#but i love doing it because i get to research

[p1psqueaks]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — MAKING HIM THINK HE FORGOT YOUR DATE

a/n: loved this request, i had so much writing it

ZAYNE

You’re not proud of it.

Okay, maybe a little.

Zayne’s always been so composed — calm, cool, collected. The picture of perfect, responsible, annoyingly unflappable maturity. Which is exactly why you’re determined to throw him off his rhythm… just a little.

So at 10:00 AM sharp, you send him a message:

“Don’t forget our reservation at 7 tonight! Dress nice!”

You don’t elaborate. You don’t respond to his inevitable follow-up message. You just wait.

At 12:13 PM, you get your first bite.

Zayne: I’m sorry — did we have plans this evening?

You leave him on read. Cold-blooded.

At 1:46 PM:

Zayne: You said 'reservation.' Did I make it or did you? What kind of place is it? Casual? Formal? Should I cancel my meeting with the TAVR team?

You smile wickedly to yourself and text back:

You’ll figure it out. You always do <3

By 3:30 PM, Zayne’s gone through the five stages of Date Panic:

Denial: “No way I forgot. I never forget.”

Anger: (mild and internal) “Why didn’t she remind me?!”

Bargaining: “Maybe I can move things around... Call the florist...”

Depression: “I probably forgot something important. She’s being so sweet about it. She must be crushed.”

Acceptance: In full formalwear, researching romantic restaurants near Akso.

At 6:45 PM, he shows up at your door.

He’s in a dark suit. Not too formal, not too casual. Sleek. Effortlessly handsome. He’s holding a single rose like he’s walked out of a movie. His tie is the exact color of your eyes.

You almost feel bad.

“Hey,” you say sweetly, leaning on the doorframe. “Right on time.”

“…So I did forget, then?” His brow furrows slightly, and his voice is calm, but there’s a faint crease of concern between his eyes. “I’ve been going through my calendar for the past three years.”

Your face almost breaks into a grin, but you hold it together. Barely.

“Well,” you say, folding your arms. “Do you remember making a reservation?”

“…No.”

“Do you remember discussing it?”

He pauses. “I remember talking about wanting to try that new place near the observatory... but I don’t think we picked a date.”

You finally burst out laughing. “Zayne. We don’t have a reservation. I was messing with you!”

He blinks. Slowly. “You pranked me.”

You nod gleefully. “And it was so easy. You spiraled.”

He lets out a long, slow exhale and then —smiles. That warm, slow-building, almost incredulous smile that makes your heart stutter.

“I canceled a meeting with the TAVR team,” he says mildly.

Your eyes widen. “You what?”

“And rescheduled a conference with the medical board.”

“…Okay, I might’ve gone too far.”

He just laughs, stepping past you and handing you the rose. “Well, I’m already dressed. And technically, I do have reservations. I made them an hour ago just in case.”

Your jaw drops. “Zayne.”

“I take potential dates seriously,” he says, smug now.

You’re too flustered to argue. “I was supposed to win this prank!”

“You did.” He brushes his fingers along your cheek. “You made me believe I’d let you down, and that was the worst part.”

“…Okay, now I feel really bad.”

“Don’t.” He takes your hand. “Just come with me. And next time, I’m the one planning the prank.”

You squint at him suspiciously.

“…You don’t do pranks.”

“I didn’t,” he says, eyes glinting. “Until today.”

Oh no.

You’ve awakened something dangerous.

And you kind of love it.

XAVIER

You don’t usually mess with Xavier.

Mostly because he’s the kind of guy who triple-confirms plans, color-codes mission schedules, and somehow has time to save the galaxy and make perfect pancakes. He’s thoughtful, dependable, borderline scary-efficient.

So naturally, that makes him the perfect target for your newest prank.

At exactly 9:42 AM, you send him a message:

Hey! Can’t wait for our date tonight! You didn’t forget, right?

And then, as the ancient texts of chaos command: you go silent.

10:03 AM

You get your first reply.

Xavier: …Our what now?

Xavier: Hold on.

Xavier: Did we plan something? Did I miss a message? An alert? I’ve checked all my logs.

You stare at your screen, already shaking with laughter.

11:12 AM

You receive a second message. This one is voice. You hesitate for dramatic effect, then hit play.

“Okay, so. Hypothetically,” Xavier begins, and you can hear the fluster in his voice, “if someone were to forget a date — which, to be clear, I don’t make a habit of — but if they did… would it be… better to confess immediately, or to just start planning and pretend they remembered all along?”

There’s a pause.

“I’m asking for a friend.”

By lunchtime, the panic has set in.

He messages you a photo of three outfits on his bed with the caption:

Which one did I say I’d wear? I’m leaning toward blue because it’s our ‘lucky color,’ apparently??

You text back only one thing:

You remembered the color!

Which you absolutely made up just now.

6:45 PM

You’re sitting on your couch in your pajamas, holding a bowl of popcorn, when there’s a knock at your door.

You open it to find Xavier — dressed sharply in a navy blazer, holding a bouquet of slightly chaotic-looking flowers (which are probably from the emergency med-bay garden), and blinking at you with wide, uncertain eyes.

“…So I did forget?” he says softly.

You burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, Xavier — there is no date! I was messing with you!”

His face does a full system reboot: blank stare, blinking, cheeks slowly turning pink, eyes squinting in realization.

“…You pranked me?”

“You should’ve seen your messages,” you snort, stepping aside to let him in. “I’ve never seen you so panicked over something non-explosive.”

He walks in, carefully sets the flowers on your table, and then flops dramatically onto your couch. “I had two monitors open, cross-checking every conversation we’ve ever had in the past two months.”

You flop down beside him, giggling uncontrollably. “Did you really go with the blue because you thought it was our ‘lucky color’?”

“I didn’t know,” he mutters, tugging at his collar.

You grin, scooting closer. “Well, you do look good in blue. Even if it’s not canonically our lucky color.”

He gives you a long-suffering look. “You know I’m going to have to get revenge, right?”

“You’re welcome to try,” you say sweetly. “But I’m not the one who thought he forgot a whole romantic evening.”

He groans into a throw pillow, muffling something like “I checked my planner twice.”

You hand him the popcorn. He takes it with a grumble.

You lean into his shoulder. “To be fair, you were really cute when you were freaking out.”

“…Don’t encourage me.”

“You’re adorable.”

“…Stop.”

You smirk, then whisper, “Lucky color.”

Xavier groans again. And you’re already plotting the next one.

RAFAYEL

It starts with a simple message.

Don’t be late tonight! I’ve been looking forward to this date all week!

You hit send and wait.

You can almost hear Rafayel gasping across the city.

Three minutes later, your comms light up.

Rafayel: My love, my symphony, my light… I have, of course, not forgotten. How could I ever forget something so sacred?

Oh, he’s panicking.

You lean back and sip your tea, smug as a cat.

Rafayel: ...Quick question: what precisely did we plan for this eve of destiny again? Simply so I can relive the joy of it all anew, of course.

Rafayel: Also is there a dress code? Will there be interpretive dancing? Fireworks? Both??

You type slowly:

You’ll figure it out. I trust you <3

And then, naturally, you ghost him.

One hour later —

You receive a string of increasingly unhinged updates.

Rafayel: I am in front of my closet. It’s judging me. I’ve changed outfits four times. Do we feel like an embroidered vest is too much? Or not enough?

Rafayel: I just tried to bribe a restaurant hostess for a reservation I didn’t make. She said no. She was very mean.

Rafayel: There are exactly seventeen establishments that fit our "vibe"—yes, I’ve ranked them. No, I’m not okay.

Rafayel: I’m currently speed-walking through the city with a bouquet, a bottle of sparkling nectar, and no clue where I’m supposed to be. Do I look desperate? Be honest.

You almost drop your drink laughing.

7:05 PM

Your doorbell rings.

You open it to find Rafayel standing there in a velvet jacket, clutching the aforementioned bouquet, a half-melted chocolate sculpture of a heart, and a very large grin that’s about 80% panic and 20% pure drama.

“My love,” he says breathlessly, “forgive me —I’ve scoured every date-worthy destination in the district. Have I passed your test? Or am I moments away from tragic romantic ruin?”

You blink. “You... sprinted across town?”

“I jogged romantically,” he says, offended.

You double over laughing. “Raf, there is no date. I was pranking you.”

His smile freezes. “What.”

You straighten up, wheezing. “There was never a reservation. You didn’t forget anything. I just wanted to see how far you’d go.”

He places a hand on his heart like you’ve mortally wounded him. “You cruel, beautiful creature. You tricked me.”

“I texted you.”

“And I took you seriously! I panicked!”

You dissolve into fresh laughter as he dramatically flops onto your couch.

“I demand recompense,” he says, pointing at you. “You will now go on an actual date with me. Immediately.”

“I’m in pajamas.”

“Perfect. I shall match you.” He begins unbuttoning his vest. “Velvet is overrated.”

“You brought snacks?”

“I brought romance and chaos and a slightly sweaty bouquet. And I will not be leaving without at least one cuddle.”

You raise an eyebrow, sitting beside him. “So you’re saying the prank... worked?”

He sighs, tossing a chocolate heart into your lap. “I was humiliated and flustered and had a mild identity crisis.”

Then he smiles.

“Best fake date of my life.”

SYLUS

Just a reminder for our date tonight! Can’t wait to see what you’ve planned.

You send it at 9:00 AM sharp and sit back like a mastermind watching the first domino fall.

9:02 AM

Sylus: …Oh?

Oh yes.

You say nothing. Silence is power.

9:06 AM

Sylus: Of course I haven’t forgotten. I just… want to make sure I don’t spoil the surprise by saying too much.

You bite your lip, already grinning. Oh, he's bluffing.

10:14 AM

Sylus: Hypothetically, what sort of vibes were you expecting? Classic and romantic, or… spontaneous and thrilling? Asking for planning reasons. Or curiosity. Or both.

You send:

You always get it right ;)

2:39 PM

A message arrives. It’s just a photo.

A table. Two place settings. Candles. Mood lighting. Chocolate-covered strawberries. Suspiciously fancy folded napkins.

Sylus: Trial run. Thoughts?

You nearly drop your phone.

He’s actually preparing.

6:00 PM

You hear the knock on your door right on time. You open it, and there’s Sylus — leaning casually against the frame, bouquet in one hand, that ever-present smirk on his face.

He’s wearing a crisp shirt, blazer unbuttoned, hair slightly tousled in a way that’s definitely on purpose.

“Ready for our mystery date?” he asks smoothly.

You cross your arms, grinning. “Sylus… there is no date. I made the whole thing up.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So you’re saying… you sent me a fake message to make me think I forgot something?”

You nod. “Exactly.”

He tilts his head, thoughtful. “Interesting.”

“…You’re not mad?”

He steps forward, offering the flowers. “I suspected something was up the moment you left me on read. You never leave me on read.”

You blink. “Wait. So you knew?”

“I suspected.” His smirk turns triumphant. “But just in case I was wrong, I still made a backup plan. Which, by the way, includes reservations at a rooftop cafe, your favorite dessert, and a playlist labeled ‘Emergency Romance.’”

“You made a playlist?”

“Of course. You think I’d risk being underprepared?”

You stare at him, half-impressed, half-offended. “You… confidence-bluffed your way through the whole thing.”

“Absolutely.” He loops your arm in his. “I may not have known what was going on, but I refused to lose.”

You laugh as he leads you out the door. “I can’t believe you turned my prank into a real date.”

CALEB

It starts with you lounging on the couch, watching Caleb scramble around the room like he’s ten minutes late to everything — which, to be fair, he probably is.

He’s halfway into his jacket, holding his datapad in one hand and wrestling with the other sleeve like it personally wronged him.

You sip your drink, totally casual. “Don’t forget about tonight.”

Caleb pauses, arm frozen mid-flail. “…Tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, doing your best impression of offended-but-trying-to-be-cool. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

His eyes widen. “No! Of course not. I totally remembered. Our… uh… date.”

You watch the realization hit him like a space freighter.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” he mumbles under his breath — and then louder, in a tone you recognize as Caleb entering full-blown emergency charming mode—“I didn’t forget! Just confirming! Totally in control!”

He gives you a crooked smile. “You’re testing me, right? Classic relationship banter. I see you.”

You just smile sweetly. “Mmhm. Seven o’clock.”

He salutes — salutes! — and practically trips out the door.

You flop back on the couch, grinning.

This is going to be so good.

10:22 AM

Caleb: Just to be clear, we said formal-ish, right? Or was it cozy-casual with optional sparkle? No reason. Just dressing with INTENTION.

12:37 PM

Caleb: What kind of flowers say “I remembered the whole time” and not “I panicked in a gift shop and picked the first thing that smelled nice”?

3:02 PM

Caleb: I may have triple-booked us at three different places just to be safe. One has mood lighting. One has noodles. One might be a jazz club or a bowling alley.

By the time 6:59 rolls around, you’ve received:

A photo of Caleb in a slightly wrinkled button-up, holding a bouquet of flowers that seem to include a cactus.

A screenshot of a menu that features both fondue and combat karaoke.

A message that just says: “If I don’t survive this night, you have legal rights to all of my possessions.”

Then — knock knock.

You open the door to find Caleb looking like a man who tried everything and is now barely holding it together with pure optimism. His hair’s doing its own thing, there’s a flower tucked behind one ear (not matching the bouquet, by the way), and he’s got that dazzling, boyish smile of someone desperately hoping he passed the test.

“Happy… date night?” he says, holding out the cactus like it’s a precious gem.

You laugh. “You seriously believed me?”

He blinks. “Wait. Wait.”

“There’s no date, Caleb. I made it up.”

He stares at you, stunned. “You — you pranked me?!”

“Yep.”

“I almost took us to a planetarium-themed fondue disco. Do you know how many kinds of cheese they were offering?”

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. “You looked very prepared.”

He squints at you, mock-serious. “This means war.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Gonna prank me back?”

He leans in, suddenly smug. “Oh no. I’m going to make you fall so hard for a date that doesn’t exist you’ll be the one showing up in heels to a pizza delivery.”

You laugh again. “Deal.”

He grins, offers you the cactus, and says, “Still brought you this, though. Just in case.”

Honestly? Best date night that wasn’t

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

So having finally gone through the main story update once, stared at the ceiling, then gone through it immediately again... I am in fucking awe. Speechless. How tf am I supposed to digest this lore drop??? I've been taking notes, gone over screenshots, gotten misty eyed over how much I love SylusMC and just augh... this has rewired the way I view a lot of things in this game.

For example... just how large part Sylus truly plays in the main story. How vital he is. He has been there from the very beginning, pulling strings, moving events along, watching, protecting... he is honestly Everythinglus atp. Universlus. Love and Deepspacelus. I cannot stress how central this man is to MC's story. No wonder he took 5 years to craft. And (loath as I am to say it) ... the gatekeeping of some of his content up 'til now kind of makes sense. His lore is just too closely tied to the main story plot (the lack of communication is still shitty though). I am still kind of shocked by this tbh because it's forced me to do a 180 on my stance re: Paperfold's feelings towards him.

This main story update is just mind blowing in different ways, sort of like Beyond Cloudfall and how that changed everything. I'll be obsessing over it for the rest of the week, at least.

Anyway, idc that it's too early in the morning for this I need to get my initial thoughts out of my system and what better way to do so than a long ass tumblr post. So yeah just gonna go ahead and wordvomit/theorize share some screenshots/details that blew my mind all the way to sunday, and also attempt a timeline b/c my autistic brain demands that of me.

(Be warned, it's long and kind of all over the place. I don't blame anyone that won't bother with it lol).

(Spoilers, obviously)

Can we talk about the SOULMATISM between SylusMC and how that is actually canon to the main story??? They reference the 10.5 grams of soul... Sylus says this

They are pretty much confirmed to still be destined archnemeses in their current timeline – they were meant to kill each other as kids/teens. But like in the myth – and honestly like always – they decided to give fate the middle finger and chose their own path together. Then they got separated but found each other again. Twice. And they always will keep finding each other. No matter which "soil" they find themselves in. They have always been soulmates. But not by fate. But by CHOICE.

I have tried to make a timeline of their relationship from what was revealed here, that I kind of think makes sense?

First, Beyond Cloudfall. Dragon!Sylus and later Dragon!MC dies, and are then reborn on the same planet. Note, that this is not earth but possibly Philos.

They are expected to fight each other to the death in the Arena. But instead they succesfully run off together. And perhaps go on to commit crimes... I am speculating this to maybe be the case because of the "even all the crimes you'll inevitably commit" line but also because of the potential scenario I mention in point 3.

At some point in time, they are separated by the Deepspace Tunnel. Either before or after the separation, Sylus is thrown into Tartarus. If it happened before, then it's possible that MC was somehow responsible for it (remember, as a child she threatens to throw Sylus into Tartarus. Which could be foreshadowing of some kind).

In whichever case, while Sylus is in Tartarus, MC has been taken to Earth – more specifically to the Gaia Research Center in the N109 Zone – where she has either regressed to or been reborn as a tiny child, and is experimented on by EVER who are after eternal life and want to use her powers to achieve it.

Sylus breaks out of jail and goes in search for MC, eventually pinpointing her location using the eye of Aether and landing in the N109 Zone in 2034 (this according to the Timelock Key). At this time, the Chronorift Catastrophe is happening and Dimitri – blaming MC for it and for the Wanderers – tries to kill her by putting her in the Deepspace Collision Chamber. But before she can succumb to it, Sylus arrives and breaks her out. He makes a deal with Dimitri to bring MC back to him in the future.

Sylus leaves MC to be raised by Josephine, and for the next 14 years he keeps watch over her from a distance (remember the giant red eye? And mephie ofc), while founding Onychinus and taking over the N109 Zone, and working on taking down EVER. He creates a special menu just for MC at Elysium, in the hopes that she will one day come there, order it, and find him.

LAR. They reunite again, but MC remembers nothing. Not their Dragon myth, nor their childhood, nor Sylus' rescue of her. Instead, she sees him as a monster and despises him.

Present time.

Now, there are some things I want to point out here re: this.

One – I was wrong about Sylus' being resurrected or reassembled. Clearly, he was reborn... but unlike MC with his past life memories intact. I also still see him as a Dragon for the same reasons I've stated before. And also because I want him to be lol. I definitely don't think he's human. Nor is MC.

Two – I still think that Sylus is older than what his profile states. Why? Because we know now that he came to earth in 2034. Fourteen years prior to LAR. Which would – if his profile age is to be taken as truth – have made him 14 at that time. Now, dgmw Sylus is crazy powerful and honestly probably could have won a gang war and perhaps even conquered a planet etc at that age. However... it does not at all line up with the descriptions nor with the visuals we have of him at that time. In the Tangible Shackles video, he is in no way shape or form a 14 year old boy. Same goes for the Anecdote – he is described there as "a tall man" and having a "deep male voice" and "striking features". That's as far as the physical descriptions go. Nowhere in the text is there a single allusion to his being a kid, but rather the opposite. And I do believe that the text would have drawn attention to him being well below legal drinking age in a story like that.

And then there is ofc the Approaching Dusk image as well as this one of him breaking MC out of the Deepspace Collision Chamber (it destroys me btw).

Just compare MC who is roughly 8-9 here to Sylus. The size difference is massive. So no, that is not a 14 year old. They are not that huge, not even a Burj Khalifa on legs like Sylus.

Anyway, what we learned re: SylusMC's lore for sure puts both of these scenes in a different light

We all thought he was talking about their Beyond Cloudfall past here.

But no.

He is more than likely talking about their childhood etc here... "you were quietly moved to another garden in a foreign land" ie their separation in the Deepspace Tunnel, when they had earlier been two flowers growing up together in the same soil and who were supposed to keep growing together and ＿|￣|●💔 yeah. Thanks for breaking my heart again with the same scenes but with new context, game...

And on this note... fuck, man, do I feel even worse for poor Sylus now. Not only did MC forget him once, but twice. While he remembers everything – Beyond Cloudfall, the Gladiator Arena, being separated from her... and also knows just what she went through with EVER. He knows in what ways the love of his life suffered at the hands of evil people.

How the fuck has this man not crashed out yet. He is as mentally and emotionally strong as he is physically powerful imo.

And then there is just his sheer love for her. All the things he did for her: Running away together. (Possibly) being imprisoned. Searching the galaxy. Rescuing her from Dimitri, and giving her a chance to have autonomy and a normal childhood for the first time in her life. Devoting his own life to taking down the organization that hurt her.

And waiting for her. Always.

But even after everything still being ready to let her go. In spite of everything.

HE LOVES HER SO MUCH SOBSADFHUJHJ

I thought I loved Sylus before this update but I swear it has made me appreciate his character even more. What sorcery is that??? You can really tell how much thought and care his team has put into crafting him and his story.

And the same goes for MC. She got fleshed out here in all the best ways and I admire her immensely. I think that line she has about hoping that she made the Gaia Researchers even for a moment see her as the child she was rather than as an object or experiment says so heartbreakingly much about her and who she is.

The two together have so many fantastic moments in this story that had me giggling and kicking my feet. I honestly think it's more romantic/hot than some of the memory/date cards. But I won't talk about it more here or now because this is already way too long lol. Will probably just make individual posts for them.

Anyway, I do want to share some screenshots I took that made me lose my shit

I noticed the patterns on the bell when I was going to take another screenshot from LAR and omfg do you guys see it too????? Tell me I'm not reaching or deluding myself????? Ouuuu Sylus team you always gag me

STAYRUS MY LOVE YOU'RE BACK

I think it's pretty funny how chill MC is about Sylus having wings like she really don't care she just rolls with it (as she does with a lot of huge revelations tbh). Unbothered Queen.

This is one of my very favorite parts of the Kindled. Look how tenderly Sylus holds her here... shielding and protecting her the way he has all these 14 years, but physically this time. And you can see how MC genuinely feels safe in his arms. Oh, how far they've come since LAR...

Anyway, I'm gonna finally leave off here with a prediction for Sylus' future myth. I have an inkling it will take place before and after they escape from the Arena and up until Sylus gets imprisoned. That makes most sense to me. We need to know what they were up to in between and what led to Sylus' imprisonment. In other words I feel like I can taste the Gladiator & the space pirate lore. If I am wrong though, I'm betting it will be a Hades & Persephone inspired one. There have been quite a few references to greek mythology after all. Gaia. Charon. The River Styx. Tartarus. Not to mention the Pomegranate imagery and references. And probably more I can't think of rn.

Oh and I'd love to hear if any of you guys have any theories or things you noticed in this update! I would not be surprised if I've missed important details.

[bambisnc]

𝖥𝖱𝖮𝖬 𝖠 𝖳𝖮 𝒵 ᕱ ᕱ i wanna speak "you"!

                  ❪ ➴ ❫─── 라이즈; hearing you speak your native language

ft. OT7 % fluff crack + hcs + 0k && w. i'm just yapping highkey + unspecified language so that this works for ALL of my baddies ˖ ✧

♡ [ t-t-teach me all about your (love) language ] : ty for sending in this request anon !! i hope i can continue to make you happy hehe :3

++ quick yap hi if i sched this right it should be on the day i start volunteering :3 also lwk gonna make an en- vrs of this so more ppl can see how funny i am

                  🔗. 𝗀𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝙁𝗶𝗟𝗘 ᰈ̠ 𝗡𝘼𝗩𝗶𝗚𝘼𝗧𝗘 ✮ 𝗖𝙇𝗶𝗖𝗞

大崎将太郎 — ❪ OSAKI SHOTARO ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤi see him as being instantly drawn in by you speaking it. will pull out his glasses and go full language nerd mode TRUST me. he's gonna get on duolingo and be sapphire league in NO time. but definitely be ready for constant "hey, how do you pronounce this word again?"s or "WAITT what does that phrase mean :O"s. when (not if) he's decently fluent, he'd whip out his new skills to impress you EVERY chance he gets ><

송은석 — ❪ SONG EUNSEOK ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤyou cannot look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't be slightly annoying (but like affectionately) about it. giggles like a 12 year old if you curse in your language and says it sounds hotter (totally not based on irl events btw) because it's more "authentic" like !! you do you sir !! also asks you to teach him stuff like "ily" in the language to say it right back to you (even if he does lowkey butchers the pronunciation </3)

정성찬 — ❪ JUNG SUNGCHAN ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤstunned pikachu face reincarnation on god. no because he'd be so dramatic about it "how could you hide this from me 💔💔💔" type shit like chill please... he'd be such a fanboy about it though. "wait say that again. one more time. no wait, two more." would use wanting to learn the language as an excuse to rope you into so many movie nights w/ all your favorite ones in the same language

박원빈 — ❪ PARK WONBIN ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤhe will have literal heart eyes. argue with the wall idc. lowkey malfunctions, drops everything to stare at you. also be cautioned; he might get a little obsessed with it </3 would hold up things to you and ask you what you would call it in your language and go "woah..." every single thing.

홍승한 — ❪ HONG SEUNGHAN ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤtries to act nonchalant so hard but he's like swooning with 10 minutes. will also definitely use it as a way to be a flirt; he'd do all his research to curate the best pick up lines he can in your language just to match you whenever you ALSO he'd try to get the accent right (if there is one in the language) so hard and he'd decide that he can speak the language too now. trust him.

이소희 — ❪ LEE SOHEE ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤpretty boy would likely ask you your "favorite words / phrases" and learn them for you and will also be the biggest hype boy EVER + i think he'd also want to learn how to write basic stuff in the language so that he can leave you cute little notes. might also tear up if you something sweet / confess your love in the language; will insist he's fine though :(

이찬영 — ❪ LEE CHANYOUNG ❫  

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤprobably would act Kinda normal about it, he'd say something along the lines of "oh you can speak this language? i had no idea" but you will never catch him interrupting you EVER (which he wouldn't usually either, bc listener bf !! but especially when you're talking in your native language) and slightly similar to sungchan, but he'd get super into songs in that language + would love to listen to you sing along too

𐙚 . regulars : @x0llaz @fae-renjun @nicholasluvbot @totheseok @hanninova @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @cuntyhoesstuff @chrrific ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

[unsolicited-opinions]

Truthiness in a Keffiyeh

A conversation in the replies about the Gen Z folks who relentlessly try to cram a complex world into the oppressor/victim framing, regardless of facts, reasoning, history, context, or nuance made me time travel 20 years back.

@bluecityrose writes:

There’s also a sense [which we perceive in the Gen Z anti-Israel leftists] that knowledge of the conflict, its history and nuance, doesn’t matter.  

I’ve had many conversations where people know nothing of the history of Jews and Arabs in the Levant, or how many of those countries were formed, or what Hamas really is, or what Israel is really like, or the role of other countries in the region.

They are surprised by everything I say.  

At some point I ask them - why do you feel comfortable having such strong opinions about a highly complex situation when you know so little about it? Would you make such confident statements about conflicts in other countries you are unfamiliar with?

Agreed! I think their anti-Israel drive has virtually nothing to do with facts, principals, or reasoning. It's serving their emotional needs.

Then @doomhamster put their finger on it:

I agree. I think it's about the...almost fetishization of "emotional truth" and experience. 

Saying you understand what someone else is going through when you don't have their exact mix of identities gets you ripped apart [by other leftists, but] saying you understand a chain of events when you don't know shit about it is just fine though, in most people's eyes, because that's "just" facts. They can be bent and twisted freely to serve what they FEEL is true.

I'm showing my age here, but isn't that Truthiness?

If you weren't alive or watching late night comedy in 2005, let me catch you up:

Truthiness was first introduced by Stephen Colbert on the premiere episode of The Colbert Report on October 17, 2005. Colbert did every episode of this show in character as as a right wing talking head pundit like like Fox News' Bill O'Reilly (who was later replaced by Tucker Carlson). His characer was a satire of right wing punditry. Here's the segment:

Truthiness is the belief in something that feels true in one's gut, regardless of evidence, logic, or facts. 

Facts take a back seat to feelings, vibes, and baseless moral certainty. It's truth because it feels true...regardless of its falsity.

if you look around the media and politics environment today...it seems clear that Truthiness now rules most of the political spectrum.

The right is still awful about this, but now the far left is, too.

The Gen Z leftists (particularly the tankies, but it's all of them) have taken their foreign policy and geopolitical ideologies based on feelings, vibes, and and whatever makes them feel righteous.

Feeling righteous is important because it permits them to vent that righteousness with impunity, with no criticism from their contemporaaries no matter how false, bigotted, or violent it is. Because when you're up against the ultimate evil (the Jews/Israel), all things are permitted. And it feels so good to have a license to hate!

It's not about the real people who are dying, it's about maintaining that sense of righteousness.

They don't need to read a book about the history of the middle east because they saw an infographic on Instagram which appealed to their emotional needs...and all the fandoms they're in agree, so they must be good people!

They don't have to deal with the pressure of needing to know anything because moral clarity is delivered to them, algorithmically optimized for outrage and completely free of any confusing complexity. Real people are dying, but all they care about is feeling righteous.

Truthiness doesn't demand research or reasoning, just retweets/reblogs/reshares.

For fuck's sake, children.

"Love with your heart, use your head for everything else."

-Captain Disillusion

[ralabbit]

Gen ai plays a role in this too because people don't want to do things themselves or learn how to do things. And obviously this comes from systemic issues (wooo capitalism), but I do think this is something people should talk more about when arguing against AI.

Yes it's bad for the environment and it creates some really messed up looking artwork and it's really just a glorified plagiarism generator that has stolen from millions of people if not billions. But it also plays right into all the billionaires' and politicians' hands. If you don't know how to write an essay, you can't fight back. You don't know how to argue! You're limited to the sanitized takes a machine they created can express. And if there's a machine that can do things so much easier and more convenient people don't feel the need to learn how to do things themselves.

And people are exhausted after all. They have to work really hard to be able to afford rent or basic necessities. So I get it. The popularity of AI isn't their fault.

But there's a reason why these billionaires who have more money they can ever need love ai so much, you know?

It's not about the end result when you do something yourself. It's about the skills that you learn in the process. Skills that allow you to think critically, research, craft a coherent argument, express an idea in an artistic way or in a way that will appeal to others so that they are more engaged with your message. But most importantly, it creates a sense of confidence. Whenever you do something yourself, you're teaching yourself that you CAN do it yourself. You don't NEED the ai to do it for you. You're capable.

The current generation of adults is pretty split. A lot of people are very pro-AI or anti-intellectual in other ways. But we have a lot of people who think it's ridiculous and who are actively fighting back. I worry more about the kids currently in school. With such a reliance on programs like chatgpt, I feel like a lot of people aren't really training skills that are generally supposed to be learned before reaching adulthood* and I think it's creating a generation that's going to be more susceptible to propaganda than ever before.

But more importantly is the confidence issue. There are kids out there who under normal circumstances would have picked up a pencil and started teaching themselves how to draw, for example. But the world is currently very hostile to beginners and so they lack confidence, and in their eyes, there's a button that can immediately create "good art". So they press the button. They don't learn how to draw because suddenly it seems impossible to put in that much work, because they've never experienced that sense of satisfaction and they don't have the confidence that they CAN do it themselves.

Art and writing is inherently political, as it reflects people's lived experience in a political society. So what would happen if no one knows how to write or draw? Or if no one is willing to write or draw if they think their final product would be bad?

Keep refusing to use gen AI. Make bad art. Write a shitty essay with typos and horrible grammatical mistakes. Express yourself and learn new things. It's fun and satisfying and so, so worth it.

You're fighting anti-intellectualism with every letter you type, with every shaky pencil line put to paper. Convenience culture and anti intellectualism go hand in hand. So don't give in to it. You're capable, I promise.

*Of course, these skills can be learned at any time. There is no shame in learning skills as an adult that you were "meant" to learn at a much younger age. In fact, I think it's really cool if you do! It wasn't your fault that the system failed you, but you're making it right. And this isn't specific to AI use either.

Anti-intellectual attitudes are on the rise on social media, the billionaires who run these apps are banking on people being uneducated or uninterested in education slipping from their fingers. So now is a good time to invest time into following accounts that teach you things, engaging with their content, and most importantly LEARNING.

Communal learning is inherently anti-fascist. Give them hell.

[mullermilkshake]

Don’t leave me all on my own, it’ll break me

Part 13 <- Part 14 -> Part 15

Jinwoo proves to you that you and his children and his first priority.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Pregnant reader, angst, upset, bonding, manipulation and taking advantage

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

Kind reminder - I have only seen the anime, I’ll get round to reading the manhwa, but I have a lot going on in my life at the moment that's affecting my health so it'll be a while, so if anything seems ooc, I’m working on it lol 😎. I only know of what the anime showed, nothing else, I’m trying to remain spoiler free but it’s proving difficult. I'm researching what I can and I've had stuff spoiled that way too ��� I try to keep the characters as canon as I can but they write themselves. (Yeah, they can be unruly like that) that being said, I am taking into account of your comments and what sort of storyline you're wanting to see, (but please don't ask for anything to be added) I’m going at this chapter by chapter, by the seat of my pants. I have no clue what these characters are doing until they do it 😂

Thank you for your patience and continued support, I fell in love with the anime immediately and adored this fandom the minute I stepped into it and I’ve been welcomed with opened arms which I appreciate.

I love you, pookies!

(Also, if anyone knows how I could read the manwha offline, I'd really appreciate it. 🤗)

"Jinwoo... is that true?" 

You ignored the rumble of excitement, the journalists shoving mics in your face and endless questions that Jinwoo couldn’t quite hear. Your betrayed look broke his heart.

“No. it’s not-”

“Hunter Sung! Can you comment on the good news?” 

“How far along, has it been a smooth pregnancy so far?” 

“Hunters, what happens now that Hunter Sung is leaving? What of this facility?” 

Jinwoo pushed past the journalist’s invasive questions and guarded you enough to pry you away from their grasp. He ignored Jong-in’s calls and stormed past Have-in to slip back into the room he'd been in before and shut the door to the world behind him. It took everything in his self restraint that was barely there not to flatten the entire room. Killing all of them seemed about as close to reaching neutrality as Jinwoo was going to get. 

You just stood there, in silence, staring at the wall in that oversized sweater hiding the twins away from prying eyes. So broken and empty, your eyes plain and emotionless despite the tear slipping from your cheek.

It was the only thing to cool Jinwoo down from erupting. The only thing, besides you and the babies that leashed his impulsivity was giving away any inclination to what his darker side was like until he got what he wanted. It was why the Chairman still had a head. Why Jong-in still had his face intact.

“This is…” How could Jinwoo tell you without making himself look guilty? Without proving the Chairman’s lies on desperation you would not take them at face value.

“Are you leaving me- putting me in that place like Hae-in? You said you didn’t want that… tell me it’s not true, because I can’t believe that…” You breath picked up, erratically filling the rooms unsettled quiet amongst the rumble behind the doors.

“I’m not.” He said, taking two steps towards you.

“No.” You backed away, biting your trembling lip. “Don’t come near me… After all that about never trusting the association with the babies and putting your foot down about help from the Chairman- and, fuck, I don’t know what to think. you say you care and have these feelings, but I saw you go off and talk to the Chairman. If you want to be rid of me, just say it. But I have to hear it from you, not publicly in a room full of people!”

You were pregnant, hormonal and therefore unreasonable. Jinwoo didn’t take it to heart despite it hurting, had this been any other time, you would have used logic.

Jinwoo couldn’t bear seeing you cry. “He dropped it on me. I told him no before he could even finish. I would never do that because I-”

He had to stop himself, you had only just gotten used to being addressed as his girlfriend, no way could you take hearing his love for you too. It was all happening too fast in one singular moment. 

It can’t end like this. 

“Because what?” You said, wrapping your arms around you and blinking the residual tears away after your curiosity got the better of you.

“I just think we should take a minute to simmer down-”

“What were you going to say?” You stepped closer, but never touched him.

Jinwoo wanted to tell you, he really did. He craved it, using three words to express himself where he hadn’t been allowed to yet. No room to spread his wings and really let himself go to embrace you and his new found purpose with no limitations.

“Because…” Even upset, eyes red and wet, you were so beautiful. What could he say to you that wasn’t what he was feeling?

“Because you what, Jinwoo?! I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m really freaking out here!”

“Because I love you, that’s why!” There it was. No turning back now.

He should never have shouted or raised his voice. That was unfair to you.

It seemed to calm you though, oddly enough. Though it could have been shock. “You what?”

“I love you. You’re the mother of my children, and you think I’d leave you in that place just to fuck someone I don’t care about? To keep the Chairman happy? Never. I don’t want to be anywhere that isn’t with you, I’d lay down on the floor so you could walk all over me if it made you happy. I’m disappointed that I haven’t communicated that well enough with my actions, but I’ll show you every day until you understand… I shut Chairman Go down right away and walked out, I never agreed to this. It’s not what I want, it’s not what I’ll ever want. The Chairman's programme can go to hell.”

You stood there, taking deep breaths into the sleeve of your sweater, which soon switched to more shallow and panicked. “You… is that… Oh my god- oh god… it’s too hot in here- I need this off- I need it off.”

Jinwoo rushed to your side and tried to pry your hands from your sweater neck, stretching the material with little whimpered cries and more tears that Jinwoo had ever seen from your eyes.

“I can’t breathe- get it off- get it off of me!”

Another mana spike came right in front of Jinwoo’s eyes, more powerful than last time. And his shadows even noticed, it triggered Igris to appear for a moment before his eyes though Jinwoo never called him forward. You however, were too riled up to notice, if you could now sense the twins aura all of a sudden, you didn’t let on.

“Jinwoo!”

He pulled your sweater off and kept you close, your limp body sobbing into his shirt, clutching at it for dear life in a wet mess. Jinwoo stroked your hair as a way to try to comfort you after dropping his heart on the room, a lot to process when the timing was all wrong

Jinwoo crouched down to the floor, you moved down with him and sat in his lap all curled up and clinging to his arm. The babies aura was still heightened, pulsing almost. They must have been responding to you, though Jinwoo was surmising, you still didn’t notice.

“I’m so tired of this. I just want to be left alone. I want everyone to leave us alone, Jinwoo.” 

“I know… I know…”

After the initial shock of declaring his love for you, Jinwoo rocked you.  He needed to do something about the Chairman sooner rather than later, this could not continue and it prompted him to take the initiative, to attempt to send one of his shadows into the Chairman’s presence the next opportunity. He could have been as perceptive as you for all Jinwoo knew, but he had to try. The Chairman wouldn’t get away with upsetting you like this again, he simply wouldn’t allow it. Though if anything the Chairman did succeed in, was allowing Jinwoo the choice to use violence.

Violence on the old man and if he was lucky, if he pushed Jinwoo far enough, he’d cease to exist regardless of the backlash or consequences. In truth, who was actually strong and fast enough to even out match him to throw punishment his way?

I could kill him and anyone else who tried to stop me. The way I feel now, I doubt I’d feel any remorse for it. It wasn't a good intrusive thought no matter how much Jinwoo agreed with it.

“Oh god… I’m such a mess. I was never this emotional.” You sniffled, rubbing your cheek against his shirt and fiddling with the collar. “You… really love me?”

“I do. So much. I just didn’t say anything because I was worried you’d leave.”

And just like that, the mana spike vanished and stopped pulsing like high blood pressure. A calm room, a calm mind. You relaxed in his arms, and the babies followed suit.

“I don’t know how to feel, I’m so confused-”

Jinwoo shook his head and watched you carefully, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Don’t overthink it. I get it if you don’t feel the same.”

Though the only thing he’d ask of you was your love in return, his desperation to be close to you switched things up, and now that need started to shift to even if you hated him. He’d still love you. He’d still commit unthinkable things for you if you asked.

“Just let me love you, let me take care of you and the babies. That's all I ask.”

“I never said I didn’t feel the same.” You said, pulling away just a fraction to look at him, nose all blushed and cheeks wet. “I’m not sure how to process this, but I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

Well, it wasn’t a ‘I hate you Jinwoo, get the fuck out of here.’ at least. It gave him more hope than anything.

The sentimentality drew Jinwoo closer to you, gently rubbing your baby bump. “That’s enough for me. We can figure it all out as we go along.”

He knew with every inch you gave him, his impulses wanted a mile.

“What do we do now?”

He wanted to keep you in the confines of this room whilst he had it out with the Chairman. Jinwoo wanted to know why a man like as himself, with other responsibilities, was going to such lengths. The more time passed made him see just how much the Chairman had changed. Jinwoo wanted to get down to it, maybe fight the man to air his frustrations as to why he wanted such an influence over his children. He was the association. So why the underhanded tactics to piss Jinwoo off?

The Chairman knew what Jinwoo was capable of, so it made no sense why he was acting the way he was.

I have to know why. 

“We’ll exchange with one of my shadows, Igris will stay with you and I’ll pay the Chairman a visit. I think it’s about time we have a heart to heart.”

You made a disgusted sound, sitting up properly though remaining between his legs. “No, not that again. I threw up last time you took me with you.”

Information like that would have been useful at the time. Jinwoo was only showing you how it worked during the early days of your pregnancy in case he ever had to use it, though he never needed to, until now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged, wiping the drying tears from your face. “I don’t know, you left for a raid before I felt sick, like it was delayed, but I put two and two together. It's not that serious. I think the babies don’t like it, like any mana I use or any that gets used on me, it’s like they hate it. They tolerate eye’s handmaiden, but that’s about it. It's passive, I have no control over that.”

“They move about more than usual?” Jinwoo set his hand back on your belly, rubbing away with his thumb.

“That’s the thing, it’s the opposite. They don’t move at all, it’s like they can’t be bothered with it. It’s only a little movement when they do, I can’t feel it outside yet. But they get active sometimes, like little flutters.”

Jinwoo was waiting for the moment you pulled him to the side and pressed his hand to your belly and wait for the babies movements, the little kicks from their tiny feet. Any day now, according to the doctor.

“Maybe their mana is so strong they don’t need to bother with it? We won’t know until they’re here, but if the data is suggesting that they’re using your mana is correct, they might not be able to tolerate anyone else's."

“”I thought about that.” You turned and leant back into him, pressing your back to his chest to which he kept his hands on you. “But I hoped they’d do well with yours at least, you know, being their… Dad.”

What a big turn of events? You’d never really mentioned Jinwoo’s role in this, like his real role. He was the twins father, he would always be. It was like you were coming to terms with it, finally accepting the best to come.

“Could be.”

“Or… maybe they’re just lazy, ever thought of that-“ 

You felt it, Jinwoo did too.

“I think they heard that.” Jinwoo stared in awe, he understood the distinct movement on your belly, a subtle kick, but it was there. “That was what I think it was, right?”

Holy shit. 

It was there, his babies. His babies moving right by his hand like they were trying to grab his fingers. Less than four months to go and he’d hold them in his arms. Four months and his life would change forever. 

“Yeah… I… did they- no they’re babies, they can’t respond, can they?”

Jinwoo chuckled, your stuttering was even cuter this time. Much better than tears streaming down your face. “I think we should start talking to them now, when we get home. Maybe they’ll get used to hearing us?”

For now, Jinwoo’s anger had melted away.

For now.  

But he still wanted a word with the Chairman. Also with Jin-chul, the elusive man who seemed to have vanished from the Chairman’s side.

“Maybe we should. That’s if we can get past that shit show out there. Honestly, it's stressing me out more than if we were just left alone... I'm pregnant with twins, not outer world beings, or gods. I get the excitement, but come on."

“Yeah. We need to think about this carefully, going forward. Something that’ll get the Chairman to back off-”

Actually, this could go in his favour.

An announcement. A big one. Huge. Astronomical. Something to make it difficult for the Chairman to sweep away. A statement that could outshine your pregnancy.

Something extremely public.

“I might have an idea that would stop all of this.” It wasn’t fair to spring this on you while you were vulnerable, or after he’d just told you he loved you, but Jinwoo saw the opportunity and ran with it. “It’s pretty crazy, but it would stop people from interferring.”

“What’s that?”

Should he? Could he? You might slap him if he didn’t ride your mood swing right. 

“Marry me."

Part 13 <- Part 14 -> Part 15

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[sitting-1n-silence]

Witch Sickness in Salem Massachusetts

[This is inspired by my observations as someone born in Salem, and then validated by conversations with other witches in and around Salem who observed a "Sickness" in Salem witches.]

Salem Massachusetts, Witch City, is a town known for it's witch trials that has become a bit of a tourist trap in the recent decades. Many aspiring witches move here to open businesses, write books, and to make a name for themselves as a Salem Witch. With all these different people trying to move in and make Salem part of their craft identity, I've observed them over the years as someone born here and seen mostly negative results. Which lead to people starting to use the term "Salem Sickness" to describe the effect this city has on witches minds.

These witches moving to Salem often start our level headed with their own goals of moving here because it's history and being a place you can call yourself a witch openly. As their ego and aims grow this goes to people's heads leading to their downfall, at least within their local reputation as they become victim of Salem's Witch Sickness.

Salem as a town has always had a reputation, within history especially but also locally that has nothing to do with the witchcraft. Salem has an aura of fear to it, and known to create a feeling of being an "unlucky" or "unsafe" place for some (especially during the October season). I and other locals I talk to think this is the land's way of keeping people with bad intentions out, among other factors. In recent years this has begun to shift with the increase in witch tourism (and gentrification), but within the surrounding towns you can still hear older folks tell stories about Salem from the 90s and 2000s.

Some of those messy stories are also about drama between rising Salem occultists such as Laurie Cabot, Christian Day, Lorelei Stathopoulos, and many more. A running theme seems to be rivalry, hypocrisy, and jealously, someone is always mad about what another knows or has and ruins their own reputation in the process. Frequently this devolves into frivolous legal battles, or the individuals sense of self importance gets the best of them as these dramas become all consuming in their mind. Making them defensive, off putting, and difficult to be around.

A classic example is Laurie Cabot, the official witch of Salem. She has publishes a few books, opened a few different shops, and really brought the modern witchcraft revival to Salem (tho if anyone knows of others doing public facing witchcraft before she got here please correct me, i'd prefer to be wrong). You could find her walking the streets of Salem dressed in black, her face painted, and her body decked out in jewelry. She was the face of witchcraft here for a while, and eventually it got to her head. She started a tradition of her own, the Cabot Kent tradition. Many things she's said earlier in her career have come back to bite her in the ass, especially about not cursing and her claims about the history of witchcraft.

On Laurie's website you can find the following quotes on her "understanding witchcraft" page where she makes the following claims about devils in witchcraft,

"Demons such as Satan and Lucifer are the relatively recent fabrication of the Judeo-Christian faiths to cow their ‘believers’ into obedience and have nothing to do with us.  We were around way before the Christians or the Jews, which is why they usurped so many of our traditions, but that is another story entirely.  Our religion has no evil deities; our philosophy requires no fear tactics to function, only education and enlightenment."

This can be found to be untrue with just a little research into history. Also who is this "We" she loves to talk about, is it all witches, pagans, or her tradition of witchcraft?

She also says the following about her tradition in regards to cursing,

"We use our Magick and our science to get out of harm’s way and to help others do the same. We do not return harm or incorrect energy to those that wish it upon us, we neutralize it so it can harm none.  It is best to make the fire ‘cease to be’ than to drown it with water."

These words have come back to haunt her. She she has found herself in the local news a lot for cursing people, one example here involves a doll left on someone's lawn. I can't find the original news article but this blog mentioned an incident where cursed the Salem police (I don't support their opinions, but it's the only source of this incident I can find at the moment). I remember when this happened and hearing everyone talk about it as it did a number on the way the community saw her. At the same time other people's already difficult reputations were beginning to sour.

Christian Day was consistently finding himself in hot water when he came to Salem and opened his own stores here. Locally there was talk about him jumping from group to group, burning bridges behind him as he want. Creating lots of drama, such as this case where he and Lori Bruno ended up in court. Which was only one of such cases for him. There was also an incident where Day allegedly doxed someone, you can read the person's blog about it here. All of this local drama eventually lead to Day moving away from the city, but still managed to bring this curse of witch drama with him to New Orleans where his coven and many elders denounced him (and those that support him, such as Brian Cain) for his behavior. From what I hear things have not been great lately.

The current owner of the store Crow Haven Corner, the oldest witch shop in Salem, has also found herself in trouble with the law landing her self in the local news for a brawl during a street fair in downtown Salem. I know this incident well because I worked for Joanna Thomas (another person who came to Salem to open a witch business) in college and heard a lot about this feud, among other local dramas.

The writer and practitioner of magic Damien Echols came to Salem thinking he could find safety here as a witch, but instead found himself experience what was called a modern day witch hunt. Leading to him swiftly moving away too.

All of this isn't behind Salem either, a lot of interpersonal witch drama still happens in the city. It's just kept a little more quiet because of the way all of this was handled in the past, and the harm it did to these people's reputations. So now these store owners try to hide their transgressions and troubles betters, but the local community still sees it as a symptoms of the city's witch sickness. These owners are always having falling outs, they all gossip about each other while smiling to people's faces at events. There's rumors of theft, plagiarism, under paying and mistreatment of employees, wrongful terminations. A lot of this just doesn't reach the surface, or just hasn't yet, because their targets haven't had the money to make as much noise. Current witch store owners know the history here in the city, and the know the way it has made the minds of witches sick, so they try to be mindful of this, but very often fail.

Why is there this Witch Sickness in Salem?

I've heard a few different local theories on why Witch City carries this witch sickness. Some people think it's because there was never any real "witches" in Salem, so the land doesn't like to be known as a harbor for witches. Salem's witch history is full of misinformation and theories about what happened here, and that history isn't really the point of this post so I'm gonna quickly skim through it. Essentially Salem, as many know, was where a major witch hysteria occurred in the United States (but there were other places throughout the country also seeing a rise in accusations of witchcraft). Where 2 young girls fell suddenly ill and started acting very strange. There was so explanation for this behavior, and prayer and medicine didn't work, so the community thought it MUST be witchcraft as the victims started to report spectral visitations and painful sensations. This lead to the mass hysteria where 150-200 people were jailed, 14 women and 5 men were hung, one was tortured to dead, and 5+ died in jail. The community response to the accusations of witchcraft that were thrown around was harsh, cruel, and trauma filled.

This Massachusetts Bay Colony was primed for this as there was a strong belief in the Devil here among the English settlers, there was lingering fear of attack from the local indigenous tribes as well from the French leading to boundary and boarder disputes. Tensions were very high at this moment in Salem's history. Changes with the city cheater were also happening, causing some internal shifts to occur too. Which didn't help the rising witchcraft suspicions. Some changes were made to the legal system that allowed spectral evidence to be used in court, and this seems to be have really been the tipping point in these trials. Eventually this was undone, and people were retried and released. But the damaged had been down, to these people, and the land they lived on by bringing forth all this social strife.

As modern scholars seem to agree there were no witches in Salem, and that many factors contributed to the outburst in witch accusations such as the things i mentioned above. This page from a local museum talks more about this, i recommend exploring. Another museum also discusses the debunking of the ergot theory which i recommend too. I've seen conversion syndrome (where psychological stress manifests as psychical symptoms) suggested by a few different articles for the cause of Salem's witch hysteria, which was then fed by a need to scapegoat all their community stressors. All of this to say, Salem was never a place where witches faced injustice. So creating a whole tourist industry and witch identity out of this idea has maybe lead to the land cursing these community leaders for building a name for themselves of the backs of these innocent dead.

Another theory I have heard thrown around is the land under Salem will reject anyone who attempts to settle here and use it for their gain. As the early European settlers of Salem had no claim to this land. This area was home to the Naumkeag branch of the Massachusett tribe, and the Naumkeag were a nomadic group. So when settlers arrived they saw the empty homes the Naumkeag left and wrongfully thought the place to be abandoned and took up residence in these structures. Conditions between these groups started off predominantly peaceful, but quickly soured as the settlers spread illness and continued to take up residence in structures and spaces the Naumkeag used seasonally for fishing and gathering. Leading to increased tension, but some treaties and land deeds were signed (tho there is debate on if they were intended to be permanent or temporary. As well as if the Massachusett intended to sell the land or just allow occupancy of it. [More about these land deeds can be found here]). So all this trauma has lead to the land pushing back against anyone moving here to extract value from it.

This history of European settlers moving here to use this land for its resources and their gain on top of the community trauma that was Salem's witch hysteria seems to have effected this place in such a away that it rejects people, especially witches, moving into town to capitalize on this history. Creating a Salem Witch Sickness of the mind that ruins their reputation and sometimes more.

Some people sense it and know to move away, but others try to stay and persist with mixed results. Others who open shops, I see this particularly with those born here or the surrounding areas, know that silence seems to the best policy here in Salem to avoid these types of situations. Practicing in the quiet corners of the city, or sticking to yourself leads to some of the longest lasting establishments with the most untarnished records. As Salem's Witch Sickness seems to target the boisterous and hungry.

[fligniuz]

hot for teacher - boy meets girl

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ dr. mangione’s job at UH Mānoa doesn’t get interesting until he meets the cute german romanticism professor in the lunch line one chance afternoon. here’s how two awkward, clueless nerds get around a workplace romance.

word count: 5.1k • ch. 1 of hot for teacher (read here!) • sfw • read on ao3

tag list : @mangionebabymama , @mangobabygirl , @jenisaswift13 , @mangionesdaisy , @iinfinitelimits , @daydreamingwithluigi , @mrs-cactus69 , @mashkatzi , @straw8berry , @bean-is-reading , @theloverfiles , @luigis-wetdream , @difensore-del-popolo , @contrarianshitstan-blog , @lunacelia (comment to be added)

warnings : f! reader; some language; luigi being geeky

notes : prepare to get schooled

Dr. Mangione does not often find himself at the campus food court.

It’s not UH Mānoa’s fault. Really, he’s found it quite a charming place to be, and he’s thoroughly enjoyed the two years he’s spent teaching Computer Science at the IT Center—he’s made other professor friends, gets along nicely with his students (even if he’s still having trouble remembering their names), and overall has found an environment that both welcomes and challenges him at once. Returning to UPenn to secure this position for himself was by far one of the best choices he’s ever made. Even though the PhD in Computer and Information Science wasn’t the most necessary thing, it was the right thing, and he’s more than happy to have earned it.

It’s just that on-campus food isn’t the most appetizing, 99% of the time.

He lives in Hawaiʻi. There’s so many different things to eat in Hawaiʻi—so many cultures and traditions from all around the world to find on this island, and yet he can hardly get some good fucking food anywhere in this university (which is quite big, mind you). Best he’s had is a chicken sandwich, and even that couldn’t compare to the one place he tried in Wahiawā a few years back. Maui Mike’s? Whatever. He wishes Maui Mike was in charge of the chicken sandwiches here.

Someone joins him in line for bento. He notices the green badge hanging from their neck, first. A fellow educator.

Admittedly, he notices the pretty face next.

“I truly hope you’re not here for the bento,” Luigi greets.

“Why?” You turn to him, eyes curious. “I’m always here for the bento.”

Oh, he feels sorry for you! Your poor soul has probably never experienced all the bento Hawaiʻi has to offer.

He shakes his head, smiling. “I love this school, but, man, the food…”

You seem to notice his own badge, then, tucked underneath the loose button of his linen shirt.

“Ah, don’t be ungrateful!” you joke. “The cooks work so hard. Have you met Koa? He’s the sweetest.”

Luigi has met Koa, about once or twice. Koa is the one who always shorts him on fries, he thinks. A sweet cook would never short faculty on fries—but maybe Koa was just having a bad day. He’ll take your word for it.

“At this point I should pack my own lunch,” Luigi says, “but I never have time for it in the mornings.”

“You like sleeping in?” you ask.

“Nah.” He shakes his head, then tilts it quizzically. “Well, maybe. I probably turn in for bed too late.”

“Let me guess: Biographical Research?”

He smiles. “Computer Science.”

“Wow!” you exclaim, moving forward in line with him. “See, I guessed bio because nobody in that department sleeps. I think they all live off of coffee and 5-Hour Energy shots.”

“I’m not huge on coffee,” Luigi reveals.

You make a quizzical face. Cute. “How can you be a professor and not love coffee?”

“I like tea better. Doesn’t mess with my stomach.”

“Now that I agree with,” you say pointedly. “Have you tried the teahouse on campus?”

He’s really gonna have to show you some better options sometime.

“I’ve never seen you around before,” Luigi says suddenly. He’s not sure why. He should’ve just stuck to the teahouse conversation.

You smile warmly at him. “We aren’t in the same department.”

“Well, what do you teach?”

“Languages and Literatures of Europe and the Americas,” you reply proudly. “Well, that’s my department. I teach German Romanticism and general Studies in Culture.”

That’s a mouthful. A very intriguing one, at that.

“Ah,” he nods. “So you’re in Humanities, then.”

“That’s right. Hawaiʻi Hall.”

He’s stopped by a few times before—mainly to catch up with Mrs. Ito, his Philosophy pal. It’s a nice place. Friendly people. He thinks you might be his favorite so far.

“You could pop in one Tuesday,” you suggest. “See me in action. 2:30 to 3:30. We’re translating some Eichendorff right now.”

He thinks he will, if it’s not too weird. A teacher among the students could be distracting. Maybe he’ll lose his badge for the day.

Luigi offers you a hand, which you shake firmly.

“I’d like that,” he says. “It was very nice to meet you.”

Dr. Mangione has got the hots for a Humanities professor. 

It starts that next Tuesday, when he walks into your lecture—sans his badge—to sit and listen to you educate your students about Das Marmorbild, apparently one of Joseph von Eichendorff’s greatest works. It seems to be one of your favorites, anyway.

“Alright, kids. What does this statue of Venus mean to Florio?”

A brunette among the rows of seats raises her hand.

“It’s an idealization of feminine beauty,” she says, “and he feels drawn to her seductive nature, as opposed to that of Bianca the maiden.”

You nod. “We could get more specific.”

Another hand rises.

“Venus is a critique of Romanticism,” the student answers. “Florio is more attracted to art than to human connection, and it nearly destroys him in the end.”

“Good,” you praise. “Eichendorff is commenting on a familiar tale in the culture of Romanticism. Florio finds himself so attracted to this statue of Venus that it disrupts his relationships with other humans in his life, like Bianca and Donati.”

Halfway through, Luigi starts taking notes. An old habit, one he only uses nowadays when he’s reading materials for his own lectures—but he finds himself so entranced with the way you discuss Florio and his affections towards this living statue of Venus, the way you recall a story he’s never read before. He thinks then that he’d like to introduce you to some of his favorite books, just to listen to you recount your thoughts in your gentle, guiding voice.

“We see this clearly in the scene at the lady’s palace,” you continue. “Later on, when Florio leaves Lucca with his friends, the palace is nothing but ruins, and Donati seems to be a figment of his wild imagination. Eichendorff is showing us that Florio neglected the company of his friends for the mystical Venus, who may or may not exist. Pietro and Fortunato make this clear when they tell Florio of the legends surrounding the temple of Venus.”

Das Marmorbild appears to be a story of yearning and, mainly for Luigi, regret. He underlines the word for emphasis.

3:30 comes faster than he expected. By the time the rest of your students are filing out of the lecture hall, Luigi is fumbling with the zipper of his backpack. Hoping you’ll notice him.

“You showed up,” you greet once the room is empty, smiling shyly. “Did I see you taking notes?”

“Oh, yeah!” he nods. You’re making your way up to the back row of seats, where he’s stationed, playing with the spiral binding of his journal. “Um, I’ve never read any Eichendorff, so it’s a bit jumbled.”

“Could I look at them?”

He slides you his notebook, the page filled with chicken scratch of impressively well-synthesized ideas and takeaways from your lesson. It takes a few moments of silence for you to read through it all, and your eyes dance happily over the word regret underlined at the bottom.

“These are wonderful,” you compliment. “You have a good grasp of Eichendorff’s style, even if you’ve never studied him. You’d do well on my quizzes.”

Luigi smiles. “You’re an incredible teacher. I learned from the best, clearly.”

Are you…blushing?

No. Surely not. He doesn’t get the chance to see before you ruffle your hair and smile back, quick and dirty. “Well, I’m flattered.”

Mental note: Luigi has got to read more Eichendorff.

He shows up to Hawaiʻi Hall once more that evening—this time with a question of his own.

“Miss,” Luigi starts. “I hope I’m not too blunt, but I wanted to pick your brain about something.”

You’re packing up your things, stuffing your bag messily. Classic professor shit.

“Oh, sure,” you reply. “I like having my brain picked.”

“You teach Studies in Culture as well, right?”

You nod. “That's right. Latin America, specifically.”

“The cultures that you’ve researched—they used computers, correct?”

A blink from you. A lilt of the head.

“I mean, not computer computers,” he elaborates, “but systems of computing. Like…an abacus, or some kind of counting device?”

“Oh!” Now you’re nodding. “Yes, of course. Most cultures did.”

“Yeah,” he nods along. “So, I wanted to ask you: would you like to join one of my lectures sometime? You could discuss early computing in Latin America, or Germany, or whatever society you’d like.”

And…Now you’re silent. Fuck. He shouldn’t have bothered. He just met you!

“You want me…to join one of your classes?”

“Only if you’d like,” Luigi assures you. “It’s just that my students are having some trouble applying their knowledge outside of the classroom. I think they’d have a better understanding of what they’re learning if someone like you came in, explained how these civilizations created their own systems to adapt to their world. It would show them that computers aren’t a new thing, and that we’ve always needed them. You get what I’m saying?”

Man, he’s blabbing. Typical Dr. Mangione.

“And…you want me to do it?”

It’s not like he knows anyone better for the job.

“I know this sounds silly,” he starts, “but I was really impressed by your class today. Really. The way you articulate your perspective, your attitude towards your students, how you engage with them…”

It’s sexy, he wants to say. Better to leave that on the table.

“I just think you’re one of the most talented professors I’ve met in this school,” he reveals, sincerely. “Do you know the last time I took notes for a class I’m not even in? Never! I’ve never done that! And yet, I was so intrigued by you that I couldn’t stop myself from writing down everything you conveyed.”

You look down towards your nails, surveying the chipped polish and clear gel underneath. Remnants of a manicure. Who bought that for you?

“Well,” you breathe. “I think I’d need some time to prepare, read over some things first.”

“Sure,” Luigi nods. 

“But, if you think it would help your students, then I’d be honored to.”

Jackpot. 

“I’m so glad!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together. Maybe too much excitement? “I think this will be great. What time is best for you to come in? I’m at the IT Center Mondays and Wednesdays, from noon to 1:30.” 

Noon to 1:30, on Mondays and Wednesdays. Good days for you. You teach on an opposite schedule: Tuesdays and Thursdays.

“Next Wednesday would be fine,” you say. “We’re almost finished with our discussion of Das Marmorbild, and I’d like to put my full attention towards that.”

“I understand,” he agrees. “Next Wednesday works fine for me, too. I’ll plan it out, get with you on the details.”

He’s probably way too eager about this. He just really wants you in his lab, showing off for all his students. They’ll be mesmerized—if they find him impressive, you’ll certainly be something.

As Luigi is walking out of your lecture hall once more, you stop him.

“Oh, Dr.?” you perk up. “You don’t have to call me ‘Miss’. Just my first name is alright.”

He’s not sure when you learned about the PhD. He likes the way “Dr.” sounds in your mouth, though.

The next Wednesday couldn’t come quicker.

You’ve planned an outline, essentially a dialogue between you and his students that covers all the bases he wanted to touch: earliest examples of computing across cultures, why these machines were developed, who made them, their importance to modern Comp Sci. Specifically, you pay attention to female engineers (or at least, the ones allowed to practice their passions at the time): Ada Lovelace makes quite the appearance in your notes, as well as classics in the field, like Alan Turing and Charles Babbage. It’s everything he wanted—a lesson in history and culture, emphasizing the importance of this kind of study, while still relevant to his subject. It couldn’t be more perfect.

Not to mention, you show up looking like a bombshell. Nice skirt and a flattering blouse and some mascara. Luigi tries not to imagine that it’s for him.

You only spend a minute on your introduction, and then you’re diving right in:

“Can anyone here tell me what one of the very first computers was?”

Steven from the front raises his hand.

“The abacus!” he answers.

Smiling, you nod. “That’s right. And where did the abacus come from?”

This time, the room is silent.

“A few cultures utilized the abacus for counting,” you explain. “Some scholars believe the Old Babylonians used it for addition and subtraction. Many Greeks used the abacus, too, largely up until the French Revolution.”

You click the remote of Luigi’s projector, and on screen, an aged photo of an abacus-like system is displayed.

“This is the Salamís Tablet, first discovered in 1846.”

“What’s Salamís?” Steven asks.

You smile again. “Salamís is the largest Greek island on the Saronic Gulf, about one nautical mile from the coast of Athens. This tablet, made of marble, was originally created around 300 BC.”

Ah. You’ve got some geography up your sleeve, too.

“Around the same time, the Chinese were using their own abacus, called a suanpan.” You click the remote again, showing the students an illustration of the very Chinese abacus you’ve described. “The prototype of this device was first observed during the Han dynasty, around 200 BC. Some schools in China still use the suanpan for math instruction.”

Luigi prays, for the first time in a long while, that his students can’t see his eyes trailing over you as you speak.

“It might surprise you that some educators still use such ancient technology to teach arithmetic,” you explain, “but, really, these old things can show us a lot about computers back in the day, and particularly, how we used them.”

You click the remote to reveal something that looks like it might come out of Dora’s backpack.

The astrolabe.

“This is one of the world’s first analog computers, or, rather, calculators,” you explain. “The astrolabe was developed from the armillary sphere, invented during the Hellenistic period.”

A student in the far left corner—Clara, maybe—raises her hand.

“How did it work?” Maybe Clara asks. “It just looks like a faded compass to me.”

You nod in understanding. “It’s a strange looking thing. Essentially, astronomers used this tool to make specific predictions about space.”

But then you falter for a bit, looking toward Luigi. 

He doesn’t blame you. Astronomy is fucking weird. It’s also not your department. Him, though? It remained a childhood dream for a reason.

“It’s like an inclinometer,” Luigi adds, facing the lab. “It can calculate altitude and local latitude of celestial bodies, and it can triangulate, too.”

“But it had some more practical applications across cultures,” you say, seemingly back on your feet. “Specifically, it was of great use to the Islamic religion. Many of you know that Muslims pray several times a day, correct?”

Some heads nod.

“Well, the timing of prayer was astronomically determined, so the astrolabe could define the specific schedule of worship. That, and Muslims must also face Mecca each time they pray, which requires precise direction. That’s where the astrolabe came in handy for them.”

“There is another Hellenistic tool, though, older than even the astrolabe,” you continue, turning to the next slide on the projector. A fragment of aged bronze is on display, with a thick X carved right into the center. 

Luigi always forgets the name of this one.

“Behold the Antikythera mechanism.”

Right. Antikythera. Sounds like a spider, or a Mortal Kombat character. Classic Greek shit.

The students do not seem impressed.

“Looking at this thing, you probably can’t imagine any good use coming of it, right?” You gesture knowingly toward the seemingly broken thing, accentuating its jagged edges and rough details. “If I told you it’s meant to be a model of the Solar System, you’d be right to laugh in my face. But if I showed you this…”

Now, you display a much clearer image, one of a machine with refined golden parts and dashes of color and limbs branching from its dome-like center, almost like a clock with extra hands.

Steven guffaws. “That’s not the same thing.”

You smile. “Not exactly the same. But a recreation.”

Luigi can’t help but return your enthusiasm. You have a way of building up to things, revealing information in a way that’s fiercely fresh and yet not too overwhelming. You’re animated—your hands move with your lips, adding emphasis and motioning toward your slideshow. It’s entrancing.

“The Antikythera mechanism was split into more than eighty fragments when it was first discovered on the Greek island of Antikythera in 1901. The man who discovered it, Valerios Stais, suggested it was an astronomical clock, but his theory was rejected. Why do you think that is?”

A student in the front raises their hand cautiously. “Nobody knew what it was?”

Giggling, you concede, “that may have been part of it. But originally, most scholars believed the Antikythera mechanism was a prochronism, a device too complicated to have been made during its time. Lots of people just couldn’t believe that its inventors had such extensive knowledge about the universe.”

The recreated Antikythera mechanism on screen deconstructs into several parts, each accordingly labeled with annotations in the model you’ve chosen.

“It turns out, though, that this thing had a network of gears that, through the zodiac, allowed it to calculate the movement of the Sun and the Moon, eclipses, moon phases, and calendar cycles. Some even believe that it could determine the location of planets.”

It seems to make more sense to the students, now that they see a refined vision. What was once a wrecked lump of bronze becomes a magnificent symbol of ancient Greek invention—a marvel of pure, human curiosity, back when words alone could not formulate the breadth of knowledge possessed by man and machine alike. 

“It’s believed that Hipparchus may have been involved in the construction of the Antikythera mechanism,” you say, “since its ability to track the irregular orbit of the Moon is consistent with his studies. His observations likely paved the way for its invention.”

Hipparchus, father of trigonometry, once walked the metropolis of Alexandria in search of the truth of the stars. His weather calendars in Bithynia led him to Rhodes, where only a minute fraction of his legacy survived among the windmills. He was a man starved for knowledge.

“Much like Hipparchus,” you begin, clicking the remote. A portrait of a sitting man with short-cropped hair and a sandy beard is shown to the students. “John Napier was a man of numbers. His study of logarithms and his invention led to significant development in the use of counting tools.”

Now, the students see an open box with several sticks inside of it, about finger length, marked with slashes and numbers.

“In 1617, he published a treatise that detailed three devices that could aid in making simple calculations,” you say. “Most importantly, he defined rabdology and his new tool, Napier’s bones.”

A student asks, “what’s rabdology?”

“That’s the term Napier picked to describe the use of the bones,” Luigi clarifies.

“Would you like to describe how they work?” you ask him, lashes fluttering.

His heart does a record scratch.

You noticed. You noticed that he likes math. And now you’re letting him step in for the parts that he particularly enjoys. Wow. Your intuition and natural guidance of the lecture stuns him, shocks him like lightning right where he stands in front of the desk.

“Uh,” he stammers, “they’re good for multiplication and division. These square notches in the bones represent a simple multiplication table, which you can use to reduce the operation into…addition.”

“That’s right,” you affirm. “You can perform division as well, much in the same manner.”

You click the remote to turn to the next slide, revealing a portrait of a man looking quite clownish—his egg-shaped cap and star-shaped collar aren’t helping the image. 

“Can anyone tell me what this guy invented?”

Now this is his favorite part.

The students don’t respond, but Luigi knows the answer. This guy is one William Oughtred of Cambridge, inventor of the slide rule. 

“Shortly after Napier published his work on logarithms, William Oughtred crafted a nifty mechanical calculator from two Gunter rules to make what we would call today the slide rule.” You click again, showing an aged illustration of Oughtred’s tool. 

“His idea didn't catch on because of some personal drama,” you explain, “but in 1677, Henry Coggeshall took his own spin on the design, creating a two-foot folding rule for measuring timber.”

The projector displays Coggeshall’s slide rule, which doesn’t look much different, but its implications prove an impressive application to unrelated subjects. 

“Several scholars of several subjects had their own takes on the slide rule, modifying it to their own needs,” you say. “In 1722 two- and three-decade scales were introduced. Mathematician Nathaniel Bowditch created a sliding rule that included both scaled trigonometric functions and aids for navigation problems. There was even a log log slide rule by Roget, which displayed the logarithm of a logarithm. We had slide rule inception.”

Luigi smiles to himself. Slide rule inception. You are so cute.

“These slide rules were used up until about 1642, when mathematician Blaise Pascal invented a mechanical calculator after fifty prototypes,” you say, clicking the remote. On the projector screen is a blueprint of a mechanism of gears, presumably Pascal’s calculator. “Pascal made three versions of his calculator: one for accounting, one for surveying, and one for science problems.”

“Pascal’s calculator was especially successful in its carry mechanism,” Luigi adds, to which you nod. “Building it required shrinking a lantern gear.”

“Nine of these calculators still exist today,” you state. “But Pascal’s calculator influenced the design of just about every mechanical calculator that came after it. And with the evolution of the calculator, everything changed.” 

On the projector is another image, this time of what appears to be a wooden loom: a tall, intricate thing, with a roll of paper hanging from one side.

“This is the first programmable loom,” you say, pointing to the man demonstrating its use. “And this is the Frenchman who invented it, Joseph Marie Jacquard. In 1801, this weaver sought an automated way to create his fabrics. Manual weaving was difficult and time-consuming, and Jacquard wanted to make that process more practical and efficient.”

Your next picture focuses specifically on that roll of paper.

“In comes the punchcards.” You gesture towards the holes pressed into the paper, silently describing the function of Jacquard’s revolutionary loom. “Jacquard used these cards to create one row of his design. These holes punched into the pasteboard tell the loom which threads to raise or pass—and after hundreds of cycles, the final piece is ready. You can think of this mechanism as the code that made his machine function masterfully.”

A few students watch with parted lips.

Nikola—Luigi thinks—raises their hand.

“And…it worked?”

You giggle. “Oh, yes. It worked very well. Jacquard was paid nobly for his invention—Emperor Napoleon and his wife Josephine even visited Lyon to see Jacquard's loom in action. In fact…”

The next image is a simple, black-and-white portrait of a man with an unfortunately receding hairline.

“I’m sure Dr. Mangione has talked some about Charles Babbage, yes?”

Luigi catches some nods around the lab. 

Oh, yes. Magnificent.

“Jacquard’s punchcard mechanism inspired Babbage in creating his own Analytical Engine, the machine that led to the birth of the very first general-use computer.”

“And what was the first general-use computer, folks?” Luigi asks.

Some voices erupt: the Z3. You grin at the mention.

A German invention, of course. He can’t convey how attractive it is that you know about the Z3. 

“The Analytical Engine created the Z3, but do we know what created the Analytical Engine?” you introduce, clicking the remote again; this time, a more complex machine appears, a collection of numbered wheels and golden ridges.

“This is the Difference Engine.” 

Luigi even turns around himself to view Babbage’s first invention; he recognizes the image you’ve chosen as the London Science Museum’s reincarnation. The Difference Engine was certainly a product of its time, despite its first full, successful build in the 1990s: he can recall that the design of Difference Engine No. 1 weighed a whopping four tons, had over 20,000 parts, and looked…like a monster, really. Efficient, but irredeemably expensive for the British government. Not Turing-complete. Still a beauty, in his eyes.

“Babbage first designed the Difference Engine in the 1820s. It works by cranking a handle, and it utilizes decimal notation to tabulate polynomial functions,” you continue. The way the words roll off your tongue has Luigi’s nerves jittering in his body, like strings reverberating on a violin. Cranking. Decimal notation. Tabulate. Polynomial functions. This truly couldn’t get any better. It’s like you’re teaching his class for him.

He points at the machine’s metal intricacies, highlighting its functions. “Notice the double-high teeth on these left sector gears, and the mirroring of the number wheels. They can count either up or down, from left-to-right. Babbage’s machine has three steps in its overall process: the first step activates the carry lever towards the back of the engine, which is what this little tab between six and seven is for. There’s also a printing compartment on the left side, which displays the values of the calculations made.”

You smile at his technical additions, nodding along. Fuck.

“Now,” you interject. “Let’s return to Babbage’s Analytical Engine for a moment. Babbage constructed the first mechanical computers, but can any of you tell me who wrote the very first computer program?”

Silence fills the lab.

Steven raises his hand. “Was it not Babbage?”

You shake your head, grinning as you click the remote to the projector.

“This is Ada Lovelace,” you say proudly, displaying her portrait on screen. “In the early 1840s, she translated a paper on Babbage’s Analytical Engine, including a set of annotations three times as long as the original transcript.”

The information you’ve presented to his students is clearly new for them—something he should loathe, but something that thrills him as he watches it play out before his own eyes, in his own classroom.

“These notes,” you continue, “are considered the very first written computer program by many historians. Lovelace was among the first to recognize that Babbage’s machines had a more practical application, a usage outside of making calculations; in her seventh annotation, she wrote out an algorithm meant to be carried out by an engine like Babbage’s, for use with Bernoulli numbers.”

And, one of Luigi’s favorite little factoids comes up:

“Babbage respected her intellect so much that he gave her a nickname: The Enchantress of Number.”

If Dr. Mangione had a nickname for you, he thinks it would be something along the lines of “The Enchantress of Hawaiʻi Hall”.

“But Lovelace was not the only one to revolutionize computing,” you say. “In comes Alan Turing.”

There’s a lot to say about Alan Turing. Perhaps underappreciated was his stint as a philosopher—but Luigi knows much of what you are about to divulge to his class.

“All of man’s computing inventions led to Alan Turing,” you explain, gesturing to a portrait of Turing from 1951. “Turing presented the first in-depth design of a stored-program computer in 1946, a project that experienced significant delays; it was during this period of developing other softwares that he designed the Turing test, which would define the standard of machine intelligence.”

“We’ll be talking a lot about the Turing test once we get to artificial intelligence,” Luigi tells the class, to no particular excitement. When you wink at him his heart skips a beat or two, and he thinks he might need to leave the room to catch some fresh air.

“It all comes down to Turing,” you reiterate. “His ideas about computers are the central foundation of modern computing. Turing-complete is the standard for all computers today.”

The final slide that displays on the projector is a timeline, starting with the abacus around 200 BC and continuing into now. You’ve marked several points on the line where significant developments in computing were made; ancient astronomical tools, Lovelace’s notes, mechanical calculators, the Z3. From start to a never ending finish.

“And…” you murmur, “that is all I have for you today.”

A few students clap, but Luigi’s enthusiasm burns the brightest in the room. He encourages them to thank you for stopping by, and then turns to you to deliver his own message of gratitude.

“Thank you, Dr. Mangione,” you say, shaking his hand. “It was a pleasure to join you.”

A pleasure. A pleasure.

The moment the clock strikes 1:30 his students are filing out of the room (some of them do take the time to smile at you, though, which boosts his hope in humanity)—but Luigi lingers by the door as you pack up your things, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“That was something special,” he says.

You glance up at him, smiling weakly. “I just hope I didn’t bore them.”

“No, no way,” he insists, shaking his head. “They were very engaged. You keep their attention better than I do.”

“You don’t have to flatter me,” you assure him.

He frowns at that. “It’s not flattery. I mean what I say. That was a wonderful lesson, exactly what I was looking for. I’m beyond impressed.”

You sigh and shuffle on your feet, opening your mouth as if you have something to say, but nothing ever comes. 

“I’m glad you agreed to this,” he adds.

Slowly, you nod. “I think I am too.”

You turn to make your way towards the door, but Luigi stops you in your tracks:

“Hey, are you still eating the bento from the food court?”

You blink, then offer a crooked grin. Like you’re amused that he remembers. “I have nothing better to eat. Why?”

“You could have something better,” he proposes, “if you grabbed lunch with me instead.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” he affirms, nodding. “I know lots of good places. Could show you where to get some actual food.”

You get quiet for a moment, still fumbling on your feet and messing with your hair. You look a little flustered.

“I think I’d like that,” you say after a while.

Thank god.

“Good,” he says. “Next week?”

“Okay,” you nod. “Next week.”

He’ll have to make a list of ideas.

For the first time since he started this job, Dr. Mangione is excited for next week.

[yuurei20]

Hello! I love watching ur videos on youtube💕, and this is my first time asking you a question, because I just finished reading the Book 7 part 10 in English. And I JUST FOUND OUT WE HAVE A CLUB?!

And I wanna ask when and how did this happened is there new clubs?, did they mention it in the main story and I just forgot? Thanks if u have time to answer!

Hello hello, thank you for this question! 🐱🍖

Yes yes, Grim and the prefect are in a club! 🥳

I am not sure if it was mentioned in the main story before 7-10, but it was mentioned in Ortho's College Gear vignette, Grim's labwear voicelines and is also listed in his profile!

(When Ortho comments on Grim's constant foraging for things like berries and grass Grim responds, "I ain't foraging! Eatin' stuff that looks edible is a legitimate Gastronomy Club activity!")

I found a twstsoku thread from 2021 of JP-server players wondering if the club existed previously and Grim joined later or if he founded it himself, and someone makes the point that as Deuce's blastcycle club creation application was denied, maybe first-year students are not allowed to found their own clubs? 📝

From there conversation is mostly around who the other members are, such as Pomefiore students and probably Ruggie at some point, but we learn in the novel that it was a club that Grim founded himself!

(There are theory-related reasons behind the rejection of Deuce's blastcycle club application, but nothing has been confirmed in-game.)

The novel and the game vary on many, many points, so it is safer to consider novel information as being canon only to the novel itself, as there might be entirely different circumstances within the game ^^

But as we do not have very much game information, it might be useful as a reference point!

From the second novel:

"Yuuya and Grim were told by the headmage that they would both have to choose the same club. As they were only able to enroll at all on the condition that they form two halves of a single student, it seemed like a reasonable request to Yuuya, particularly as he has also been charged with corralling Grim, as his prefect. Yuuya had no objection. Their issue had been not being able to decide on what club to join until right up until the deadline. Grim had not shown much interest in most of the clubs they visited. He had seemed intrigued by the Science Club, as their activities sometimes involved cooking, and the Pop Music Club, where the members share snacks during breaks, but his stubborn personality led to rejections from club advisors and members alike. Grim can simply not resist food. While debating what they should do, Crewel had shared with them that, while it involves numerous, complicated procedures, there are students who form new clubs on their own. And that is what they decided to do. Together they founded the ‘Gourmet Research Club.' Of course, it was Grim’s idea. ‘An’ what’s wrong with it? It’s the best club there is. All the delicious food we can eat.’ ‘If there's a relatively easy way to get that delicious food, that is.’  Due to financial restraints it was already difficult enough to acquire gourmet food at all. With some persuasion Grim had finally been convinced to focus on comparing edible wild plants, and their current mission is to find the apple tree with the most delicious apples on campus. When Yuuya explained that they were making a list of all the apple trees at the school, Ace and Deuce had burst out laughing."

I have seen curiosity that Grim would ever be rejected from the Pop Music Club, but that is possibly why it is emphasised that he was also rejected by club advisors? :>

Who the advisors are is a little vague (Crewel says that the arts clubs are his responsibility, so maybe him?), but it was possibly the Pop Music Club's advisor who rejected Grim rather than Kalim, Lilia or Cater 🐱

[hy6erion]

Could I possibly request a Viktor with fem or gn reader where the reader is just hopelessly pinning? Like in the I don't dare get closer or say anything just stare so much and practically melt in your gaze that it's quite obvious kinda way? And maybe how Viktor would react to such? If it's okay and interests you at all

(I'm head over heels for both your writing and him 💗💖💕)

All the quiet Things — Viktor

synopsis: you’ve always admired Viktor from afar—quietly, constantly, helplessly. you thought you were doing a good job of hiding it. you weren’t.

cw: gn! Reader

You tell yourself it’s just admiration.

That’s what it started as. It had to start as admiration. The way he walks into a room—not with arrogance, but with purpose. The way his mind spills brilliance even in passing remarks, in sketches left behind on napkins or blackboard corners. The way his accent wraps around syllables like he’s crafting something delicate, even when he’s muttering under his breath at something that won’t work.

You admire him. That’s all.

That’s all it was supposed to be.

But somewhere between borrowed textbooks, late nights in the lab, and watching the way the lamp light limned his cheekbones while he scribbled diagrams, admiration turned into something else. Something tender. Something impossible.

Something foolish.

It’s not love, you tell yourself. Not really. Because love is mutual, and you’ve never even spoken to him beyond “Good morning,” or “Do you need the third oscillator?” You haven’t dared to get closer, not when being near him sets off something too warm in your chest, something too vast to be safe.

And besides—he’s Viktor. Brilliant, preoccupied Viktor. He probably doesn’t even know your name.

But that doesn’t stop you from looking.

From watching him across the lab with a helpless sort of reverence, like he’s the sun and you’re just a dust mote caught in his light. Every glance in his direction feels like treason—like you’re indulging in something you shouldn’t. And yet, you can’t stop. Can’t help the way your eyes find him, over and over, unbidden.

It’s pathetic.

You melt when he speaks. You practically forget how to think when he smiles—rare, fleeting things, but you hoard them like relics in your memory. There was one time—one time—when you’d said something in passing and he laughed, sharp and sudden and so warm it had felt like the world tipped on its axis.

You remember the exact cadence of it. You could probably recreate the waveform if someone asked.

And maybe—maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if it didn’t feel obvious. Because it is. You can feel how obvious you are, the way your gaze lingers too long, how you stammer a little when he gets too close. The way your breath hitches when he looks at you directly, even if it’s only to ask you to pass him a spanner.

You hope he doesn’t notice. You pray he never does.

And you dread the day he might.

Viktor is not blind.

He is, however, busy. Very busy.

Between Hextech advancements, Council meetings, and the minor nuisance of his deteriorating health, he doesn’t have much time for social intricacies. Doesn’t usually want to make time.

But you are… distracting.

Not in the way others might be. Not loud. Not flirtatious. In fact, you barely speak to him. Always polite. Always helpful. A presence more than a person, half the time.

At first, he didn’t think anything of it. He noticed you, of course. He notices most things—though Jayce might argue otherwise—but you were just one of the junior researchers in the lab. Quiet. Efficient. Thorough in your work. An extra pair of hands when he needed something precise.

But lately…

Lately he’s been noticing more.

Like the way your eyes lift when he enters a room, instinctive and immediate. The way your attention seems to orbit him even when you’re not directly interacting with him. The way your breath catches—he hears it, even if you think it’s subtle—when he leans a little too close to correct something in your notes.

The way you look at him when you think he isn’t looking back.

At first he thought it was just curiosity. Admiration, maybe. He’s no stranger to that, though he doesn’t invite it. But admiration doesn’t usually come with such softness. Such aching stillness.

There’s something about your gaze that lingers.

It makes him pause. It makes him wonder.

One evening, the lab is quiet. The others have gone home. You’ve stayed behind to help clean up after another long test run—Viktor’s design worked, but only barely. He’s exhausted. You look it too, though you’re still carefully organizing spare parts and sorting instruments.

“Go home” he says, gently. “You’ve done enough.”

“I don’t mind” you murmur, not looking up.

But he watches you, this time. Really watches you. The way your fingers tremble slightly when you tuck a tool into its drawer. The way you keep your back turned.

“Can I ask you something?” he says suddenly.

You freeze.

Your mind goes blank. Every possible scenario begins to spin at once. He knows. He’s going to ask why you stare. He’s going to confront you, and it will be awful.

“…Of course,” you manage, after a long pause. You turn, reluctantly, and meet his eyes.

He’s sitting, his cane resting against the worktable, his face calm but studying you.

“Why do you look at me like that?”

Your heart stops.

“I—I don’t know what you mean” you say quickly, lying badly.

His head tilts. “I think you do.”

You want the floor to open. Swallow you whole. Evaporate you into a mist of shame and mortification. But you can’t look away.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” he asks suddenly, brow furrowing.

That makes you flinch. “No! No. Never. I just—” Your voice breaks.

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking.

“Is it my fault?” he asks, gentler now.

You shake your head, unable to breathe. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I just—I’m sorry. I know I stare. I don’t mean to. It’s not… It’s not your problem.”

He watches you a moment longer, then exhales quietly.

“I don’t mind” he says.

You blink.

“I had wondered” he continues, “whether you disliked me. You avoid me, sometimes. Or at least, avoid being near.”

“I avoid you because I—” You bite your lip, hard. The truth is right there, too large to swallow anymore.

Viktor is quiet. His expression unreadable. But he doesn’t look away.

And that, somehow, gives you just enough courage to whisper, “Because I like you. Too much. And I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

The silence stretches like a thread, taut and aching.

Finally, softly, Viktor says, “You are not a bother.”

You blink, heart hammering.

“I am not always… quick, with things like this,” he admits. “But I have noticed. And I have wondered.”

Your breath stutters. “You…?”

He offers the faintest smile. “You are rather obvious.”

Your cheeks burn.

“But not in a bad way,” he adds quickly. “It’s… flattering. Disarming, even. No one has looked at me quite like that before.”

“You make it hard not to,” you say before you can stop yourself.

He laughs, low and warm.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you. The quiet hum of the lab. The electric buzz of truths finally spoken. And Viktor, looking at you with something newly tender in his gaze.

“Would you stay a little longer?” he asks.

You nod. You would stay forever if he asked.

And so you sit beside him in the dim light of the lab, not touching, not needing to—yet something has shifted, undeniable and true. Not everything has to be spoken aloud. But some things, finally, can be seen.

And you let yourself be seen.

[satorrruuu]

WAIT I’M REMEMBERING THE FIC I FORGOT TO WRITE DOWN

“I could give you a baby.”

━━ decide which jjk character it is in the poll at the end? <3

So, you’ve been in what you hoped to be your final relationship for a while now. You’re in your late 20s or early 30s at this point, and it’s always been your dream to have kids. One or two, you’re not super picky, but you really want to have that - a loving partner raising a couple of kids together in a lovely house.

Everyone knows this about you: It’s been your dream since high school to have a baby. And it’s not like you were super traditional. It’s just smarter and safer to have a kid when you have the proper funds and support, maybe even taking a few years off work. So, you’ve been saving and planning your life around making that happen.

Your current partner, whom you’ve been with for YEARS, knows this. He’s an all-around nice guy who gets along with your parents and friends, and seemed happy to be in that future-father role. Sometimes he was a bit dismissive when you would ask occasionally what opinions he had on how to make a nursery, what sort of parenting style they should use, etc. He would say, ‘He didn’t really have an opinion’ and ‘now wasn’t the right time to start executing’ and ‘he wanted to get another work promotion and vacation before doing all that’.

Surprise, surprise, the dude was happy that you were treating him like your Provider Baby Daddy before he was one, and since you were so on top of creating plans and driven to make something of your own, he was ready to just coast through life on your hard work. — Maybe that was a mean take on it, but you really were frustrated! He told you, to your face, that he had hoped you’d change your mind about wanting to be a mom. He felt comfortable with you, and because this was the only setback, he wasn’t willing to end the relationship over differing opinions.

So you broke up with him—thank god it was before you both bought that house you were looking at together—and now you’re back to square one.

This is basically all you’ve been telling your friend since you sat down at your monthly coffee meet-up.

It’s all so ridiculous! He wasted your time! This is the window you’ve been planning for, where you were financially ready to have a baby. Even though you still wish to have that extra savings cushion, a partner could give you that if anything were to go wrong or if you’d just like to take more leave from work.

Your body is healthy, and you’ve been researching and preparing to be in your best shape and diet for so long to make it easier to have a smooth and relaxing pregnancy.

God, it was all coming apart. Now you are worrying about your age. You weren’t at the limit by any means, but the longer you wait, the more at risk you are for complications in your life and body. And your parents are getting older, and you really, really wanted them to have a chance to play with their grandchild before their bodies started slowing down.

And fuck, it’s not like it’ll be easy to find the perfect match to commit to spending the rest of your life with - or even just dealing with, if you ended up separating.

But maybe you didn’t have to stress about all this stuff. Because your dear friend had been listening wordlessly through your entire rant, and when you finally went silent, he says to you, dead serious,

“I could give you a baby.”

Poll’s duration will be long because I really want you to think about it lmao. I’m kidding, I’m just busy finishing up a project on my main, I just had to get this idea down before I forgot again. I think I’d write a little teaser recapping all this information first, but I don’t imagine the fic will be super long—it’s a quick-read mini-series at most. There will be baby-making, of course. Love you, thank you for helping me!💕 + Those pretty dividers were made by @/saradika-graphics !

[void-star]

To be honest, it sounds like we are talking about the same things and generally agreeing upon them, but you have personal discomfort with the concept of "Privilege" and maybe a vested interest in claiming that trans masculine people unilaterally do not experience structural or social advantages for their genders.

It's also making you talk to me like I am not, myself, a transmasculine person with my own specific place in the world of passing, stealth, and visibility, which I don't love.

At any rate, very few people have unconditional access to all those things... Like, Black cis men do not have unconditional access to medical research, medical treatment, health care, employment, physical and emotional safety, housing, social acceptance of lived realities, social standing, protection of individual rights, representation in media and government, etc. I would argue they don't have access to almost all of those things, despite being cisgender and men. This is why we talk about intersectionality.

Disability, racialization, wealth class, colorism, lookism, cultural linguistic expression, religious expression, sexuality, gender conformity, and a lot of other intersectional factors including different aspects of transgender experience in general create conditions that change our levels of access to all of these things. It can be very situational, and most of them are enforced based on the external perception of you from a person in a position of authority over you.

Privilege, with a capital P here to emphasize the sociopolitical concept of class Privilege (advantages, immunities, and rights granted to the benefactors of a hierarchical societal system) as opposed to the colloquial insinuation of boon, benefit, or honor, is something that is applied to you externally-- it is not voluntarily. And it is useful when discussing the relationship between different social classes within the greater hierarchical structure. Gender is one of those classes.

These social classes are not weighted evenly, either, where Race is a stronger category of separation than Gender, for example. And it gets complicated by the intrinsic relationship and history between Gender and Race, seen in the way Black women tend to be masculinized categorically, and how conceptions of Gender are informed exclusively by European beauty standards and phenotypes (you can also see this in the difference between what is considered attractive poc in the US vs in home countries, ie. which Asian men are considered attractive in the US vs in China or Japan).

So, a Black trans man would not have unconditional access to medical research, medical treatment, health care, employment, physical and emotional safety, housing, social acceptance of lived realities, social standing, protection of individual rights, representation in media and government, etc., yes, but is this based on his gender? Does being a man prevent him from these things? Or is it because he is specifically a Black man and transgender?

One of the hardest things I have to deal with on a daily basis is that I am nonbinary in a binary world. The fact of the matter is that we are placed into a binary category regardless and it is used by other people to determine who we are and where we should/should not be in this world. So, my tags explained how some of that has been noticeable to me. I don't identify as a man (or a woman), and yet I occupy two spaces in the binary society based on context.

And just from my experience as a first gen kid of a south american immigrant in the US, watching my mother give up her language, culture, and even her name in the pursuit of the conditional benefits of assimilation into anglo and white Privilege (to avoid xenophobia and racism), and how that sets her up mentally to be aligned with people that hate on and diminish parts of who she is and how she grew up at her own detriment, it's wild to consider the stance that class Privileges are All Or Nothing, especially from the list you provided of what Privilege entails.

Very many people do hide aspects of themselves to maintain access to class Privileges if it's something that can be hidden, whether that's hiding your sexuality or transgender status, erasing your accent, disconnecting from your culture, not wearing religious clothing in public, etc. It's not a privilege (colloquial), but it is about access to pieces of class Privilege.

Transmasc transition often involves so much loss of community. Especially if you already were in feminist or queer spaces before your transition. It's not true that we gain relevant social status within patriarchial structures by transitioning (if patriarchy supported the choices of those who they see as women to be anything other than a wife and a mother/to transgress gender-norms we wouldn't have to have most of these conversations) but we do noticeably lose social status within our own community. And along with that access to safe-spaces and ressources that we need for physical and emotional safety and well-being.

[inkling-talks]

Uuuugh okay kinda late mer may au here we go

Au information under the cut

I've been sitting on this for a hot minute cause I don't think I'm going to do anything with this aside from a few doodles here and there (I got other fanfics to write currently, maybe one day)

So, mer au where all the espers are mermaids and Seasoning City has a bay. Reigen is a son of a fisher man, he's always hated fishing but doesn't have much else for him. However his father got sick and can no longer go out with him, so most of the time he is alone on the open water.

Tome is still obsessed with aliens but she also loves all sorts of supernatural stuff. Seasoning Bay has rumors of mermaid sightings but they're very rare. She likes to sneak onto Reigen's boat, because he's the only person that hasn't turned around to drop her back at the docks, even though he yells at her every time and puts her to work, he lets her stay. Plus the longer they know each other, the kinder to her he is, and they often talk about the supernatural stuff even though Reigen doesn't believe in it at first. It's also the summer so she's not missing any class.

There's not a lot of fellow fishermen on the water, because most have been pushed out by the fishing company Sun Union (with the same people we know from Sun Union in canon). Reigen has beef with the head guy, like canon, but often ignores what they're doing unless it affects him directly.

I haven't decided if I should give them esper powers or not yet, but they do have some abilities. They can see ghosts (just so Dimple won't be forgotten), they can create bubbles underwater that can go around heads and help humans breathe underwater temporarily. And if they kiss a normal human, that human can see ghosts and be able to breathe underwater permanently.

Mermaids are well known creatures in the world, but they're extremely rare to find, as they often hide from humans. Some countries have laws against hunting them, but they are classfied as animals (despite their human intelligence) and some are kept in aquariums (this is looked down upon though), or research labs. If you're able to catch one alive, that can go for a lot of money. If you poach one, that can also go for a lot of money if you know the right people.

So at first there are only three mers in the bay. Shigeo, Ritsu, and Teruki. Teru likes to go to the surface often and people watch, but he's super careful to not get caught. He often sees Reigen alone, or with Tome, and decided that out of all of them Reigen is less likely to hurt them, mostly because if it comes down to a fight the three of them could take him together.

When Reigen meets Mob for the first time, it's because he comes to him to help Ritsu, who gets stuck in a net that is tied attatched to a sunken old ship far out into the bay. He brings Reigen underwater to him, and thankfully Reigen has a knife on him at the time so he's able to free him.

After that, Mob and Teru decide to visit Reigen a little more frequently when it's just him on the water. It's not often that he's by himself, but he's curious, so he starts setting sail earlier in the morning to meet them more often.

Eventually he does bring Tome along to meet them. She's super excited and gets along with Teru instantly, the two of them asking questions about each other's species.

At some point, Serizawa and Shou move to the bay. They used to live farther into the ocean, but their old coral reef was dying. Serizawa has taken it upon himself to care for Shou, as his mother died when he was young by humans, and his father died when he was a little older after deciding to get revenge on humans against smaller ships (this is just me getting him out of the way for this au).

Shou and Serizawa are very untrusting of Reigen and Tome, obviously, but over time they watch their interactions with the other three and decide they're not so bad. (Or maybe there's an event that gets them to trust them). Serizawa is a little easier to presuade than Shou.

Ritsu kinda doesn't like Reigen, but he just doesn't trust humans in general. Considering his first interaction with Reigen is when he saved him, he's not hostile, but he does make jokes at Reigen's expense. Shou joins in on this when he's more willing to be around Reigen.

And ofc because I'm a serirei lover, they do eventually fall in love. However because of their powers (and also his anxiety), he doesn't want to kiss Reigen until he has to to save his life. After that, Reigen is able to breathe underwater and see ghosts.

Or ghost. Really. Dimple is the only ghost that haunts the bay. Most ghosts stay on land, but Dimple likes talking to the living and has befriended a lot of mers in his afterlife. And because the mers of the bay flock to Reigen's ship the most, he haunts his ship.

I may come up with more for this au, because I think it's really fun, but if I ever do write about it, it won't be until I finish my current fic on ao3. Which will be after May, sadly, but oh well

[badmilkk]

With regards to the Nam AU wdyt of the idea where Pony misses Soda so much, Pony signs up himself to fight ( lies about his age ) and joins Soda.

OR it could be Pony being drafted and shipped off AFTER Soda returns

Wow. I think those are cruel ideas—but seriously brilliant! I’m gonna cry. That’s definitely something Pony would do, knowing how he is. And then he’d regret it the moment he got there, lol. And poor Darry!! Home all alone while both his brothers are off at war :(

Still, I couldn’t help doing a bit of research because I was curious if what you suggested was actually possible. From what I found, once a soldier finished training, they were assigned to a random unit, they didn’t get to choose where they went or who they went with. Vietnam was a huge front, with thousands of troops scattered all over the place, so the odds of two brothers ending up in the same unit were extremely low unless they specifically requested it and it got approved (which was rare, and in this case, pretty much impossible since Soda would already be somewhere in Vietnam and Pony would be arriving much later. They didn’t go together)

So yeah, it wouldn’t be 100% realistic (and I like to stay historically accurate), but I can totally picture Sodapop chilling at a base with some fellow soldiers, and out of nowhere someone shows up like, “Hey Soda, there’s a kid here who says he’s your brother,” and then Soda sees him and nearly has a heart attack hahaha. Anyway, I still think those are such good ideas (especially the first one). It’s so sweet and amazing how much those boys love each other!

Idk if all of this made any sense

[jukesjoint]

I don’t know man. I loved how tonight was emphasised throughout Sinners. It was so subtle, like going in blind to watch it and not realising it was only going to be the one night where they all live to feel free even just for a moment. How being free for Black people meant only having to experience that when no one else can really see.

And having the night to be able to experience that because a lot of us consider the night time to be a time, a place where you are not judged for anything. Not your mannerisms, your skin colour, how you talk because it’s still, slow. The emphasis on night (tonight) was, to me, foreshadowing how you are only ever going to get the chance to feel like nothing’s wrong. I also feel like it has to do with the fact that the night, that night in particular was hiding something they all didn’t know was going to happen.

I researched about it more and came across an excerpt from Freedom in the Night Antebellum Slave Life After Dark (Smith, 2017). There was a different way that slaves practised their nightly activities than during the day. There was a lot of rules, they could not really socialise with anyone else and, obviously, seen as less than so they don’t have the privilege to promenade, share stories, or laughter.

The ruling class, whites, made sure they didn’t get to experience a lot of goodness during the day. And how the day was a time where you couldn’t be how you wanted to be. So little things like Pearline getting eaten out, Mary being able to be in a space where integration was welcomed (in the dark), and her relationship with Stack. They blossomed into something that would’ve never happened if it was day time.

It also applies to the scene of Sammie singing I Lied to You, how every culture from past to present to future was pulled into one space. Being able to practise it without the watchful eye of the white man. The song also plays a role in how activities in the dark are essentially lies. It gave slaves a sense of serenity, but that wasn’t going to last long. The famous lyric that goes, “Somebody take me in your arms tonight,” (there’s that word again!); singing it at night, the atmosphere enveloping everyone who worked and had a fake persona during the day by force into its arms. It was basically telling them that you’re safe and free to do as you please tonight, but only tonight.

(I’m annoying, but I have so many theories these are just few) And fire being a huge part of how the night plays out. Fire was seen as a form of rebellion. I thought of it as a cleanse of being able to be a human being during the night, but also being able to experience some form of warmth (sunlight) and still feel free at the same time. “By perusing the available narratives of the formerly enslaved, I found many harnessed the natural light from fire as a mechanism for resistance or protection (song sequence with Miles character, Sammie). But it was also seen as a form of violence too. The play with fire in this movie is incredible because fire cleansed them of Remmick, of their souls finally being free and released to rest by the sun.

I just think Ryan Coogler is a visionary who understands how to symbolise something at the right time. He’s pretty much prompting us to read more, which I’m all for because I love it hence this terrifyingly long essay of word vomit that people won’t pay attention to, but the observation I did of it. It’s so stellar.

References

A Meditation on Natural Light and the Use of Fire in the United States Slavery

Freedom in the Night Antebellum Slave Life After Dark

[kittypilledtransbian]

To add onto this, TMA is not the same as "tangentially affected by transmisogyny", that's not the point. Everyone is affected by transmisogyny in some shape or form, because transphobia and misogyny are ingrained into the very core of society. Having specific language to distinguish the main recipients of transmisogyny is important.

And no, it's not enough to say "trans women" when there are people hell bent on denying that we are a uniquely oppressed group by virtue of transitioning away from masculinity (which i'll remind you, is seen as the default). It is not enough when even trans men on the "woke website" will deny they are benefitted by male privilege (especially when they are white). It is not enough as long as people here keep parroting radfem/terf (or whatever they call themselves now) talking points repackaged as "transandrophia", "men's rights" or (sigh) "just making questions".

And yes, I'm talking from a material stance, as someone who has lost job opportunities for being visibly trans, for being a woman in a male dominated field, and to (white) trans men with less experience as me being preferred; men who I've called friends and teammates. Do I resent them? No, I'm happy for each of my trans siblings that get an upper hand in this trash system, but the less I expect from them is to not support JK Rowling and to walk by my side so we can get equal rights. And some of them fail to do even that, which sucks.

These are working class men that, when comfortable enough, leave their siblings down to their luck. And to anyone that thinks "well that's just some of us!", I'll present to you: It's all men until it's none of them. It's all trans men until they stop enabling each other.

To the rest of you: I love you. I'd give you a million dollars if I had them. I'm doing the best to understand the unique issues you face and improve my local community. I'd take a bullet for you. I'd research DIY HRT to help you. Hell, I would pretend I'm detrans to provide testosterone for the guys I love.

Yes I absolutely would actually?