yeah. It does have a history in corporal punishment. Which, might I add, wasn’t just for Victorian kids. It was still a thing when I was a kid. We didn’t get caned, more likely to be whacked over the knuckles with a ruler, but still. I don’t think it really left schools until the 80s.”  “Jesus,”  “Yeah. Occasionally I do wish I could bring out a ruler to shut a kid up,” he winked in jest, “Anyway, caning for BDSM is similar and uses the same sort of tool. A cane, funnily enough. Canes are long and thin like a crop but without the leather flap at the end or the more padded handle area. Traditionally they’re made from rattan which is a type of plant, but you can also get synthetic canes which are covered in leather. In my experience synthetic canes are actually harder. Not to use, I mean in the way they feel when you’re hit with them. The traditional rattan ones require a lot of maintenance though. You have to water them between uses, literally soaking them in a bath of water so they don’t dry out and break. But the benefit with a rattan cane is that if you get it home and realise you’d like something a bit shorter, you can cut it off yourself and just sandpaper down the rough edge and it’s good as new.”  “So are there any different version aside from synthetic? All the other toys had lots of variety.”  “Hmmm, not really. Most of the difference will be in how thick the cane is, which can effect the feel of it a lot. A thinner cane will sting when it hits and the force will make the skin hug the cane so it leaves these long marks behind. A thicker cane though might sting less but it’ll still hurt a lot, just more thuddy. And you tend to get more bruising from the thicker ones.”  “And do you use it the same as a crop?”  “Mostly, yes. The biggest difference is that you can use a larger section of a cane. The crop has the specific bit at the end to hit with whereas a cane doesn’t have that limit. The most important thing to remember is to try and aim a little short of where you want to hit because if you hit with a part of the cane six inches down, those top six inches are going to hit as well, and with force behind them they will wrap around the person’s side or arse or whatever until they make contact. But other than that, it’s a similar motion from the wrist and uses a similar amount of energy. And canes can make the cool whippy noise too.” 

“Is that everything then?”  “One last one, really quick. Whips.”  “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of whipping in kink.”  “Yeah, it’s one of those things that gets mentioned a lot even if comparatively fewer people are actually into it. But everyone’s heard the phrase chains and whips in relation to BDSM. There's a few different varieties of whips but I don’t really know enough about them to know the difference. They all look like whips to me. Very cowboy. But they’re one of the more intense versions of impact play. The pain they cause is quite sharp and stingy and will be very localised to a specific point because they have the one tail, as opposed to floggers which have multiple tails. Whips are very capable of breaking the skin though and feel very intensely painful. I do not recommend them unless you discover you’re a masochist and you’ve tried everything else impact play has to offer.”  “No need to tell me twice, Professor. Definitely do not want to try whips any time soon.”  “That’s very reasonable. And that is all of the impact play options I wanted to go through. There’s a little more to cover regarding safety before I let you go for the night, but how about we put the pig away and hope no one notices it’s been marked by crops and floggers.”  You chuckled and quickly moved to help Roger push the trolley back towards the freezer, locking the dead pig away securely, and to help pack up his toys.  When everything was tidy again you re-took your seat, Roger taking the one beside you. It made the end of the lesson feel less like a lesson and more of just a casual chat, the topic of which happened to be BDSM.   “The most important thing to remember when trying impact play is which parts of the body are safest to hit.” He paused for a moment, considering you, “But you’ve been studying biology for a while now, Ms Y/L/N. Care to guess which parts are safe and which parts you should avoid?”  You hadn’t expected to be asked so took a moment to consider your answer, “Well, the arse obviously. Ummm.... I guess I’d assume the best places to hit are the bits with more meat on them.”  “Very good. Entirely correct. There’s a reason most people think about spanking on the arse and that’s because it’s one of the best places to spank. Well, that and the fact that spanking is used so frequently in punishment scenes where you bend the naughty girl over your knee. But, yes, hitting the arse is good. Hitting the thighs can also be good, though the bit just under the arse cheek where it connects to the thighs hurts a lot. Which isn’t to say don’t ever spank there, just be mindful that it’s going to hurt more than directly on the arse cheeks. The pecks or breasts can be good places to hit, even the upper back where the shoulder blade is can be good. What about places to avoid hitting? Any ideas what those might be?”  You hummed in thought, “I’d imagine you wouldn’t want to hit the spine since it’s so important.”  “Right again Ms Y/L/N. The spine is definitely something to avoid. I don’t like hitting on the back much at all because there's too much important stuff there but I do know some others who don’t mind using a flogger there, especially while warming up before things get too intense. There are also the kidneys to watch out for,” he moved his hand to press against the spot on his own back, “because, as you no doubt know, part of the kidneys stick out under the ribcage so aren’t fully protected. Then a little lower down, just above the arse, is the tailbone which should also be avoided.   “What about the neck? That would be bad to hit too, right?”  “Yup. And that’s something to watch for if you’re doing anything on the shoulder blades. The spine of course runs all the way up the back of the neck and hitting there can do some very serious and lasting damage if you’re not careful. I know some people who will only flog the shoulder blades if the sub is wearing a collar because that adds a bit of protection around the C5 and C6 vertebrae but even so, better safe than sorry in my opinion. The front of the neck is also not good to hit since that’s where the vocal cords and all that is.”  “Which is why you have to be careful with a flogger’s tails, right?”  “Right. But what about on the front? Is there anywhere else you’d avoid?”  “Pussy,” you said with a laugh.  Roger laughed too, “Actually, depending on how it’s done, spanking a pussy can be quite enjoyable.”  “Wait really?”  “Yeah. I prefer doing it with my hand since you can feel when it makes the sub wet but it’s not totally unusual to use paddles or crops or even floggers down there too. I’m sure some people whip as well.”  You gulped at the thought.  “The biggest area to avoid on a person’s front side is the diaphragm and middle of the chest. There’s a lot of important stuff in there and a lot less tissue than elsewhere.”  “Do people get badly hurt doing impact play?” you glanced over the list of places Roger said to avoid. It made it seem like almost any spanking was running the risk of more than just some bad bruising.   “Sometimes.” Roger said seriously. He paused for a moment, thinking, and then continued, “Things can go wrong. And when you’re playing with intentionally hurting someone, things going wrong can be very serious. I won’t pretend there aren’t stories of people trying impact play and ending up paralysed or worse. But if you’re careful, if you pay attention and only hit certain areas and are mindful of how hard you’re hitting, then you’re going to be fine. And that’s why we come up with safe words and talk through scenes before we do them. So that you can minimize those risks and have a chance to communicate any worries or concerns.”  “But how can safe words help if you say them after you’ve already been hurt too much?”  “Well, for one, even if you’ve been hurt badly, using your safe word can stop things from being made worse. But you don’t have to wait until you’re hurt to use the safe word. Yes, if I spank you four times in a row and the fourth one feels so bad you can’t go on, then you should use your safe word before I give you a fifth. But you could also use it after the third hit when you aren’t sure if you want the fourth. And safe words aren’t just about physical pain. If you start off excited but then feel anxious after two hits you are well within your rights to safe word. You don’t have to wait until the damage is done. And, obviously, it’s not always easy to tell if that one hit more is going to be enough to make you want to stop. You can’t always know if the next hit is going to catch your neck wrong and do serious damage. But if you feel at all worried that it might, speak up. Not just worried either. If you feel distracted or you think I’m not paying enough attention to how I’m spanking you, or if I move to spank and area you don’t want me to touch, tell me. There is no wrong reason to use a safe word, even if we’re only a few minutes into the scene. I’ve said before that I’d rather you tell me to stop than for us to go on and you not feel comfortable, and I mean it.”  “I know, I guess I just never really thought about it being for mental stuff as well as physical.”  “Mmm, I should have checked that.”  “Well, let’s face it, you probably tried and I just didn’t pay attention. But, y’know, you’re very good at reassuring me when I start to get nervous.”  “I hope that’s a good thing.”  “It definitely is. I think if I didn’t have the reassurance, I’d chicken out of some things.”  “As long as you’re aware of the difference between some healthy nerves and anxiety that could be a sign you should slow down. And that you keep telling me how you’re feeling.”  “Of course I will.”  “Good girl.” 

An understanding seemed to pass between you as you sat in near silence, eyes on the other. Until Roger drew in a long breath and stood up.  “Right well, I think that’s just about everything. Obviously we weren’t able to see the levels of bruising that different implements can cause but it’s kind of dependent on the individual anyway. Everything can influence the severity of bruises and other marks. Tell me what a bruise is.”  “It’s broken blood vessels under the skin which cause discolouration.”  “Bingo. Now, obviously being spanked with a hand will leave less obvious bruises than being hit with a crop will and usually a paddle will bruise less than....i don’t know, a leather belt. But there's lots of factors to consider. The sub’s age, diet, the colour of their skin, their hydration level, how much sun exposure they’ve had recently, stress levels, hormones. And the biggest of all is how much stimulus they receive on that part of the body. The more you hit a spot, the deeper it will bruise. So, don’t expect bruises and marks to appear exactly the same every time you make them. There are some ways to heighten or lessen marks left during BDSM, but I’ll go through those when you’re ready for our practical lessons. And we’ll also go through some ideas for popular scenes and positions before we settle on what our scene will look like.” Roger seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, “Of course, it’s not so late we have to stop. If you did want to start testing out some light impact play, or if you wanted to revisit a previous topic, you’re more than welcome to come back to mine.”  “No,” you said much too fast, the suggestion catching you completely off guard.  “Okay, no problem,” Roger said, his eyes downcast.  “I didn’t mean...just that tonight’s not great timing.” You’d really thought you’d got out of having to talk about it but you could see Roger was going to ask what you were talking about when on a regular tutoring night you’d likely still be in his bed. All the same you couldn’t quite make eye contact as you explained, “My period started last night, that’s all. Makes things a bit awkward.”  “Oh is that all?”  You shrugged, “Yeah.”  “Well there’s no need to feel awkward or embarrassed about that. And there’s no reason to hide it from me. Aside from the fact that I’ve been married and had kids, I’ve also been teaching biology for longer than I care to count, so I’m very familiar with the reproductive processes and the reality of the menstrual cycle.”  “I knew you were going to say something like that.”  “Because it’s true. And besides, periods are important to factor into our lessons because they can change how you’ll respond to various kinks. Fluctuating hormone levels can change how much you enjoy or desire sex, as well as the physical sensation of different forms of touch. A lot of women find breast stimulation uncomfortable in the lead up to their period because their breasts become tender at that stage of their cycle. It can also make vaginal sex undesirable, at least in the first couple of days if not longer, whether because of a physical discomfort or pain, or just because it makes sex messier and more annoying to clean up after. The hormonal shifts in a menstrual cycle can also effect libido too, either stopping you from feeling aroused or causing hyper arousal. And all of that is important to consider, especially when we get to other things like orgasm denial. So, don’t feel you have to hide your periods from me, okay? I want to know if something is going to effect how enjoyable these lessons are for you. And plus, I factored periods into the timeline, remember? If you want to postpone for a week we can.  His little speech did put you at ease a bit, the weight of admitting the truth no longer as heavy now that he knew, but it still wasn’t an especially comfortable conversation, “Well, I should be okay to go in a few days.”  “Would you be up for having sex on one of the last days of your period when your flow is a little lighter? Or would you rather wait until after it was finished?”  You tried not to cringe too much upon hearing Roger talk about your flow, “After I think. I don’t know. How do you feel about it?”  Roger shrugged, “If we were just having sex without the kinky stuff I’d be okay with period sex. It’s a little more effort since we’d need to put towels down and all that but I’m not completely opposed to it if we’re both in the mood. However, I think since we’re playing with BDSM it’s probably a good idea to wait.”  You nodded, glad the topic was almost settled, “Yeah, that makes sense. I think I’d feel too self-conscious to enjoy any period sex but you’re definitely right about the BDSM stuff. Just makes it easier for my first time trying things out if I’m not worrying about, um, bleeding everywhere.”  Roger gave you a reassuring smile which made your heart flutter, grateful he hadn’t made things too difficult or drawn out, “That’s settled then. We can put a pin in all of this for now and come back to it when you’re ready.”  “Thanks. Will Friday suit? I think I should be right by then.”  “Friday sounds great.”  “Really? You don’t have to, like, pick up the kids or anything?”  Roger shook his head, amused, “No. It is technically my weekend with them but they’re both staying at friend’s placed over night so I won’t see them until Saturday. Friday we can start testing some things and if we need to, we can come back next Monday and go through more. And I finish a bit earlier on Fridays so maybe we could start a bit earlier.”  “Yeah that works for me.”  “Great. I guess we should get out of here then.” Roger ushered you from the classroom and walked beside you all the way to the carpark, your footsteps echoing down the corridors. He chatted to you quietly about non-kinky topics, as if you’d merely ended up walking the same direction by accident, just in case anyone was looking.   You were almost sad to reach your car, drawing the conversation to an end, “This is me.”  “One last thing, Ms Y/L/M.”  “Mmm?”  “For homework-”  “Homework?”  “Yes. For homework I want you to watch some porn with impact play in it. You’ll find a few examples linked in a document I’ve dropped in our folder but feel free to find your own too. It can be spanking by hand or flogging or any other form of impact we discussed today, whatever turns you on most. Because I want you horny when I see you on Friday. I want you to spend all week thinking about naughty sluts who get spanks, knowing you’ll soon be one of them. I want you excited to be hit and wet at the thought of me spanking your arse and cunt while I fill your holes with cock. Is that clear?”  Roger had leant closer as he talked and your stomach did a backflip as he stood up. All you could do was nod, completely lost for words as Roger chuckled and walked into the dark towards his own car.   

[pinkcurse]

Julie? Really?

I know I haven't posted in about an eternity and a half. That is because my degree program is getting to the actual dissertation part of getting a doctorate. But I have to ask, cause I don't see it. Why, for the love of God, does everyone seem to think Sara (Sarah?) is Julie? The SB Facebook group I am in is positive 100%, without a shadow of a doubt that Sara = Julie. But what actual evidence is there? Not a whole hell of a lot. 

We have never seen Julie's face, so you can't say that they look the same. The only shot of Julie we've ever seen is the back of her head. And her hair is drawn pretty differently there. Her hair is drawn shiny, like Kuon's, when we see Julie and Kuu watching Kuon's video. Sara's hair is not drawn shiny. I would argue it is drawn more similar to how Maria's hair is drawn, suggesting it might be more light brown. 

I think it was Nakamura's focus on Sara's eyes that has led everyone to conclude she is Julie. However, the manga is drawn in black and white, and we cannot confirm that she has green eyes. So this emphasis cannot be considered hard evidence. 

Sara's appetite was an interesting clue to her identity. In my opinion, it seems to suggest more of a genetic relative to Kuu than it does Julie. We have never heard anything from Ren or anyone about Julie having a famous appetite. On the reverse side, we don't know how Julie and Kuu met. Maybe it was their insane appetite that bonded them? The only piece of HARD, FROM THE MANGA, evidence that might even HINT at Sara being Julie based on the appetite is Ren's comment, from a long time ago, that his intake was harshly monitored. Also, it was suggested that he was force-fed (don't ask me what chapter, I don't remember). This comment indicates that mom was trying to feed him more than necessary, I had assumed it was because Kuon was expected to have an appetite similar to Kuu's. However, it makes much more sense if both parents have crazy big stomachs.  

Age. Let's talk about Sara vs. Julie's age. Julie, in my opinion, and basic math, has to be AT LEAST 40. The original Dark Moon was filmed 20 years ago... they film the remake as Ren TURNS 20. I would HOPE Julie was AT Least 20 before she had her first kid. Still, at the youngest, I would say 36, which puts her at 16 when she had Kuon (which doesn't seem likely to me). Sara's looking damned good, almost teenish if she is actually 40ish-year-old woman... Just saying... it makes no sense. She is drawn more along the lines of someone around Ren's age. Even Kuu had some marks around his eyes, showing he is older.

Speaking of makes no sense... this WHOLE SCENARIO MAKES NO SENSE! IF this is Julie, there are two ways we can look at what's going on with her. Either her meeting Kyoko was intentional, or it was an accident. 

Let's think about it being an unintentional meeting. My first question is, not why would a 40ish-year-old woman be assuming a secret identity to visit a theme park (that makes sense since she is famous and married to Japan's darling), it is why she would need to be accompanied by Director Date? She can speak fluent Japanese, and while, yes, visiting a theme park is more fun with someone else, Date doesn't seem like the funnest of company. Now it makes sense that Julie would know Date from when Kuu was in Tsukigomori since Kuon would have had to be a new born right around then (I bet it was fun to film with Kuu while his wife was heavily pregnant...) However, this relationship doesn't explain why she would have asked him to go with her to the park. Also, the coincidence thing is just too big. Now the story has always said that luck is part of show business. This would be a lot of luck. To magically run into Julie. 

If we are thinking about Julie meeting Kyoko intentionally at the park, this gets even more screwed up. The biggest question is, how would she know Kyoko is going to be there? Why would she choose to approach Kyoko in this way? She doesn't know Kuon's exact feelings toward her, and she doesn't know Kyoko's actual feelings towards Kuon. If she just wanted to meet her "son," there are a 1000 ways LESS convoluted she could have chosen to go about meeting her. But instead, she picks a method that has a decent chance of failure. If Kyoko didn't notice Date (if she had been in La La Land), if she didn't approach him, then this whole scenario fails. Could a backup plan have been in place? Probably? But why would Date agree to it? How would either know what was going on with Kanae and her new role and to use learning English cheep would allow them to accept Sara into their outing? Now, if Julie could predict outcomes like Ren can, then there is something to be said for it. However, the difference here is that Ren was acting and could rationally predict responses within the confines of the scene, and he knew his fellow actor. Julie doesn't know Kyoko, and she doesn't know Kanae. Rationally she can't accurately predict their behavior. Kuu could give some insight into Kyoko, but I don't think it would be enough to make this all go off without a hitch. He certainly doesn't know Kanae. 

If someone set this up and just put Julie into position, I bet everyone would think Lory. I can't see us not knowing about that and not seeing Lory scheming something. Buuutttt..... what about someone related to him? What did little Maria look like the last time we saw her? What was going on in the story? It is plausible Maria was able to infer what was going on with Kyoko's mother, and it would make sense if she reached out to Ren's mother to maybe do something to help her friend. It's a long shot, but if this IS Julie and it was intentional, it doesn't have Lory's dramatic flair, you know?

Anyway, my point is there is no way we could say conclusively, based on the data at hand, that Sara and Julie are the same people. There is too much we don't know. It could be Tina, who is younger, and it would explain the melancholy when she was talking about love earlier, but that assumption has holes too. There are way too many unknowns about the American side of the Skip Beat story to say anything with 100% certainty until the author gives us definite proof. 

And before you point to Ren's expression at the end of chapter 290 as of this definite proof, the last word was "Huh?" not "Mom?" All that proves is that Ren recognizes her and knows her. I am sure we will get more info in the next chapter. Especially if he takes the photo to Lory raging about it. THEN I might concede that Sara and Julie are the same people. Until then, I am with Ren. Huh?  

[femmmie]

Here, i did it for you so you can dissert away!

You sigh deeply, staring at the blank page before you. How are you going to get this dissertation done when you're distracted by "anything and everything, all of the time"?! This age of social media is a blessing and a curse in one. Plus, the urge to procrastinate and write fun stories is not helping either.

But then you get a voice memo. It's from Angela.

"Heyyy, what's up? I got your message about needing to write your paper."

You hear glass clinking and people buzzing in the background.

"You know what I did when I had to concentrate on my studies? I'd take a deeeep breath and center myself. To really get that lasersharp focus, you know!"

"You definitely didn't do that," Amanda interjects in the backgound. She sounds like she's chewing on something.

"Yeah, I didn't. I was a nightmare with anything involving reading or writing. I just wanted to cheer you up! But you should do that - I hear it works."

"Hey! You write a mean sketch Ang!"

Amanda and Angela laugh at each other. You feel like you're third-wheeling their dinner date.

"Turns out I learned something after all!"

"Stay in school!" Amanda concludes and they hang up.

"Okay," You think. "Let's approached this dissertation like it's a huge sketch. What is life if you can't laugh at it, right?"

And you begin to type.

not me having to physically pull myself away from writing another amangela fic instead of my actual dissertation due soon i think im having smosh withdrawls

[ashxketchum]

23 + yamato mimi

Hello anon! Thank you for sending in Mimato, I'm still not over the Mimato week spell so here is something that can be read as a continuation of the Wedding snippets.

23. Holding hands under the table

Mimi wished she could cut through the tension in the air with a knife and serve it alongside the dessert that lay untouched on their dining table, as her husband came to terms with the news that was just announced to him. She remembered faintly then, one of her conversations with Sora during the wedding planning, and how her best friend had advised that she and Yamato should set off for their honeymoon as quickly as possible after the wedding, that if they put too much of a gap between the ceremony and their trip, something was bound to upset the flow. But Mimi had only brushed it aside as superstition at the time and when Yamato had informed her that his dissertation supervisor had fixed a meeting with him in the week following the wedding, the two had mutually agreed to push their departure date for the honeymoon towards the end of the month.

Had Mimi known that Sora’s prediction would hit the jackpot, she would’ve argued with Yamato over asking his supervisor to change the date of their meeting, packed their bags right after the ceremony and gotten on the next plane out of Tokyo, and successfully avoided the scene in front of her. The silence in the room was so loud, that she was afraid to even take a deep breath to calm her nerves, the stillness so restricting that she couldn’t even make herself turn and take a look at Yamato to see how he was holding up.

It wasn’t required after all, because he managed to make his feelings very clear to everyone present in the room the very next minute, when his icy voice slipped through the wall of tension with ease, despite of his tone being just slightly above that of a whisper.

“What do you expect me to say?”

Mimi decided to take advantage of the shift in the atmosphere around the room and turned to first look at Yamato, her heart sinking as she saw that even though his face held a blank and impassive expression, his azure eyes were burning with an intensity that she hadn’t witnesses in quite a while. Instinctively she reached out for his hands from under the table, his palms had a tight hold around his knees but when she touched his fingers, he released his grip and allowed her to entwine their hands together, keeping his grip around her hand a little loose in comparison. On the outside, Yamato looked devoid of any emotion with his shoulders taut and his frame completely still, but she felt his quickened pulse against her skin and it almost sent a shiver down Mimi’s spine. She hadn’t expected to see him so angry, so soon after their wedding. She squeezed his hand in a gesture of reassurance, but as the blond continued to stare ahead of him, Mimi too had no choice but to face the culprits behind Yamato’s foul mood.

Unlike Mimi however, Hiroaki and Natsuko were attempting to keep their gazes fixed anywhere except at Yamato. She could tell from the guilty and tired expressions on their faces, that they had predicted their son’s reaction to their news beforehand, but still lacked the strength to face it head on. What Mimi really wanted to do was congratulate the couple and wish them all the luck in the world for their attempt at rekindling their marriage, she wanted to delight over the fact that it was her and Yamato’s wedding and all the planning leading up to it that had brought Hiroaki and Natsuko closer together and realise that the flame between them still burnt strongly in each of their hearts. But she and Yamato were married now, she had to represent a united front. She couldn’t possibly get up and squeal like a little girl while he sat next to her brimming with anger. So she steadied her internal turmoil and kept a somber expression on her face as her caramel eyes shifted back from the couple in front of her to Yamato.

“Honestly, what do you expect me to say?”

This time, Yamato’s voice was louder than before and when he spoke, his grip around her hand tightened, his words hanging in the air above his parents’ heads as both of them continued to look away, partly out of guilt and partly out of shame. Mimi winced slightly as Yamato didn’t loosen his grip on her hand, but seeing him raise his voice at his parents was enough to keep her quiet about it as she realised that maybe it was just her touch that was keeping him from absolutely losing his senses at the moment.

“Yamato, we understand why you’re upset,” Natsuko spoke up after a few minutes passed and Yamato scoffed at her statement, she continued nevertheless, “but we hope that you will find it in you to support our decision regardless.”

Mimi bit her tongue in order to keep herself from crying out at her mother-in-law, that as much as she wanted to support the two of them, this was not the right time to say this to Yamato. And she would’ve been right in doing so, because Yamato let go of her hand and pushed it away as he stood up abruptly, his hands now balled into fists that shook with the anger he was struggling so hard to keep at bay.

“I don’t understand what the two of you have against me being happy,” Mimi closed her eyes when he began to speak, afraid that if she looked at his furious yet upset face for even a second, she would cry, “you can choose to do whatever you want with your lives, you’re adults. I don’t understand why I have to be involved in this, and why you couldn’t pick a better day to share this news. And if you really are looking for unconditional encouragement and celebratory replies, then I hate to break it to you, but you came to the wrong son.”

He took a minute to bask in the effect of his words as both his parents hung their heads low, whether they agreed with Yamato was something Mimi couldn’t tell, but they both realised that now was not the right time to fight their son on his opinions. Satisfied with their reactions, Yamato left the dining room without a second glance in their direction, and once Mimi heard his footsteps heading up the stairs towards their bedroom, she finally let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Hiroaki san, Natsuko san, I’m so happy to hear this.” She smiled softly at the couple sitting across her, she saw some tension leave their bodies as they straightened up and met her gaze with tired smiles of their own, “As for Yamato, I apologize for his behaviour-”

“Oh, Mimi chan you really don’t-”

“No, please let me. He’ll come around I’ll make sure of it, but I can assure you that as disappointing as it sounds, it would be much later than sooner.”

“I should be the one apologising to you Mimi chan. Yamato is right, we should’ve waited till you were back from your honeymoon to tell him this.” Natsuko bowed her head apologetically for a moment, “In fact, Hiro kun told me the same thing, but once again I assumed that I know Yamato better than I actually do and once again I have hurt him…”

Mimi could barely keep her school girl squeal muffled at the nickname her mother-in-law used for her ex-husband, and her heart absolutely melted at the sight of Hiroaki quickly shifting in his chair to drape a comforting arm around Natsuko immediately. As much as the scene in front of her made Mimi want to deny Natsuko’s statements and reassure her that her son wasn’t a total stranger to her, Yamato’s actions made it quite difficult to put up a brave front. So she let Hiroaki handle the consoling, all the while internally rejoicing over how the two made such a cute couple as she observed their exchanges.

She also managed to end the dinner with the couple on a good note, by enquiring about their reconciliation excitedly, sharing information about her own experience of married life so far and her expectations from the upcoming honeymoon. Yamato did not make an appearance even as his parents made to leave, and Mimi promised to convey their messages to him diligently. Once the door was shut behind the happy couple, she contemplated chiding her husband into coming back down to help her with clearing up after their guests, but eventually decided to let him brew in his angst.

When she finally entered their bedroom, she found him sprawled across their bed, lying on his stomach with his face buried into a pillow. Mimi rolled her eyes at the sight, holding back a remark about how she wasn’t aware that she was sharing a room with a teenager. Instead, she shook her head, readying herself for what she felt would be a long conversation as she sat near his feet and slowly massaged his calf in a soothing manner, hoping to win some brownie points with the gesture. It took a few minutes, but Yamato finally turned to his side and pulled his face out of the pillow to look at her, only to let out an annoyed snort.

“Can you wipe that look off your face?”

“What look?” Mimi replied indignantly, sure her mind had blanked a little bit during the silence between them, but she doubted she was displaying anything other than the exhaustion of the long day on her face.

“The look that says, ‘I was a successful cupid’.” Yamato shifted into a half sitting position, allowing Mimi to drape herself across his thighs, resting her face against a propped up elbow.

“Well, I can’t help but take a little bit of credit, I could see the buds sprouting during the wedding preparations quite clearly.”

Yamato rolled his eyes at her response, and Mimi concluded that the anger had more or less subsided, which worked in her favour because she was an expert at dealing with his irritated self.

“Did you meddle?” He asked in a flat tone, there was no accusation or vindictiveness in his voice, he knew her well enough now to not object to her little projects and schemes that sometimes involved the people around them.

“Not this time, it was quite natural actually.” Mimi answered, meeting his impassive gaze with a smug one of her own.

“Well why didn’t you give me a fair warning then? I might’ve reacted better if I had a head’s up.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t expecting them to come clean about it so soon. And with the ceremony and the after party, and then preparing for our trip, it all just slipped my mind.” Mimi confessed without hesitation, with a small smirk playing on her lips she added, “And besides I didn’t think an anti-romantic like you would be interested in speculating the hidden meaning behind all the things Hiroaki san and Natsuko san were doing for each other.”

“They’re the reason I am so anti-romantic, always have been and now suddenly I’m supposed to accept the fact that they’re in love again.” Yamato shook his head, running his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture.

“You can’t always hold their past actions against them, Yama.” Mimi sighed, shifting again so she could rest her head on his chest and snuggle up her arm across his waist. He didn’t react immediately, but within a few minutes she felt his chin rest on top of her head and his arms snake their way across her midriff, making Mimi smile in triumph as she continued, “Just because their decisions hurt you in the past, doesn’t mean you can’t be happy for them now. I already cured your romance allergy permanently, you and Takeru are closer than ever, and you’re genuinely happy with your life. All the damage they did has already been undone, so it’s time to let the past go.”

Silence followed her words, and while Mimi didn’t raise her head to read the expression on Yamato’s face, his calm, rhythmic heartbeat that she could feel against her cheek however indicated that he was considering what she had said seriously. Feeling victorious and comfortable within his embrace, Mimi almost found herself drifting off to sleep when his defeated tone roused her.

“They still could’ve waited until we were back to tell me. At least I wouldn’t have thrown such a tantrum then.”

A huge smile appeared across Mimi’s face as his words settled in, she knew that she had gotten through to him without so much as a fight. Of course, she also knew that Yamato wouldn’t cede so easily in front of his parents and would probably get some favours from them under his belt by riding out their guilt for a while. But to her what mattered was that he had allowed himself to let the past go, that the two of them really had started their new life together as the best versions of themselves, as people who weren’t tied down by their past and had their eyes set only towards the future.

“Don’t worry about it,” She mumbled wistfully into his chest, “I quite enjoy it when you throw a tantrum.”

“What can I say, I do live to please you.”

x

[mommymooze]

Sleep Doctor

Hubert X Reader. Warning: blood war violence, rudeness, bad dreams

You are often compared to Mercedes, both of you are talented in healing, as well as both of you have doting, motherly personalities. Both of you are nurturing, protective, supportive, bakers of treats, a trusted confidante.

There are differences of course. Her faith is in the goddess, yours is in the human spirit. Your reason magic is powerful as well. You don’t have a creepy brother, just a lazy sister. You cook delicious meals, you love brewing potions and concoctions. While she is laid back and chill, you are assertive and firm. You give advice and then enforce it.

Mercedes suggests that someone get more sleep, rest, take their time to recover. Maybe gently remind them after a few days if she stills sees dark circles under their eyes. You tell them they need more sleep and that you will be waiting for them at their room to make certain they sleep that night and perhaps the next two or three nights.

Linhardt enjoys sharing duties as the healer for the Black Eagles Strike force with you. His favorite taunt is to use your name as a threat. “If you do not rest that leg and let it heal, I will advise (y/n) of the situation.” Everyone is quite aware that Emperor Edelgard fully supports your extremely strict and regimented methods to ensure that the Strike Force is in tip top condition.

One of your pet peeves is finding injuries long after a battle is over. Linhardt will only leave his minor wounds untreated if he is too tired to get to it. Dorothea does very well seeking treatments promptly. Petra has a great understanding of the responsibility of your body being a temple and to keep it in constant repair. Bernadetta only hides injuries if she feels that she has made a mistake and tries to use it as self-punishment. Caspar is highly maintained and checked by Lin, so he’s in great shape. Emperor Edelgard is preened by the healers every time she returns, to make sure not the tiniest scratch is left unattended lest she get an infection. Ferdinand does frequent the healers, however he has been known to often get infections, not understanding the seriousness of the smaller, less important wounds he has received in the germ and disease filled conditions of war.

Then there is Hubert. He stands and gives reports to his Lady, while his own blood is pooling at his feet. His mindset is Duty Before All Else. Immediately upon arrival from a mission, he must report to Emperor Edelgard, then he may stop by the infirmary, but more likely will return to his tent or quarters and write his reports of the mission results.

At first you try reasoning with him. Advising him he is losing enough blood that by the time his report is finished his body is completely exsanguinated. You attempt to physically remove him from the Command tent and he strikes you with magic. Trial and error provides the answer for your most successful method of treating the irritatingly stubborn man. Healing him upon his arrival, during his report to the Emperor upon his return. The moment Hubert warps to her tent you are summoned from the infirmary. Your materials already await you in the command tent.

“Stand over here on these towels.” You order the dark mage.

“I must present my report…” Hubert angrily chastises you.

“I tire of my carpets being stained, do as she says.” Edelgard orders, he complies.

You remove his cape, cravat, and outer coat. You stand behind him as he is advising the Emperor of his latest completed duties in the never-ending effort to win the war for the Empire. You in turn untuck his white and red stained shirt from his pants and pull it up in the back clipping it out of your way. The blood has dried around his undershirt and you cut it loose from the stab wound that is just at the base of his rib cage, thankfully below his heart by a few inches. Had the assassin had a better angle, well, the Spymaster would not be with us right now.

Pressing a cloth that is thoroughly soaked in alcohol onto the wound to remoisten and allow removal of the remaining undershirt material as well as cleanse the wound preventing infection, you apply firm pressure into the hole and begin removing the soiled cloth from the deep stab wound as you hear him exclaim.

“…and then we proceeeeek!..Flames woman! Trying to finish the job!” The dark mage yells, his left arm coming back to smack you away as the burning sensation of the liquid goes deeper into his flesh.

You easily duck his attack as you remove the foreign materials, making certain the wound is absolutely clean. Minor deep healing spells take care of the immediate damage. There will still be bruising to his left kidney. You pull out needle and thread to pull the two sides of the wound back together, making it easier for the healing spells to take hold and lessen the scarring. That particular wound finished, it is not difficult to trace another slice into his flesh, this time blood is soaking into his shirt collar as he sustained a dagger’s blade to the side of his head just behind his ear. Head wounds bleed profusely, if they do not penetrate the skull they cause little problem as long as they are cleaned. A nice curved needle allows you to pick up the skin on each side to bring them back together again. A final healing spell there and the bleeding subsides.

Your hands glow lightly as they run along his body, searching for any additional injuries. The stubborn mule of a man certainly will not reveal any weak points. Two ribs on his left front are heavily bruised, healing spells correct that situation.  Finding no other serious injuries, you return the cape and coat to Hubert, pat him on the shoulder, and proceed to the infirmary.

The trouble with being at war is that it is prohibitive to good sleep. There are quite a few members of the Strike Force that have issue with sleeping, some nights it is interrupted by dreams or memories of personally tragic events during the war, others cannot get to sleep in the first place, their minds tormenting them with frightening thoughts. While in Enbarr or at Garreg Mach, you are available to assist your fellow Strike Force members with issues of nightmares, night terrors or simply general insomnia. Your schedule is changed to accommodate the availability for such. You are available from sunset until 5 or 6am to assist with these issues. After that you return to your room to sleep until noon. The guards patrolling the areas are trained take notice if someone is calling out loudly in their sleep. There is also a physical sign, a request for assistance, by placing a red card slightly peeking past the bottom of the door, alerting them to retrieve you to the location for necessary assistance.

Your counsel at night is always kept between you and the patient. Having someone there to talk to is the best medicine for most parties. A trusted ear, a caring heart, letting them know they are not alone, simply being there is at times the answer to the current situation.

Hubert again, is the one most difficult to work with. His living space is highly covered in magic spells and sigils. The layout is such that if he is screaming in his bed it would not be heard through his closed door. He is not one to ask for help unless it is from complete desperation. Only by observing the reticent Spy Master can you tell that sleep has been evading him more than normal. His eyes are sunk further back into his skull, the blackness seems to surround his eyes. He taps his feet to keep his body moving, reminding himself to stay awake. This dedicated, enervated man is your most challenging patient by far. As today’s strategy meeting concludes, you request that he remain behind to discuss a matter with him and Emperor Edelgard.

“Hubert, when was the last time you slept.” You ask, hands on your hips.

“Three days ago. There is no time for sleep when you are running a war.” He answers.

“There is only so long before your body will take what it requires. The next battle is less than a week away. It is critical that you sleep now.” You plead, looking to Edelgard for support. “I agree. Hubert, pass along what duties you can and carve out time for sleep every day until the battle. Provide both of us a schedule of when you will set aside time for rest.”

Hubert stands, bowing to his Emperor and glaring at you sharply before he leaves the room.

You have found, through trial and error, ways of making him sleep. Forcing him into specific routines that subconsciously prepare him for sleep. Once he is in bed and relaxed usually a palm resting on the back of his hand is enough to make him lay still enough to drift off. Sometimes he is more agitated, so you will read to him dissertations regarding the history and foundation of white magic in a monotone voice. The text is very dry, of no interest to him, yet the words distract his thoughts enough, allowing sleep to take him.  

Today was no such day. Overtired and restless he shifts in his bed anxiously.

“Tell me a story.” He finally requests.

“I did not think you a fan of fairy tales or knights.” You reply softly.

“You have a large family. Tell me a story of your youth.”

You begin to weave the tales of your younger days. The family going into the woods to pick buckets upon buckets of blueberries, your brothers getting distracted by seeing who could climb the highest in a tree, Mother panicking that they would fall and break their arms and legs. Scrubbing the purple from your siblings before getting them to bed then helping mother preserve the berries in wine bottles to enjoy during the winter. You are softly retelling these events until you realize he has fallen asleep.

It is not dark in the room, the curtains are pulled close to reduce the sunlight. You pull out a novel to read. Hubert is a quiet sleeper. He’s not like Caspar who crawls around and tangles himself in his sheets while he slumbers. You look up from your book as you see Hubert moving his feet, giving a weak kick.  He is pulling his arms up to his chest and his face is drawn into a frown. You drop your book. Your hand brushes his cheek softly as you try to gently wake him from his nightmare.

“Hubert, I’m here for you. Everything is all right. Shhhh.” You softly whisper.

The dark mage startles from his sleep, his eyes wide. He looks about the room finally realizing he is within his own bedchambers. He looks very distressed, his hands trembling. You instinctively pull him into a hug, holding him tight against your chest as you lay gently on him.

“Breathe, just breathe.” You urge him, taking long slow loud breaths to have him match yours.

It takes a while before he finally begins to relax again. You know you can’t stand hunched over him much longer, so you walk around the bed to lie next to him on top of the covers. You pull him to face you as you card your fingers through his hair and encourage him to relax. The exhaustion of his body takes over and he falls asleep again.

You awaken after a short nap due to movement under your arm. Opening your eyes you find Hubert looking back at you. Instinctively you slowly pull your arm from across his chest back to yourself.

“Did you rest well?” you whisper.

Hubert rolls onto his back. “Surprisingly, yes. My headache is gone.”

You quietly slide out of the bed, straightening your clothing. Making your way to the other side, you return the chair to its proper place and gather your things.

“Do you often accompany your patients in their beds?” Hubert asks, a slight sneer in his voice.

“Never.” You reply. “You are a…special case.” You reply, closing the door behind you.

-----------------

The next day Hubert is much more coherent at the morning strategy meeting. Once the meeting adjournes, the Emperor requests that the two of you remain behind.

“I notice an improvement today.” Edelgard smiles at the Minister of the Imperial Household.

“Of course, My Lady. I refuse to disappoint you.” He respectfully bows.

“We are scheduled today from 10pm until 3am. Granted, 5 hours is not much for the average person, but to Hubert’s tortured soul it is quite the luxury.” You quip, causing Edelgard to giggle.

The dark mage scowls in your general direction. You both excuse yourselves as the Emperor has another appointment to attend.  You join him as he heads toward his office.

“Was it so horrible to rest yesterday? Do you not feel some improvement?”  You inquire.

“You were witness to my sleep. It is anything but restful.” He grumbles.

“Which is currently the point of my assisting you.” You respond in a logical manner.

“If there is nothing further you require, I have significantly less time to complete my duties. I bid you good day.” Hubert sniffs as he heads to his office.

-----------------

You are waiting outside of Hubert’s quarters for his arrival. He arrives 15 minutes late. There is no apology for his tardiness. He completes his routine for preparing for bed and finally pulls his covers up to his chin, only to stare at you. You’ve brought knitting to keep you company, a quiet pastime.

“Do you need a diversion?” You ask softly.

“No.” He responds, continuing to stare daggers at you.

A few minutes later he decides to stare at the ceiling.

“Why do you do this?” Hubert wonders aloud.

“For your health of course. Sleep is extremely important. Your body needs the rest, so does your mind. It affects your nervous system, your immune system. All creatures need sleep.” You answer matter of factly patting the back of his hand.

“Why do you care?” he asks.

“I’ve come to know everyone very closely. You are my work family and my friends. I would be devastated should anyone die from something I can possibly prevent. Just as you protect us all from spies, assassinations, poisoning, and the like, I do the same protecting everyone from sickness, injuries, infections etcetera. There is only one Hubert Von Vestra. I would like to see him live past the end of the war. “

“Hmpf.” Is his only response.

Hubert closes his eyes as you quietly knit. His breathing slows as he drifts into the land of Nod. You silently slip from his room to check on the other occupants of the Imperial Palace to find that it is a rather quiet night and there are no disturbances amongst the Strike Force. You return to Hubert’s quarters to see him still resting, which is surprising. You know he is a light sleeper, however even if he woke up, he remained in bed. You count that as a victory. As 3am nears, you head out to retrieve a carafe and water, preparing coffee in his parlor just at the time he should awaken.

“One moment.” Is heard coming from the door to his bedroom. A few minutes later Hubert emerges from his bedroom dressed for work and looking shockingly more alert than you have seen him in the past two weeks.

“Thank you for doing this for yourself as well as for the rest of us. I will see you again this evening.” You articulated as you gather your personal items to leave. You swear you almost hear a soft ‘thank you.’ from Hubert as he locks his door and heads to his office.

-----------------

Hubert is working until midnight tonight, never a regular schedule for himself, his duties rule his sleep schedule. You leave Ferdinand’s quarters in time to head to the kitchen and obtain a cup of coffee before you must meet with the dark mage. Ferdinand sleeps well most of the time, however as the war becomes more brutal and savage, he is plagued with nightmares more frequently. After you were called to his room this night, he finally agreed to take a small sleeping potion. The thought of dark circles under his bright and shining eyes is like having storm clouds blocking the sun. He is the source of the Strike Force’s positive energy. They need him brightly shining in the lead, a beacon of hope.

Your arrival at Hubert’s door is matched with his. His posture is much improved, not hunched over barely able to stand. He greets you with a nod and waves you into his quarters. You pat his shoulder as you walk past him. He prepares for bed and once he is under the covers calls you into his bedroom. He has already placed  the chair in its normal spot, close to the head of his bed. Taking your seat you place your hand on top of his.  His hand does not move.

“You keep touching me. Why do you do that?” Hubert asks, staring at the ceiling.

“It is another one of the basic needs of humans. Some need it more than others. Certainly you have observed in battle, when the Professor is encouraging Caspar in the middle of a fight, if Caspar receives a simple pat on the head, he can rush forth taking out several squads of enemies at an amazing pace. When Bernadetta is extremely anxious, sitting next to her with a leg or shoulder touching her, she visibly relaxes. Emperor Edelgard relaxes with gentle hugs. Ferdinand prefers a one armed hug when being comforted through a tough time. The professor responds to hand holding and shoulder touching. Dorothea gets herself anxious and worked up sometimes, then only a full squeezing hug can get her to settle enough to speak with her.

“I was not aware of such needs, nor of your detailed observations of our team members.”

“I must admit, you are my most difficult patient in this regard.” You smile softly.

“Explain.” He says flatly.

“Beyond contact with our Emperor, you do not touch others nor does anyone touch you.” You begin. “Even when contact with another is made, it is not skin to skin, always to clothing, always with gloves. Certainly your upbringing, family history, interpersonal relationships, work schedules, work agenda and severe lack of personal time factors into this.

When one is in the infirmary, healers constantly touch the patients. Verbal reassurance is good, physical touch is required, and is extremely reassuring. When a patient is unconscious, the body still reacts to touch. When Petra was heavily injured a few battles ago, Dorothea was there for hours holding her hand, stroking her cheek. The body does react, relaxes. Somewhere in her brain, she knows someone is there for her and she needs to get better in order to rejoin them. Unconscious patients still tense up, faces furrow. Touch causes them to relax, leading the body to focus on healing.

On the battlefield, I am shocked at the condition I have found a fallen person, yet they are still alive, simply because someone else is there with them, touching them, encouraging them to hang on to that precious thread of life for yet a moment longer. That comrade being there has performed a miracle. There is no other way to explain it. Reason magic is cast through verbal incantations, physical movement, mental intentions. Healing magic is through touch, with the exception of physic, because no rule is absolute. “

“Hmmm. Continue.” Hubert watches your face closely, turning his palm to yours, taking your smaller hand into his without thinking.

“Now my observation of you, Hubert. I have heard you say that you are unworthy of anyone being close to you based on your workings below the surface, your bloodstained hands, duties you have carried out in the darkness. I disagree. You are not to judge your own worthiness. Only others can perform that task. They will base it on their own life, experiences, beliefs, circumstances. If they cannot understand you and appreciate you for who you are, all of you, then perhaps they are not worthy of you. The Emperor knows you, knows what you do for her, suspects what is done outside of her vision, yet she is there for you, accepting you for who you are, as you are. Over these years of war, all of the members of our team have learned more about you, perhaps scratching beyond the surface of you, yet they are still here. They still support you, believe in you, rely on you. They find you worthy of their protection, their support. Tell me of one person in the Strike Force that has not helped you in a battle. I certainly can tell you about how many I have had to piece together after they shielded you from certain death. I have lost count of how many holes I have patched up on you are a result of your protecting each and every one of them.”

“Physical Attributes are difficult to overcome…” he argues.

You laugh at the thought. “Have you never heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Beauty is found within? To me, my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world. Having so many children her stomach never went back to being flat and fashionable. She has spots on her face from being in the sun. Wrinkles in her hands from working them hard for many years. Her nose is crooked because she broke it as a child and never had it properly healed. Most people on the street would look at her as the typical matronly old woman, but to me she is more beautiful than any goddess, I would not change a thing. My sister was being courted by Bernard, her now husband. Bernard was awkward, tall and lanky. At first I noticed he was all knees and elbows, his teeth seemed to be too large for his mouth. But my sister loved him, and he loved her. When I last saw him, I saw a tall handsome man that would do anything for my sister, just looking at him you could tell he adores her. When he looks at my sister, his smile shines bright and I consider him beautiful inside and out. Ask Dorothea how far good looks will get you. She is a beautiful woman, however knows that beauty fades. She has found someone who loves her for her. That when she is old and wrinkled and gray, they will be there for her and she for them. “

“I have much to think about. Good night.” Hubert says softly closing his eyes.

You remain holding his hand until it relaxes which is not until he is in a deep sleep. He sleeps quietly and restfully. A very good rest for him indeed.

The next morning Hubert joins you in his parlor, sitting at the table with you as you silently enjoy the first cup of morning coffee together.

As you pour a refill, you finally break the silence. “Today we prepare, early tomorrow we leave for yet another battle. I know you will not sleep tonight, if you wish to try, even for an hour or two, I would be happy to help.”

Hubert briefly scowls then retracts it to a minor frown. “I can sleep on my own. I do not need you as a crutch.”

You place your hand atop his now white gloved hand. “I am not a crutch, I am an enforcer.” You smile.

--------------------

You are too busy the night before leaving to think about Hubert. Ferdinand has a particularly strong night terror. Bernadetta had a major panic attack. Linhardt could not find a comfortable place to sleep, wandering and laying about all over the palace. You would find him in the middle of a pathway, taking him to a more secluded and safer place to sleep only for him to move to a different poor location for slumber. You finished bottling your last batch of healing potions and pots of salves for minor wounds and burns. You begin filling the wagon with as much bandages and bindings as you could stuff into it. You and the other healers riding in the wagon will take turns sleeping, resting now because once battle starts, you would not sleep for perhaps two days or more.

A few more days on the road, scouts have returned stating there is a small army preventing anyone from passing, apparently a mix of kingdom and church soldiers. A brief strategy meeting is held and soon the caravans realign, with the support teams like yours toward the rear. A few more hours at a slow pace as they advance to the enemy location. Now explosions are heard as the mages on both sides attack, the infantry running in behind the Cavalry and the fliers doing their best to snipe from the skies. Your group hurriedly throws together the medical tent, secures a location for water, sets up cots, supplies. Ready for patients, you head out toward the field of battle. Those that are no longer fit to fight are sent your direction. You assess their condition, stop severe bleeding and direct them to the correct tent location. You see a Meteor spell go off in the middle of the battle, sincerely hoping that is Dorothea and not the enemy that is the source. You watch Linhardt in the back lines, healing who he can, keeping them on their feet. You want to go out there and help, but you remain at your post.

The battle continues until sunset. You are surrounded by patients. Fortunately nobody in the Strike Force has serious injuries, or at least they have not yet made it to the medical tent. You finish cleaning the slicing wounds of a very young, perhaps 17 year old, soldier’s arms before sewing the sides of the wounds back together and then casting a healing spell on them to remove the final trace of any visible wound.

“(Y/n)” a deep voice comes from behind you.

“How are you doing Hubert? Is there somewhere I am needed?” You ask, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Do you have any healing spells left in you?” He asks, a frown on his brow.

“No, That was the last one.”  You say, cleaning up your surgical tools. Before you look up, he takes hold of your arm and warps you to a tent.

“Now it is your turn. You are in desperate need of sleep. There are buckets and towels to wash up and your bags are there to change clothes.”

“I sleep in the medical tent in case they need me…” you state, confused by this.

“You are out of magic, let those that can heal remain. I will step outside, you will clean up and prepare for bed.” Hubert exits, closing the tent flap behind him.

In spite of the rudeness, it feels nice to wash the blood and grime off and change into clean dry clothing not soaked in someone else’s blood. Sleeping away from the injured is much much quieter, you think as you change into bedclothes and sit on the cot.

“Done.” You call out.

Hubert enters the tent, bringing a tin cup full of water as well as a waterskin. “You must drink this. You have not had a drink since the first patients came in.”

“I’ve been preoccupied.” You gratefully take the cup and drinking the entire contents quickly.

“Now rest. Go to sleep.” His voice is quite assertive.

“Stay with me a bit?” You plead.

“Demanding woman!” He huffs, pulling the chair next to the bed to sit close by.

“Is everyone okay? Have they been checked out?” you ask.

Hubert grumbles. “Of course they are. Many have been asleep for four hours or more. Now hush.”

You suddenly sit up. “Have I stolen your bed? I can’t do that to you.”

He hesitantly touches your shoulder. “You need to rest. Stop fighting me.”

You frown and lie back down. “Could you lie next to me for a bit? Its…chilly.” You begin scooting to one side of the cot, until it threatens to tip over from having the weight all on one side.

“You are relentless.” He frowns.

You nod and lift the cover for him to join you. He lies on his back, you on your side facing him. You lift his arm bringing it around your back as you place your head and arm on his chest. Without opening your eyes you tell him, “Yes this is necessary.” You settle in next to him and quickly relax, falling asleep.