#because there are lots of books that could go on the list

[luminouscinders]

I’m sure I’ve made a similar list at some point but fuck it here we go again, here’s what I recommend anytime someone asks if we carry H*rry P*tter, which we very quietly stopped doing a while back. Because we don’t have to carry it! Kids love these alternatives enough! All of these are going to be quick pitches, feel free to look up full synopses.

-The Witchlings series by Clairbel A. Ortega: usually we convert people on this one by pitching it as “what happens when three witches aren’t sorted into a house, and set out on a quest in order to make their own”

-Eva Evergreen, Semi-Magical Witch by Julie Abe: Very Kiki’s Delivery Service if you raised the stakes just a lil, where she loses her powers if she doesn’t earn the rank of Novice Witch before her thirteenth birthday

-Kiki’s Delivery Service by Eiko Kadono: Exactly what it says on the tin.

-Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones: If they’re older I tend to skip Kiki in favor of this one.

-Keeper of the Lost Cities series by Shannon Messenger: I’m vaguely aware that this is about mind readers and is like crack to a small subsection of children. There are like twelve books and they’re all the size of bricks even though they keep numbering them like, 9.5 or something. There might be some controversy I’m forgetting about this series so your mileage is gonna vary on this one.

-Warrior Cats: Speaking of crack for children, the Warriors series is still alive and well, somehow. They’re still releasing books, kids are still obsessed, and there’s even a graphic novel adaptations of the first series being released. This is for any parent desperate for a long-running series because their kid keeps tearing through shit in no time flat.

And like old-man-yells-at-clouds side note the kids are absolutely SPOILED these days??? They’re rereleasing all the old manga side stories in full-color-three-in-one-editions now. Like goddamn?????? That’s luxury baybee

-The Marvellers by Dhonielle Clayton: Back to more magic school recommendations, this is a school in the sky and the kids have to track down a missing teacher. I need to get around to actually reading this one it looks SO cute and a better execution of. Whatever the fuck Rowling Jowling Kowling was attempting at times.

-Amari and the Night Brothers by B.B. Alston: Thirteen year old Amari is the only one that suspects that her older brother did not go missing of his own volition. Now she’s trying out for a position in the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs in order to figure out what happened to him.

-Dreamslingers by Graci Kim: This one is billed as Amari and the Night Brothers meets Pokemon but also its giving X-Men a little. I got to watch a girl’s face light up while reading the description recently.

-So Let Them Burn by Kamilah Cole: Okay so this is technically YA but I sort of have an argument here fueled by the fact Kamilah is one of the sweetest people on the planet and I am absolutely plugging her stuff whenever possible—gonna describe this one as Chosen One Burnout and How Do You Heal After The War in a Jamaican-inspired fantasy setting. There’s dragons. A lot of feelings. A great time. Well, not GREAT. Great if you love feelings I guess.

Okay I’m tired now so the list stops here but I could go on and probably will at a later date oh fuck yeah I can highlight all the titles in hot pink

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 14

....hey.... how ya'll doin...

Jokes aside, I had a hard time writing this part. I had it halfway done but every single time I went to pick it back up it was like my body rejected it. That being said, I scrapped a lot of it and started over and I got it done much quicker. That's probably some sort of life lesson or something. But I'm so happy to finally get this part out to you. It's a lot! I’d really appreciate feedback and what you want to see from them!

Check out our Patreon for early access to The Favor 15 now and 300+ exclusive writings and series

WC- 7.4k

Warnings- (please read) D/S dynamic, exhibitionism, oral, mention of anxiety, mention of past sexual accidents/injury, examples of rope play, Soft!Dom Harry, mention of subspace, safe wording, panic attack

He wanted to go to a play party. 

Y/N had been a bit shocked that he’d want to go to one of those considering he’d been vocal about not particularly wanting to share her, but he explained it to her in a way that made much more sense- just like he always did. Harry always had a plan and she really needed to give in and trust him. 

They didn’t have to touch anyone else, or have to be touched at all. They would be there simply to watch- or sit to the side and do things themselves. A private party for the club that one of the friends she’d met last time, booked out the bigger rooms and had a strict list of criteria. Only her most trusted people would be there, meaning Harry would feel more safe to let loose. 

There would be a similar bracelet system to what she was familiar with. Black to say you were off limits and/or with a partner, pink to say you were open to anyone,  green if you were okay with anyone approaching you to play, purple if you were a couple looking for someone else to play with, and a few others that didn’t really concern them. Black was the color they’d choose. 

Considering how much she’d liked the last time, watching that other woman, she was… Intrigued.

When he’d told her after that lunch, she had been slightly shocked, but considering how intently Harry had been watching her, getting to know her tastes and limits further… it made sense. Y/N wanted to try new things, experiment, be exposed to different things even if she didn’t fully understand it quite yet. Going to a sex party, for a lack of better words, would be one of those things she knew she got to see and experience. And if she didn’t like it? They wouldn’t have to go again. Her Dom, her boyfriend, would be more than happy to do it all on their own. 

“Y’sure you’re alright with going, baby?” Harry sat on the bed with her, trying to choose from the outfits she’d brought with her. “You seem a little nervous.” The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel obligated to do something she wasn’t okay with. Even with the trust they had built, he knew there was a fine line in what would build or break that trust further. 

Their relationship so far had been incredibly rewarding. Harry’s iron grip on it, trying to keep it protected and cultivating it to a way that they’d both enjoy, was something he knew he needed to somewhat relax with. Their dynamic was something that didn’t just go away. It ebbed and flowed depending on their moods, their needs. Y/N needed a guiding hand, she’d asked for it, and he trusted himself enough to know how to guide her when they were on their own- but the club, ironically enough, was more of a loose cannon. He didn’t have every little detail meticulously planned in the ability to do so. He could only control himself… and Y/N, because she was gracious enough to trust him to do so. 

Harry knew he was a good Dom, but he wanted to be the best for her. As much as he knew it was simply a part of figuring out what her likes and dislikes were, that protective part of him didn’t like the idea of her being exposed to things he already knew she wouldn’t be into- but he had to let her. That had been the basis of them meeting. Y/N wanted to see.

The woman he now called His, she had a thirst for knowledge he hadn’t seen in anyone before. Curiosity licked at her skin like flames, making her search anything, any question that came to her mind. 3 in the morning and she’d lightly rouse him awake to ask him about the differences in floggers that he had in his kit, or she’d pause a conversation to look up a word he’d used that she didn’t know the meaning of. It was incredibly endearing, but it also meant he had needed to practice a different sense of patience with her.

“I mean, of course I’m nervous! But it isn’t.. bad. You know?” She tilted her head. “It’s like, I want to do it and see it. It seems so interesting to me. I liked what we saw last time and the idea of people just… doing stuff is something I want to see if I like. Just a little nervous I’m gonna stand out and look as anxious as I feel. It’s a nasty cycle.” Shrugging her shoulder, she held the babydoll up against her body with a calculating gaze in the mirror. It would be suitable. With her hair in soft curls down her shoulders, makeup dewy and soft, it seemed like it matches. The powder blue with lace up top and sparkly layered mesh at the bottom, she had a feeling it would be the best option. As much as she had thought she’d lean into a darker look, this was more true to her.

 “But I’m excited too. Because I want people to see how lucky I am.” Turning back towards him with a sly smile, she tossed the hanger on the bed and stepped between his spread legs. “No one else is going to be able to say that the most handsome man in the club is theirs. Their Dom or their man.” Biting her lip, she slipped her hands through his hair to tilt his head back. It was silky through her fingers, pushing the freshly washed waves out of his face as she felt the hot palms of his hands lock on to her hips. Just like she liked it. “I feel like a bit of a show off but, I don’t know. It sort of plays into what I like. I didn’t expect it but… I think I may be a bit of a possessive lover.” 

That was an understatement. She was by far the most jealous and possessive submissive he’d had, he’d said as much, but she couldn’t help it. People looked at him whenever they went anywhere. And like, sure, she could understand. Pretty man, Greek god looking, warm skin, sharp eyes, tall, broad shoulders, ultra polite, charming in a way that was missed in a lot of me, tattoos- god, the fucking tattoos-he had it all. But he was hers, and she would prove it to anyone at any moment if needed. 

  An exaggerated laugh came from the man, grabbing at her thighs and pulling her to straddle over his lap. “Well, I never woulda guessed.” He said sarcastically. “Sweet little Puppy’s got sharp teeth.” Squeezing her cheeks together with his fingers to make her lips pucker, he watched her hit him with an eyebrow raise. “M’just as bad and you know that. I just like to be a bit of a show off too. It’s a mixed bag. You’ve got t’feel it out.” His grip on her face pulled her in to kiss him briefly. “Makes me happy that people get to admire you, but I’m the only one that gets to touch, feel, taste… all of it. They can watch.” 

Harry didn’t have a problem with people getting to see her, but it only reassured him that his sentiment on not sharing her was going to remain the same. The few times he’d tried it before Y/N, it didn’t go the way he wanted and he had told her as much. However, their visit to the club when he made her cum all over his lap? That had most definitely been more his speed. The mix of exhibitionism and voyeurism had been precisely what they needed. 

“You just need t’be honest with not only me, but yourself. Yeah, M’your Dom, but I’m your boyfriend as well. If you don’t like the things you see, if you need to keep experimenting and finding things to do with just us or an even smaller crowd… I’m more than okay with that.” He’d been around the block a few times and he’d tasted a lot of flavors of the community. It wasn’t like he’d be missing out on himself. Even if he hadn’t, Y/N was exactly what he wanted. She didn’t know the depths of that fully as he couldn’t even properly verbalize how she made him feel, but one day he hoped to find the words. “The thing I want most is you, sweetheart. Want you to feel good. Feel happy and safe. It’s my job t’keep you feeling like that, and I take it seriously. I’m not going to be offended at anything you decide.” 

Y/N knew how lucky she was. She’s read the forums about the fake dominants, the ones who had tried to pass as experienced members of the community because they spanked someone or called them ‘babygirl’. The horror stories about people being sucked into truly abusive dynamics had not been lost on her when she thought about how safe she felt with Harry. How understood he had always made her feel. Since day one she had felt the thrumming under her skin to give into him and trust, but he had told her it was the same for him. That he’d wanted to take care of her, to make her smile. To give her what she wants. To spank her ass raw when she rolled her eyes at him. The truly romantic stuff. 

“I know. I feel completely safe with you.” She whispered lightly, pressing her lips to his own. It was a good thing she had always saved her lips for last because that lesson had been learned rather quickly. If Harry wanted a kiss, she was giving it to him- lip gloss be damned. “You’ve given me everything I’ve wanted. I'm excited to go with you and play.” Sitting herself fully on his lap, she leaned into him and rubbed the tip of her nose against his. “Want to make you proud.”

“You always make me proud.” And hard. Just the way her eyes had fluttered at him, it had gotten the telltale twitch in his trousers. “Always. You’re so good for me, all the time. M’proud of you for trying new things even when they’re intimidating. Proud of you for telling me how you feel.” Giving her chin a squeeze, his lips lingered over hers. “My best girl.” 

Y/N could feel that fuzzy feeling run over her body in a wave at the way he spoke. It was all subtle, the shift in his tone, but she felt him leaning slightly into his more dominant side. Just in the way he said the last few words, she sunk into him with a grin, nodding rapidly. “Yeah. That’s all I want to be, Sir.”

“Thatta’ girl.” Squeezing her cheeks, he placed a kiss to the exaggerated pout before giving her bum a pat with his other hand. “Finish getting ready. We need t’be out of the house in 30 minutes.”

———

Y/N hadn’t been as shocked as she had been the first time she had gone into the club. Feeling more prepared this time, she had hung onto Harry’s arm as he slipped his own masquerade mask over his eyes to lead them in. His was a simple dark blue, silky and soft with some sort of embossed pattern in it. Florals. She couldn’t place what type, but she’s google it later. She would have done it then, but their phones had been locked up in the front.

Her own was lace. White lace with blue ties, matching her little outfit perfectly. Harry had placed his seal of approval as she finished getting ready, leaving a mark right on her throat- next to the gift he had given her. 

It was new. Something that had her shaking slightly when he had put it on, because it was exactly what she wanted. A white gold choker with a simple heart pendant dangling at the center of her throat. Engraved in it were two letters. 

HS. 

Her hand had went to the cool metal before meetings his eyes in the mirror, his arms wrapped firmly around her body as he leaned into her. “S’not the leather one Y’want right now, but it’ll do for the outfit. Yeah?”

Yeah. It did. She felt owned, in the best possible way. He had given her the other necklace, but this one had felt more substantial. Thicker chain, bigger pendant, more akin to the collar she craved. She had a sneaking and hopeful suspicion that he was getting her a collar for play, but she would be patient. There weren't any doubts on who she belonged to.

Walking through the party, she had been distracted by it. In some ways, it felt like a different dimension of time. Seeing the girl strung from the ceiling in an abundance of ropes and knots, a man crawling after his dominant on a leash, the plethora of latex and leather, and yet it had felt… slightly more tame than she had expected. She wasn’t exactly sure what the true idea she had in her head was, but it wasn’t as casual as people made it out to be here. It was dimly lit, but enough that she had a clear view of everything going on. Seeing the dynamics was just as interesting as it was when she had gone to the club last, especially seeing a woman sitting on the laps of two men- on one thigh each- with their hands all over her. She’d need to ask Harry some questions later. 

“Hello! Welcome.” A chirping voice had her turning her head. A waitress in a barely there maid outfit stood in front of them with a tray of mocktails. She was beautiful, but Y/N was distracted by the woman hanging from the ceiling in the web of ropes. How did someone learn to do that? Did it hurt? “Would either of you like a drink?” 

Y/N didn’t have any desire to have anything of the sort. She wanted to get closer to the woman in the ropes, and wanted to see what she had done. How it had been done. Shaking her head, Harry took that as her answer. 

“I’ll take one, thank you.” He said coolly, taking one from the tray, giving her a nod before walking forward. The further they got, the slower he walked. The submissive was quiet by his side, her head on a swivel as she observed the place around them. He couldn’t fully read the look on her face with the mask on and that felt like a disadvantage especially with his incessant need to be in control all the time. He wanted to know why and how her mind was spinning. Pausing in step, gently he pulled her to the side and took hold of her face, angling it towards him with an expectant look on his face. “You haven’t been talkative. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I’m okay, Sir.” She said honestly. “I’m still nervous, but it’s not as… extreme as I expected.” To be fair, Y/N wasn’t sure what she had fully expected. Maybe to be whipped as soon as she walked in? Harry had laid out how things worked to her but she still hadn’t been sure what she would do when she walked inside. She wasn’t quite sure why her nerves were so bad when she’d been to the club before.

“It is the beginning of the party, but people do let loose.” He admitted, hand cuffing the back of her neck as he released her face but still kept hold on her. The black bracelet that shifted on his arm was nothing fancy, a simple black rubber band- similar to the ones that she remembered back in school being said to mean how ‘far’ you’d gone. It felt ironic, poetic really, to have it brought back in this sort of setting. Who knew that years later she would be here, with new meanings assigned to the different bracelets with a man leading her around with an easy, slightly stoic look on his face and his claim around her neck? 

She’d hoped, actually, but now it was reality.

“If you start to feel uncomfortable, we can leave at any time.” His voice was low and steady, calming the fluttering of her heart as he gave a reassuring squeeze to her neck. “I’m here for you and you alone, pet. S’just us.” Pulling her closer to him, he kissed between her brows before pulling back to look at her eyes. “You want to take a closer look at the rope work? Or do you want to take a seat?” Of course he had noticed where her eyes had been straying to the most. Being observant was one of his most blessed and cursed qualities.

“Wanna look at the rope work, please Sir.” She felt her eyes round out as she gave him a pleading look. Yes, she didn’t have to beg with her eyes, but it felt right. Seemingly, it was the correct thing to do based on the little smirk that lifted on the corners of his lips. 

“Your manners have been spectacular tonight. I’m proud of you.” Her cheeks burned as he stroked his large hand over her hair. Being praised so early on had her preening, the simper on her face the entire way as she was guided over to the stage set up. Something so simple, being complimented on her manners were enough to make her feel like the cat that got the cream. Maybe she should be a little embarrassed by it but she wasn’t. Not at all. 

The smile faded into a different expression as Harry set her in front of him, giving her an unobstructed view.

It was beautiful. 

Y/N had always been curious about it, but intimidated. Harry had restrained her before, he’d easily wrapped her wrists and bound her ankles, but there was an art to it in this light. In all honesty it was an artform, seeing the way the ropes were seemingly laid delicately across the woman’s skin, the slightly confusing knots (how did they look so neat?), the masterful way she was being weaved into a human made web of rope. All of it had her paying more attention than her usual mind could focus on. 

So much so that she jumped when she heard Harry’s voice right next to her ear. “S’that something you want to try one day, Pet?” 

The low timber of his voice so close to her ear had her shivering- or maybe it was the idea of her switching places with the woman on the platform. Did she want that? The answer was yes. Was she also a little bit nervous about doing it? Also yes. “I think so, Sir.” She answered, feeling his arms wind around her stomach and pull her back into his chest. It still amazed her how such simple touches could manage to calm her overactive brain down and bring her back down to earth. 

He still kept it quiet as he murmured near her ear. “I will admit that I don’t have the most experience with Shibari. I think… Perhaps we should take a class, the two of us. They offer ‘em.” Harry was always about safety over everything. It didn’t matter his personal wants, if he didn’t know how to do it safely? He wouldn’t. As much as he loved marks and bruises and reminders of their play, that was the furthest he would go. He only wanted reminders that would fade. Nothing that would be permanent, and nothing that would hurt for more than a little while. 

Using rope could be far more dangerous than some could realize, and the risk of burn was something he was very aware of. There had been a time he had been bound by the wrists with regular rope when he’d been subbing in his early days with an amatuer dominant who didn’t know any better and got the most painful rope burn he had ever experienced. He hadn’t realized it at the time with his endorphins high, but as soon as it had worn off his wrists had throbbed and had significant bleeding. Even worse, they’d gotten infected- in the middle of summer, mind you, and it wasn’t easy to explain why he wore long sleeves and why he was okay sweating through them. 

With Y/N especially, he felt the need to baby her just a tad. She was precious cargo. All submissives he’d dealt with had been respected and had their well beings always put at the forefront but in this situation? This was more than just a dynamic. If it was just a month long playmate he’d simply say no. The idea of venturing into something like the view they had in front of them made him nervous. But with Y/N, he wanted to make her dreams come true. This was his partner, his lover above anything else. If she wanted him to tie her up, he would make it happen. It made him slightly nervous but that could be rectified with learning properly. It didn’t mean they needed to get to this level this fast. Learning together would be something he would enjoy. 

“Really?” She breathed, turning to look at his face. “We can try it? It seems complicated, Sir.” Her eyes widened slightly as she realized she could have possibly offended him. “I mean, I know you’re capable of it. I know you are, Sir. But…” Trailing off she looked back towards the woman again. “Sorry. Yes, Sir. I would like to try that and do the classes with you.” 

Harry wanted to laugh at how he knew her brain had just been jumbled. To be fair, he knew she had been worked up about this night for a bit. It was intimidating to her and he knew it, but he had promised to help her expand her knowledge and give her experiences. With no worry about her ex any longer, he had felt a far more relaxed shift in her and that had made a world of a difference, but he knew she still had things she was nervous to ask about. Things like the club and this sort of party excited and terrified her. His goal in all of it was to make her understand she didn’t need to be afraid in any of it. 

In fact, she didn’t need to think at all if she didn’t want to. That was his job.

“C’mon.” He gently spun her back around and placed his hand on the small of her back. “You’re jittery. Let’s get you relaxed, hm?” 

—-

Y/N hadn’t been positive in what he had meant by getting her relaxed. She had admitted to herself that it was a little freaky in how well Harry could read her and sometimes it made her wonder if he had some sort of supernatural thing to him, but in most events it led to her gain. 

In this instance, she really could have predicted what he would do but her mind hadn’t gone there at first. 

They’d arrived at a group very similar to what she had met at her first club experience. A few familiar faces and some new, but Harry had instructed her to keep quiet and simply wave at them because he knew that she was already slightly on edge. She’d had no issue with that decision being made for her considering her social anxiety had flared up and the excuse to not talk to people in that moment had been a blessing. When he’d introduced her as his girlfriend it had caused an entire mess of butterflies in her stomach, especially because of how proud he had sounded to say it. ‘His girlfriend, Y/N, who needed to shut her mind off for a bit.’ It seemed as if they knew what that meant and continued their conversation while Harry sat himself down at the end of the booth, using one simple word to guide her to her own. 

“Knees.” 

The butterflies from being called his girlfriend moved from her stomach to lower, clumsily moving to her spot- yes, her spot now- between his legs and sat on her knees like instructed. She waited for a moment as he took a sip of his drink, placing it down before leaning his body down towards her. 

“You’re overthinking.” Her Dominant sighed, reaching to caress her. “Think that pretty little head is being a little too much for you tonight. Just want you t’enjoy yourself. So I want you to stop thinking about anything and anyone but me.” Sliding his hand through her hair, he caressed the back of her head before moving towards her jaw. “I know this is overwhelming, Puppy. It’s a lot of new stuff and you’ve only been exposed to it a little bit. But I know that you’ll like it a lot more if you stop using your brain for useless things like worrying when you know I’ve got every single thing covered.” His voice moved into a croon as he tipped her head up towards him, the other hand messing with the pendant that marked her as his own. “You’re my girl, hm? And I’ve got you. Everything else is my responsibility. I’ll tell you when to worry. I think you need to shut that head up a little bit, so…” Releasing the pendant, his hand went towards his belt, pulling at the tongue and starting the process for her. “M’gonna give you something else to focus on.” 

Y/N got a little fuzzy from there. If her Dominant was good at anything, it was knowing what she needed. Her mouth was full, the heavy weight of him on her tongue as she slowly bobbed her head over his lap. One grounding hand was lightly tangled in her hair at the nape of her neck with no intention of making her take any more, but a reminder that he was there.  

She was focused on it. The submissive knew how he liked it, had spent plenty of time in the past few months with his cock in her mouth, but it felt perfect right here. At first it had been a bit of a thrill, knowing people would walk by and see that she was doing something so lewd and inappropriate out in a semi open space, but the longer she went it felt like every thought sort of melted out of her ears and the only thing that was left were the good ones. He had been right about her emptying her head a little, giving her a task. Every so often she’d hear the vibration of his voice as he joined the conversation at the table, or see his eyes as he would look down to check on her, but he was giving her the choices here in a way. 

He had been correct. Harry controlled everything else, and Y/N was getting to focus on this one simple thing. 

While she hadn’t meant to, she was getting a little messy. It had panicked her slightly at first when she realized a bit of her saliva had dripped onto his trousers but when she had gone to wipe it off, he had held her hair tight to keep her in place and simply shook his head. “Hands behind your back. You’re alright.” 

It had been her final sign to let it all go, take what she could of his length into her mouth and suck on it in the way he liked. Despite him not saying it out loud she could tell he liked it. As much as he had been able to learn her tells, she had learned quite a few of his. The jaw clenches, the shift of his thighs, and more importantly the throbs against her tongue. The taste had been her reward as she chased more of the precum that had dribbled out, working for more of that. The desperation for more of him felt like the only thing that mattered, and feeling his hand pet over her head again had her reeling, It had felt like he had given her his stamp of approval and the fuzzier her brain went, the more that mattered to her. Pleasing him, making him feel good, making him proud. 

Letting out a soft whimper against his cock, she made herself take a little more- effectively gagging a little and making him pause his conversation and look down at her. Raising an eyebrow at her, he shook his head wordlessly as a sign to take it easy before he let her return to it. For some reason, the wordless reprimand had her feeling it all over. She would do better, she would make him happy.

Her own heartbeat could be felt between her thighs. Her poor clit was swollen and aching, and the craving for relief was so strong she would probably hump his leg like the pet she wanted to be for him if he asked. She was fully drenched. Effectively dripping down her own thighs, every bit of the cute little panties she had worn for him rendered useless. It wasn’t something she had sought out to do like this but she knew very well now that he had managed to make her a mess regardless of what she was doing. Pleasuring Harry was almost the equivalent of being pleasured herself and feeling his cock pulse slightly against her tongue, his hand tightening in her hair, knowing that she was the one able to make him crumble even just the littlest bit was something that nearly got her off. 

It had to have been thirty minutes. Maybe less, maybe more, but she knew she couldn’t recall much from before, her jaw was sore, her chin was a mess of saliva and her makeup had definitely run a little from eyes watering under her mask when she had felt him start to squirm. The reason it would all be worth it would be to get him to orgasm, make him feel the pleasure she had been hoping for. Doubling her efforts, she moved a little faster, sucked on him a little harder, letting her tongue brush the slide on the way up and caress the underside of his cock on the way down- and suddenly, she was pulled off. 

“What?” She gasped, blinking rapidly as she looked with longing towards his soaked cock and the string of saliva that connected her bottom lip to it. He had taken her back by the hair, his cheeks slightly flushed as his other hand moved down towards her chin with a napkin to wipe the mess off. “Sir? Why? Was- Was I bad?” The tears had welled in her eyes without her permission, brain not able to fully comprehend in the moment why she had been stopped. She’d been doing good, she was doing what he liked! 

“None of that, Pet. You’re the best girl.” He soothed, trying to spare what was left of her lipstick from the napkin before tossing it back on the table. “My amazing girl. Just didn’t want to cum down that pretty throat right now.” The reassurance relaxed her a little bit, though a few rogue sniffles remained. It always amazed him how much she liked to make him feel good but the truth was, he was just as guilty when it came down to her own. 

“Then why?” She paused for a second before leaning her head against his knee, pouting up at her Dominant. “Why did you stop me, Sir?” 

“Because I want you to come up on my lap.” 

He remembered how much she had liked it last time. Watching the performance, letting him finger her until she made a mess, completely and utterly useless as she laid on his lap and let him take care of her. He’d wanted her on his cock that time but had been biding his time. Tonight, he was fairly confident, it would be a good night to try. 

Y/N, like the good submissive she was, scrambled back up to her feet and let him guide her onto his lap. It had her feeling the heat under her skin, scorching her as she lightly placed her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to move her body how he liked it. The first little zip of nerves climbed back up her spine but she tried to ignore it, spreading her thighs further until she let out the little gasp from feeling his cock against her cunt. The fabric of her panties was essentially useless, thin and soaked through. It was almost as if nothing was there. 

“You did so good for me, sweet girl.” He placed one hand on her ass, letting the babydoll she wore rise up and expose her ass to anyone who could take a chanced glance over. “Y’know that? I just feel… So proud of you, all the time.” Lips ghosted her cheek, a rough squeeze to her ass making her squeak, squirming slightly on his lap. “Wanted to empty that head out so all you could focus on was making me feel good. Knew it would get you wet but… Fuck me, Pet. You’ve gone and soaked right through.” Guiding her slowly, he helped her drag her cunt across his cock and smiled at the shudder. 

“I-I like making you feel good, Sir.” She replied, trying to drown out the noise. Under the table it had been far easier, but being able to hear footsteps stop right where she was pretty sure they were, had her more aware of their presence than she wanted to be. That fuzzy feeling remained, but the warmth had been seeping away slowly. She wanted it back. “I wanted to make you cum.” 

“I know you did, Pet.” Harry sighed, dragging her wet excuse of panties to the side so there was nothing between them. “But you know where my favorite place t’cum is, don’t you?” 

“Yeah.” She swallowed, eyes fluttering shut at the feel of the tip of his cock rubbing against her clit. The sensation was one of her favorites, the two sensitive parts making each other pant. Her clit was swollen and achy, the mere touch of it had her feeling needy for it. She tried to focus on that little bit of relief.

“Is it your tits?” He watched her shake her head, eyes looking down towards where he was rubbing them. “No? Maybe on your ass? S’that where I like to cum?” 

“No, Sir.” She could see people out of the corner of her eyes as she tried to glue all her focus on him. It was an odd juxtaposition of feelings, having her cunt weep against his cock and yet feeling that anxiety in her stomach try to push back up her throat. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint him. 

“No, that’s right. My favorite place to cum is right in that snug little cunt.” He murmured, placing a few kisses to the corner of her mouth. “So do you think you can be good for me n’let me do that?” 

Y/N wanted to say yes. 

The Submissive wanted to say yes and give him everything he ever wanted because he was good, so good and lovely and wonderful and the one man she knew she wanted to spend forever with. She wanted to say yes and let him use her body to cum while ultimately giving her an orgasm because that's how it always worked and he refused to let her have anything but two when he was involved. She wanted to say yes because she had always imagined this moment, loved the idea of people watching her be fucked by this man, but the anxiety that had been trying to claw up her stomach had pushed past her esophagus and spilled out of her mouth as she began to shake. 

It felt all at once like she was too vulnerable. Something she had never felt before, her stomach turning cold as she could feel the eyes on her from behind and she couldn't focus on the safe touches Harry was giving, she couldn’t find the safety of his words and she felt like she had been shot into open air where everyone could see every bit of her. She heard a cough, far too close to be someone just passing by and no one at their table that felt even slightly familiar. That warm feeling she had been in under the table with him inside her mouth had fallen to the ground and broke into shards- and she felt like if she moved, she was going to be cut. 

She didn’t want to stop. Y/N felt like a failure as her eyes welled up and she watched as he noticed her tense, pulled back from her face with furrowed brows as her bottom lip trembled. “Hey, baby. Sweetheart, what’s the matter-”

“R-Red.” She squeaked, shaking hands grabbing at his shirt. “Please? Red, I think, I-I feel like I can’t breathe-” 

It didn’t take him any time. 

She was fixed in her outfit and he was tucked away in seconds. Her head was still spinning as he stood up, holding her in his arms as he tucked her face into his neck. She felt something being placed over her but she was trying to find her mental footing as she heard Harry bark something out, swiftly walking towards somewhere she had no clue of. Her body was shaking in a way she was somewhat familiar with but her head felt like it had taken a freefall from that place she had just been in moments ago. Her chest was moving and she knew it, but her temples felt tight, like she had a lack of oxygen as she felt him walk into a room that was cooler than where they’d been and the noise of the party was almost drowned out. As soon as he was sat, he removed the masks from both of their faces, concern etched further on his own.

“Sweetheart- Y/N, can you look at me please?” His voice was soft, gentle as he spoke to her. “I’m right here. It’s just us now, yeah?” His hand ran up and down her back, underneath some sort of layer of whatever had been tossed around her form. 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice choked out against his neck as the tears fell steadily. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to, I wanted to have you and-” Another sob wracked her body, holding so tightly to his shirt that she was sure her nails would poke holes into it. “I wanted to make you happy and all I d-did was embarrass you.” 

“Absolutely not.” He spoke calm, but firm. Like the thought of it devastated him, but he was keeping his cool. “You did no such thing. I’m not angry, upset at you, and I’m surely not embarrassed.” Finally he managed to get her tear slicked face out of his neck and felt his stomach drop. Seeing her feel so upset over something like this made his own heart hurt for her. But the last thing he would allow is for her to feel as if safe wording was some sort of failure.

“Do you know how utterly proud I am of you?” 

His words seemed to surprise her, making her hiccup as she tried to wipe at her eyes. “Why?” 

“Because.” His eyes narrowed slightly before he eased up, softening yet again. “I have told you time and time again, you use your colors when you need to. You safe when you need to. That’s why we have the system. If you are feeling like you can’t do something, like you can’t push any further, I want you to safe. I want you to trust me. Calling a safe word is not a failure. It’s a success.” Pulling her forehead towards him, he placed a kiss there to try and solidify that to her before taking her eyes. “Look at me. I am proud of you. So incredibly proud. I’m very upset that I didn’t see that you weren’t feeling it, but that’s my job. You did your job perfectly. I told you a few times before we went that I know this part is still new to you and I wanted you to be safe with me. That means feeling like you can tell me when you don’t. “ 

Yes, he was pissed at himself. Usually he was better at reading her. Y/N was easy to read for him, like he had written a book on her tells, and he should have known that she was uncomfortable. He’d mistaken a bit of the tenseness for her pleasure, but he should have been looking at her face when trying something so new. So public. This wasn’t on her at all. But he did want to know where it stemmed from. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N apologized again, starting to calm a tad. “I didn’t- I don’t know what happened.” Y/N had had panic attacks a few times in the past and it felt nearly identical to it. What the mystery was, was why this triggered one when that was something she had always wanted. She’d had many fantasies about it all. She felt safe with Harry. So what went wrong was a question even she had. 

“You don’t have to apologize, my sweet girl. Never.” He gave her a small smile as he pulled her closer to him, wanting her that close for his own comfort as well. The word falling from her lips had scared him but as soon as he had realized she was physically safe, he had got it moving. Thank fuck that the people around them had taken the hint and dispersed, even if it had taken growing ‘fuck off’ to a straggler who got in his way. “Do you want to tell me what you think happened?” 

“I don’t know.” She said truthfully, finally letting her hands unclench from his shirt. Wincing as she undid her fist, she knew that the marks her fingernails had dug into her own palms were going to be sore tomorrow. “I.. I started to notice everyone, I think. I think being pulled away before you…finished, it took me out of a headspace too fast? I don’t know. It’s never happened before when we’ve had scenes.” That was the truth. It shouldn’t have been something to be too cautious over. 

“I think you fell a bit into that subspace again.” He theorized, sighing as he pushed the strands of hair away from her wet cheeks. “I didn’t fully realize it, I think. From the masks. I thought maybe you were going that direction, but you were further in than I could recognize.” And fuck, did that make him feel like a bit of a failure himself. 

“I didn’t even know.” She could see the frustration on his face as she snuggled up against him. The room he had taken them to was relatively cold but the shivering came from the panic, she was pretty sure. “I just remember suddenly feeling like… Everything was cold and sharp. And I felt so many eyes and, and I didn’t know why my throat felt like it was closing but I just wanted everyone to go away.” It felt childish to explain it that way but words were escaping her right now. “I didn’t want to say it. I wanted to keep going because I wanted to make you happy. I didn’t want to make you upset. But I couldn’t take all the people looking at me. I felt them behind me.”

“It’s alright.” He soothed. What he wanted to do was wrap her in the cocoon of their duvet, make her warm and relaxed with a shower to wash away this feeling and fill her stomach with whatever food she wanted. “It’s all okay. I have never and will never be upset because you don’t want to do something anymore. Your consent and your safety are the most important things to me. I don’t care how far we are into anything, if m’about to finish or we’ve barely started. If you don’t want to, we won’t.”

“I-I feel the same.” Her voice was small but she peered up at him through her wet lashes. “If you don’t want to, we won’t.” 

And God, if he didn’t melt right there. Harry let out a sad laugh, giving her lips a chaste peck. “Thank you, my sweet girl. I am so proud of you. I don’t care about where we are, you’re the most important person to me. I know it was hard to do it and you were scared, but you did it.” Being truthful with her was easy. He didn’t feel like he needed to hide things from her. “In all honesty, I would be very, very upset with you if you didn’t. Our trust needs to go both ways, and you showed me tonight that it does.” If he needed any further clarification that she was fit for this, it was tonight. 

“I thought I’d like it.” She whispered, playing with the buttons on his shirt. “I’ve always had… fantasies, you know?” The sniffles continued, but he had a feeling it was her body releasing that overwhelming stress. “I wanted to be watched. I liked it last time. I don’t know exactly where it went wrong.” 

“Well, it can be a few things. It could have been you being overwhelmed at the party already, or that there were too many people. You may not like having people behind you where you can’t see them, or people you don’t know at all. It could also be that maybe this isn’t exactly what you like. But the beauty of it is that we can test these things out later on down the line. It can be shelved for now. There is no rush. We’ll figure it out.” The Dominant would have to discuss some of it later to figure out what exactly it was that went wrong but for now? Harry just wanted to take care of her.

—---

At home, Y/N was feeling much better. Thankfully they’d been able to leave out of a back exit and she didn’t need to face anyone, Harry asking for someone to fetch their phones and coats for them at the front. There was still that embarrassment laying under her skin but Harry had done an excellent job at talking her down. He always had. 

He’d driven them home with his hand on her thigh, running his thumb up and down her soft skin as a comfort to the both of them. She’d been handed his phone and the honor of the aux, so she had put on some of her own music to try and break her out of the weird mood that had arised. When they got home, though, Harry had asked if she was okay to be alone for a few minutes when he let Buttons out- which she was. Y/N was okay, really. She was going to be a little shaky for the rest of the night and she knew that from past experiences, but she would survive. 

It had been quick and part of her felt bad for Buttons for a shortened outside break, but selfishly she was able to let out a breath when he had padded into the bedroom. It had been at his insistence that they shower together and Y/N wasn’t about to say no. He’d taken it upon himself to wash her hair for her, claiming aftercare wasn’t done just because there had been a drive back. So she let him. Y/N let him wash her and shampoo her hair, which he missed calling in being a hairstylist for the one reason his hands were magic, and she let him dry her too. When he had first said he had a towel warmer she had made fun of him for being bougie, but she got it now. 100%. 

This was the first time, however, that he had put her all over body lotion on her. She’d been lotioned on her ass from his spankings before, but this had been different. He’d chosen the mango one, claiming it smelled like summer, and gently worked it into her skin. Taking his time, he spoke in his soft tone while he methodically made sure there were no streaks of too much lotion left. His hands were careful, tender with her in a way she hadn’t experienced even in his past aftercare. He seemed to be going the extra mile when his usual was incredible as it was, but she wasn’t going to complain about the softness the man was awarding her with. Halfway through he had told her to grab his phone and make an order for whatever food she wanted and to read him the options. 

When she was younger, she hadn’t imagined being in bed with the man she was with as he rubbed lotion on her body, reading him the menu of ‘The Charm of Italy’, but she wouldn’t have imagined it any other way. 

At the end of the night when she was wrapped up snug in his arms, the light sound of his breathing as her lullaby, she knew then that no one was better for her than him. It had taken her a long time to find what she wanted, years of putting up with someone that merely tolerated her, but she had found him. A man she had been pushed into, but fully embraced- and fuck, she never felt so warm.

[cozymochi]

Hi there! I like your oc Tia 😊 she's so cool! I was curious how does she get along Leona? Especially in book 2? Just curious 🤔

(Thank you 😳 I have a more generalized scenario of their dynamic written out here.) Gonna have to forego Book 2 because… Leona doesn’t really engage with the Prefect that much in it. So, that more or less applies to Tia too. BUT! Book 3??

BOOK 3.. has so much. They were roommates for 3 days and 2 nights. LISTEN— Two ideologically opposed, obstinate, people stuck sharing a room? It writes itself.

Now Tia has to cook for him and take up all of Ruggie’s old duties during the 3-day stint all while having to fulfill Azul’s contract to get her dorm back? Crazy work.

It was the worst setup for both of them. I can’t even properly articulate all the thoughts I had about it, so incoherent yapping it is.

I don’t think Leona would have denied her room and board on principle (cough, she’s still a lady) nor make it a trial, HOWEVER! That doesn’t mean she’s just going to sit around, take his bed (she slept on the couch) and be coddled while dealing with this Azul thing. She’s getting put to work. It doesn’t matter who you are, you aren’t staying in Savanaclaw and doing nothing.

Like the usual scenario for the prefect, Tia apparently takes over Ruggie’s job of being Leona’s gopher during those 3 homeless days. I kinda wish we saw more of that, but I get narrative priorities and wanting to stay on track. [book 7 has entered the chat]

I believe… for the most part, Tia took over Ruggie’s job while rooming with Leona in stride. Mostly because when she does anything, she tries putting maximum effort into it. His room is not ideal, so she’s already cleaning and organizing from the jump. High key, working on something is how she functions since relaxing is hard for her point blank. Leona doesn’t really get that but, it’s whatever.

Her cooking? 100/10, he gets the best meat ever. Well. For an herbivore anyway. (…Can’t let that ego get too big right)

And you know what was glossed over during this time? The fact not even housewardens get a private bathroom. So somebody 🦁 is going to have to 🦁do escort missions 🦁 Nobody is allowed in when she’s in there using the shower. Just something very annoying for him to be stuck doing 💚😔 Oh also she gets up at like! 5AM!!

AnD SHE WON’T LeT him go back to sleep after that! She just will yap about the state of his room and seems to be bothered by every little thing that crosses her mind. Ruggie found it funny as hell at least. Surprised she got Leona up at all but hey, less work for him for once.

It’s fine though. Leona gets his payback tenfold by having her run around like a panicked gazelle during morning training. It’s very cathartic to see. That- and he makes sure his food requests are very dense and luxurious. What? She can’t live with herself if she doesn’t put in maximum effort all the time ☺️ It should never be a problem for her. Who kindly is letting her stay in Savanaclaw again? Who clears out the bathroom for her? He just does so much.

[Immediately ruins the room she just organized and has her running head first into Azul junk via omitting words just so he can be smug about it later]

…She gets him back again later by denying him sleep not by yelling — but purely from listing all her grievances that she had the entire time she was living with him. She had a lot to criticize. …This whole duping Azul plan she made worked great, not only did Leona get roped into it, but she also got to vent. :3

Leona was right. Azul wouldn’t know real villainy if it hit him. Tia is more of a villain than he ever could be. In more ways than just outsmarting his dumb contract thing.

He would never want to share a room with her again <3

I got my jokes and only yapped about the pain on a very bare bones level, but if time was ever dedicated to downtime moments—- I do think Tia would have voiced being grateful in an earnest way despite it all, even while staying there and under a lot of stress from various sources.

I’m not too certain how receptive Leona would be to it. Probably outwardly dismissive. Yet…

anyway everything’s still pretty cool with Leona after all that Book 3 stuff I guess.

BYE!!!!

[elumish]

i want to hear the pedantic lecture on urban fantasy pls

Okay. So.

As I learned it, and the way I basically always saw it used until probably the emergence of romantasy as a major genre/subgenre, urban fantasy meant basically the following:

Low fantasy (generally primary world/set on Earth, though that's not a requirement)

Focused in one city/urban area, which the MC generally has some sort of connection to, either magical or otherwise (the character can go to other areas particularly in later books, but the city is essentially home base, and that doesn't change)

Usually contemporary or contemporary-esque (if not set on Earth), so these are generally more modern cities than medieval-y villages like we see in a lot more high fantasy (though I've seen urban fantasy in steampunk settings, for example)

Generally one main character rather than an ensemble cast, though the MC may have major side characters and/or a love interest with them (but we're generally not getting 3+ POVs)

Often investigative or about helping people, though the MC doesn't need to have an investigative job

Often involves supernatural/paranormal creatures and/or elements of folklore or mythology, though that's not a strict requirement

Often (though not required to be) a series, which may have an overarching plot but is more in the monster/mystery-of-the-week style, where each book focuses on a new threat even if they are still dealing with consequences from previous books

In some ways, urban fantasy has a lot in common with both mystery and romantic suspense series, which are much more episodic and investigative than genres like romantasy or high fantasy and much more focused on a single character than long romance series.

Over the last five or so years, though, I've seen urban fantasy used much more for "anything fantasy set in an urban setting" or "romantasy set in something that may resemble a city" which makes it way harder to find actual urban fantasy.

The current top listed book for Urban Fantasy on Amazon is The Book of Azrael by Amber V. Nicole. From what I can tell from reading the summaries of the books on the series and clicking around on Goodreads, this is a secondary world romantasy with one single arc across the four books in the series and no major investigative elements. The only reason I can imagine it is listed there is that it is, presumably, set in a city? I assume?

The current second listed book is Fated to the Wolf Prince by April L. Moon, which is a paranormal romance novel that is not actually set in a city.

The current third listed book is City of Gods and Monsters by Kayla Edwards, which seems like the closest to what I would consider an urban fantasy, in that it is actually set in a city, and there is an investigative element. It looks like it's secondary world, and the books may have more of an overarching arc that's more romantasy than the general episodic nature of urban fantasy, but it could fit the definition.

And sure, by some definition, could you call those first two urban fantasy? I guess. But we use subgenre distinctions for a reason.

It would be like calling most romantic suspense "contemporary romance" because it happens to be set in the modern era, or calling a romance between someone from Tennessee and someone from Boston "multicultural romance" because they have different cultures.

[phoenixgalpal]

I was going to reply to someone else but then you come back with this excellent additional analysis and I couldn't resist!

You're making me want to read Lolita, too, I'll have to add it to my TBR list, I hadn't realize there was a shift halfway through. I do think it's a fair analogy in that regard, and in other ways, because SO much of what we get is based on Harry's limited experience/perspective, and I think a lot is very much intentional, especially regarding Snape. He was a good guy from the very beginning, it's flat-out stated that he's a red herring by Quirrel, and we know by the end of book one that that whole time he's acting evil and suspicious, he's been behind the scenes trying to solve the damn thing the whole time (gotta write up my own post about that because it's very funny that it keeps happening, and it keeps fucking working because he's such a dick to children, I love it). I could also argue that some of his bullying and harsher moments are because he's still bogged down in this childhood trauma, which really comes out in the Shrieking Shack scene when we see him almost unhinged, and looking back, it makes sense. The man needs therapy.

I do think there were some changes that JKR did as she got further along in the series (I can relate, especially over this period of years). I just read how she had intended to make the ice cream seller in Diagon Alley a more major character, but as she went along she realized/found more narratively appropriate ways to share information. That said I wish we had gotten more of Snape and Neville conflict hinted at in Book 7, but even the omission seems to hint to us that it's not Snape they're really fighting against, it's all about the Carrows.

I do think ultimately JKR cared a lot about Snape as a character because of those powerful, rare moments where we get to see the more vulnerable side, especially in his memories. Its all the more powerful because of all that we've seen of him, the anger and bitterness, and yet it never feels out of left field (and in a weaker writer's hands, it could have been an absurd about-face), but instead it makes his character make sense. It's amazing storytelling.

tldr excellent analysis

I really do not want to discredit JKR, she created a fantastic world, with great ideas etc and I hate to be like "oh her success was just an accident!" especially to a woman. But that's what I feel about her getting praise for Snape. People say that the fact that there's so much debate about him now is a testament of JKR's writing skills, but on the contrary I think there is much debate about him now because she executed his character badly...or at least not in the level of genius I see her get praised for. I have always felt this way even before her views but I hate saying it now bc it'll come off as "revisionist" or something 😭 imo the fans have interpreted, analyzed, and broken down his character better.

JKR's success was absolutely not an accident. She dusted off and revitalized the dead School Story genre, she clicked things together in proportions that made a lot of sense, she's VERY good at marketing both herself and her work, she understands (and polices) brand identity and always has, she understands franchise potential, she made the *very* smart decision to age her series up along with her core fan base... but. This did create a few issues with the actual text.

There is a LOT of ambiguity in the Harry Potter series. Lines, scenes, entire characters (Snape is the poster boy, but not even close to the only one) that can legitimately be read in vastly different ways. And not Game of Thrones "oh this is a morally grey character in a complex situation." It's more like "you can interpret what is literally happening in this scene in about three different ways."

I see this ambiguity coming from two main sources, which are honestly kind of unique to the Harry Potter series.

The "Three Year Summer" Shift.

Books 1-3 are kids books, written like kids books, and Books 5-7 are young adult books, written like young adult books. It's not a new take that there are a lot of worldbuilding details and characterization choices that make perfect sense in a kid's book, but not if you're going for the added complexity and grounded tone of an adult book. Filtch is fine as a one-line joke comic villain, but if you're treating him as a fully realized person who actually exists in a more grounded sort of world - he becomes terrifying, tragic, and actually starts creating plotholes. It's like how Willy Wonka is whimsical in his own universe... but if you were to move him to one that's less stylized, now he's Julian Slowik from The Menu.

This leads to a backwards-compatibility situation where you're taking the "adult book" versions of the characters and trying to make them fit over the "children's book" character's actions. Often, the fit isn't super clean. So, you interpret these children's book scenes to make it fit - and you CAN, because children's book scenes are short, use simple vocab, and don't generally give you a *ton* of extra information. Why not interpret them with adult subtext? It's not contradicting anything. But it is essentially a version of that "open scene" acting class game where you get a scene that's like:

- What’s that? - My latest project. - It looks very interesting. - Well, I think so.

and then two actors run it though first straightforward, then sarcastic, then angry, then longing, etc.

2. Harry Potter is a mystery novel serial.

This is where a ton of the structure of the Harry Potter series comes from. Who opened the Chamber of Secrets? (we have suspects and clues) What is the monster? Who put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire? (we have suspects and clues) How is Sirius Black getting into the castle? Who is the Halfblood Prince? Who is Snape loyal to? Like there are TONS of these questions (especially in the better books...)

And they make the books fun! They made speculating between the books a TON of fun. Buut.... suspects in a mystery story HAVE to be written ambiguously, or they're not very good suspects. The point is to have a scene that seems super suspicious on a first read but is actually completely innocent, and vice versa. So the scenes themselves fundamentally have to be written to support multiple meanings, in order to make the magic trick work. But the problem IS that in order to do that... you have to sacrifice cleanly articulated character development. There's a reason, in serial detective novels, that the detective goes to a new place and meets a new group of people every book. Ex-suspects have trouble going on to serve new functions in the plot, because who are they exactly? The point is that we don't know.

Lots of Harry Potter characters get hit by "suspect effect." In Book 3, Sirius Black is written to be a dangerous red herring (like why DID he slash the Fat Lady's portrait, in retrospect?) and in Book 4 he's this positive (but ultimately misguided) mentor whose function is to shift suspicion off of Moody and Barty Junior. So when we meet him in Book 5... and he no longer has a structural narrative role... who is he exactly? In a lot of ways, it's up to you the reader, and how you interpreted books 3 and 4.

Or Remus and Tonks. Their relationship is treated as a "mystery" in Book 5. So we get the reveal, but we don't get to see it develop. Because every time the relationship comes up, it needs to be discussed in a way that Harry can misunderstand. As a result, we don't get a good sense of what the dynamics of their relationship actually are.

And Snape... he's the red herring in Book 1, he's "up to something" in Book 3, a red herring again in Book 4, AGAIN in book 5 and 6. Which means. That is there is at least one alternate way to interpret pretty much every single thing that man says by design. So of course there are going to be multiple ways to interpret his motives. Snape the literary equivalent of the face/vase optical illusion... only you have Word of God saying "it's for sure a vase."

[fictionadventurer]

Top 5 books read this year, please?

The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion Vol. 1-7 by Beth Brower: These books are just so much fun. They sit perfectly in my sweet spot of historical light fiction, and there's so much humor and heart and so many good characters. Maybe they're not the best books I've read this year, but they may be the only ones tempting me to buy copies for my shelf.

Washington Square and Daisy Miller by Henry James: Two short, sad, delicately-drawn novellas that may have added another author to my list of favorite classic writers.

Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin: This book started my obsession with Lincoln's Cabinet. I can't in good conscience put it lower (despite a minor qualm that prevents me from seeking out the full version). I'm also going to cheat and include Destiny of the Republic by Candace Millard, which provided me my other history niche of this year about President Garfield and his assassination. And My Dear President for all the fascinating letters offering new insight into the lives of American presidents and their wives.

The Heir of Redclyffe by Charlotte Yonge: Despite some serious issues with the story, this one had some of my favorite characters of the year, and they're going to stick with me for a long time.

Desire and The Good Comrade by Una Lucy Silsberrad: Maybe objectively not the best or even my favorites--I have problems with the plot of both--but I love how she writes Edwardian women trying to make their way in the world and their relationships with men who make them rethink the way they approach the world, and she's another entry on the list of favorite authors discovered this year.

[ffcrazy15]

There's this way of doing female-ness in Christianity that I call "pastel flower journal Christianity." I've got nothing against pastel flower journals per se, but for some reason people believe it's the end all and be all of female spirituality, and I think it's a real disservice towards young Christian women.

One of these days I'd like to start a prayer-and-reading group or something for young women, but there would be no floral themes or over-focus on how "God thinks you're beautiful even if the world doesn't" (a true statement, but it's wayyyyy too often the focus in women's spiritual reading). Instead we would be reading:

Seneca's Letters from a Stoic

Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning

Sheed's A Map of Life

Portions of Pieper's book on leisure

Kreeft's Three Philosophies of Life

Guardini's The Lord (or something similar)

Therese's Story of a Soul

and some select portions of the Nicomachean Ethics.

(Also they're all getting the porn talk. I don't know why we give the porn talk to young men but not young women. There's this idea that women don't use porn and they only need the talk about "guarding their heart." Bullshit. There's porn on the YA shelves of Barnes and Nobles and before that there were bodice rippers. Young women need the porn talk too.)

Every young woman needs to be getting a basic grounding in virtue ethics, logic, natural law, scholastic philosophy and Biblical hermeneutics if they're going to get by in today's spiritual landscape. Enough faffery and emotionalism in young women's spiritual education! Give them real food to chew on, not pasty sentimentalism!

[onesnoopyaday]

I AM AT MY LIMIT

Snoopy #90

30/12/2024

description under the cut

[description: a cartoon-style drawing of Snoopy's head. Snoopy is a white dog with black ears. His eyes are shut and his mouth is a horizontal line. There are two large blue teardrops, one under each eye. The text "I am at my limit" is handwritten across the top of the image.]

[unopenablebox]

lmao i have a call with a wedding venue coordinator tomorrow?? lots of things about this place are appealing but it also has a massively overpriced mandatory caterer and a very late event start time (who has the ceremony start at 6:30pm?? don't people want dinner????) so i kind of just wanted, you know, a quote and contact info in case we wanted to tour later if other things don't pan out. but the person who reached out to me was so confident that we were going to call this week that i guess... i'm going to call her? and ask about chair rental prices or something? idk man. i wasn't prepared for this. i'm not even the one primarily planning this wedding and also we're not even planning yet i just had time to send idle emails this week

[youremyonlyhope]

I'm not a "new musical theatre style music" person. Never have been.

Even when I was doing voice lessons, I'd steer towards the golden age or jazzy musical theatre songs. My voice teacher would have to drag me kicking and screaming towards adding anything new musical theatre to my repertoire. For a while, the most modern song in my book was I Know The Truth from Aida, and I wouldn't count that as new musical theatre style since I mean more the Pasek&Paul or Joe Iconis type.

And now I have an audition coming up for a small production of a show in that style and I'm supposed to sing a song in a similar style. And I'm looking at all my sheet music like... let me do some Cole Porter... or Gershwin... at least Sondheim please...

[madlori]

On being an older fangirl

I was probably 10 years old when I first conceived of what was, looking back, fanfiction. Me and my best friend would lie in bed together on sleepovers and I'd make up stories about what happened after the end of our favorite book, "The Westing Game." She'd ask me for more stories, and I'd tell her more, inventing them as I went along. "Then what?" she'd say.

I was 14 when I went to my first convention. I had discovered Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was 1987, and my youth pastor was a huge Trekkie. He took me to a one-day crappy Creation con, but it was amazing to me. I met Nichelle Nichols. My dad showed me the Trek movies. He and I watched TNG together.

When I went to college in 1991, my dad used to videotape TNG episodes onto VHS tapes and mail them to me, so I could keep watching (I didn't have TV in my dorm room).

By the time I was a senior, we had Trek watching parties in the dorm lounge, where the TV had cable. Star Trek: Voyager had started up, and I wrote a column about it for the college newspaper. I joined a mailing list about it, with people in it that I still know today.

I got my first computer that could go online in 1995. I was on newsgroups. I discovered Doctor Who. I went to Trek conventions where we still passed around fanzines containing fic and art and smutty K/S fan creations.

Then it was Harry Potter. Then there were websites. Then there was Geocities, where we could all make our own little spots. We organized them into webrings. We talked on newsgroups and mailing lists. There were fanfic archives. Then there was fanfiction.net.

Then...there was LiveJournal. And we could interact in entirely new ways. We could form communities, and debate things, and fight over canon, and get into ship wars. On LiveJournal, I met my best friend of 22 years. I was in her wedding. She's my sister of the heart (which is what she calls me).

Then there was Tumblr. And Twitter. And now there's Discord. But it's all the same.

I am the same.

I am still that little girl who made up fanfiction in her head to entertain her best friend. I am still the one who was amazed to find communities on the internet - which was so new, so raw, so uncommodified - where others like me could meet. I found there people to meet in real life.

I am still that twentysomething going to her first major convention, being told that someone loved my fic, being asked about my writing process.

I am still that thirtysomething watching something I wrote blow up. Seeing friends from other fandoms find me in new ones, finding them there, too. Forgetting which fandom I know someone from, because I've known them for twenty years.

I still know some of the people who created those early websites, those mailing lists, those archives. I still meet people in new fandoms who say "Oh, I read your fic in [fandom] fifteen years ago!" There's no feeling quite like having someone remember something you wrote for that long. Or meeting someone whose fic meant a lot to YOU, or who you talked with on rec.arts.drwho.creative in 1997.

Aging in fandom is a gift. Being middle-aged in fandom is a joy. Having people who still read what I write and ask "Then what?" is a blessing.

It breaks my heart that so many people see it as something to be ashamed of, when it is one of my life's greatest gifts.

[blank-potato]

that's what i like

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary:

It's impossible to teach when you’re hopelessly, irreversibly, maddeningly in love with the one you’re training. “So what now?” he asks, rolling up his sleeves. Big mistake. Huge mistake. Because now you’re at serious risk of going into full cardiac arrest. You didn’t even know you had a thing for forearms until Bob Reynolds. And his? They’re absurd. Or You love everything Bob does, and he doesn't seem to notice.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, love confessions, friends to lovers, Bob and reader being cute, thirsting over the void a little

WC: 3.1k

A/N: Thank you again to @fire-joestar for the request/idea. Wrote something with the same kind of concept for John Walker, linked here. Enjoy!

***

Bob Reynolds is ruining your life.

Not in the dramatic, villain-of-your-story kind of way, but in the slow, quiet unravelling of your sanity. It’s too hard to be around him with all the smiling and casual charm and accidental intimacy that he does without even realising it.

And it’s always the little things which somehow make it worse.

His voice, for one. You were obsessed with his voice. He could be reading the back of a cereal box or listing off the ingredients in engine coolant, and it would still sound like poetry. Sometimes he’d actually read to you. You and Bob were the only members of the unofficial Avengers book club.

You’d often talk about books you’d read, trading recommendations like secrets, excitedly dissecting plot twists and favourite characters. It became a quiet ritual between you and Bob.

“There’s no audiobook,” you groaned one night, holding up the newest paperback in your stack. “I was hoping to listen to one so I could fall asleep.”

Bob, ever the calm in your chaos, looked over at you with that soft little smile he always wore when he was about to offer something way too generous.

“I can read it to you,” he said, casual like it wasn’t the most heart-stoppingly sweet thing you’d ever heard.

You blinked. “You sure you don’t mind?” you asked, voice tinged with both hope and hesitation.

But he just shook his head, already pulling a chair up beside your bed, brushing off any notion of it being a burden. “Not at all.”

His voice was too much. It filled the space in your room like a blanket. He didn’t touch you, not once, just sat a few feet away reading by the soft light of your bedside lamp. But somehow it still felt intimate, like his voice alone was petting you gently, like fingertips tracing down your spine, calming every frayed nerve.

But his voice wasn’t just soothing, it was sexy. You’d never tell him or the other Avengers this because of the whole traumatic experience and whatnot, but even when he became the void, his voice was something else.

It was dark and mocking, and it had you feeling some kind of way, only a little, because people were literally being turned into shadows and living out their trauma. But still, it pulled at something deep inside you and maybe made you discover a few things about yourself. Maybe something you should be concerned about, but nevertheless...

Although his voice isn’t the only thing that’s contributing to your downfall. 

Just this morning, you’re barely awake and walk in to be greeted by the sight of Bob making breakfast, one of your favourite sights. 

“Morning,” you mumble, suppressing a yawn.

“Morning…” he replies with an easy smile, going about his routine, setting up to make breakfast.

“Thank you, Bob,” you say, turning to him, feeling completely in control, your head still firmly attached to the rest of you.

But then you catch something, he’s cracking eggs one-handed. Now, you don’t know why that’s so captivating. Maybe it’s how strong and big his hands look, maybe it’s the effortless confidence in the motion. Or maybe it’s just because you’re so hopelessly in love with him that everything he does feels like it’s dipped in gold.

Either way, you liked it. A lot more than you probably should’ve.

“You could crack me like an egg,” you mumble quietly to yourself.

“Did you say something?” Bob asks, not hearing what you said, thank goodness.

“No, nothing at all. You’re looking good, the... the breakfast is looking good, I mean…” You stumble over your words, cheeks warming as you try to play it cool.

This crush you had on him certainly didn’t help when you had to help him train. He was like a baby cow, clumsy, unsure, and somehow always one step away from falling over his own feet. And everything he did just made him that much more endearing. The way he bit his lip when he was concentrating, the little apologetic smiles when he missed a step or fumbled a move, the way he always tried again without complaint. It was everything.

“You have to…um you have to…” You start, but your voice trails off as you catch the way he’s looking at you.

Another one of Bob’s quirks that has you going feral… the eye contact. He’s always so focused, so intent, like he’s really watching you, really seeing you. His eyes hold this sharp, unwavering attention that’s equal parts intense and disarming. It totally throws you off your game.

You’re brought back to your senses by him saying your name repeatedly.

“Where’d you go?” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You shake off the Bob-induced daze and look at him with full attention.

“I’m too hopeless a student?” He asks.

“Rather, I’m too hopeless of a teacher,” You reply with a chuckle, and it was true. It's impossible to teach when you’re hopelessly, irreversibly, maddeningly in love with the one you’re training.

“So what now?” he asks, rolling up his sleeves.

Big mistake.

Huge mistake.

Because now you’re at serious risk of going into full cardiac arrest.

You didn’t even know you had a thing for forearms until Bob Reynolds. And his? They’re absurd. The veins, the muscle, the smooth strength of his arms just disappearing under the fabric of his shirt. You can only imagine what his biceps look like. Or his shoulders. Or—

You shake your head quickly, trying to banish the rapidly spiralling thoughts. You know Bob is probably confused, waiting for an answer, but your eyes? Yeah, they’re glued to his damn forearms.

Damn his forearms.

“Break,” you blurt. “Ten-minute break. Minimum.”

Before he can respond, you practically launch yourself toward the water fountain, needing a distraction, a cooldown, and maybe divine intervention.

You take a long drink, trying not to think about veins. Or rolled-up sleeves. Or Bob at all. 

But Bob lived in your mind; he had taken up residence there as soon as you met, and he wasn’t moving out anytime soon. It wasn’t fair that he was cute but also kind and helpful? It made you want to crash into a wall. 

You were struggling with a particularly stubborn jar, the kind that mocks you with every twist. You could fight ten people with one hand tied behind your back, balance complex equations in your head, but you couldn’t defeat this jar of pickles.

Bob appears, quiet as ever, and silently offers to take it from your hands. You hesitate, then sigh and surrender.

He reaches over, his hand brushing yours, and takes it. In one fluid motion, he opens it like it's nothing. Like it hadn't just reduced you to near madness. Like your struggle had never even happened.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely making it past your lips.

He smiles softly, unbothered, warm. “What are friends for?” he says, placing his hand gently on your shoulder. It’s a brief touch that somehow says more than the words. And then he disappears down the hall, like it was nothing.

Right… friends. 

***

You’re wandering the tower again. When you have nothing to do, your feet always seem to lead you to Bob.

You knock on his door, and after a muffled "Come in," you step inside.

You look around and there he is, shaving in front of a small mirror propped up on the windowsill.

“Hope I’m not intruding…” You say hesitantly.

He glances at you through the mirror, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His hair is slightly damp and tousled, a few strands falling stubbornly into his eyes. He’s probably just stepped out of the shower a few minutes prior, the smell of his shampoo and lotion filling the air. 

He’s holding a razor, face half-lathered, brow furrowed in concentration. You liked him like this, all cute and focused. There was something about the way he moved with such care, guiding the blade with precise, practised strokes. It was intimate in a way you couldn’t explain.

“You don’t have to, but can you help me?” Bob asks, voice gentle but sure.

“Sure,” you reply, stepping closer.

And again, you’re hit with that electricity that crackles between you when your eyes meet. He watches you, patient and open, and you always wonder if he realises just how much that look affects you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” you whisper, picking up the towel and dabbing away some stray foam. Your hand is steady now, more confident, and with it comes a strange kind of comfort. The scent of him surrounds you, clean, warm, a little woodsy. It was comforting and something else, too. You wanted to dive into it. To stay wrapped up in that scent, in him. You could only imagine waking up to your sheets smelling like him.

How the hell was the way he smelled even sexy?

“You smell good,” you say, without thinking.

You both go extremely still, equally flustered.

“So do you,” he finally replies, and there's another little pause. You stare at each other, your heart performing an Olympic-level gymnastics routine inside your chest.

“W–where’s your aftershave?” you ask, trying to find something to focus on that isn’t the intensity of his gaze.

“Bathroom,” he says, voice lower now.

You nod, quickly turning away. A second later, you’re back with the bottle in hand. You open it, the scent hitting you all over again, it’s undeniably him.

Without asking, you step closer and start applying it for him, your fingers brushing gently against his jaw, his cheek, his neck. Every feature, each line of his face, every angle was something you could get addicted to. A slow study of a man who somehow never felt like too much. 

You glance up.

He’s standing still, letting you do it, but he’s no longer meeting your eyes.

Now he’s the one who can’t make eye contact.

And it’s… adorable.

He’s quiet under your touch, eyes lowered, breath just a little more shallow than before. You can tell he’s holding back. Holding himself still, as if afraid that leaning into your hand might unravel something he’s worked hard to keep together.

The way his lashes flutter when your fingers graze the curve of his jaw. The way his shoulders tense, then ease, like he’s trying not to sink into the warmth of being seen.

He’s touch-starved. You can feel it, not in desperation, but in the aching restraint. The way his fists clenched and unclenched as if to distract himself. 

And you’re not much better off. Your hand lingers, thumb brushing the edge of his cheekbone, and you’re forced to get a hold of yourself.  

“I’m, uh… all done,” you say, pulling your hands away from his face. You see the way his shoulders drop just slightly as he deflates, but you don’t read into it.

Bob nods, almost like he’s coming out of a trance. Like he can finally breathe again. “Well… thanks,” he says, voice soft.

You offer a quick, awkward smile, and then you’re scurrying your way out of his room like you’ve just committed a felony.

Because, honestly? Being that close to Bob felt like grounds for something dangerous. Emotional trespassing, maybe. Or reckless heart behaviour.

He was too fine for his own good.

And way, way too fine for your good.

***

Bob was always there for you, the most supportive presence anyone could wish for. So when you crashed into his room late at night, just as he’d finally started to fall asleep, he wasn’t mad. Not even close.

“There’s a spider in my room!” you declared, breathless and dramatic.

“It’s midnight…” Bob mumbled, mid-yawn, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Exactly! Imagine my surprise when it came lunging at me from inside my wardrobe. I tried to catch it, but the stubborn fucker escaped and crawled up my wall like it owned the place.”

He blinked at you, then sighed and swung his legs out of bed, already standing. His hair was messy, and his t-shirt clung a little unevenly from sleep. His steady steps led toward your door.

“It’s fine. You can hide behind me,” he said with a soft smile.

Then he casually and instinctively took your hand.

And just like that, something settled in your chest. His hand was warm, steady, and strong. His fingers laced through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. You could’ve let him hold it for hours.

You followed closely behind, using him shamelessly as a human shield. “Where is it?” he asked, already scanning your room like a man on a mission.

“There,” you pointed, spotting the tiny monster halfway up the far wall. “That’s him. The bold bastard.”

Bob narrowed his eyes and, without hesitation, lifted gently off the floor. You blinked. It still caught you off guard, seeing him use his powers. You hadn’t seen him even float since that day. And now here he was, levitating to defeat a spider for you.

It was more than just endearing.

It was… kind of ridiculously attractive.

He could’ve pulverised it. Turned it to dust without blinking. But instead, he hovered close, cupped it carefully in his hands like it was something fragile, and opened the window to let it go. 

Why the fuck was that so hot?

“Thanks…” you said softly, watching him touch back down, the faintest smile still on his lips.

He looked at you, all sleepy eyes and soft concern. “It’s no problem,” he said, his voice low. “Plus, I kind of liked saving you.”

Your heart did a little twist. You swallowed.

“This is… and you are completely within your right to say no, but…”

He tilted his head slightly, curious.

“Would you stay the night?” you asked, trying to sound casual. “You know. Just to protect me from any future spider insurgencies.”

His smile widened, just a little. “Well,” he said, moving closer, “can’t leave you defenceless now, can I?”

You smile and shift slightly, making enough space for him in the bed. He hesitates for only a moment before settling beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight.

You stare at him, his face softly illuminated by the distant glow of streetlights and the scattered lights of other buildings outside the window. His messy hair is fanned out against your pillow, and you can feel his body heat slowly merging with yours, a quiet warmth that pulls you in like gravity.

“Why’d you come and get me? Why not someone else?” Bob asks, his voice gentle as he turns toward you, rolling a little closer.

“You’re the one I want protecting me from evil spiders,” you answer honestly. No one else even came to mind. The moment you were scared or the least bit unsure, you could always turn to Bob. It was like instinct. 

“Why?” he presses, softer this time. He’s not looking at you now, his gaze shifted to the ceiling. You take a moment to just look at him—his side profile, the way his jaw tenses like he’s bracing for something, the small crease between his brows.

“Because…” you begin, the words slow. You pause, focusing on all the little things you like about him. His kindness, his dry humour, his quiet strength, and the way he always seems to make you feel calm.

Maybe it’s because it’s too late at night. Maybe it’s the safety of the dark. Maybe it’s the way your brain feels hazy and open and ready.

But the next words out of your mouth are:

“I like you.”

Bob freezes for a second, then jumps just a little, like the words caught him off guard. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his expression unreadable at first.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Just stares.

And you wait. Heart in your throat. Every second, stretching. Either he was about to tell you he felt the same… or this was the moment your friendship shattered.

“I like you too,” he says.

His voice is soft and low, like he’s afraid saying it too loud might wake him from a dream. But his eyes are steady. And you can tell that he’s telling the truth.

You scoot closer, close enough to feel the way your breath mingles.

“So…” you murmur, lips twitching into the ghost of a smile, “what should we do about this little situation we’ve got ourselves in?”

Your heart is pounding so loudly, you’re sure he can hear it.

He leans in just a little, voice almost a whisper.

“I think we know.”

Tentatively, he reaches out, fingers brushing your cheek with a touch so careful it makes your breath catch. He looks at you like really looks at you as if trying to memorise the moment, commit it to something deeper than memory.

You exhale, slow and steady, and let yourself give in. You lean forward until your lips finally meet.

It’s soft at first, the kind of kiss that makes your heart soar and your whole body ache with relief. Bit by bit, it becomes more passionate as you melt into one another.  He deepens it, cupping your face fully in his hands, pulling you closer like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

And before you know it, you’re climbing into his lap, your arms around his shoulders, his hands steady at your waist. Everything feels like too much and just enough all at once.

He pauses, just barely pulling back, breath ghosting against your lips.

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice husky, careful, but laced with something vulnerable.

You meet his gaze, no hesitation. You were in this for the long haul.

“More than anything.”

The next day, upon seeing Bob’s door wide open and no Bob anywhere to be seen, the team went into immediate panic mode. They searched high and low, worried he’d disappeared on them in the middle of the night.

“Have you seen—?” Yelena begins, swinging open your door mid-sentence, only to stop dead in her tracks at the sight of you and Bob fast asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

The rest of the team crowds in behind her, eyes wide, jaws dropping.

You jolt awake at the sound, blinking in confusion as you realise the entirety of the Avengers are now in your doorway.

You shriek, diving under the covers and yanking them up to your chin to salvage whatever dignity you have left. “Privacy! Ever heard of it?!”

“Called it,” Ava and John say in perfect sync, like they just won a bet.

You groan, your entire face heating as you sink lower into the sheets, mortified.

Meanwhile, Bob? Still fast asleep, completely unbothered by the intrusion, his arm still draped across your waist like nothing’s changed. How is he sleeping through this?

You glance at him in disbelief, then back at the group.

“Can everyone get out now?!”

Yelena smiles. “We’re so happy for you two.”

“Out!”

Masterlist

[prokopetz]

I apologise if you've already answered this, but I tried searching your blog and I'm unsure if you haven't or if it's another example of Tumblr's amazing search system.

I was talking with a friend recently about how much of a culture clash the Monk Class is compared to the rest of Dungeons & Dragons and was wondering if there is a coherent reason for their original inclusion. I'm aware that they're largely influenced by Shaolin monks as depicted in Hong Kong cinema in the 70's/80's as compared to the Sword and Sorcery stuff most of the rest of D&D takes influence from.

Basically, my question ultimately boils down to, "Is the Monk Class there purely because of an original player wanting to rule of cool their way into playing something wildly out of genre, or is there a stronger link between Sword and Sorcery and Hong Kong cinema that could have organically resulted in the Monk Class joining the rest of the classes?"

A lot of the link between the two was simply a matter of time and place. The kung fu craze hit North America at just about exactly the same time as the sword and sorcery revival that gave us films like Clash of the Titans and Beastmaster and The Sword and the Sorcerer and Dragonslayer and Krull – not to mention the Arnold Schwarzenegger Conan adaptation, which revived popular interest in first-wave sword and sorcery literature – so there was a lot of it going around. Analysis of early Dungeons & Dragons as a product of its media influences often overlooks that it was largely drawing on what was trendy in American popular media in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s. Even the tonally incongruous Lord of the Rings references weren't a deep cut; while the books were originally published in the 1950s, they'd experienced a strong resurgence in the 1970s, putting them firmly in the popular consciousness at the time that D&D was being developed. All this being the case, it's not surprising that early D&D was also substantially influenced by Hong Kong action cinema.

That said, the reason the monk character class in particular (i.e., as opposed to kung fu media influences more generally) is there is allegedly because one specific guy in one of the game's early playtest groups really, really wanted to play as Remo Williams from Warren Murphy and Richard Sapir's The Destroyer; several of the class's signature abilities are direct references to powers Williams exhibits in the course of the novels. Remarks from folks who worked at TSR at the time have pointed the finger at Brian Blume as the Remo Williams fan in question, though accounts are conflicted whether Blume was actually an uncredited contributor to Dave Arneson's Blackmoor (1975), in which the class makes its first proper appearance, or whether Blume's interest merely prompted its inclusion.

This is the case for the character archetypes in a lot tabletop RPGs of that era; instead of trying to work out what classes "ought" be be present, authors would simply start with the types of characters their playtesters actually wanted to play, often based on specific popular media characters, then work backwards to derive an IC rationale for why those were the setting's standard adventuring professions. Other examples from D&D in particular most obviously include the Ranger (based on Tolkien's Aragon, naturally), but also the Paladin (principally inspired by Holger Carlsen from Poul Anderson's 1961 isekai novel Three Hearts and Three Lions, also the source of D&D's goofy regenerating trolls), the Assassin, back when it was still a separate character class (probably mainly based on the Assassin Caste from John Norman's Gor), and even the Wizard to a large extent (less Gandalf than you'd think: a large portion of D&D's iconic wizard spell list is lifted directly from the 1963 Vincent Price film The Raven).

(I often think that modern indie RPGs could benefit from reviving this approach. Like, fuck textual consistency – just pick half a dozen of your favourite popular media characters without regard for the compatibility of the source material and work backwards to explain why these six random assholes are your game's playable archetypes!)

[icewindandboringhorror]

Other Misc. Rambling Thoughts on the topic:

(~ !!!!!!!!! if you're just reblogging this post for the Poll section, please reblog the original post without this addition* lol. ~)

(*not that there's anything super personal or weird about the addition, just that it's meant to be kind of casual Side Commentary, not really part of the Main Point Of The Poll, so it would feel kind of weird for it to be emphasized by being included in reblogs unless the reblogs were explicitly about the side commentary, etc..... if that makes sense.. ANYWAY!)

It's neat to read the written descriptions that people are mentioning in the tags, since it's almost like I can see or conceptualize the idea as well, but it's just.. I'm not SEEING it.

Like for example: I can imagine a vase, it's a muted mint green and slightly translucent, elaborate golden birds sprawled down the side in streaks of thin rough watery paint, the base material shimmers gently in the light, there's a small chip where it's cracked on the handle, etc, etc. .. But as I'm thinking about this I see literally nothing.

It seems like perhaps some people can visualize an object first, and THEN describe what they see. But I sort of work backwards. I am building the object in my mind, I can never see it, but it's a collection of concepts. Rather than visualizing all details as a whole at once, I am adding each detail one by one, building onto the IDEA of the thing.

The vase doesn't have a crack on the handle because I just automatically visualized a vase with a crack. It was more that I cognitively understand the concept of a vase, what they tend to be made out of, how they tend to look and feel, the properties they have. So based purely on that knowledge, I can imagine "a chip is something that a vase could have, it would look this way and behave this way" - more like... I'm constructing a bullet point Fact List about the object rather than seeing it.

So if you tell me to imagine an object, I can, in a way, imagine that object in great detail, but it's just.. I'm not SEEING those details, more just knowing it's qualities in a purely conceptual way. Sometimes in the tags when people are like "yeah I can see the skin of the apple, texture, little dots on the surface" it's like… I can imagine that too, I can know it's there, but just with no visual attached.

I guess rather than SEEING something and going ''ah. I know what this looks like because I have seen it''. I more just skip that visual step entirely and go ''I know what this looks like, I just randomly have a list of information about the concept in my mind.'' etc. Maybe similar to how sometimes in dreams, even though a house may look completely different and be in an entirely fake 'dreamlike' environment, you just somehow KNOW intuitively that it's meant to be your childhood home or something. Even when it looks nothing like it in reality. There's a built-in base knowledge of the properties or information of some things within a dreaming mind, etc.

--

This also makes me wonder about like.. how storytelling and myth is so important to cultures all across time. Or how this could tie also into concepts of religion.. etc. etc. If so many people really can kind of conjure these vivid images in their mind, then maybe that's part of why certain things are so meaningful to them? Like a "religious experience" being something you can actually really SEE/feel/lingering with you in your head, rather than just abstract words on a page, detached purely theoretical ideas, etc... hmmm

.

Plus also just for average emotional stuff too, even outside of broader cultural conceptual attachments..

Like, I don't think there's a direct 1 to 1 link (obviously not all people with mental illnesses that significantly reduce their emotional or expressive capacity also MUST have aphantasia or vice versa), but it's interesting as someone who DOES also have a much more lessened emotional range/pretty flat affect/etc. etc. to think like.. Maybe I WOULD be more emotional, in a way, if I could have these vivid experiences..?

Perhaps memories would hold deeper significance if they could really stay with me vividly. Or storytelling would evoke more of a deep emotional reaction to me if I could really picture and feel the things that are going on. If things were more TANGIBLE in my brain, rather than always merely conceptual highly abstracted ideas.

Kind of like, it's probably easier to get over the death of a pet or something, if after not seeing them for an hour you already don't remember what they looked like (beyond just a vague fact list of traits), and you have no vivid memories or mental reminders of them (beyond just factual information stores). COGNTIVIELY you can appreciate the idea of their absence, of course, you still miss them, but there's just no remaining visceral sensory ties. A very "out of sight, out of mind" sort of thing in terms of attachments, memories, emotions, etc. Maybe certain things are easier to "get over", when you're not having constant mental sensory reminders that occasionally rekindle your feelings about the event or etc.??

(like for example, maybe someone could remain angry about an argument longer if they could vividly replay it in their head over and over again. VS just like.. 'Yes I can factually recall the fact I had an argument, and I do have knowledge stored about what precisely was said, but any sort of sensory data such as sights/smells/feelings, etc. from the actual moment of the event are long gone and can never be conjured again in my mind." etc.)

Which again, I think lessened emotional permanence and image permanence in the mind are NOT inherently linked, can all be caused by different things for different people. And, since I can't visualize anything in my head, maybe I'm misunderstanding how it happens and the effect it may have on stuff like remembering things you miss or replaying arguments, etc. etc. But it's still a little interesting to think about, if they could influence each other to some degree.... :0c --

Lastly, It's also weird because I'm actually pretty good at estimating distance and spaces? I can quickly assemble furniture without an instruction manual, pretty easily have a concept of how much space a chair may take up in a room, how two mechanical parts might fit together - BUT, I am literally not actually visualizing anything. I cannot see 3D objects in my mind at ALL. It's like.. just based on the pure List Of Facts About Things Which I Have Observed.. I can intuitively go "oh this works like this/this is this size" just because.. I know it's that size. I don't have to see anything to know..?

But then on the other hand, I'm terrible at directions without a map (I guess because a 3d outdoor environment has WAY more complexity than like.. "Will this square fit into another square?"etc. lol ).

BUT, I also draw/sculpt/etc. entirely without references, and seem to do mostly okay at that..? Like.. I can't even remember the last time I actually used a reference or looked at anything whilst drawing. It's all muscle memory, and me just adjusting as I go until something "looks right" on paper, I never have a set image in my head (or external reference) before hand.. Hrmm....

AND.. I used to say that I had a photographic memory when I was younger, which I know NOW is not true (I always thought it was just an expression, not that people could literally see things in a photographic way). But what I was describing is, I do often associate information with imagery, just... without imagery....

Like "Oh, I know that I took my medicine earlier today because I have a distinct memory, a snapshot of a moment in time, of me rattling the pill bottle in my hands as I looked up at a stop sign while in the back seat of a car". When I say this, I can't ACTUALLY see/feel/hear a pill bottle, or vividly picture a stop sign, but it's more just a factual recall, of. Even though I don't see these things, I know they happened, the information of them happening (me hearing a sound and also looking at a stop sign at the same time) has been stored in my brain as a memory, a collection of linked facts. --

As for other senses, I cannot taste or feel anything in my head AT ALL.. wild that some people mention that. I mean, again, I can have a purely factual recall as if reading a textbook, knowing the information of 'X item typically has X texture, therefore I can imagine what it may be like to feel it' or 'X usually has this taste' etc. - but I can never actually experience those senses in any capacity in my mind alone. I would say audio is my strongest mental sense (maybe a 2.5 or 3 (if it were translated onto the above scale where 1 is most vivid and 5 is nothing)), then visual (4.5 at most, usually 5), and then taste and smell and such are just complete 5, absolutely nothing, I didn't even know people could experience taste or feeling just in their mind alone.. lol...

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[unopenablebox]

my mom recently reminded me that when i was in 5th grade my teacher would periodically report to her that i was "sneaky" because i would ask to use the bathroom during class and instead go retrieve things from my locker that i had forgotten to bring with me

and even at the time she thought this was ridiculous and obviously not representative of an intrinsically deceitful nature, fortunately for me. but it's really extra ridiculous looking back on it now as a 28-year-old research professional who has to double back into the room i just left for some combination of gloves, tube rack, ice bucket, or samples at least once a day, a quality absolutely no one cares about or would ever make me justify to another person and which i therefore don't have to tell contrived lies about

[hxney-lemcn]

Mine, Only Mine — Mr. Crawling, Gap, Silvair, Chopped, Hugeface, and Scarletella x gn! reader

summery: how jealous do some of the Homicipher boys get?

tw: unhealthy relationships (Mr. Hugeface & Scarletella)

wc: 1.2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Crawling

❥I know people have written about how he gets jealous…but I don’t really think he does? Or at least not terribly. The scene with Mr. Chopped and the cat ears show that Mr. Crawling won’t pout or get sad at you showing affection to others, just that he wants to gain the same attention (the ear scene…). So jealousy with Mr. Crawling isn’t too bad, just be prepared to shower him with more affection than the person you originally did. 

❥On the other hand, I do think his jealousy may increase if you ignore him. Say you give more attention to Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Crawling would get a bit sad and pouty, thinking you don’t like him anymore. If this happens, give him lots and lots of attention and reassurance, he’ll be super grateful. I mean he loves your affection anyways, so might as well give him some extra headpats and kisses. Even better if you only show certain signs of affection with him, it makes him feel special. 

❥Overall, not the most jealous, but not completely unaffected either. Make sure he gets his daily dose of attention/quality time and he’ll be as right as rain.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap

❥Uh, he gets more jealous than you’d think. Like…his whole thing is he wants to be special to you…in his own strange way. Doesn’t like the thought of someone taking his place as a jokester to you. Also why he brings you things he’d think you like from time to time, just to make sure you still have that special place in your heart for him <3

❥Hates hate hates when you call him bad or not good. He’s good! He swears! Remember how he’s helped you before! Gets all frowny when you call him not good and then call someone else good. He’s good too! Guess he has to prove it, AGAIN. It’s honestly kind of endearing how he has no clue how he actually kind of does like you? But not exactly in a romantic way? It’s honestly hard to label his feelings towards you, so why should I?

❥I’d say he’s the second most jealous in this list of characters, watching on angrily as you praise someone that isn’t him. Be prepared for magazines and books galore when he’s in this mood, trying to prove his worth to you. Kind of strange for someone to try so hard when they claim to not like you…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair

❥Definitely the chillest one here. Doesn’t really get jealous at all :/ If anything, he finds it entertaining when you’re affectionate with others. Gives him more insight to his lab rats. Yes, he sees everyone as a lab rat. Idk, I can’t really see him get jealous.

❥Maybe…MAYBE if someone else tries doing research on you, or if Ms. Nurse treats you instead he’ll feel a bit off. Like…you’re his test subject, he knows you from the inside out…literally and not in the fun sense. Why would you go to someone who doesn’t know as much about you and how this world affects you? It’s very hard to spot his jealousy, doesn’t even notice it/recognize it himself. He just doesn’t want anyone to mess up his data…that’s all…totally.

❥In conclusion, not really jealous. Doesn’t feel like he needs to be. You’re ‘friends’, doctor and patient, mad scientist and lab rat not many others threaten that balance between you. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped

❥Honestly…Mr. Chopped I’m kinda mixed on how he’d be. Like on one hand, I could totally see him getting jealous if you call others cute or pay too much attention to them. On the other…he could probably care less. He loves himself, you love him, why does he need to get jealous? It’s clear how much you like him with the way you pamper him. I mean we get so many examples where you’re affectionate to Mr. Crawling in front of Mr. Chopped and he doesn’t really bat an eye. 

❥Now, I can see if he gets a bit insecure he might get more jealous. Whether it be because Mr. Crawling pats your head or tucks you into bed, Mr. Chopped feels a bit sad. He’d like to tuck you in, you look so comfy. Might be just a bit pouty, eyeing you like a dissatisfied cat. Easily rectified with head pats or even cuddles. Gets side tracked from his jealousy as soon as you give him a sliver of attention honestly.

❥Mr. Chopped is fifty fifty when it comes to jealousy, but it’s never too bad. He’s pretty comfortable with what you both have and doesn’t really feel threatened by others. After all, you did call him cute.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface

❥I wouldn’t say he gets jealous? More possessive than anything. Like that scene when Mr. Machete stumbles into his little makeshift dollhouse that he made for you and gets all angry that he’s there. It’s more of a ‘you’re not supposed to be here, this is our playtime’ more than actual jealousy. Throws a little fit whenever someone messes up your playtime. Very accusatory lmao.

❥Does not like when you try to escape. Was he not providing enough for you? Were you unhappy? You’re not allowed to leave! You’re his cute human! He can’t just find another one y’know. Mr. Hugeface may be lenient if he sees you happier, you need enrichment after all. Feels extra happy if you come back on your own violation. 

❥The most childish out of all the characters on this list. Isn’t afraid to throw tantrums, will also punish you by putting you in a solid concrete cube if he’s really upset. Yeah…not the most healthy of relationships to have…BUT! I do think you could convince him to be a bit better…? Maybe? Only if you put enough work in communicating with him though. Maybe punish him in your own way like leaving for longer if he threatens to trap you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella

❥Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Top of the list when it comes to jealousy. Watches your every move with curiosity and spite. Why are you doing that to Mr. Crawling? Do it to him instead. Why do you look so happy braiding Mr. Chopped’s hair? Style his hair instead. Why are you looking so fondly amused at Mr. Gap? Don’t you find him amusing? You do like him, right? He likes you. He likes you a lot, and he thought he was enough…was he not?

❥Will stare through your skull. It is so intimidating. His smile? Strained, it makes your skin crawl. You have to make sure he doesn’t hurt your friends, he’s so close to snapping, but he knows that would upset you and that’s not his goal. So instead he stands ominously in the background, body staticing in and out while his hand clenches the handle of his umbrella. 

❥Not that easily mended. Likes to monopolize all your time and affection. Needs constant reassurance as well, he’s quite needy. If you like constant validation and no social life go for it, just don’t get too upset if he threatens your other monster friends…he can’t stand that you could like someone that wasn’t him.