#back to the horrors of university administration it is

[umilily]

terrible appointment coming up tomorrow 😶

[garmaux-illustration]

decided to finish the illustration since you guys liked the sketch (i think it had the most notes among my most recent work thank you all `(*>﹏<*)′ )

as i just got back to school and have a lot on my plate right now l’m having quite some trouble coming up with the lore of the rest of the AU and would be more than happy for anyone with ideas to reach out via comments or asks or even dms

For Now: (under the cut so your feed is still digestible)

Viktor and Jayce are the main researchers to come up with the whole ghostbusting thing (Viktor's a Physics PhD and an engineering degree, Jayce has two masters degrees in Engineering and Biology and is an absolute expert in anything related to supernatural/ghost lore),

when they get expelled from the university because their research is considered too fringe and un-scientific (either like in the first ghostbusters movie or i have to find a way to make it fit with jayce's appartment explosion that happens in cannon) they move their equipment in Ximena's basement for a while before they find a proper place to run their business (Mel helped them find it)

Mel is either friends with or Jayce's ex depending of where we stand with shipping (i'm open to literally any interpretation from no shipping to ghost hunting polycule) and she's the one who helps them with finding funding and administrating help ? (like, building permits, making sure the facility is either up to code or exploit loopholes to keep them out of legal trouble and whatnot) she's also a bit of a ghost nerd but has no science expertise or too much theoretical knowledge besides that

which is when Skye also joins them (she was looking for a job after her own graduation and knew Viktor and Jayce through studies and the college's horror lit reading club respectively)

I would like to add Timebomb as an over enthutiastic duo of students trying to get an internship with them (to validate their bachelor's degree of course and not at all because they have an undying passion for spooky stuff and found the perfect excuse to have their mandatory internship be so insanely cool) but i'm not super sure about the details and i have no idea at all how to had Vi Cait and Heimerdinger or the council in this mess of an AU (let alone the whole Piltover/Zaun situation)

also at some point the council explosion happens and Viktor gets semi-resurrected as a ghost i guess ???

[leaderwon]

HATE THAT...

chapter 55 — comforting unknown

Synopsis :- In a world where lovers are destined and written by fate, You hated the idea of a soulmate, or maybe you just hated him. Jake wanted a soulmate, a lover to be with for the rest of eternity. Just not you. Not wanting eachother, the both of you occupy yourself with someone else. But the universe had other plans.

luna's diary : my struggle to write this was actually real.

wc : 1.4k

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The morning sun filters weakly through your curtains, casting pale streaks across your room. You sit up slowly, the weight in your chest settling in as reality seeps back in. Today is the day. The parent-teacher meeting where everything about Iseul’s harassment will be laid bare. You’ve waited for this moment, for the truth to come out—but it doesn’t stop the nerves twisting in your stomach.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, staring blankly at the floor. A part of you is scared, anxious. The thought of everyone’s eyes on you, watching as you share those screenshots and messages, is enough to make you second-guess everything. But you remind yourself that this is necessary. After all the hurt, the lies, and the silence, the truth has to come out. You’ve been carrying this weight alone for too long.

You pull on your clothes, trying to shake off the lingering dread, and head out, bracing yourself as you make your way across campus. When you reach the meeting hall, a small group is already gathered: professors, administrators, and some students. The tension in the air is thick, and every glance in your direction feels loaded with curiosity and judgment. You glance over at your friends—Yunjin, Ningning, Huening Kai, Shotaro, and Jake—all of whom had sided with Iseul at first. They stand together, casting hesitant glances your way. You can’t ignore the sting of betrayal, even if they’re here now.

As the room quiets, you step forward, clearing your throat to get everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for being here,” you start, surprised at how steady your voice sounds. “I’ve stayed silent for a long time about what’s been happening. I kept thinking if I just ignored it, it would stop. But I was wrong. It only got worse.” You pause, glancing at the floor, gathering the courage to go on. “Iseul has been harassing me for months. I didn’t tell anyone because I was afraid no one would believe me. And when I finally tried to speak up, I was… shut down.” Your eyes drift to your friends, the words hanging between you.

The professors exchange glances, visibly surprised, but they don’t interrupt. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “Iseul spread rumors, twisted my words, and turned people against me. But today, I want to show everyone the truth.” With a shaky hand, you pull the pendrive from your pocket and pass it to the professor.

The lights dim as the video begins, displaying messages that no one can deny. Line by line, the reality of Iseul’s cruelty unfolds, each message colder than the last. The accusations, the threats, the venomous lies—it’s all there, undeniable and raw.

It’s undeniable. Every line is clear, every timestamp visible. A few gasps echo through the room as people realize the extent of what’s been said, the cruelty laced into every sentence. You watch Iseul’s parents stiffen, shock and embarrassment written across their faces as they look at their daughter, who now sits slouched in her chair, her face a mask of horror and shame. She’s no longer the untouchable, invincible presence she used to be—now, she looks small, exposed.

You glance over at Jake. He’s not looking at the screen; instead, he’s staring down at his hands, fingers fidgeting nervously. He hadn’t known the full extent of Iseul’s messages either, and you can see the regret etched across his face. His loyalty to Iseul had faltered once he learned the truth, but that realization had come too late. You’re grateful he’s no longer blinded by her lies, but the damage had been done. You’d faced the brunt of her words alone, while the people you thought would stand by you chose to believe the worst.

Iseul’s parents sit in stunned silence, their expressions shifting from disbelief to anger. Her father rises first, his voice low but sharp. “How could you do this?” he demands, while her mother’s face twists with disappointment. A harsh slap rings out as her mother’s hand meets Iseul’s cheek, leaving her momentarily stunned, a flicker of panic crossing her face.

Scrambling to regain control, Iseul’s eyes dart to Jake. She steps closer to him, her voice barely a whisper. “Jake, you know me,” she pleads, her hands reaching out in desperation. “You know I’d never do something like this, right?” But Jake’s gaze is cold, his jaw clenched. He takes a step back, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you could…but I guess I was wrong,” he says, his voice laced with regret.

Before she can argue further, the principal steps forward, breaking the tension with a formal announcement. “Iseul, effective immediately, you are suspended pending further disciplinary action,” he declares, the words final and unyielding. Iseul’s shoulders slump, the fight draining out of her as her parents usher her out of the room.

As the last of the crowd disperses, a weight lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a quiet, unfamiliar sense of relief. You breathe deeply, letting the air fill your lungs fully for the first time in months. It’s over. The lies, the manipulation, the endless, gnawing dread—they’re all over.

A burst of laughter and cheers interrupts your thoughts as Yunjin, Ningning, Huening Kai, and Shotaro approach, their faces lit with excitement. Ningning reaches for your hand, squeezing it with a warm smile. "You did it, Y/N. Finally." There’s genuine happiness in their voices, but beneath it, a tension lingers—an unspoken weight that reminds you of everything that’s happened between you.

You manage a small smile, feeling the tightness in your chest ease, but before long, you turn to leave. Just as you reach the door, Yunjin steps in front of you, blocking your path. “Hey, don’t go yet,” she says softly. “Let’s stay together, hang out for a while.”

For a moment, you’re tempted. It would be easy to go back, to slip into that comfort again. But then you remember all the times they doubted you, the way they chose Iseul’s words over yours without question. The sting of betrayal returns, sharp and undeniable. You shake your head, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can’t, Yunjin. I know you’re sorry, but it doesn’t change what happened. All of this…it damaged our friendship. I don’t think we can go back to how it was before.”

Yunjin’s face falls, and a quiet disappointment shadows her eyes, but she steps aside, allowing you to leave. As you step out, the quiet hallway stretches before you, offering a fragile sense of peace—until you hear footsteps behind you. Turning, you find Jake, hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze filled with regret.

“Y/N, please,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can we just…try again? I made a mistake. I should have listened to you, I know that now.” You swallow, your heart aching as you meet his gaze. “Jake, I don’t think I can. Not after everything. This isn’t the first time. You hurt me when you believed Iseul over me—and that’s not something I can just forget.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but no words come. Instead, he looks at you with a desperate, pleading expression. “I know I’ve hurt you. I was wrong, I admit it. But I want to make it up to you. Please, give me a chance.”

You sigh, feeling the sadness settle over you. His apology doesn’t change the scars he left. “I’m sorry, Jake,” you say softly. “But I don’t think anything can fix this.”

With that, you turn away, leaving him standing there in the hallway as you walk forward, finally free from the weight of Iseul’s lies—and from the ties that once held you back.

As you step outside, the cool breeze hits your face, carrying away the remnants of the day’s tension. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel light—unburdened by secrets, unchained from betrayal. There’s an ache in your chest where the closeness with your friends used to be, but somehow, that emptiness feels freeing. The road ahead is uncertain, but it’s yours alone, and right now, that’s all you need. With a final glance back, you let go of everything holding you down and walk forward into the quiet, comforting unknown.

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© @leaderwon 2024. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[sayruq]

Hello , I hope you’re doing well 🫶🏻

Me and my family need your help to survive from genocide in gaza,here our goFundMe link just read our story and help us if you can or just share it, we appreciated everything you would do.

https://gofund.me/38cab03b

Hello, I'm Khader Abu Sha'ban, and I'm 20 years old, I have a twin brother his name is Ragheb, and we are from Gaza City, We started the second year of our degree (designing and programming mobile applications). We live with a family of 9 members, they are all educated and have university degrees in the fields of engineering, programming, information security, administration, and law, We are the youngest in the family and we are the only ones who are still learning and we didn't end our degree yet.

Don't forget our beautiful cat - Kelwa – whom we consider a family member and we adopted him during the war when he was homeless in the street, however, he filled our lives with joy.

Before October 7th, Our life was full of goals, ambitions, and hope. and because we are identical twins I and my brother share everything in life and we have the same hobbies, actually we have the same life So we practice sports such as football, table tennis, and basketball and we are professionals in video games. we spend our time learning English next to our university education in the field where we found our passion which is Programming, and we have a small online store (Candles Store) to sell candles that we manually made. We have a goal to finish our university life as fast as we can to join the labor market of IT and open our startup company for techniques and applications with the great passion that we already have. this dream is growing day by day, but because of the war and the current circumstances, the dream started to fade, during the war educational institutions and Universities were destroyed in Gaza and the study was arrested. during the previous 8 months we have been unable to complete our education and estimates indicate that restoration of university status in Gaza will take time and may exceed years. The war came and destroyed our lives, our dreams, and our souls, My family did not decide to displacement to the south, despite all the suffering we had passed during this period and we decided to stay at home and not leave the beautiful memories, the idea of displacement to south and go to an unknown place that we don't have any relatives there was the most difficult for us to leave everything and not return back, so the decision was steadfast, non-displacement and patience on the suffering, but the war has been partially damaged our house because of targeting the house next to us, and damaged our beautiful memories and become ineffective to live, but thank God no one of my family has been hurt. The house went and we lost a lot of our beloveds (14 members of my cousins) and witnessed a lot of suffering in Gaza we were forced to internally-displacement east and west more than 5 times and it was very difficult to escape under the shelling at night and under The voices of aircraft and bombing and moving from a non-safe place to another non-safe place and don't forget the starvation that we still live in northern Gaza and dumping bombs, rockets and insecure until life became black for us. We won't forget the night of December 18th, when we lived the most terrifying night in our lives when we woke up at night to the voices of bombs and shells of nearby tanks and the glass and shrapnel on us, and I do not forget the voices of crying and the sounds of the SOS and we are unable to move even unable to breathe because of the hole of the smoke bombs that have thrown on us, I swear the horror of this night will accompany me to the last day My life. The horror of this night is repeated daily and there is no end and life has already black for us, after all this suffering we have reached a plan to rebuild the rest of our lives again elsewhere after we lost our house and members of my family as well as we lost the source income of my family this led us to seek help through this campaign, the raised funds will cover travel expenses for 9 people outside Gaza (where the travel coordination costing $ 5,000 per person) and $ 5,000 for addition costs for initial stability Abroad and $ 5000 initial amount to complete the study abroad for me and my brother. If the situation improves in Gaza we will use funds to restore our house and complete our education in Gaza or abroad, according to appropriate conditions.

These brothers have been raising funds since May and they've only received €678 so far. Please share and donate. Help save lives !!!!!!!

[vilsoo]

୨⎯ CHAPTER THREE ⎯୧

incubus!fushiguro toji x fem!reader

꒰ ✟ ꒱ GENRE: horror, demon au, nsfw 18+, porn with plot.

꒰ ✟ ꒱ SUMMARY: Sex demons are not as provocative as you think they are. Not only do they engage in sexual acts with humans, they thrive off their flesh and haunt them in their nightmares. When an incubus disguised as a Reverend turns a hungry eye on one of the parishioners, gruesome events at the cathedral slowly unfold; blasphemy, gore, and terror...

꒰ ✟ ꒱ CHAPTER WARNINGS: blasphemy, WC: 3,955

PREVIOUS • MASTERLIST • NEXT CHAPTER

written in toji's pov, narration style similar to the Netflix show, "You." this takes place in a fictional setting; St. Reze University & Cathedral.

The morning air had become thicker than the oldest tomes of the St. Reze Clergy House.

Located in the middle of campus was the residence of the clergy along with an administrative office for the local parish. I was sent here an hour ago, deadpanning at the mahogany wooden desk and thought about everything from last night— the way we met, the brief conversation I had with Shoko… But also that screeching, unsettling noise from the stair tower which slightly concerned me.

"Fushiguro. You listening?"

Father Getou Suguru. One of the priests I'm also close with from the clergy. But aside his occupation as St. Reze’s holy priest, I'd feel comfortable drinking with him at a bar or going out to play billiards. Usually his hair would be down when he wears his vestment and cassock, but this morning it was tied back.

Suguru— I refuse to call him Father outside of the church— stood at the opposite side of the room, skimming an old book as he sips his morning tea. His office had varnished brown bookshelves and the fresh smell of brewing beverages. The sunlight tinted of a dusty orange through the large clerestory window, contrasting to the solemnity of this environment.

I cleared my throat. "Sorry. Go on."

I was too drained to listen to him this morning. I could’ve declined or not even show up to this brief rendezvous, but I didn’t want to dig myself in a deeper hole than I already am. He is, after all, the one that pays me for the shit I do. Even if I’m barely involved with the church and its people. There is no doubt that he knows about my blatant and aloof behavior the way Sister Shoko knows as well.

"Remember the other Reverend that got engaged just eight months ago? Their wedding is at the cathedral next month. Interested in helping us?"

I frowned. "Wait— who's getting married again?"

The priest deadpanned at me. "Our fellow Reverend Nanami Kento. I thought you knew this already.”

Feeling indifferent, I watch as the dark liquid swirled around my mug as I held it. "Oh. I forgot."

The priest sighed in exasperation. "I'll pay you extra if you come by and help."

I paused before I could take a sip once I registered his words, averting my gaze right at him. "Fine. I'll do it."

"Of course you would," he taunted. "Is money always going to be your motivation?"

My elbow was pressed on the table and my cheeks rested in the crest of my palm, slightly smirking at him as my drink clanks on the wood. "You know me, Suguru."

The man slaps the book closed with one hand, sliding it back into the shelves. "We'll talk more about it later with the others. Please do not forget the meeting at the chapter house next week. You have to be there.”

I notice him grabbing a few of his things including his vestment. "Leaving for sermon already?"

“I need to be early. Also, I’m leaving you in charge of the conferences in here today.”

How great.

The ominous priest finally left. I continued drinking absentmindedly for the past ten minutes and dwelled at the campus view outside. It was an early Sunday morning and the sermon was starting soon. Fridays and Saturdays are the only days I work at the cathedral, while on Sundays I'm off. Yet here I am in the clergy house when I could've been doing something more productive.

But I didn't care at all, really. This job, this religion, or the coherent idea of a god... I didn't give a damn about the shit I’m required to do in this new life as long as Father Getou paid me— just as he said he would.

I still thought about last night. What a tantalizing night, I must admit. Meeting you for the first time in such a meek state, utterly surprising me with your sullied confession... But then I recalled the unsettling noise I’ve heard from the stair tower. Though there were no screams heard or the smell of blood when Shoko and I reached the first floor, it was something so inhuman to ever think of.

Speaking of inhuman, there was still one thing you haven't known about me yet. An infernal and sinister creature, able to sense the wanton lust of humans and their coiling fantasies, residing within my soul. One that sneakily lodges into one’s nightmares to fulfill their desires… But what also resides with my soul is real mortal blood— the outcome of a half-breed incubus.

Knock knock knock.

I stared at the door for a hot minute with a blank expression, slouching in my seat. I'm usually this lifeless early in the morning, but thanks to that coffee, I managed to stand up and approach the door. But just as I was about to grab the doorknob, my hand froze when I heard a demure voice resonate from the other side. Not from a figment of my mind, not from the faded hues in my memories… It was really you— the sound of your adorning voice reverberating in the back of my mind. And it's been hours since the last time I've heard it.

"Father Getou? You in there?"

I threw away all my inhibitions and opened the door for you. And that was the first time I saw you, really saw you— not shrouded by darkness or drops of rain. The glazing sunlight cutting from the door onto your face like a scalpel, your bare skin radiating and your attire expressed more casually than what you wore last night to the church.

A small smirk slowly crept on my lips. "Father Getou's not here. Need something from him?"

"Oh," you breathed out, slowly trailing your bashful gaze to meet with mines. "I wasn't…expecting you…”

I press my shoulder against the white doorframe as my hand grips onto the opposite side like I was blocking you from coming in. "Looks like we just keep bumpin' into each other, huh. What a coincidence."

You were perfectly in my field of view, sunkissed from the golden daylight. My eyes cast over the rest of your figure, your chest heaving faster and the muscles of your shoulders tightening. This was an odd coincidence now that I think about it. There must've been an underlying reason of coming all the way out here for a conference with Father Getou. It was too bad for you that he left several minutes ago, but not too bad for me to have some company…

"Anything I can help you with?" I coaxed. “If you’re trying to meet with Father Getou, might as well just head to the church where he’s at.”

I watch as you pressed your lips together in uncertainty, your gaze falling to a random corner of the office then back to me. "You know what? It doesn't really matter who in the clergy I talk to. May I come in?"

Feeling slightly convinced, I push myself off the doorframe and make way for you. In cold calculation, I watch the way you hold your breath once you enter, the way your shoulders tensed like the beating of your heart grew erratically. My first time seeing you this nervous and so shy around me.

"So. What brings you here?"

You were standing near Father Getou's desk as I shut the door, glancing at the bookshelves and the plain ceiling absentmindedly. "I wanted to discuss about something that Father Getou might be familiar about," you respond with a sharp exhale. "But… I guess I was too late. I should’ve made an appointment.”

I make my way around the desk where Getou stood earlier as you sat down coyly. You had a dreary expression as you stared into nothing, as if you were ashamed of whatever you were going to say.

"You can tell him after the Sunday Mass," I assured, leaning against the wall with my hands shoved in my pockets.

"I— I don’t know,” you faltered. “Maybe… I think it's better if I don't tell him…”

"Damn. Must've been that bad, huh," I smirked. "Could've saved this for the confession booth, ya' know."

Just like how you confessed to me last night.

"No, no— it's fine," you faltered, your gaze flickering back to my face. "I’m fine talking about this to anyone from the clergy. You’re a Reverend, right? Maybe we should talk more while we have the chance. Get to know each other.”

Get to know each other, huh.

It was something about your face glinting from the gentle sunlight that nearly captivated me. Maybe early Sunday mornings weren't so bad, after all. But after ruminating over your words and this igniting spark of interest I have with a human, especially a woman like you— a man like me would never go this far to give my considerations…

An incubus is meant to prey on women like you. Obsess over them, violate them, make them feel things no other human could do. But I’m not like these sick and twisted incubi. Not even a full incubus. There would be these ongoing battles of cunning, dark, and sinister thoughts and actions within my conscience. I'd feel tempted to ruin and corrupt people for my own satisfaction. But then I also have my humanity— the respect, boundaries, morals, and all of the shit I also abide by.

You left me with no choice. The cause of my sleeplessness and these constant distractions sitting right before me. Definitely harmless just to know more about a woman like you, right?

"Alright then,” I obliged. “You’re a student at St. Reze, right?"

"I am. Third year, graduating with a bachelor’s next year."

I squinted slightly. "How come I've never seen you before?"

"I was gonna ask you that, too," you chuckled. "But maybe because it was my first time attending on a Saturday."

I nodded slowly, recalling your words from your confessional. "I work on Fridays and Saturdays only. Makes sense."

"Something was just really bothering me. I felt like attending that day, so..."

I ambled closer, standing at the opposite end of the table from you. Half-lidded eyes staring meekly into mines, setting fire in my ribs and wading into my rufous flesh, strumming every fiber in my body like I was trapped in your aura. Ominous and tense anticipation between us, right in this office, right at this moment.

I've never felt something like this before. And you probably haven't, either. This hidden desire for you and your hidden desire for me has never tasted this fine, like a restless hunger teasing my tongue…

"I don’t think I've ever gotten your name. I'm Y/N."

I repeated your name in my mind, a name I for sure wasn’t going to forget. "Toji,” I then replied. “Reverend Toji Fushiguro."

"Reverend Toji,” you mused, as if you were ruminating upon my name as well. “Nice to officially meet you.”

I really tried fighting the urge to bring up your confession. But according to the clergy-penitent privilege that Suguru informed me about, they are to remain strictly confidential. Any member of the clergy that overhears a confession are bound by this “seal.” But with everything I’ve witnessed and collected from last night at church, I wanted to ask the most ludicrous questions. I wanted to know what was going on in that pretty little head of yours. Why you came all the way here to the clergy office, what exactly is bothering you to the point you open up to me. Like cracking open your skull and spooling your brain, finding out all your sinister and dark secrets…

My jaw tightened as apart of me begged to know, staring at the bay window overlooking the courtyard and other facilities of the campus. But I decided to not intervene— who am I to care about a mere human, anyways?

"So. You said something was bothering you?” I piqued, refilling my cup of coffee with the machine. “Is that why you came all the way here?”

If I hadn't been paying attention to every move and every reaction you made in this office, I wouldn't have noticed the way your chest heaved slowly and steadily, like you were forcing yourself to calm down. I watched the way your body reacted. A trail of goosebumps. Slight shivers. Robbed of speech. And the way your eyes subtly began to pool with dismay, powerful as a surging storm taking over you…

“Well, this might sound a little bit, uh… carnal, Reverend Toji,” you muttered sheepishly. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, or— you know, see me as a parishioner in a different way…”

"You don't need to worry about that," I assured with a small smirk. "I'm not like Father Getou who's so professional with everything here— especially with that seminary shit. So don’t think I’m gonna lecture you with scripture.”

You chuckled lightly. “Spoken like a true layman. That’s harsh.”

"Yeah, but it's the truth." The warm liquid rushed down my throat as I drank, absorbed with this sudden rush of energy. "I don't really care about this church nor your god. I'm just working here for money— so you can tell me anything."

You gazed down solely at your lap, absorbed in your own thoughts as if this was too difficult to open up about. Your eyes were unreadable from this distance, but every time you locked my gaze for a few moments, they become so irresistible as they take me in.

"Look, I don't know if I'm ready to say it.”

"Enlighten me." I set another drink of coffee for you on the desk, the loud thud of the mug causing your body to snap. “Whatever you say, I’m not gonna hold against you. You came all the way out here this time in the morning, so don’t let this be a waste of time for the both of us.”

A human like you testing my patience was a risky game to play. But for some reason, I was a bit amused by your timid submission… Your chin tilting upwards as you looked at me in silence as I leaned against the bookshelves. Your skin continued to gleam right in my view, eyes taking me in like you were drinking the very sight of me.

After a fleeting moment of hesitance, you grab the cup and sipped carefully, watching your shoulders tense down from the warmth rushing through your veins. I stared for another long moment, both hands on the table and leaning slightly forward. It was quite entertaining, really, how things lead us to this point.

"Friday night I had a dream," you muttered softly, "I couldn't stop thinking about it, which is why I came to the church on Saturday night, seeking for guidance. But this dream was, well… a strange experience for me.”

The moment you spoke of having a dream I immediately knew. Even after finding out you came to church on a day you don't regularly attend was enough to convince me. Carnal. Nightmares. It all made sense. In the vulnerable depths of an innocent human’s mind, a disturbing creature would be quietly lurking, waiting until all is calm when the darkness shrouds over the daylight skies. This darkness incarnate springs to life as a vicious, fang-bearing, gnarly, feral incubus. Born to linger on the fragile edges of your mental state and drawing you in with its sapphire eyes…

The muscles of my jaw tightened as I clenched my teeth together in cold silence. I've learned and witnessed the vile ways of how dreams go with demons like me, and how the aftermath will always remain dreadful for humans to recount. Terrorized by such unfathomable sexual nightmares and disturbing hypnotic states of scintillating salacious lust, night after night…

 “… I was in a dark place. I see some kind of shrine with wide teeth, horns on the roof and many skulls laying around. Then I look up and see this creature— he had four arms and four eyes…”

Your gaze suddenly falls back to me again, this time not directly settled on my face, but I can feel the way you trace my features— sharpened, tensed, deliberately making out every outline of me. I couldn't help but fall speechless, embracing this erratic tension going on from between.

“The things he did to me in that dream, Reverend Toji… It was literally sin. Promiscuous to ever think of, really. I'm really ashamed to say this here, but— for some reason it felt... good. If it's so wrong to think of or do, then why did it feel good?"

I notice the way your voice was honeyed with titillation as you explained, hinting with passion. It amused me— how you found a nightmare so pleasant to you. I suddenly thought of our communion from the night before, how you kneeled before me with a heated look in your eyes— salacious and delirious— indulging in submission just like your nightmare.

I wanted to know what demon snuck in your nightmare. Four eyes? Four arms? A diabolic creature I've never even heard of before. I had to suppress a lot of my thoughts back, trying my best to remain nonchalant.

"A nightmare, huh. It’s not uncommon for students here to confess about this," I prompted. “There’s a whole case study on how it’s affecting them, but you… You said it felt good?”

"I— I did," you mumbled, voice almost shaky. "And I don't know what to do— I feel that my lustful craving has ruined my relationship with God.”

After divulging to me with another abashed confession, I was rather fascinated than concerned. How you took pleasure in a fucking night terror was something I’ve never expected to come from those pretty, saccharine lips of yours. It almost enraged me— how could a human like you entice me like this? I’m supposed to do my job. I’m supposed to follow Suguru’s commands. I’m not supposed to form a relationship with any of the students here. But this was a rippling covet that makes my blood rush with urgency, an urgency to dwell in the sinister parts of me. And I can sense how desperate you feel— that covet you find so sinful, so disgraceful to your god— when in reality it isn't.

"Your desire for lust should never make you feel guilty, Y/N," I coaxed. "After all, didn't your god create us as sexual creatures? It was never deemed a sin; only taught to be one for young women like you."

This time I was speaking my mind. How I really viewed the church that condemns malicious creatures like me. All the years of false and inaccurate teachings, mistranslations, and every concept that never appeals to me. I could go on about it all day, but I suppressed my thoughts back once again.

"I've prayed and prayed that day, Reverend. But yet, I can’t stop dwelling on it. It was a very filthy dream, I admit. But it felt so… intense.”

A nightmare, I mentally corrected. Any dream with an incubus involving sexual and immoral acts are considered nightmares.

I take the opportunity to let my gaze glide over your skin. "I understand how you feel," I feigned, nearly lying to myself that I had to take another sip of my drink. "That covet you find so sinful, so disgraceful to your god— when in reality it isn't. Whoever propagated that purity culture bullshit are the disgraceful ones instead."

Your body fell stiff as the realization hit like a brick to your face, contemplating over my words. "Hm. I think I can see now why you're not so fond of the church,” you bantered, taking another sip of the coffee. “You’re more brutal than Father Geto. He’s there to console and sympathize with his parishioners, but you— You’re very, uh… passive aggressive.”

I scoffed. “That’s harsh.”

“Well, it’s kinda true,” you chuckled. “I mean, we can’t always have our reverends and ministers here console us by just spiritual enlightenment and scripture. It was nice hearing your advice coming from a different perspective. So I thank you, Reverend Toji.”

I agreed. But at the same time, I didn’t care. “Just call me Toji. But just not in front of other people and Father Geto, you know.”

"Speaking of Father Geto…" My heart jolted faster once you shot up from your seat and walked over in front of me, my skin growing hotter as your body drew closer to mines. So close as if you were invading me, but I allowed it— the gap between us growing thin, feeling our body heat fuel and ignite. I was tempted to trace your flesh, uncover the goosebumps lingering on your skin, and take you on right here on this fucking desk…

What the Hell am I thinking? Why am I being invaded with these kind of thoughts?

"… Please don't tell him about our conference and that I met with you," you continued with a low mutter. "It'll be our little secret."

I slanted my head. Our little secret?

Something crept in the grip of my numb hand, hearing the rough folds of paper crumpling. I peer down and notice your fingers gently grazing mines, feeling your warmth and tenderness as you slipped some cash.

"Are you serious?" I whisper. "You know I can't take this."

"No, Toji. It's fine," you beamed. "After lecturing me like that— I really think you are a good man. Doesn't matter who you are or how you view the church."

I clenched the cash in my grip, not realizing how clammy my palms grew. I was already at a loss of words from this strange, erratic feeling in me right now. Slipping money in my hand as you invaded my personal space, breathing in your darling aroma, your irises dancing with the room's fast-changing glow. You then look at my lips. I look at yours. There's a pause.

You slightly inched forward, my entire body falling frozen as you pressed your lips against my cheek. Immediately I was immersed with this sudden softness and sweetness, like laying on a bed made of clouds, plush and impulsive. Warming my bones, melting my center. My heart beat rising, but also trying to soothe.

"’Till next time, Toji," you murmured, your fleeting breath hitting my ear until you turned away and left.

What did you just do to me?

I wouldn’t say your kiss of gratitude on my face was a violation. But though I had no idea where it stemmed from, it felt… pleasant. Perhaps I was somewhat successful playing the role of a Reverend who’s not really in touch with humanity, but tries to just for the sake of understanding people. I just don’t know how to feel from a tender moment that came from nowhere. I was too astonished to register it through my brain— the intimate touch of a human.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. I've studied every line and every form of your figure, the shape of you and the aching in your glinting eyes. How you starve me with those fucking eyes. How I wanted to see all of you right here, right in this office, right on Father Suguru’s desk— gliding across your body with a wicked purpose. There was no way to fight your embrace. I would’ve allowed Suguru to fucking exorsice me for wanting to feed off your forbidden sexual desire. And I was too selfish to let that lame demon in your nightmare feed off it. Not even any man you encounter here could fulfill you the way I plan to.

Only me.

TAGS: @suget @haezen @heavenlyevil @vampnyx @killzenin @diorsbrando @endurablerose @slut-manifesto @screampied

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO/POISEUNS © 2024. originally published April 10, 2021. do not steal, plagiarize, or translate without permission. do not repost or share any of my works where minors have access. art by evok99 on twitter.

[lenaariewrld]

C.14 — formal dinners (w)

ON THE AIR — childe x reader smau

| SYNOPSIS;; Teyvat University’s popular radio personality, Y/n L/n, has only one gripe with her life. Her classmate, neighbour, and all-around nuisance in her life, Tartaglia. Their rivalry extends just past academics and, to her horror, into her work. He becomes the music director and co-host for her radio show, working alongside her most nights and forcing himself even deeper into her life. But is he really trying to just be friends, or is there an ulterior motive to his actions?

| WC: 3.6k

previous! ~ masterlist ! ~ next!

———

The giggles and laughter of your group reverberated through the restaurant as you all settled into your chairs around the table, a semi-private location that Childe had arranged for days prior to this. The conversation flowed nicely as you all breezed through the far too decadent appetizers and sipped on your drinks. You found it easier to just sit back and relax, enjoying yourself, than you’d previously thought. Ganyu sat across from you, with Keqing to your right and Childe to your left. Cyno sat across from the other man, and the seat next to Ganyu was left open. You had invited Diluc along too in case he was free, but he never responded. A part of you was unsure if you wanted him to show up. You couldn’t place why.

You all shared stories about your trips on breaks, funny things that happened while you’d been attending the university, or even memorable times you’d shared with each other. Ganyu recalled the first trip she’d taken on vacation, one you’d invited her on and had planned for her. Keqing shared her own stories about interesting things she’d learned while assisting her professors through the years, and you and Cyno had your own fun stories to share about parties or crazy nights you’d had. Childe shared a funny story about when he’d first moved here and the miscommunications he’d had with an unfortunate grocery store clerk when he was trying to get some specific ingredient for food.

The dinner was delicious, and a relaxing time for you and your friends, splitting off into separate conversations on occasion. You and Childe even fell into your own little world, the two of you bantering and chatting casually. Nicely. It was probably the least stressful interaction you’d had with the ginger man in years.

As the night wore on and the time leaned later in the evening, the conversations naturally turned to what everyone at the table wanted to do after graduating. In a perfect world, what jobs they’d pursue and careers they’d lead.

Cyno went first, explaining he wanted to be a lawyer or a judge. That he wanted to help judge cases based not only on fairness, but on the circumstances and would would best help a situation resolve. Keqing spoke up next. She wanted to work for the Qixing, a multi-million-dollar commerce company and the most influential conglomerate corporation in the nation. You joked that if she ever got the job, she should be your sugar mommy and expand the company into the entertainment industry to give you your own show. “I’ll think about it,” She joked, nudging your arm with a slight quirk of her lips. Ganyu then admitted she didn’t have a lot of aspirations, and that she’d be perfectly happy as an accountant or an administrative assistant, something with responsibility but not as a leader, where she could make good money and live a relatively calm life. You respected her honesty about it.

When it was unofficially your turn, you told everyone that, unsurprisingly, you wanted to write interesting stories. That you wanted to not only be able to give an escape for people who were as stressed and busy as you found yourself in school and in work, but also to highlight other people’s stories. You wanted to do something impactful, and writing or speaking was how you did that. Whether you ended up being a journalist or not, you didn’t care, so long as you got to accomplish that goal.

Then Childe shared his wishes. He wanted to be a musician, to either be a soloist or lead his own band and express himself (and potentially the others in his band) through music. He wanted to let out everything he couldn’t normally or shouldn’t. Music was the one thing he could communicate in, without fail. Language barrier or not.

Everyone hummed thoughtfully, falling silent around the table and taking a minute to let the topic settle in their minds. Cyno clapped his hands together after a minute. “Okay, well–” He chuckled and brought up a story about some of his teachers and the classmates he’d witnessed doing dumb stuff.

Just like that, the dinner continued as normal. The drinks refilled before you even realise they’ve fallen low, and the plates of food switched out as soon as you’d had your fill.

Once everyone was finished and Childe had paid for the extravagant meal, you all collected your things and headed back to the cars you’d arrived in. You and Ganyu linked arms as youn walked together, your steps far bouncier than hers.

“Oooo, we should go dancing!” You exclaim suddenly, twirling on your feet to face the others as you said this. Your eyes sparkle with excitement. Maybe those glasses of wine were hitting you.

“Y/nnie, maybe we should–”

“Good idea!” Cyno tacks on before Keqing can finish her protest. “We should make a night out of it! “ His voice came out sort of squeaky as he jostled your shoulders playfully, causing you to giggle. Keqing sighs, shaking her head, though you can spot the smile trying to split on her face. She relents eventually, ushering your group towards her car. You cheer and throw your arms around Cyno and Ganyu’s shoulders.

You all pile into the car and debate which club to go to, eventually giving Keqing a name. She drives you all there and your group makes it inside unscathed and without too much fuss. Before anything else, your group trails towards a booth. Keqing and Ganyu make themselves comfortable– with Ganyu graciously agreeing to hold onto your purse– while you, Childe and Cyno head to the bar for a round of shots.

After clinking your glasses and downing the shots, you order a few drinks to sip on before rejoining your friends. You slide into the booth with Keqing and Childe, while Cyno slides in next to Ganyu. You mainly stay silent, waiting for a song you like to start playing before you get up, nursing your martini, while the others have their own conversations.

When a song you recognise starts, you gasp excitedly. Your white-haired friend recognises the song too, and without prompting, grabs your hand to pull you onto the dance floor. The both of you start singing along, your hands intertwined.

It was lively and close as you push further into the throng of dancing people. The both of you throw your arms up or around each other. You keep giggling as you serenade the man, keeping close to Cyno. The rest of the dancing crowd melts away as the fuzz in your brain makes itself a home, your body feeling a current of energy coursing through your veins. Your both disconnected and hyper-aware of your body.

Time seems to become meaningless in this crowd as you dance, only the sure beats of the songs and the feeling of Cyno’s hands on your arms or shoulders keeping you aware of any change around you. You knew you were a more provocative person when you were drunk (not that you intended to, it just happened to loosen you up enough for you to be comfortable), but you didn’t mind in moments like this. In times when the energy was matching the constant thrum in your head. It helped, in fact, especially when you were around people you trusted, grinding and dancing with Cyno with near reckless abandon.

You were both lost in the moment, claiming the lights for your own and having your main character moment. Your hips, your arms, your hands traveled wherever, chasing the feeling of careless dancing that the entire crowd also claimed for themselves.

You were having the time of your life, not even recognizing the songs any more, just vibing to whatever played and the vibes of the club. That is, until you twirl around and effectively lose your friend in the throng of jumping bodies, your hands having left Cyno’s sometime during the spinning. You stumble a little bit as you come to a stop. You look around.

Wasn’t he just here? He was behind you, right? Or on your left?

Turning your head every direction does little to help you see over all off the people jumping and dancing in order to spot your friend, even with how bright his hair looked in the club lights. Your heart starts to hammer in your chest, the ecstatic energy turning sour with worry. You feel a hand on your upper arm and turn quickly to face the owner, hoping its Cyno.

A strange man you’ve never met smiles at you, already too close for comfort in this crowd. “You doing okay, little lady?” He asks, his voice dropped to a husky whisper as his hand trails up to your shoulder.

You scowl and push his hand away. “‘M fine,”

“Aw don’t be like that~ I just want to dance,” He coos, pouting obnoxiously, his voice a condescending tone. He’s really not going to leave you alone. “I can be your dance partner–”

“She already has one,” A new voice speaks from behind you, but you recognize this one. Childe slides up to you casually (when did he even get here?) and stares down the man. You can only turn your head to stare at him in confusion, a strange feeling burrowing into your stomach as he places his hand on your lower back. A light touch, easy enough to shake off once the creep disappeared, but high enough to make him see.

The man scoffs, “She can speak for herself, can’t she?” He defends, clearly not getting the hint. You roll your eyes, shaking out of whatever silence had overcome you and grabbing Childe’s hand.

“Like he said, I already have a partner,” You lift your intertwined fingers and pull Childe with you deeper into the crowd. Only, you don’t stop, crossing the floor as you try to find the edge of the dance floor, far away from the creep. You’re no longer interested in the fun of the crowd and pulsating bass line, wanting to find your friend. As soon as the two of you escape the pulsating wall of dancing bodies, you let go of the ginger’s hand.

Where were you headed? You aren’t sure. You don’t realise Childe is still following behind you until he gently takes hold of your wrist and stops you. You look around. You were trying to find Ganyu and Keqing again, to regroup at their table, but… this is a hallway, not the table. And, pointedly, it’s on the second floor of the club, a railing on one side opening up to reveal the dance floor and more of the first floor below.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Childe asks, his voice quieter now that the music isn’t blasting in your ears. The sound is slightly muffled now, but you can still feel the bass under your feet.

“I’m drunk,” You admit. “But I didn’t need you to save me, or to follow me,” You take a deep breath, collecting yourself. Childe sighs.

“Well, I’m not leaving you alone here,” He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why not? I can handle myself,”

“Oh, you were really handling yourself back there with that guy. I’m sure your sarcasm was a real deterrent when you actually spoke up,” He sounds exasperated, raising his brows at you. You roll your eyes.

“Well, I would’ve if you’d not stepped in,”

He scoffs, throwing his arms up. “Why are you so stubborn? I was trying to help you?”

“I didn’t ask you to!” You step closer to him, pressing your finger against his chest. “I’m not some damsel in distress, and you don’t need to come to my aid!” You seethe, unsure why you’re even this frustrated. Your head was swimming, and you were beyond annoyed with yourself. You lost track of Cyno and you hadn’t even been able to pull yourself together to reject that guy. Even worse, you felt relieved when Childe had come up behind you, had felt a warmth in your chest, a bubbling fire when his hand had found your back. You didn’t like that feeling.

“I’m not going to look the other way while someone makes you uncomfortable, Y/n, is that so hard to believe?” The man’s voice brings you back to the conversation and you huff at his words, your lips pursing slightly.

“Why?”

He blinks, his head tilting to the side just slightly. It reminds you of a puppy, and for a brief second you understand the charm or his looks, and why so many girls fawned over him. “What do you mean? You’re…” He clears his throat, looking away from you. “You’re my friend,” He admits.

You find yourself lost for words for a second, the both of you staring at each other as his words settled in. It wasn’t hard to believe, necessarily. You’d been working together for a few months now, and had been setting aside your rivalry and amending it for the past three weeks now. As much as you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, you’d been softened to him, and he had definitely softened to you. But the way he says it, and the way it settles in your mind through the haze of your drunken state makes you feel like there’s something more to it.

You’re still staring at his face, your eyes glancing over all of his features, and your hand still pointing at his chest, the contact buzzing on your skin. You smooth your hand against his shirt and a thought pops into your mind. One you would normally never have or would push aside as soon as it came up. That is, if you weren’t drunk right now.

“Y/n?” Childe spoke up quietly, a half-question in his tone as he reached up and brushed some hair away from your eyes. You leaned forward into his touch, your body moving on its own without your brain’s interference.

“I want to kiss you,” You told him, your other hand coming up to hold the collar of his jacket. Where you got the boldness to speak your mind all of a sudden, you aren’t sure (it’s got to be the warm liquor, you think) but you don’t mind when the man lifts his brows slightly and lets out a soft chuckle.

And you don’t mind when he leans down and kisses you, capturing your lips with his quickly. Greedily, you meet his lips to kiss him back. And you taste the vodka he’d drank earlier on his tongue, the saccharine of the dessert he’d eaten at dinner making you drunk all over again. You feel heady, desperate even as you pull on his collar and drag him closer, your lips slotting against his as you exchange breaths.

His hands come up to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss as he dips his tongue into the kiss. It’s needy and messy and you lose any bearings on where you are, gasping as the cold of the wall melts through the material of your dress. Another breathy gasp escapes you as Childe presses himself closer, pulling your thighs against his hips. His kisses meet your heated skin, goosebumps raising where the cool air hits you once he’s done his task. The air around you both seems to send sparks across your nerves, your body arching against his. You feel even more breathless than before, your head spinning with every second that passes.

Childe kisses you with a need and a desire you had never experienced before, the groans he lets our vibrating on your skin, dripping into your chest and curling in your stomach. Your heart pounds. You can’t get enough of this, tugging on his hair as another shiver runs down your spine. “Fuh-ck,” His voice cracks slightly as he kisses up your jaw, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. “So fuckin’ annoying, so pretty,” He’s mumbling and you’re not sure if it’s for you or himself but you couldn’t really care as you grip his shoulders, your lips parted with heavy pants.

It’s like you’re becoming intoxicated all over again, the sensations more than anything you’ve ever felt before. Electrified. You turn your head and cup Childe’s cheek, meeting his lips in another kiss, too lost to care about the clack of his teeth against yours. You recover as he straightens slightly, a soft whine in his throat when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth. You could get lost in this forever, could stay in this moment until the sun rises and your deeds were laid bare for you to witness.

Well, you could, that is until you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, vibrating insistently against your hip. You recognize the ringtone– though it takes you a second to do so –as Ganyu’s contact. The chiming cuts through your haze instantly. “Shit,” You blink rapidly to clear your head as you fish around for the device, both your feet meeting the ground again as Childe lets your thigh go. You lean back against the wall, the both of you snapping out of the moment. Childe steps back, turning his head away from you, his ears a bright burning red that you can make out even in the low lighting.

Your own cheeks feel like they’re burning through, your head leaning back on the wall when you answer the call. As soon as the phone is against your ear, you hear Ganyu asking a million questions. “Where are you?? Cyno, Ke, and I have been looking for you for, like, thirty minutes!” She sounds both worried and relieved that you answered.

You cringe internally. “I’m sorry,” You unhale sharply, trying not to sound too out of breath. “I-uh..” You glance towards the red-haired man, who was running his hands over his face now, still turning away from you out of respect. “I got lost and.. I was looking for you guys, but I found Childe,” You tell her. The phone call continues for a minute or so more, ending with you promising to find her again. As soon as you tuck the device back into your pocket, you turn back to Childe. “I guess it’s time to.. Head home,” You tell him, clearing your throat and gesturing towards the direction the two of you had initially come from.

Before you walk off, though, he stops you and fixes the straps on your dress wordlessly. “Here…” he mumbles, fixing any of the mess-ups in your hair. You giggle softly, reaching up and swiping your smudged lipstick off of the corner of his mouth. Once the both of you are sufficiently cleaned up and unsuspecting, you head out.

It takes a couple more minutes of searching before you find and regroup with everyone, relief flooding your system again when they all greet you, not making any comments about you or Childe’s appearances. Cyno pretends to sob and hangs off of your frame. “I’m sorryyyyyy,” He dramatically wails, his head on your shoulder. A giggle escapes you again as you weaved your arms underneath his, rocking back and forth with the white-haired man. “It’s okay,” You soothe in just as playful tone as he was using. You then look to Keqing and Ganyu, filling them in on what happened. You pointedly leave out the details of your argument turned… whatever the hell that was with Childe, clearing your throat when you get to that part.

“I took her upstairs to see if we could spot you guys from there,” Childe steps in, easily covering up your quietness. He seemed to be even less eager to share what you two had got up to, his voice quiet and his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks. Keqing hums, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, you’re all sobering up and then we’re leaving,” She declares, sitting all of you down at the booth. She briefly departs before returning with waters, helping Cyno to sit up from where he was previously laying on your lap.

“I really am sorry for wandering off,” You tell her quietly, leaning your head against her shoulder. She pets the top of your head, holding your glass as you take a sip of the water.

“It’s okay,” She shrugs.

After sobering up a little more and enjoying some friendly conversation, mostly between the other two girls and Childe, Keqing leaves again to settle the tab. Childe kindly hands over his card for her to use, helping you and Cyno up out of the booth. Your white-haired friend seemed to get incredibly sleepy once everyone was together again, though he was able to hold himself up well with the two of you walking with him. You held his hand.

Your group then leaves and piles into the car. You slide into the back seat with the two men, sitting in between both of them. Ganyu and Keqing sit up front, talking quietly between them. Meanwhile, the three of you remain quiet in your drunken states, letting the night come to a quiet end for now. Your mind is still racing, and your heart is beating harshly, like you’re worried that your friends would be able to read your mind and see everything that happened.

Childe seems fine as the car starts, the slight bumpiness of the road doing little to jostle him as he sits upright, looking out the window with a glazed look in his eyes. You and Cyno lean against each other for support, practically cuddling as you fight to stay awake in the back seat. Cyno hums to the music Keqing has playing on the radio, his head resting on top of yours.

And somewhere, in your dozed and half-aware state, you find Childe’s hand, your pointer and middle finger hooked around his in the darkness of the back seat…

———

A/Ns: ehehehehe >:) likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated, and don't forget to stay hydrated <33

TAGLIST: @popiizpops @scaradooche @yourfavoritefreakyhan @neversore

[readingsquotes]

"I’ll never be able to forget my own experience pushing my college to divest......I’ll never forget the look I got from one administrator as I entered their building. We had been camped outside for two weeks at that point, and even though the woman who saw me had no idea who I was, she knew exactly who I was. She knew my presence, our presence, meant disruption. And few things are more sacred to the neoliberal institution than avoiding disruption, even when the status quo is harmful investment in fossil fuel corporations, or genocide. And so my presence scared this administrator, and the cops were there within minutes. The feeling of being a student and having the university resort to violence rather than speak with you is immensely hard to forget.

But so too are the broader lessons I learned in student organizing. The feelings are indelible, and yet the bigger picture, the structural knowledge you receive when you go up against a large and powerful institution, stuck with me too. .... I had learned that universities didn’t quite work the way I had imagined. Growing up they had seemed to me, from a distance, to be centers of knowledge and places where life looks a little more like it’s supposed to; people pursue learning and community and aren’t as constrained by work and stress. And there’s a significant kernel of truth to that, but behind the facade is a power structure that cares infinitely more about investments and real estate than the student body. That truth has become more and more real over time, and has been violently laid bare by the boards and administrations themselves in recent weeks. ...

The impact of protest right now matters immensely. It’s impossible to quantify how important it would be if the movement for a Free Palestine in the West built enough power to force our countries to stop funding ethnic cleansing, to stop arming genocide, to stop supporting apartheid. The lives that have been lost are irreplaceable, and the lives that could be saved are invaluable. And, at the same time, we’re seeing millions of people, young and old and everything in between, change in profound ways. In that fact lies the reality that Gaza and Palestinians and this movement we’re seeing all around us are altering the future just as they work to alter the present.

One of the many driving forces changing how people across the globe think, not only about Zionism but about imperialism and society at large, is the simple fact that we cannot unsee what we have seen. ...Decades of propaganda began to fracture in recent years, and shattered in recent months. But it’s more than that – for millions of people across the world there’s also no unseeing U.S. complicity. There’s no unseeing how Israel and the U.S. are virtually alone at the UN, on the world stage, working to protect a genocidal state and enable a genocide again and again. Even as Israel kills yet another UN worker, bringing the total to 190 slain employees of the United Nations, the enabling and participation in Israel’s genocide continues. 

People cannot simply forget these actions, these choices that the U.S. and Israel make day after day. I say that as a hope more than as a fact. ...And while students are not facing repression that can be compared to what the Black Panthers and others have faced, they are repeatedly facing mass violence from the state as well as vigilantes. They have also seen how little their schools care about them, how little their government cares about them, and how deeply invested our entire system is in war and imperialism.

..Students who have been attacked, and people everywhere who have seen horrors in Gaza beyond our comprehension, cannot simply forget. We’ve seen how violence abroad is connected to fascism at home. We’ve seen how Israel’s genocide in Gaza is connected to the war machine here in the United States. We’ve seen how it all comes together in a society structured to deprive the many so the few can hoard wealth and resources. Whatever comes next, there’s no turning back. We will struggle towards a better system, both because we want to see it come into existence and because we don’t have the option to return to a healthy status quo. We can’t turn back to the society we might be nostalgic for. That world doesn’t exist anymore; a new one must be built."

[evilneo]

TALKING OF HORROR THO. the hlvrv universes could so easily be a horror with some slight tone changes.

Y2KVR has some creepypasta computer shit and also Gordon Bs body was left outside the computer, hollow and alone. inside the computer his memories and mind slowly decay and he gets infected with a virus that makes everything so,,,, saccharine no matter the tone of the worsening situation

Roleswap has a glitched entity that shouldnt exist gain sentience, come back from being killed and crawl out of the computer to enact revenge on the one to play his game and kill him (though i think everything that Freenell touches inevitably dissolves into a slice of life romcom lmao <3 Neo and his beaft of un-nature. Swap and his autism creature.)

Mad Science has a young scientist fall into a mysterious substance and mutate irreversibly. Doc finds family like him, but theyre wiped out in an incident where xhes the sole survivor, and in xir desperation to get his family back she makes a deal with a malevolent entity who will manipulate and backstab her for his own gain.

Worldstop IS a horror for Player and Malcom. its about control and identity and possession and loss of self, and being put in the body you unknowingly wronged as punishment / having your sense of control and personhood stripped away from you to the point that people are meeting the thing puppeting you before they even know you exist, and to you, hes from a whole new layer of reality above yours that can bend the world to his whim. you can never escape a bored god.

The Administrative Timeline is also a horror for everyone involved. Freeman gets his personality, memories, history, all stripped away all because one man didnt care. all of the admins lives were completely derailed because of C's father. Freeman can never truly return to who he once was and Admin C shoulders the guilt, even if its not his fault at all.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

It was a rough day in the Supreme Court for anyone who cares about transgender kids, women, men, or people. In short, the reactionary justices on the Court seem poised to create an exception that will allow discrimination based on sex in cases involving healthcare. The rationale of the justices seemed to be that “healthcare is complicated” and “best left to the discretion of part-time legislators” in GOP-controlled states that have a lock on power through political and racial gerrymandering.

Before reviewing the specifics, let’s talk about the solution—and the missed opportunity. During the first two years of the Biden administration, Democrats could have expanded the Supreme Court to override the death grip of the reactionary majority. Democrats controlled the House, the Senate, and the Presidency from 2021 to 2023. Expanding the Court required only the passage of bill by a majority vote in both chambers of Congress (and creating a carve-out in the filibuster, which requires only a majority vote).

But calls to expand the Court were met with disbelief and horror. Opponents warned that expanding the Court would “undermine its legitimacy.” That quaint notion was demolished by rulings in cases like Dobbs (overruling Roe v Wade), Trump v. US (fabricating presidential immunity out of whole cloth), Bruen (concealed carry of handguns in public is a universal right), Bremerton (okay for football coach to lead public school athletes in prayer at midfield after games), Cargill (a bump-stock rifle that can fire 13 rounds per second is not a “machine gun”), and Snyder (bribes given as “thank you gifts” are not illegal). (List is not complete; feel free to add others in the Comment section.)

During the two-year period when Democrats had a trifecta in Washington, they suffered from a lack of imagination. They could not imagine that the Court would take a wrecking ball to the US Constitution and the rules of judicial interpretation and restraint. Lesson learned.

Democrats will regain a trifecta. When they do, we must not waste a moment worrying about the “legitimacy of the Court.” Like Elvis, it has left the building, and it isn’t coming back. We must never again allow a lack of imagination about the depravity of the Republican Party to detain us.

Sadly, the religious and cultural biases of the reactionary majority were again on display during arguments in US v. Skrmetti. The facts are straightforward: Tennessee has outlawed the use of certain medications for use by transgender youth. The law plainly discriminates on the basis of sex because those same medications can be used by other minors who are not seeking to transition or affirm their gender. See generally Ian Millhiser in Vox, The horrifying implications of today’s Supreme Court argument on trans rights, in US v. Skrmetti.

Under existing precedent, laws that discriminate based on gender are subjected to a higher degree of judicial scrutiny to determine if they violate the Equal Protection Clause. Under settled law, the Tennessee ban should be subjected to heightened scrutiny. But the reactionary justices seem intent on allowing the Tennessee ban to escape heightened scrutiny (and thereby remain on the books). Accordingly, four justices seemed willing to create an exception to the heightened standard for cases arising in the “medical context.”

What could go wrong? I mean, it’s not like the reactionary justices are relying on the views of witch-burning judge from 17th-century England (as they did in Dobbs). In fact, the reactionary justices seemed inclined to follow selected European laws dealing with transgender youth rather than the US Constitution as interpreted by the Supreme Court.

As explained by Ian Millhiser, Justice Roberts led the charge in suggesting that there should be a “carve out” to the heightened scrutiny standard of review for sex discrimination in the medical context:

If the Court adopts Roberts’s approach, which seems likely, that’s not just a devastating blow to transgender youth and their families. It’s also a sea change in the Court’s approach to sex discrimination of all kinds. Again, [previous cases] held that “all” laws that draw lines based on sex must survive heightened scrutiny, even though some laws ultimately clear this hurdle. “All” means all. But now many of the justices seem eager to hold that only some laws that classify people based on sex are presumptively unconstitutional.

The Republican attempt to legalize discrimination against trans people begins with its assault on the equal protection of trans youth. Again, as Millhiser notes,

It’s hard to divorce this case from its political context. During his recently victorious presidential campaign, President-elect Donald Trump went all in on anti-trans rhetoric — spending literally hundreds of millions of dollars on ads that, in the Washington Post’s words, “paint trans people as a menace to society.”

Republicans are discriminating against transgender youth because they can and because it is a wedge issue that will lead to additional areas of sex discrimination. Such discrimination is one of the last bastions of “acceptable” discrimination in America. The reactionary justices are poised to “aid and abet” in that discrimination by refusing to subject it to the heightened scrutiny that is applied to all other forms of sex discrimination.

As with reproductive liberty, the reactionary justices will wrap their complicity in the claim that they are “sending the issue back to the peoples’ representative.” But other constitutional rights do not blink in and out of existence depending on a person’s residence. That is precisely why we have a federal constitution—to ensure that there is a supreme law of the land not subject to the vagaries of state legislators who choose their voters (through gerrymandering) rather than being chosen by voters.

It was a tough day. We must never again suffer from a lack of imagination. And that lesson should be applied to every situation where Democrats have an advantage—no matter how transitory or narrow.

Recognizing the Democratic achievement in the House

The Supreme Court has blessed the use of political gerrymandering to make it nearly impossible to dislodge incumbents. Republicans have pushed gerrymandering to the extreme, thereby bestowing on themselves a “built in” unfair advantage in the House arising from red-state gerrymandered districts. See David Daley in Salon, How Republicans held the House: It's the gerrymander, stupid.

Per Daley,

Republicans’ margin of victory [in the US House] was just three seats, and their working majority as the next term begins will be almost nonexistent.

As it happens, three seats is exactly the number that Republicans engineered in their favor this cycle in North Carolina, as the result of an extreme gerrymander gifted to them by that state’s Republican-controlled Supreme Court.

The fact that Democrats clawed their way to 215 seats is an achievement to be celebrated—not the badge of shame portrayed by many commentators. Readers forward articles to me daily that explain “what Democrats did wrong” or “why Democrats lost.” Nearly 100% of those articles adopt the “just so” story that Democrats lost because they stopped listening to the working class (a falsehood so egregious I will not repeat the obvious response, but instead direct critics to any and every campaign speech delivered by Kamala Harris).

One grassroots organization sent a newsletter that said that Democrats “must have made mistakes” because “we lost.” As framed, that syllogism is false. Democrats could have (and did) run a sound campaign but lost, nonetheless. See, e.g., gerrymandering in the House, described above.

I am not saying that Democrats are perfect or can’t improve or are blameless in the 2024 losses. But the handwringing and gnashing of teeth by Democratic political commentators are out of control. Predictably, every “what went wrong” article miraculously validates the author’s worldview and prior (successful) campaign experience (usually on the Obama campaign).

With apologies for that detour, let’s get back to my thesis: Democrats have every reason to be proud of their accomplishment in increasing their representation in the House in the 119th Congress, which starts on January 6, 2025. The Democratic success in the 2024 election has saddled Speaker Mike Johnson with the smallest House majority in history.

Let me repeat: “The smallest House majority in history.”

See NYTimes, Mike Johnson’s Newest Headache: The Smallest House Majority in History. (This article is accessible to all.)

Despite being in the minority in the House, Democrats are in a strong position. I recommend reading the NYTimes article above to understand the details of the Republican majority’s predicament, but here is one example:

The relief from the budget ceiling negotiated by President Biden expires in January 2025. Republicans want to extend the 2017 Trump tax cuts as their first order of business in January 2025—a move that will raise the debt unless Republicans create new sources of revenue (i.e., “raise taxes”) or slash spending. Cutting spending is easy to talk about but hard to do when your ox is being gored by cuts to services or projects important to your constituents.

It seems unlikely that Republicans will be able to pass any spending bills without Democratic support. That outcome is a direct result of the countless hours and tireless work of Democratic grassroots volunteers.

No one will thank you or even think of you when the bigwigs are negotiating in the halls of the Capitol or sitting uncomfortably on the awkward couches in the Oval Office. Still, you are the reason Democrats will have a seat at the table. Every vote cast, every ballot cured, every door knocked, every postcard sent, and every phone call made is directly responsible for Democratic power in the 119th Congress.

So, rather than blaming “Democrats” for their imagined arrogance or manufactured “mistakes,” we should thank them for standing up to Trump and MAGA extremism. We still have a dog in the fight and a seat at the table because of you.

Since precious few other commentators are saying what should be said, I will say it:

Thank you for a job well done.

Democrats who volunteered their time and donated their resources are true heroes of democracy. Your nation will forever be in your debt for a job well done. And your reward is that you get to do it all over again, starting yesterday.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[crystalis]

• • •

THREAD: The eruption of protests in solidarity with the Palestinian people at numerous Western universities, and throughout the United States in particular, represents a pivotal moment.

College students are, to be sure, not an accurate reflection of public opinion or faithful mirror of their societies. But their activism often serves as a bellwether, an indication of the shape of things to come.

Therein lies the enormous political significance of the encampments that are now being established at dozens of universities, from the Ivy League to state universities.

In the late 1960s and early 1970s student uprisings not only contributed to, but also portended the failure of the US imperial project in southeast Asia and its defeat in Vietnam.

Student activists also played a prominent role in confronting the worst excesses of the racial hierarchy that dominates the United States. Similarly, campaigns, at times including the occupation of administration buildings, in numerous universities during the 1980s

to demand divestment from South African and related assets, portended the end of Western backing for that country’s white-minority regime. When student activism reaches a critical mass, in other words, it is often a fairly reliable indicator of where things are heading.

In the present context the protests across university campuses are sending multiple messages. Most obviously, a rejection of Israel’s genocidal campaign against the Palestinian people in the Gaza Strip and, no less importantly,

a rejection of their own governments’ complicity and support of Israel’s transformation of the Gaza Strip into a killing field and chamber of horrors.

While that is the proximate cause, it is either underpinned by or has developed into a broader opposition to Israel as a colonial apartheid state and to its policies towards the Palestinian people more generally.

Hence the demands that universities divest from assets implicated in Israel’s oppression of the Palestinians. In other words, this is a genuine solidarity movement that sees Palestinians as human beings with inalienable rights which go beyond the right not to be massacred.

Expressed differently, the solidarity movement has served to humanize the Palestinians. To understand the profound significance of this achievement,

recall that Israel and its apologists have spent decades engaged in a systematic campaign, ably assisted by the mainstream media, to dehumanize Palestinians.

It was within living memory an article of faith that Palestinians simply do not exist. That “Palestinian” and “terrorist” became synonyms. That Palestinians are motivated by anti-Semitism and nothing else in their opposition to Israel.

Opposed to this, Israel was presented as “a light unto the nations”, “the only democracy in the Middle East” possessing “the most moral army in the world” that fought only “wars of no choice” and did so with “purity of arms”.

Until the eruption of the 1987 popular uprising, or intifada, it was a commonplace that Israel’s was a “benign” and “liberal” occupation, one that selflessly gave more than it took.

More recently, in an update of Theodor Herzl’s “rampart of Europe against Asia, an outpost of civilization as opposed to barbarism” it became “the villa in the jungle”.

Yet within the past seven months the paradigm through which Western public opinion has traditionally viewed both Israel and the Palestinians has definitively collapsed. And nowhere more definitively than on college campuses.

The transformation of course did not happen overnight, and decades of struggle and hard work by innumerable individuals within the region and beyond were required to make this moment possible.

Israel’s lurch towards ever greater levels of violence and extremism, to the extent that it is today the darling of the Third Reich’s ideological heirs, has also played its part.

The outcome is clear. Israel has lost the battle for public opinion, and it knows it. And given that for Israel public opinion is as much a strategic asset as its nuclear arsenal it is, unsurprisingly, responding hysterically.

It’s a far cry from previous eras, where Israel and its apologists could either persuade audiences of the rightness of their cause, or sufficiently confuse them into passive neutrality.

Israel and its flunkies are today deploying the same playbook and tactics against university activists that they have for decades deployed against the Palestinians: discredit, delegitimize, defame, and demonize.

Thus, any student expressing any opposition to Israel’s genocidal campaign or solidarity with its Palestinian victims is immediately denounced as “Hamas”, “terrorist”, anti-semite”, and the like.

The foot-stomping toddler who passes for assistant professor at Columbia University, to give but one example, has made it his vocation to vilify students at his own university.

Among the worst offenders, predictably, is Jonathan Greenblatt of the Defamation League, that self-proclaimed civil rights organization that used to conduct espionage in the United States on behalf of South Africa’s white-minority regime.

Once again going full Goebbels, he recently – without being challenged by his MSNBC hosts – denounced Students for Justice in Palestine and Jewish Voice for Peace as “campus proxies” for Iran.

The audacity of knowingly placing a target on Jews while drawing a generous salary on the pretext of defend their rights is hard to beat.

The problem for Israel and its apologists is that they have devalued their favorite terms of demonization to the point of making them trivial and meaningless.

Most people no longer care about being denounced as anti-Semites, terrorists, or agents of a foreign government by the likes of the Defamation League, and are no longer intimidated by the Zionist Inquisition,

because they readily understand it bears no relation to the actual definition of these terms and that these are deployed for the sole purpose of defending a foreign state and its policies.

Speaking of demonization, Vietnam’s National Liberation Front was hardly the Vienna Boys’ Choir, and at the height of the divestment movement South Africans accused of collaboration were being literally burned alive with “necklaces” consisting of petrol-soaked tires.

Yet today any student opposing Israeli genocide is absurdly required to take responsibility for Hamas and every one of its actions. It’s a sign of desperation by those who know their cause is lost.

Because they realize theirs is also a Lost Cause, Israel and its apologists are increasingly resorting to extreme measures, like deposing university presidents, threatening individual students and their employment prospects,

deploying agents provocateurs, and mobilising the police and security forces. Principle unfortunately often comes with a cost, but the manner in which the student movement has responded to these challenges has been nothing short of inspirational. END

[mrhaitch]

Good morning Mr.Haitch (I’m assuming it’s morning)

How was your weekend? Mine flew by, and I’m still feeling burnt out from the all-nighters I pulled to finish all my assignments.

Onwards to the questions

1) would you rather eat the same thing for the rest of your life (but it’s something you hate) or dress up in the same outfit for the rest of your life (but it’s a fashion atrocity that you committed during your teens)

2) what is your least favorite thing about being an academic?

3) can you draw/ sketch?

4) I don’t know how I never asked this before but do you also have tattoos? And if you don’t, do you see yourself getting one in the future?

5) Have your kids ever said/ done something, that amazed you to some degree?

6) what’s the worst shenanigans your kids have gotten up to?

Sorry for bombarding you with questions so early in the day.

(Also if that academic-anon is reading this, I wanted to say I see you and I feel you. Believe me, performing exceptionally in your exams doesn’t equate to happiness, and this is coming from someone who has gotten straight As all her life. Burn out, depression, constant sense of anxiety doesn’t simply go away if you scored better. Agreed, that you would feel a momentary sense of accomplishment, but like I said, it would be temporary.

I understand your need to perform better than your siblings, to be recognized as someone who has achieved something. Those are things that would help you respect yourself. Do you respect yourself? Because other’s opinion doesn’t matter until you respect the efforts you put into your work. So what if you’re not performing how you want right now, atleast acknowledge the hard work that went into it. Pat yourself on the back for these little victories. You woke up, you faced another day, and one day when you look back, you would surely be proud that you persisted.

You did good. You tried. And that’s what matters 🫂)

It is morning. The weekend was busy as usual, but we spent some time with Haitch's family which was nice.

1) Well my most embarrassing teenage outfit was oversized t-shirts, combat camo cargo trousers, and trainers that were falling apart - which was awful, but very comfortable. It'd have to be that one.

2) It would have to be the insane workload and level of expectation from managers. Teaching, research, pastoral care, administration, supporting with open days, applicant days, working shifts on the clearing phone lines, graduation, exam invigilating, assessing, public appearances, conferences, social media, dealing with the press. It's an endless horror show where, in the UK, you could STILL do all that and still be made redundant so the university can renovate their sports hall.

3) Hah. No.

4) I do not. I've got some ideas, which Haitch and I have talked over. I'd like to memorialise my PhD with a plague doctor tattoo somewhere (PhD during COVID = plague doctor, no one can take that title away from me).

5) I remember our oldest saying sarcophagus without any hesitation or errors once. To be honest, though, when your kids learn to speak it's an endless series of amazing and surprising moments - especially when their personality begins to coalesce.

6) A couple of years ago we went to Disneyland Paris for my 30th birthday. Big family thing - my parents and youngest brother came along. We'd gone somewhere for lunch and our eldest was kicking off, just bored and overstimulated, so I took him for a walk around the corner. We passed a staff member who smiled and waved, I smiled and waved back, but then I saw her face pivot to shock, and then she covered her mouth to suppress a laugh. When I looked around at my son, I discovered he was flipping her off from behind my back. I picked him up under my arm, mumbled a barely comprehensible apology in french, and took him away for a bollocking.

I'd also like to add that I agree with everything you've said for academic-anon, couldn't have said it better myself. I'm not very emotionally articulate first thing in the morning.

[hermannsthumb]

omg could we see #62 from the winter prompts list?

62. you’re my college roommate’s sibling/best friend and you’ve come to visit for a week since you’re done school but unlike some people, I have three more finals to study for so kindly fuck off

from winter writing prompts here

stuck on some of my other wips so i'm digging back through my old unfilled winter prompts!! from. well. 2018. can you believe i've been writing fic this long. insane.

enjoy some dumb (sort of?) college boys newmann! I decided to cheat with the prompt a little (a lot) so I could work it to be conceivably not an AU but instead set pre-canon, though I realize it techhhhnically screws around with the newt/herm penpal backstory just a tiny little bit....

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

To be honest Newt’s probably paying more for year-round university housing then he would be in rent at an actual apartment at this point, but details like that get a little screwy when you start college significantly before your eighteenth birthday and grow up on campus. His dorm holds more sentimental value than his childhood home at this point. I mean, it technically is his childhood home. Newt did try the spring of his twenty-first birthday to finally move out, but he spent exactly two minutes poking through a Cambridge housing group on Facebook before it made him want to die and he gave up. At least this way he doesn't have to buy new furniture.

He has enough good will left with administration despite all the shit he's pulled to leverage certain things like that in his favor, and he struck a deal to keep his dorm in exchange for letting campus housing utilize it as an actual dorm from time to time. (Which is to say, Newt is kind of broke and needs to save money from his stipend every now and then for, you know, groceries, so he can grit his teeth and deal with a roommate when the time comes.)

His roommate at the moment is a German exchange student (maybe one or two years younger than Newt) who’s currently enrolled in a year-long study abroad program to mess around with electrical engineering—interesting enough guy with just enough neuroses and weird family issues to make Newt feel like the most well-adjusted twentysomething in the world. It's a great ego boost.

Anyway, it’s convenient. There are like three Dunks of varying quality to choose from at any given moment, and Newt only has to walk ten minutes max to any lecture hall to give class. This is especially nice on stupidly cold and snowy days like today where even a ten minute walk feels like too much.

The door to Newt’s dorm is slightly ajar when he finally gets home. In normal circumstances this would make Newt pause and think for a few seconds before stomping inside—rules of horror movies or whatever—because if his roommate is anything, it’s particular with things like that. Shoes off at the door, dishes left in the sink on a firm one-day-max limit, doors very much locked when they leave to protect all their super important possessions from being stolen, like the refurbished Playstation 2 Newt got off eBay or the Brita filter Newt also got off eBay. Very luxurious stuff.

But Newt’s cold and hungry, so he stomps inside anyway. He does kick his boots off, though—just because some people decided to stop following the dorm rules doesn’t mean Newt will—and makes sure to click the door shut behind him carefully. “Hey, dude, you home?” he calls down the hallway. Nothing. His roommate, Bastien, is usually in class at this time of the day, but finals have turned their schedules upside down, so who knows. He wiggles out of his winter coat and hangs it next to an unfamiliar green parka on the wall hooks (maybe Bastien went on a shopping spree?) and tries a second time. “Uh, you know you left the door open?”

Newt's glasses are splattered with melted snow, and he dries them on the hem of his sweater as he fumbles with the door to their room—and is more than a little surprised when he sees the blurry shape of Bastien sitting primly on the edge of his bed, smoothing out his clothing like he’s just woken up from a nap. His bed as in Newt’s bed. Newt startles backwards. “Oh,” he says. “Um. Hey?” Has he fucked up? Are they having a roommate talk about something? …Preceded by Bastien inexplicably taking a nap in his bed?

He pushes his glasses back on. The dark-haired blur on his bed comes into focus, and though the sharp angles, bad haircut, and vaguely sickly pale flush are reminiscent of Newt’s roommate, everything else about him is different, from the brown eyes to the wide frown. It’s a Gottlieb, no question, but which one Newt’s not sure. He knows there are at least three more of them, a concept which has always struck fear into Newt’s heart each time Bastien alludes to having siblings. “Hello,” the guy on Newt’s bed says. He nods. Very proper. “You’re Newton.”

“…Yeah?” Newt says.

The mysterious Gottlieb is kind of hot, which is the worst part. The whole stern professor look he’s rocking—big glasses, knit sweatervest, slightly too-big loafers—is doing him plenty of favors. Normal circumstances, Newt thinks again, coming home to a hot nerd lounging in your bed? It might almost make him believe in a higher power. It’s taking a significant amount of effort to not start flirting. Then again, he is in Newt's bed, and has been clearly been sleeping in Newt's bed, which feels like a flirtation in and of itself.

“Hermann Gottlieb,” the professor-dude says. He gets to his feet with the aid of a cane, which he’d hooked on one of Newt’s bedposts and offers a hand out to Newt like they’re both eighty years old. Mildly bewildered, Newt takes it. He's treated to a firm handshake. “I assume my brother told you to expect me? I let myself in. I hope that’s not too rude of me, but it was rather cold out.”

“Uh,” Newt says again. He’s a lot more…British than Newt expected. Very posh BBC-miniseries about posh English people with large country estates. Especially compared to Bastien, whose first language is clearly German and is very much not British—it’s just not exactly what Newt was expecting. “I mean—he didn’t totally tell me you were coming. Or, at all.” Hermann drops his hand. “I guess he could’ve mentioned it and I just forgot.” This is probably what happened. Newt’s been a little busy lately.

He decides to address the elephant in the room next, the bed thing, and determine if it was a deliberate choice or not. Maybe Bastien has made Newt out to be so irresistible in whatever he’s reported back to the Gottlieb family that Hermann decided to try his luck. This is definitely not the case, but Newt can pretend. “You’re on my bed,” he continues, and points across the room. “Bastien’s is that one.”

“Oh,” Hermann says. He looks mortified in a properly stiff-lipped way and almost trips over himself to cross the tiny dorm room, and for a split second Newt sees a different Hermann behind the dress shoes and exaggerated formalities: an awkward twentysomething probably barely older than Newt playing dress-up to be taken seriously. The belt he’s cinched to the last notch around the oversized waist of his tweed pants is stiff and cracked in places. Bastien mentioned once that one of his brothers is a math whiz who’s followed an accelerated academic path not entirely unlike Newt’s, and Newt suddenly has a strong hunch he’s looking right at him. “I’m—I’m very sorry. I didn’t realize. My flight only just got in, and the time zones—I was a bit tired.”

“No worries, man,” Newt says. He tosses his tote bag onto the Hermann-sized indentation in his bedspread and kicks his docs off one at a time, while across the room Hermann twists the handle of his cane between his hands. “You want some coffee or something? Bastien is usually out until late on Thursdays, so it might just be us for a while, sorry.” He pulls the sweatshirt he’d slung on his desk chair that morning down over his head and straightens out his glasses.

The offer for coffee is a somewhat-pitying lifeline Newt is decent enough to throw out, which he has a feeling both of them understand. Hermann seizes it desperately. “Coffee would be nice,” he says.

He trails after Newt into the kitchen. Apartment-style or not, it’s still a campus dorm, and the kitchen space is cozy at best and cramped at worst. Hermann plasters himself against a row of cabinets in a heroic effort to stay out of Newt’s way as Newt dumps some coffee grounds and water into his cheap pot and digs two mugs out of the cupboard. They avoid making eye contact at all costs while it percolates. “We have, like,” Newt gestures vaguely at the doorway, “a couch? If you wanted to sit? And not stand here?”

“I don’t mind,” Hermann says.

Newt kind of minds, but whatever, he can deal. He pours soy milk into one mug in preparation and offers some to Hermann, who shakes his head. The coffee drips slowly into the pot. Newt thinks about the stack of ungraded finals tucked into a binder in his tote bag, the other stack waiting on his desk, and the final final he still has to proofread and send off to Copytech for, like, seventy copies by tomorrow. “So, Hermann,” Newt says, and tries to think of a polite way to ask why exactly are you in my apartment during finals week? Does the guy not also have finals in England or wherever? “Are you just visiting your bro for fun, or…?”

Hermann’s face twists with a sour expression. “For a week,” he says. “Not all that willingly. I’m in town for a conference and I won’t have my hotel room until tomorrow morning. Bastien offered to let me use his couch for the night.” He adds hesitantly, “I’m due to give a presentation on Tuesday.”

A lecture: almost definitely the math whiz, then, unless overachieving is a family trait. Newt will circle back to that later. He’s not exactly a math expert, but you kinda can’t really pick up that many STEM doctorates without having at least a basic (or, you know, decently advanced) understanding of, uh, everything about math, and he’s keen to hear what Hermann plans to lecture on. “I’ll try to stay out of your hair,” Hermann adds quickly. “I know you’re busy with final exams and whatnot.”

“Ugh, no kidding,” Newt says. The coffee finally finishes with a few rattling huffs, and Newt carefully pours it into their mugs and shoves the less-chipped one over to Hermann. “I still have another left to go,” he continues. “I got stuck with three whole sections this semester, it sucks. I think they just wanted to get back at me for—well, um, I caused a minor fire in the lab last year and they had to evacuate a few buildings, and I put it out right away because I'm the king of lab safety, but whatever, everyone lost their shit anyway. It’s going to take me forever to grade everything.”

Hermann frowns at him, and Newt wonders exactly how much Bastien has shared about his American roommate—or in this case how little. “Not a student,” he explains. “Dr. Geiszler, technically, but do not call me that. I managed to convince the biology department head to convince student life to let me keep living on campus after I—well, I guess I technically graduated undergrad a while ago. After I wrapped up my first PhD?”

“Ah,” Hermann says, and the edges of his sharp cheekbones going the faintest shade of pink. “I’d assumed—Bastien didn’t mention that, is all.” His eyes flick over Newt twice, scrutinizing him and lingering on his oversized hoodie, a DIY screen-print job bearing the latest logo for Newt’s band that he tried valiantly to sell at their last show. “First PhD? Exactly how old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” Newt says. “I skipped a grade. Or ten. Would not recommend it. Anyway, Hermann, you’re some sort of super-genius, right? You were doing calculus in your crib or something?”

If Newt’s right about which brother Hermann is, that means—compared to the rest of his family—Bastien has alluded to Hermann’s existence in all but name three whole times. By familial standards Newt can only assume that means they’re practically BFFs and probably send each other birthday cards every year. If possible Hermann might be even more reserved than Bastien, though, and it’s making Newt want very badly to prod him a little more just to see what happens. Get him to poke his head out of his shell or something. “That’s pretty impressive, you know,” he adds.

Hermann flushes pink for real this time, obviously pleased with the compliment, and Newt’s equally pleased to see him hold his head a little higher. They’re getting somewhere. “It’s not precisely that dramatic,” Hermann says. “But, yes, er—I started university at a rather young age. Comparatively. Before that, my father sent me abroad when I was eight for my schooling. I’d shown a knack, I suppose, for mathematics, and…”

Abroad—Newt guesses that explains the different accent. Not unlike Newt himself. He wonders if Hermann’s family ribs him for the lapses in his German the way Newt’s family does (America is rotting your brain, Newt!), though maybe somewhat less gently. “And?”

“I’ll finish my doctorate in the spring,” Hermann finishes, with a small smile.

“Dr. Gottlieb,” Newt says. “Nice. I like the sound of that.”

Hermann suddenly spills a large amount of coffee down the front of his sweater. He doesn’t seem to notice, though his ears (which stick out just a little) do go red, so Newt doesn’t say anything.

It’s unfortunate how cute Hermann is. Newt briefly debates the ethics of hitting on your roommate’s hot British brother and whether or not it breaches some sort of sacred roommate code. On the one hand, Hermann is only here for a week, so it’s not like they can get up to too much, and Bastien himself will be packing everything back up for Germany in like, six months tops when his study abroad program ends in the spring anyway. And besides, it’s not like Newt and Bastien are tight or anything like that. On the other hand—I mean, that would be weird, right? You can’t just hit on your roommate’s hot British brother, especially not when he's sleeping on your couch for the night.

Newt has over a hundred final exams to grade, and a suitcase to pack for his own trip (albeit one that’s a maybe-thirty minute ride on the commuter rail) out to his dad’s for the break. He kinda wants to hit on Hermann.

He’s going to hit on Hermann.

“Sooooo,” he begins, “you got any plans, or—?”

And it’s then that Hermann’s cell phone begins to buzz in his pocket. “Ah,” Hermann says. “One moment—apologies.” He pulls out a battered flip phone that looks like it’s been passed down from at least two other people and squints at the screen. “My brother,” he explains, “at last. He’s finishing up at the library and wants to meet for dinner.”

“Oh, right,” Newt says. “Of course. Duh.”

Hermann closes his phone slowly and hazards a small, but considering, glance at Newt, and Newt has a fleeting suspicion he’s not the only one weighing the pros and cons of risky flirting. He might just be flattering himself, though. “…Would you like to join us?” Hermann says. “I’m sure Bastien wouldn’t mind. It might be…” He works his jaw a few times. It’s incredibly cute. He’s clean-shaven in a way Newt hasn’t managed to be since he turned seventeen (the Geiszlerian curse of thick facial hair whether you want it or not), and it makes him look even more like a weird kid trying very hard to be an adult. “Fun.”

It's a bad idea. Hermann’s only here for a week, and he’ll clearly be busy with his conference and his big talk and all that, and then they’ll be back on opposite sides of the Atlantic probably forever—Newt would just be setting himself up for heartbreak. And six months of awkwardly dodging his roommate, which is possibly worse. Ugh. Being responsible sucks. “I shouldn’t,” he finally sighs. “I have to finish—”

“—your finals. Of course,” Hermann says. “Yes, of course, I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ll let you be.” He sets his mug on the counter by the sink. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Sure, dude,” Newt says.

Hermann works his jaw again, chewing at his lower lip, and then says so quickly Newt almost misses it “If you’re around next Tuesday, perhaps you would like to see my talk?”

Newt tries very hard to be chill. “Yeah, totally,” he says. “That would be awesome. I think I can make it.”

Hermann nods solemnly. “Excellent. I’ll ask Bastien to give you the details later.”

He finally begins to dot at the coffee stain on his sweater with a handkerchief he pulls from a different pocket, and Newt squeezes past him to rinse their mugs out. (No dishes in the sink overnight.) His elbow brushes against Hermann’s as he dries them with a dishtowel. Hermann makes no effort to move away from him, and this close he smells like stale cigarette smoke. Newt can imagine him standing out in the rain in a dreary English landscape somewhere, maybe in the oversized coat he saw hanging by the door, scowling and crushing cigarette filters beneath his cane.

There’s something strangely magnetic about Hermann.

“Hey, listen,” Newt says. He dries his hands off on his pants. Hermann looks at him, abandoning his efforts to clean himself up. “You wanna swap emails or anything…? Maybe we could talk. Collaborate on, uh, something.” He has absolutely zero idea of Hermann’s subfield so he doesn’t know exactly what they’ll collaborate on just yet, but he’ll think of something. Make some notes during the Tuesday lecture. Newt has three PhDs and counting, he can come up with an excuse to talk to a cute boy, okay, he’s not twelve. He’d ask for Hermann’s number like a normal human being if he could dream of affording the international texting rate.

Hermann gives him another stiff nod and the shadow of a smile, which Newt hopes means an enthusiastic yes, Newt, I’d love to be your penpal!, so Newt fishes a pad of paper and a pencil out from the kitchen junk drawer and they take turns printing their emails out as neatly as possible. Hermann folds the slip of paper with Newt’s in half and slips it into his top pocket. “It was very good to meet you, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says, and he offers Newt a parting handshake.

What the hell, Newt thinks, and takes it.

It takes ten months and a split in reality at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean for Hermann to get around to emailing Newt. Newt expects they’ll have a lot to collaborate on in the near future.

[jambiscuits27]

Hello , I hope you’re doing well 🫶🏻

Me and my family need your help to survive from genocide in gaza,here our goFundMe link just read our story and help us if you can or just share it, we appreciated everything you would do.

https://gofund.me/38cab03b

To anyone who can see this, please donate to Khader’s and Ragheb’s gofundme to help their family !!! Reblog/share if you can’t !!! Every € or share is appreciated !! As of writing this only €723 has been raised out of their €55,000 goal !!!!

Description under cut:

English:

“Hello,

I'm Khader Abu Sha'ban, and I'm 20 years old, I have a twin brother his name is Ragheb, and we are from Gaza City, We started the second year of our degree (designing and programming mobile applications).

We live with a family of 9 members, they are all educated and have university degrees in the fields of engineering, programming, information security, administration, and law, We are the youngest in the family and we are the only ones who are still learning and we didn't end our degree yet.

Don't forget our beautiful cat - Kelwa – whom we consider a family member and we adopted him during the war when he was homeless in the street, however, he filled our lives with joy.

Before October 7th, Our life was full of goals, ambitions, and hope. and because we are identical twins I and my brother share everything in life and we have the same hobbies, actually we have the same life

So we practice sports such as football, table tennis, and basketball and we are professionals in video games. we spend our time learning English next to our university education in the field where we found our passion which is Programming, and we have a small online store (Candles Store) to sell candles that we manually made.

We have a goal to finish our university life as fast as we can to join the labor market of IT and open our startup company for techniques and applications with the great passion that we already have. this dream is growing day by day, but because of the war and the current circumstances, the dream started to fade, during the war educational institutions and Universities were destroyed in Gaza and the study was arrested. during the previous 8 months we have been unable to complete our education and estimates indicate that restoration of university status in Gaza will take time and may exceed years.

The war came and destroyed our lives, our dreams, and our souls, My family did not decide to displacement to the south, despite all the suffering we had passed during this period and we decided to stay at home and not leave the beautiful memories, the idea of displacement to south and go to an unknown place that we don't have any relatives there was the most difficult for us to leave everything and not return back, so the decision was steadfast, non-displacement and patience on the suffering, but the war has been partially damaged our house because of targeting the house next to us, and damaged our beautiful memories and become ineffective to live, but thank God no one of my family has been hurt. The house went and we lost a lot of our beloveds (14 members of my cousins) and witnessed a lot of suffering in Gaza we were forced to internally-displacement east and west more than 5 times and it was very difficult to escape under the shelling at night and under The voices of aircraft and bombing and moving from a non-safe place to another non-safe place and don't forget the starvation that we still live in northern Gaza and dumping bombs, rockets and insecure until life became black for us.

We won't forget the night of December 18th, when we lived the most terrifying night in our lives when we woke up at night to the voices of bombs and shells of nearby tanks and the glass and shrapnel on us, and I do not forget the voices of crying and the sounds of the SOS and we are unable to move even unable to breathe because of the hole of the smoke bombs that have thrown on us, I swear the horror of this night will accompany me to the last day My life.

The horror of this night is repeated daily and there is no end and life has already black for us, after all this suffering we have reached a plan to rebuild the rest of our lives again elsewhere after we lost our house and members of my family as well as we lost the source income of my family this led us to seek help through this campaign, the raised funds will cover travel expenses for 9 people outside Gaza (where the travel coordination costing $ 5,000 per person) and $ 5,000 for addition costs for initial stability Abroad and $ 5000 initial amount to complete the study abroad for me and my brother.

If the situation improves in Gaza we will use funds to restore our house and complete our education in Gaza or abroad, according to appropriate conditions.”

Arabic:

مرحبًا,

أنا خضر أبو شعبان ولدي أخ توأم اسمه راغب، نحن من مدينة غزة وعمرنا 20 عام، كلانا في السنة الثانية من نفس التخصص وهو (تصميم وبرمجة تطبيقات الهواتف الذكية) في الكلية الجامعية للعلوم التطبيقية الواقعة في غزة.

نعيش مع عائلة مكونة من 9 أفراد – أب وأم و 4 أخوة وأختان وزوجة أخ - كلهم متعلمون وحاصلون على شهادات جامعية في مجالات الهندسة والبرمجة وأمن المعلومات و الادارة والقانون, ولا أنسى قطنا الجميل – كيلوا - الذي نعتبره فردًا من أفراد العائلة والذي تم تبنيه خلال الحرب حيث كان بلا مأوى في الشارع والذي أملأ حياتنا بالبهجة.

نحن الأصغر في العائلة ونحن الوحيدان ما زلنا نتعلم ولم ننهي درستنا بعد.

قبل السابع من أكتوبر كانت لدينا حياة مستقرة نسبيًا مليئة بالأهداف و الطموحات و الأمل ولأننا توأم متطابق فأنا و أخي نتشارك كل شيء في الحياة ولنا نفس الميول و الهوايات، فنمارس الرياضات كلعب كرة القدم و تنس الطاولة وكرة السلة ومحترفون بألعاب الفيديو ��نشغل وقتنا بتعلم اللغة الإنجليزية بجانب تعليمنا الجامعي في المجال الذي وجدنا شغفنا فيه وهو البرمجة ولدينا متجر لبيع الشموع اونلاين و اسمه (كانديل ستور) لبيع الشموع التي نصنعها يدويًا.

لدينا هدف في هذه الحياة وهو أن ننهي حياتنا الجامعية بأقصر مدة زمنية لنتفرغ لسوق العمل ونفتتح شركتنا الخاصة بالبرمجيات والتقنيات والتطبيقات بالشغف الكبير الذي نكنه لهذا المجال حيث من الصغر ونحن نهوى كتابة الأكواد ونبرمج المواقع ونكتب أكوادًا لتصبح تطبيقات وهذا الحلم يزداد يوماً بعد يوم و لكن بسبب الحرب والظروف الراهنة فهنا بدأ الحلم يتلاشى شيء فشيء حتى أصبح صعب التحقق, حيث خلال فترة الحرب تم تدمير المؤسسات التعليمية في غزة وتم توقيف الدراسة وخلال ال8 أشهر السابقة ونحن معطلون دراسيًا وغير قادرين على استكمال تعليمنا والتقديرات تشير إلى أن استعادة وضع الجامعات في غزة سيأخذ وقت وقد يتجاوز السنوات.

وجاءت الحرب و حطمت كل شيء: حياتنا, أحلامنا, وأرواحنا ، ومع ذلك لم تقرر عائلتي النزوح إلى الجنوب رغم كل المعاناة التى مررنا بها خلال هذه الفترة وفضلنا البقاء في البيت وأن لا نترك الذكريات الجميلة، ففكرة النزوح جنوبًا والذهاب إلى مكان مجهول لا نعرفه ولا اقارب لنا فيه كانت أصعب علينا من ترك كل شيء والرحيل وعدم العودة، فكان القرار الصمود وعدم النزوح والصبر على المشاقة, لكن طالت أمد الحرب وقد تضرر بيتنا المليء بالذكريات الجميلة بسبب استهداف بيت الجيران المجاور لنا وتضرر جزئيًا وأصبح غير قابل للسكن ولكن بحمد الله لم يصاب أحد من عائلتي المصغرة بأي أذى.

ذهب البيت وراحت الذكريات معه وفقدنا الكثير من أحبتنا (14 عزيز من أبناء عمومتي) ورغم ذلك تجاوزنا الكثير من المعاناة كالنزوح داخل مدينة غزة شرقًا وغربًا اكثر من 5 مرات وكان الأمر صعبًا جدًا الهروب تحت القصف في الليل وبالظلام وتحت أصوات الطائرات والقصف والانتقال من مكان غير أمن الى مكان غير امن اخر ولا ننسى المجاعة التي حالت علينا في شمال غزة وإلقاء القنابل والصواريخ و عدم الامان حتى أصبحت الحياة سوداء بالنسبة لنا.

لا ننسى ليلة 18 من ديسمبر حيث عشنا أكثر ليلة مرعبة في حياتنا حيث استيقظنا ليلًا على أصوات القنابل والقذائف من الدبابات القريبة منا وانهار الزجاج والشظايا علينا ونحن نائمون وتم القاء قذائف علينا وعلى الحي الذي نسكن فيه بأكمله حيث لم يبقى بيت واحد في الحي لم ينل نصيبه من القذائف ولا أنسى صوت البكاء وأصوات الاستغاثة ونحن محاصرين عاجزين عن الحركة وحتى عن التنفس من هول القنابل الدخانية التي انهالت علينا اكاد اجزم أن رعب هذه الليلة سيرافقني لأخر يوم في حياتي.

ورعب هذه الليلة يتكرر يوميًا وليس هنالك نهاية وأصبحت الحياة سوداء بالفعل وبعد كل هذه المعاناة توصلنا الى خطة لإعادة بناء ما تبقى من حياتنا من جديد في مكان اخر بعد أن فقدنا منزلنا وأفراد من عائلتي وكذلك فقدنا مصدر دخل عائلتي وهذا دفعنا إلى طلب المساعدة من خلال هذه الحملة حيث ستغطي الأموال التي سيتم تجميعها نفقات السفر ل 9 أفراد خارج غزة - حيث تكلفة تنسيق الخروج من غزة باهظة الثمن وتقدر ب5000$ للفرد الواحد - وبالإضافة الي 5000$ تكاليف أخرى للاستقرار المبدئي بالخارج و 5000$ مبلغ مبدئي لاستكمال الدراسة بالخارج لي ولأخي.

وإذا تحسن الوضع في غزة فسنستخدم الأموال لإعادة ترميم بيتنا واستكمال تعليمنا في الداخل أو بالخارج حسب الظروف المناسبة.

[dragonsarecool]

Febwhump Day 17 - Power Instability

A/N: A mentally unstable Dukat is a very frightening thing indeed. Too bad Sisko can't go anywhere without him. Set during 'Waltz'.

Blood kept dripping in front of his eyes, and he wiped the laceration on his brow irritably. He refused to take his gaze off of Dukat, who was comfortably perched on a nearby rock face, for fear that he may lunge at him while his back was turned. The bloodied pipe he'd just spent half an hour slamming into Sisko's body was clutched in his hands, a slight smile across his face as he cleaned away the evidence.

He knew he was living on borrowed time. Eventually, Dukat would become impatient or bored with him. He would become a liability instead of an asset.

He just wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be useful.

"You brought it on yourself, you know."

Seriously? Just when I thought Dukat couldn't sink any lower. "Just like all your victims, I suppose."

"'All my victims'. It always comes back to that, doesn't it? All my crimes. I'm such a monster, such an evil man," Dukat held his arms up as he mockingly proclaimed, "Behold Benjamin Sisko, supreme arbiter of right and wrong in the universe! A man of such high moral calibre that he can sit in judgement on all the rest of us."

Sisko could feel the last threads of his patience withering away. He was secretly proud of himself for having not torn Dukat's head off any earlier. "What the hell do you want from me? My approval? Is that what this is all about?"

Dukat simply smiled in response, and it made Sisko even angrier. "You want me to give you my permission to cause more suffering and death? Well, if that's what you're after, you might as well pull out that phaser and end this right now, because I will never give it to you!"

"Good! I like this," Dukat chuckled before his demeanour rapidly shifted, pointing aggressively at Sisko as he began to yell. "No more pretence! No games! Just you, me and the truth."

"What do you know about the truth?" Sisko snapped bitterly. "You bend the truth into whatever shape suits you."

"Judge Sisko hands down another ruling! But where is his evidence?"

Sisko took a moment to consider his options. His attempts to dissuade Dukat from pursuing this topic of conversation had failed; his captor's mind was clearly set on obtaining some sort of approval, or forgiveness, for his actions.

If he wanted to ensure Dukat would keep him alive, it appeared he'd have to become involved in this 'kangaroo court' of his.

Judge Sisko would have to provide a verdict that the accused found acceptable.

This is a very dangerous game to be playing. But it looks like I have no choice.

"You really want to do this?" Sisko's voice was low.

"Yes!"

"Right here? Right now?!"

"YES!"

"Alright then!" Sisko's body shook furiously as he stumbled to his feet, never breaking his steely gaze from Dukat's face. He tried to ignore his trembling hand as he formed it into a fist. "Let's do this then! Right here, right now! You were Prefect of Major during the Occupation. True or false?!"

"True."

"And you were responsible for everything that happened under your command. True or false?"

"True!"

"So that means that you are responsible for the murder of over five million Bajorans on your watch!" Spit flew from his mouth as he screamed at Dukat. "True or false?!"

"False! I tried to save lives during my administration!"

"Where's the evidence?!"

"Evidence?!" Dukat roared. He turned to the side, talking to someone that Sisko couldn't see. "He wants evidence! By the time I became Prefect, the occupation had been going on for nearly forty years! The planet still wasn't ready for full scale colonisation, but the Central Command wanted the situation resolved, and they didn't care how it was done."

He watched in silent horror as Dukat launched into another rant, pacing around the cave in an irritated fashion. Every few minutes he paused, tilting his head to listen to his hallucinations before continuing as if nothing had occurred. One by one he talked Sisko through his interventions and desperate attempts to establish peace with the Bajorans. All Sisko could see, however, was an invader attempting to justify his regime of hatred and terror.

It was almost as if he was begging for validation.

Any hope Sisko had of being rational with this man, or escaping from him, was quickly disappearing, much like the light from the dying campfire. Dukat became lost in a flurry of tears and ferocious rage. He howled and cursed the Bajorans, gesturing at the stone surrounding them with a new level of contempt.

He had to leave now.

[aetherceuse]

⟢ - Structure of the 𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

The 𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 operates as a corporation and trust, funding research for various fields of scientific study through grants. It also engages in many different charitable acts related to the rehabilitation and conservation of endangered Pokémon, especially those native to the islands of Alola.

The corporation was founded by current sitting president and CEO, Lusamine Delacroix, with her husband, Mohn Delacroix, serving as vice president until his disappearance. The pair set out to establish a higher standard for how humans, Pokémon and technology can work with one another, while benefiting the natural ecosystems. Aether works alongside many different organizations throughout, and outside of, Alola.

Fields of Interest

The foundation funds projects, research, innovations and expeditions related, but not limited to, conservation, ecology, biochemistry, physics, epidemiology, genetic engineering, and computer engineering. Scientists and scholars from across the globe often seek out the foundation’s funding, traveling to the Aether Paradise in order to meet with members of the board, and Lusamine herself. There is quite the impressive network of intellects connected to the foundation, and it is not unusual to see the Aether seal stamped onto many peer reviewed journals.

Grants and scholarships for students pursuing careers in STEM are also gifted by the Aether Foundation. Many of these students are then placed into internships at the paradise, or in one of the Aether Houses— and funneled into a permanent position of employment upon graduation. The foundation relies on having the most brilliant, cunning minds involved with their projects, and so they make sure to leave a good impression on the scientific community. It is pretty common to see an Aether representative at any major conference involving STEM, or around university campuses.

Working for the Aether Foundation

Employment with the Aether Foundation ranges across different positions— from field researchers, to chemists, to public relations, and many, many more. Those who work at the Aether Paradise work directly with Aether’s conservation programs, vaccination developments, and technology departments. And the genetics program and UB project, if you’re aware of the horrors.

Gaining employment, however, is no simple task. Lusamine expects an impressive resume, and a mind to match, but if somebody passes the hiring process, it is great job security— as long as they do not disappoint her.

All employees are required to sign a non-disclosure agreement upon being hired. All positions are by contract, and salary paid.

All employees are required to submit their biometrics.

The hierarchy

From highest to lowest:

President

Vice President (currently unoccupied)

Branch Manager

Assistant Branch Manager

Divisional Manager

Assistant Divisional Manager

Office Administration

Lead Associate

Associate

Intern

Scientists and research teams are categorized and ranked based on individual projects and assignments.

Accessing the Aether Paradise

If commuting to work, employees have two options: traveling across the water from one of the islands via Aether-owned ferry service, or by helicopter. The ferry service also carries tourists on public access days, so that they can experience the conservation deck, and tour the island.

Aether offers on-site dorms for those who would rather not commute back and forth all week, and for those who are staying on the artificial for an extended period of time for an assignment.

Security

Security is taken very seriously on the island; Lusamine is incredibly strict about it, and intends on keeping it that way.

All employees are assigned key cards, which are required to access all of the rooms and laboratories on the floors one through three.

All of the laboratories and doors on floor three, and in basements 1, 2 and 3 require a fingerprint and retina scan.

Certain high-security areas require two or three employees to use fingerprint or retina scan in order to unlock the door for access.

Higher ranked foundation members and scientists have a chip implanted in their left wrist, which is used as a “master key” to access everything on the Aether Paradise, along with the locks for the Aether House and research stations.

Basements 1, 2 and 3 have safety laser scanners installed that are programmed to scan every room, laboratory and corridor every fifteen minutes. If a persons whose biometrics have not been logged into Aether’s system is picked upon, an alarm goes off, and all doors are locked. Only Aether security guards, or high ranked foundation members, are capable of unlocking the doors in order to remove the intruder.

ALL points of the Aether Paradise have motion sensing cameras and CCTV streaming.

Aether buildings are known for their monochrome coloring and bright fluorescent lights. This is to prevent employees and visitors from finding dark or secluded corners to hide in, and discourages people from attempting to smuggle Aether property. It also makes it easy for visitors to be picked up on by the security cameras; everybody on staff is wearing all white, so somebody who is wearing even the slightest bit of color stands out.

In the case of an emergency, the Aether Paradise is capable of undergoing full lockdown mode. All incoming boats and aircraft are instructed to return to the mainland, and all outgoing forms of transportation are halted.

[byneddiedingo]

Mathilda May in Lifeforce (Tobe Hooper, 1985)

Cast: Steve Railsback, Peter Firth, Frank Finlay, Mathilda May, Patrick Stewart, Michael Gothard, Nicholas Ball, Aubrey Morris, Nancy Paul, John Hallam. Screenplay: Dan O'Bannon, Don Jakoby, based on a novel by Colin Wilson. Cinematography: Alan Hume. Production design: John Graysmark. Film editing: John Grover. Music: Henry Mancini. 

Tobe Hooper's Lifeforce is a delirious mashup of space travel sci-fi, vampire thrillers, zombie movies, sexploitation flicks, and apocalyptic disaster films. A British-American crew exploring Halley's comet, making its appearance near Earth, finds an alien vessel caught up in the comet's wake. All of its batlike crew seem to be dead, but there are three containers on board with naked humanoid beings, one female and two males, in some kind of stasis. Back on Earth, when mission control loses contact with the space ship, a rescue ship is sent. It discovers that everyone on board, except the three humanoids, is dead. The aliens, brought to Earth, awake and begin to create a mess: They apparently have the ability to shape-shift and to suck the life force from humans. Meanwhile, a member (Steve Railsback) of the crew from the original ship who managed to board an escape capsule arrives on Earth to explain what's going on and to help save the planet from the aliens. It's a standard horror-from-outer-space setup, but the script keeps embroidering on it until the creepiness turns ludicrous: Patrick Stewart, for example, plays the administrator of an insane asylum that belongs in a Universal horror movie from the 1930s. The heroes, played by Railsback and Peter Firth, have to dash across an embattled London to St. Paul's Cathedral to kill the female alien (Mathilda May), who is lying on the altar transmitting a glowing stream of human souls to her ship. Somehow, the only weapon that will kill her is an antique sword. Lifeforce, in short, is the stuff of which video games are made. Other than noise and carnage by the bucketsful, it has little to recommend it beyond some wildly entertaining overacting and a preposterousness that can only be called chutzpah.