#finance and maneuver

[discountdeninsider]

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[rtf-j]

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The majority of censorship is self-censorship

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA (Saturday night, with Adam Conover), Seattle (Monday, with Neal Stephenson), then Portland, Phoenix and more!

I know a lot of polymaths, but Ada Palmer takes the cake: brilliant science fiction writer, brilliant historian, brilliant librettist, brilliant singer, and then some:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/10/monopoly-begets-monopoly/#terra-ignota

Palmer is a friend and a colleague. In 2018, she, Adrian Johns and I collaborated on "Censorship, Information Control, & Information Revolutions from Printing Press to Internet," a series of grad seminars at the U Chicago History department (where Ada is a tenured prof, specializing in the Inquisition and Renaissance forbidden knowledge):

https://ifk.uchicago.edu/research/faculty-fellow-projects/censorship-information-control-information-revolutions-from-printing-press/

The project had its origins in a party game that Ada and I used to play at SF conventions: Ada would describe a way that the Inquisitions' censors attacked the printing press, and I'd find an extremely parallel maneuver from governments, the entertainment industry or other entities from the much more recent history of internet censorship battles.

With the seminars, we took it to the next level. Each 3h long session featured a roster of speakers from many disciplines, explaining everything from how encryption works to how white nationalists who were radicalized in Vietnam formed an armored-car robbery gang to finance modems and Apple ][+s to link up neo-Nazis across the USA.

We borrowed the structure of these sessions from science fiction conventions, home to a very specific kind of panel that doesn't always work, but when it does, it's fantastic. It was a natural choice: after all, Ada and I know each other through science fiction.

Even if you're not an sf person, you've probably heard of the Hugo Awards, the most prestigious awards in the field, voted on each year by attendees of the annual World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon). And even if you're not an sf fan, you might have heard about a scandal involving the Hugo Awards, which were held last year in China, a first:

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/science-fiction-authors-excluded-hugo-awards-china-rcna139134

A little background: each year's Worldcon is run by a committee of volunteers. These volunteers put together bids to host the Worldcon, and canvass Worldcon attendees to vote in favor of their bid. For many years, a group of Chinese fans attempted to field a successful bid to host a Worldcon, and, eventually, they won.

At the time, there were many concerns: about traveling to a country with a poor human rights record and a reputation for censorship, and about the logistics of customary Worldcon attendees getting visas. During this debate, many international fans pointed to the poor human rights record in the USA (which has hosted the vast majority of Worldcons since their inception), and the absolute ghastly rigmarole the US government subjects many foreign visitors to when they seek visas to come to the US for conventions.

Whatever side of this debate you came down on, it couldn't be denied that the Chinese Worldcon rang a lot of alarm-bells. Communications were spotty, and then the con was unceremoniously rescheduled for months after the original scheduled date, without any good explanation. Rumors swirled of Chinese petty officials muscling their way into the con's administration.

But the real alarm bells started clanging after the Hugo Award ceremony. Normally, after the Hugos are given out, attendees are given paper handouts tallying the nominations and votes, and those numbers are also simultaneously published online. Technically, the Hugo committee has a grace period of some weeks before this data must be published, but at every Worldcon I've attended over the past 30+ years, I left the Hugos with a data-sheet in my hand.

Then, in early December, at the very last moment, the Hugo committee released its data – and all hell broke loose. Numerous, acclaimed works had been unilaterally "disqualified" from the ballot. Many of these were written by writers from the Chinese diaspora, but some works – like an episode of Neil Gaiman's Sandman – were seemingly unconnected to any national considerations.

Readers and writers erupted in outrage, demanding to know what had happened. The Hugo administrators – Americans and Canadians who'd volunteered in those roles for many years and were widely viewed as being members in good standing of the community – were either silent or responded with rude and insulting remarks. One thing they didn't do was explain themselves.

The absence of facts left a void that rumors and speculation rushed in to fill. Stories of Chinese official censorship swirled online, and along with them, a kind of I-told-you-so: China should never have been home to a Worldcon, the country's authoritarian national politics are fundamentally incompatible with a literary festival.

As the outrage mounted and the scandal breached from the confines of science fiction fans and writers to the wider world, more details kept emerging. A damning set of internal leaks revealed that it was those long-serving American and Canadian volunteers who decided to censor the ballot. They did so out of a vague sense that the Chinese state would visit some unspecified sanction on the con if politically unpalatable works appeared on the Hugo ballot. Incredibly, they even compiled clumsy dossiers on nominees, disqualifying one nominee out of a mistaken belief that he had once visited Tibet (it was actually Nepal).

There's no evidence that the Chinese state asked these people to do this. Likewise, it wasn't pressure from the Chinese state that caused them to throw out hundreds of ballots cast by Chinese fans, whom they believed were voting for a "slate" of works (it's not clear if this is the case, but slate voting is permitted under Hugo rules).

All this has raised many questions about the future of the Hugo Awards, and the status of the awards that were given in China. There's widespread concern that Chinese fans involved with the con may face state retaliation due to the negative press that these shenanigans stirred up.

But there's also a lot of questions about censorship, and the nature of both state and private censorship, and the relationship between the two. These are questions that Ada is extremely well-poised to answer; indeed, they're the subject of her book-in-progress, entitled Why We Censor: from the Inquisition to the Internet.

In a magisterial essay for Reactor, Palmer stakes out her central thesis: "The majority of censorship is self-censorship, but the majority of self-censorship is intentionally cultivated by an outside power":

https://reactormag.com/tools-for-thinking-about-censorship/

States – even very powerful states – that wish to censor lack the resources to accomplish totalizing censorship of the sort depicted in Nineteen Eighty-Four. They can't go from house to house, searching every nook and cranny for copies of forbidden literature. The only way to kill an idea is to stop people from expressing it in the first place. Convincing people to censor themselves is, "dollar for dollar and man-hour for man-hour, much cheaper and more impactful than anything else a censorious regime can do."

Ada invokes examples modern and ancient, including from her own area of specialty, the Inquisition and its treatment of Gailileo. The Inquistions didn't set out to silence Galileo. If that had been its objective, it could have just assassinated him. This was cheap, easy and reliable! Instead, the Inquisition persecuted Galileo, in a very high-profile manner, making him and his ideas far more famous.

But this isn't some early example of Inquisitorial Streisand Effect. The point of persecuting Galileo was to convince Descartes to self-censor, which he did. He took his manuscript back from the publisher and cut the sections the Inquisition was likely to find offensive. It wasn't just Descartes: "thousands of other major thinkers of the time wrote differently, spoke differently, chose different projects, and passed different ideas on to the next century because they self-censored after the Galileo trial."

This is direct self-censorship, where people are frightened into silencing themselves. But there's another form of censorship, which Ada calls "middlemen censorship." That's when someone other than the government censors a work because they fear what the government would do if they didn't. Think of Scholastic's cowardly decision to pull inclusive, LGBTQ books out of its book fair selections even though no one had ordered them to do so:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/06/books/scholastic-book-racism-maggie-tokuda-hall.html

This is a form of censorship outsourcing, and it "multiplies the manpower of a censorship system by the number of individuals within its power." The censoring body doesn't need to hire people to search everyone's houses for offensive books – it can frighten editors, publishers, distributors, booksellers and librarians into suppressing the books in the first place.

This outsourcing blurs the line between state and private surveillance. Think about comics. After a series of high-profile Congressional hearings about the supposed danger of comics to impressionable young minds, the comics industry undertook a regime of self-censorship, through which the private Comics Code Authority would vet comings for "dangerous" content before allowing its seal of approval to appear on the comics' covers. Distributors and retailers refused to carry books without a CCA stamp, so publishers refused to publish books unless they could get a CCA stamp.

The CCA was unaccountable, capricious – and racist. By the 60s and 70s, it became clear that comic about Black characters were subjected to much tighter scrutiny than comics featuring white heroes. The CCA would reject "a drop of sweat on the forehead of a Black astronaut as 'too graphic' since it 'could be mistaken for blood.'" Every comic that got sent back by the CCA meant long, brutal reworkings by writers and illustrators to get them past the censors.

The US government never censored heroes like Black Panther, but the chain of events that created the CCA "middleman censors" made sure that Black Panther appeared in far fewer comics starring Marvel's most prominent Black character. An analysis of censorship that tries to draw a line between private and public censorship would say that the government played no role in Black Panther's banishment to obscurity – but without Congressional action, Black Panther would never have faced censorship.

This is why attempts to cleanly divide public and private censorship always break down. Many people will tell you that when Twitter or Facebook blocks content they disagree with, that's not censorship, since censorship is government action, and these are private actors. What they mean is that Twitter and Facebook censorship doesn't violate the First Amendment, but it's perfectly possible to infringe on free speech without violating the US Constitution. What's more, if the government fails to prevent monopolization of our speech forums – like social media – and also declines to offer its own public speech forums that are bound to respect the First Amendment, we can end up with government choices that produce an environment in which some ideas are suppressed wherever they might find an audience – all without violating the Constitution:

https://locusmag.com/2020/01/cory-doctorow-inaction-is-a-form-of-action/

The great censorious regimes of the past – the USSR, the Inquisition – left behind vast troves of bureaucratic records, and these records are full of complaints about the censors' lack of resources. They didn't have the manpower, the office space, the money or the power to erase the ideas they were ordered to suppress. As Ada notes, "In the period that Spain’s Inquisition was wildly out of Rome’s control, the Roman Inquisition even printed manuals to guide its Inquisitors on how to bluff their way through pretending they were on top of what Spain was doing!"

Censors have always done – and still do – their work not by wielding power, but by projecting it. Even the most powerful state actors are not powerful enough to truly censor, in the sense of confiscating every work expressing an idea and punishing everyone who creates such a work. Instead, when they rely on self-censorship, both by individuals and by intermediaries. When censors act to block one work and not another, or when they punish one transgressor while another is free to speak, it's tempting to think that they are following some arcane ruleset that defines when enforcement is strict and when it's weak. But the truth is, they censor erratically because they are too weak to censor comprehensively.

Spectacular acts of censorship and punishment are a performance, "to change the way people act and think." Censors "seek out actions that can cause the maximum number of people to notice and feel their presence, with a minimum of expense and manpower."

The censor can only succeed by convincing us to do their work for them. That's why drawing a line between state censorship and private censorship is such a misleading exercise. Censorship is, and always has been, a public-private partnership.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#hugos

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi!! i saw your requests were open but i was wondering if you’d do a high maintenance reader w any of the marauders?? i just realized that i got my hair done, my eyelashes done, my nails done, and a facial all within a week and now im crying because i can’t afford my lifestyle, and also because i didn’t realize i was considered high maintenance until now :/

“We’re not having this conversation again, angel.” James says as he holds your hand on the walk back to the car.

You frown, catching a glimpse at your nails and smiling before frowning again. “But Jamie, it’s every month!”

He opens the back door for you, letting you slide in before he gets in himself.

Remus is driving while Sirius sits in the passenger seat, hair held back a bun that’s not very effective but makes him all the more handsome.

“It’s not a problem, sweet girl.” James steals a kiss. “We don’t mind.” Remus catches a glimpse at you in the rear view mirror.

“What’s wrong dove?” You pout, not really upset with them but upset at what you realized halfway through your nail appointment.

“All three of you always pay for my things,” All the boys frown, they don’t see the issue. You sigh, your fists banging on your exposed knees under your skirt.

“Every time I have an appointment, one of you comes just to pay. Doesn’t that make you feel gross? Like you’re just here to maintain me?”

Sirius turns to face you first. He’s not the best with words, but he’s always able to get to you faster than the other boys.

“Why would we feel gross about taking care of you? You’re not a thing to maintain and even if we do pay for your things it doesn’t mean it’s a burden.”

Remus nods at Sirius’ words, “We don’t come just to pay either. We like seeing you get all dolled up, lovely girl. It’s a treat for us as much as it is for you.”

You roll your eyes, disbelieving, “Just this week, I’ve done my hair, had a facial, got waxed and did my nails and you all paid for something.”

Remus nods, driving effortlessly while holding your eyes in the rear view. “We like taking care of you dove. You never ask for us to do it, we just do because it makes us feel good.”

James nods, lips to your temple. “It does. So what if you go do a million procedures a month? Just as long as we get to finance it.”

You sigh long and hard, “But it’s so much.”

Remus shakes his head, voice soothing even as he maneuvers the car through traffic, “Baby, we all argue about who gets to pay for what. It’s not too much for us, we want to keep doing it.”

Sirius cuts you a hard look from the passenger side when he catches your eye roll, “Poppet,” he leans around the seat to look you in the eyes. “We like maintaining you. We like spending our money on you when you want to do something, that’s not an issue to us, got it?”

James speaks softly when you don’t answer, “S’like Remus said, angel. No sense in making yourself feel bad for something we’d practically fight each other to do, yeah?”

You nod, a little bashful under his gaze and when he beckons you forward with his chin, you nearly scramble across the middle seat to kiss him.

Sirius’ hands tangle in your hair and you pull away, “I just got it done yesterday, Siri.” He smiles, all wicked and best pleased.

“And you look all the more gorgeous.” He steals another kiss just as Remus pulls up to your brunch destination. “Now c’mon, we’ve got to show you off after all this.”

Remus turns your face before you get too far, stealing a couple kisses for himself. “No more worrying about us taking care of you, yeah?”

You’re dazed and kisses silly, “Yeah, Remmy.” James gets his kisses last and you have to wait ten minutes in the backseat before getting out with any of them while you hide a smile.

[2-dsimp]

Ok so everyone and their mother has yandere CEO/ boss x a secretary/assistant/intern blah blah blah

BUT! Hear me out...what and a yandere assistant x boss darling??

Cw: slight blood/gore, obsessive/possessive tendencies, self-sabotage, lack of self worth,

Synopsis: 【You are the overseer in charge of the finance floor of the company SupeCo. And you happened to be issued a brand you employee who was albeit a greenhorn. But nonetheless passionate in preforming his duties as your assistant. You’ve in the short couple days you’ve grown a soft spot for him. And constantly prayed that he’d make it through his job, in one piece since you discovered that he tended to be accident prone.】

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

Yandere assistant! That’s always in attention whenever his darling boss is ready to put him to work. He’s practically twitching from getting withdrawals of receiving less than the amount of orders he’d like to have from you.

Yandere Assistant! Whose mind is buzzing 24/7 and is utterly pathetic all by his lonesome. And craves for you to throw whatever tasks you’ve got at him, anything at all, to satisfy his dream of being your personal lap dog.

Yandere assistant! Who loves hearing your voice calling out for his support from across the office hall. He just cannot relate to how his other coworkers cower at their names being announced by their own superiors. Since you were the best in his humblest opinion. And the only one he’d deem to be of importance to be more precise.

Yandere Assistant! That subtly does self sabotage if only to hog your time, in making you giving him lengthy instructions. On what to do since he clearly couldn’t fathom how to print out a piece of paper.

Yandere Assistant! Who swears that he’s not incompetent on purpose. But it’s just that he adores the way you’re so kind with your words. And oh so patient when it comes to correcting a member of your staff. Even going as far as to touch him to show exactly how to maneuver the printer. In short all of your lovely gestures made him jumpy. As he was sweating bullets trying not to turn into a feral degenerate and bend you over the broke ass printer to properly “use it”.

“Tem? Temothy~? Hello? I’m sorry Am I going too fast for you or—“

“Ah nonono absolutely not! Y-you’re fine B-boss I c-could hear you j-just fine!”

Your new hire assistant, Temothy, stuttered as he blinked out of whatever daydream he got afflicted with. Fixing you a mousy smile as he haphazardly fixed his messy overgrown bangs which obscured half of his face from view. You noted that He always had a soft spoken voice along with his habitual stutter speech pattern. Whilst he fidgeted a bit underneath your explicit worrisome expression as you fretted over his wellbeing like a mother hen.

“I only need to cut these stacks of paper for y-you with this cutter r-right? I’ll get on T-that right a-away!”

He managed in a squirrelly tone as he shakily grabbed ahold of the paper cutter. Lining up some blank pieces alongside the dotted lines with an unsteady hand.

It was his first couple days on the job and you found him to be quite the ditzy klutz but an endearing one nonetheless. It was refreshing how eager he is to always lend a helping hand even after he had just gotten off his shift. Which made you feel bad to ask him to come in to work when it was his day off since some of your employees decided not to come in for their shift.

“Wait Temothy dear you’re holding it the wrong way—!”

“Ouch! Oh my stars I’m t-terribly sorry B-boss! I got it all fuckin b-bloody! Ah paper towels… where’s the paper towels?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes and what you were hearing. Was this man seriously worried about how he dirtied the cutter station to which he earnestly tried to clean. While the skin on his palm was sliced open from pinky to thumb. And was bleeding rapidly as bloody rivets ran down his inner wrist.

“Temothy forget about the cutter and papers okay? You don’t need to worry bout none of that. What we need to do is patch you up first and foremost”

You cooed as you briskly took his uninjured hand in yours and ushered him to your office where you always had a health kit stored underneath your desk. Completely missing how his breathing slowed and his wide eyes dilated into small heart pinpricks.

“Y-yes Boss…thank you for c-caring I’ll be sure to return this d-debt”

His usual timid expression darkened into something more depraved as a small fanged smile made its way onto his chapped lips. Of which he licked as he gave an experimental squeeze to your hand only to shiver in delight when you responded back in kind.

No one had ever been this kind to him, due to his bad luck he’s always the type to be scoffed at without as much as a second glance. Hell it was a miracle that he even landed this job as your assistant in the first place. But now that he was here he intended to stay permanently and serve you for the rest of your days as your loyal assistant. Whether you liked it or not, you couldn’t ever get rid of him not when you’ve already gave him your hand to hold near in dear to his heart.

[lacroixqueen]

i'm so chill but you make me jealous jealous deadpool x fem!reader, 18+

Summary: deadpool sees you on a date with another guy and loses his shit lol

Pairing: jealous deadpool x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings/Tags: jealousy, possessive, angst, brat, noncon, dubcon

You were trying to figure out the fastest way to get out of this dumpster fire of a date. This is what you get for putting yourself out there, by the fervent advice of both your mother and entire social circle. So you went ahead and downloaded a dating app out of sheer boredom but also a tiny glimmer of hope. After quite a number of left swipes and a small handful of rights, you somehow wound up across the dinner table with… er, you forgot his name already. 

But you knew he worked in finance. Or was it accounting? Anyways, he was currently explaining the intricacies of the stock market to you, and the appetizer hasn’t even come out yet. And you realized that you couldn’t care any less. 

“I.. have to go to the bathroom,” you said, standing up quickly and pushing in your chair. Your date almost didn’t seem to notice, giving you a half-hearted acknowledgement and then continuing to drabble on to himself about cryptocurrency. 

Without another word, you darted to the nearest exit of the restaurant, finding yourself on the freshly rained-on sidewalk. You always loved the smell of the concrete after it had just rained. 

Your heels made a satisfying click-clack sound as you briskly maneuvered your way down the street. You opened up your texts to see if you missed anything during the god-awful date, and lo and behold, was a message from none other than Wade.

“Love the dress,” it read. 

You glanced behind you, then side to side, and once you turned back around, there he was, leaning against the side of the cornerstore. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, barely turning towards him before directing your attention back to your phone and continuing to walk past him. 

“Ohhhh, so it’s ice cold today,” he commented, following right behind you. “I love that flavor.”

“What do you want,” you said while texting a friend about how disastrously the date went. “I am just going home.”

“Well, I was just walking by when I caught a glimpse of you through the window of that Italian restaurant back there,” the assassin replied. “Speaking of which, what was on the menu? I mean that place looked upscale! Like they probably sprinkle gold dust on their pasta instead of parmesan.”

It was an Olive Garden.

“To be blunt, I honestly forgot,” you responded. “I didn’t even eat anything.”

“Well, why did you leave so early?” he pried, this obviously piquing his attention now.

“I-I felt sick,” you lied, your intonation increasing as quickly as your apprehension. “Can we just change the subject, please?”

“Oh ho ho,” Deadpool chuckled, as if he struck gold. “That bad? I mean, I didn’t get a great look at the guy, but from what I saw, he wasn’t terrible-looking. Also, he wore a fleece vest. I mean, that’s just the height of fashion, you really can’t get any better than that.”

“Are you having fun?” you said, rolling your eyes as he continued to mock your absolutely colossal defeat of an evening. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Deadpool laughed. “The other point of contention is why the hell you decided to pull out this absolute banger of a dress for your first date with Mr. Finance Bro there and not ours?”

“That was not a date,” you enunciated, pressing your finger into Wade’s chest. “That was a drunken one night stand that will never happen again and that you even promised to never bring up. It was stupid and nonsensical and I can’t believe it even happened in the first place.”

“Oh come on, Y/N, you’re going to break my heart,” he whined, clasping his hands together like a needy puppy. “I, for one, thought that night was very special. I mean, you even told me that you could see yourself fall-”

Before he could say another word, you grabbed him by the hand and led him into a dark alleyway so that innocent bystanders wouldn’t hear you scream.

“Stop! Bringing that up!” you exclaimed. 

Deadpool was shocked his casual mention of the event elicited such a strong emotion from you. “Okay, okay, jeez.. calm down.”

You sighed, letting him go and turning your back to him. 

But he didn’t let you. Not even for a second. Before you could even react, he grabbed you by the neck and slammed you into the wall. 

You gasped, your hands instinctively reaching up to clasp over his while his grip only tightened over your carotid. 

“Besides, you know that I only followed you here because I wanted to see more of you in this ridiculously skimpy dress..” his voice darkened as he continued to choke you like a helpless animal. “I mean, look at you. That thing practically clings onto you like skin! If you weren’t such a tightass I would have ripped it off of you by now..”

He unsheathed his pocket knife and ran it across your lacy scarlet choker, over the thin straps of your slip dress, and onto your chest. He traced the outline of your cleavage with the dull edge, and then slowly slid it down over your taut stomach. 

You were trying to gulp up air for just one breath, but his hold was unrelenting. 

“I mean a red mini dress, are you fucking kidding me?” he snarled, his blade gently brushing against the garter belt on your right thigh. “Wearing my favorite color? With some other guy? This has got to be orchestrated at this point, Y/N.”

“Wade.. please..” you begged, lips beginning to quiver. Regardless of how much he joked around with you, he scared you when he was angry. 

He finally released you, allowing you to cough and gasp for your first breath. 

“But you know of course I wouldn’t kill you, I mean who do you think I am, a psychopath?” his tone immediately brightened up the moment he saw how much you feared him. “I just like watching you not being able to breathe is all. It’s so cute.”

 After you finally caught your breath, you stared daggers down at the vigilante who stood before you. 

“Listen, Wade,” you said. “I understand you are not exactly pleased with the current state of affairs. But this isn’t entirely up to me. And I’ve told you this a million different times.’

The assassin let out a dramatic, almost cinematic sigh. “Yes, I know, Your mother wants you to date ‘someone sensible with a stable career and not a psycho killer’. Which is perfectly understandable! I get it. I mean, I would probably think the same thing if I lived in the suburbs and made tuna casserole in my spare time.”

“Wade..” you shook your head and rolled your eyes. “You know it’s not that simple.” You walked up to him and gently lifted up his mask to reveal only his lips. 

He didn’t hesitate to grab you by the waist and pull you so close that your body was pressed up against his. 

You stood up on your tiptoes in your heels, stabilizing yourself by holding onto his broad shoulders. You weren’t exactly sure what you were doing, but you knew something within you just wanted to kiss him. But you also didn’t know if this was the right idea. 

The plump part of your lip gently brushed against his. The smell of your watermelon lip gloss was driving him crazy. He started to breathe heavily, and if another second passed where you weren’t kissing him he would say fuck it and just do it himself. 

You felt his hot breath in your mouth, and you felt your arms twist around him like they knew exactly where to rest themselves. Like they have done this before. 

“I’m so stupid for this,” you sighed, as you felt his lips beginning to close over yours. 

He smiled smugly into the kiss, quite pleased with himself over the hard fought victory. Without another moment of hesitation, he grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you up without much effort at all. He walked over to the wall, pressing your back softly against it. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist automatically, kissing him like you would die if you stopped. You felt his tongue wrap desperately around yours. He was aggressive, hungry even. He wanted you all to himself, not some fucker in a fleece vest or anyone else for that matter. 

You knew you would regret your decision in the morning. And that no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you would come running back to him. Every single time. 

[wttcsms]

grumpy tenured professor Naoya x new, sunshine-y associate professor reader !!

lessons in intimacy, naoya zenin ;

pairing naoya zenin x f!reader word count 4.5k synopsis naoya zenin, phd, still has a lot to learn, and you are a surprisingly good teacher content contains fluff!!!, academia au, and they were office roomies!, naoya-centric, he bashes the arts </3

Learning Objective One: Notice Things About Your Partner

Naoya Zenin stares at the heart-shaped cake you left on his desk and refrains from going absolutely batshit. 

He can feel the pinpricks of irritation poking his insides, making him curl his hands in annoyance. Two weeks prior, there was a staff meeting informing the business school that they would be sharing their classrooms and offices with the English professors since apparently, due to poor plumbing and a lack of funding, their shack of a school building got flooded and was therefore deemed “unsafe” and “unusable.”

Naoya distinctly remembers making a snide comment about how majoring in something as worthless as English or literature should be deemed a safety hazard and that the degree is basically unusable. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling everyone in the school to get a grip and let the entire English department just float away into a nearby swamp. 

The business professors all agreed and considering that all of their students end up becoming wealthy alumni who donate money to ensure that their buildings don’t go under, Naoya doesn’t care about the enraged comments from the English department. 

All his rude remarks seem to ensure that he’ll be left alone, which is exactly how he likes to be. It seems that he’s the most hated business school professor and no one is willing to share a space with him. 

Because you are the youngest and newest member of the faculty, you end up being the unfortunate soul paired up with Naoya Zenin, PhD. When you first step into the office, big box filled with your printed lesson plans and desk supplies, he refuses to lend you a hand.

Instead, he sits back in his seat, staring at you with such an intense look in his eyes that you decide to look at anything but him, and he watches you struggle to maneuver around the tight space. Because of the funding, the business school offices are spacious, but to maintain some semblance of privacy, minor renovations were made. Crammed in a corner is a new desk meant for you. If he keeps staring daggers into your very soul, you’re going to make a request to have a room divider put in place so you can cower behind them and avoid his glare.

While your side of the office is small, you make it as unique to yourself as possible. There’s a Cinnamoroll plushie sitting on your desk, a cup holding glittery gel pens, and inside your desk drawers are scratch-‘n-sniff sticker sheets with colorful words of encouragement because the world has already beaten down your students enough — you might as well give them back some of their childhood enjoyment.

Naoya’s desk is vintage mahogany and rarely has anything sitting atop it unless he’s inside the office and on his laptop. Hanging on the wall behind him is his doctoral degree that is forever put on display in a massive, ostentatious frame. Naoya Zenin, PhD from Keio University. Economics, you recall him telling one of his colleagues. Because finance is the poor man’s idea of a prestigious field. 

It doesn’t take a degree to know how Dr. Zenin feels about a degree in the arts.

Upon your first awkward meeting with Naoya (where he let you nearly trip and spill all your meager belongings onto his pristine office’s floors), you immediately head home and look at your new office buddy’s RateMyProf reviews.

⅕ OVERALL QUALITY BASED ON 986 RATINGS | 0% WOULD TAKE AGAIN | 5.0 LEVEL OF DIFFICULTY 

Professor Zenin’s Top Tags

#lotsofhomework 

#getreadytoread

#lectureheavy

#skipclass?youwon’tpass

Review 1: i dropped my econ major because of him. this wasn’t even supposed to be a weeder class

Review 2: DR ZENIN IS THE WORST PROFESSOR FOR ECONOMICS. HE MIGHT BE THE WORST PROFESSOR IN THE BUSINESS SCHOOL. HE MIGHT EVEN BE THE WORST PROFESSOR IN THIS WHOLE DAMN UNIVERSITY!!!!!! DO NOT TAKE HIM! I regret not taking everyone else’s advice and going with Dr. Gojo instead 

Review 3: only redeeming quality is being hot, but he’s still an asshole

Review 4: Misogynist, doesn’t believe women can be leaders in the business world, has God awful takes that literally no one sane would agree with, teaches what HE thinks is right and refuses to acknowledge any opposing viewpoints, talks down on students, and that’s all i can say about him from the TWO DAYS i attended his class. i immediately dropped his course LOL 

Review 5: Dr. Zenin’s rigorous coursework and unforgiving grading has prepared me for graduate school, and I still believe all the courses I had with him provided me with a better foundation than my other peers in my doctoral program. However, he did make my undergrad experience a miserable one. His lectures are hard to follow at times, and he creates his exams with the intent of making it unpassable. He’s the professor that you wonder why he hasn’t been fired yet.

You search for any positive comments about him, but it appears that the students hate everything about him, to his tests, his teaching style, and his personality. 

In all honesty, it’s kind of sad. What must it be like, you wonder, to be so hated by the very students you’re meant to teach and inspire? You’re willing to give Naoya the benefit of the doubt — you know how one student’s misconception against a professor can paint a bad picture overall. Maybe Naoya is just a difficult person to understand! An undercover softie, if you will.

There’s no harm in trying to be friendly with him. After all, the two of you are going to be partners for the foreseeable future. You don’t have the energy to remain constantly on your guard around him. 

You start off with little things, like burning candles in the office to fill it with sweet, welcoming scents. You offer to let him borrow your extension cord so his charger doesn’t have to bend all awkwardly when he plugs in his laptop. You make an effort to ensure that the classroom is clean before his class enters because that’s a courteous thing to do. You notice that when he eats his lunch on campus, he’s always unwrapping a sweet treat afterwards.

You can’t be a truly bad person if you have a sweet tooth, you rationalize. 

So, you bake him little goods and leave them on his desk. When a week goes by and he doesn’t acknowledge your actions but the goods are always gone by the time lunchtime is over, you think you’re making progress. You notice that he seems stressed and annoyed every time he storms into the office, and so you start adding tiny notes of motivation alongside the goods, too.

Written on a pink sticky note that’s in the shape of a heart (probably to match the fucking miniature cake you baked), Naoya’s eye almost starts to twitch as he examines every loop and curve of the letters you personally handwritten for him.

I hope you have a great day today! Look on the bright side, you’re done with all your lectures for the week!

Naoya angrily takes a bite out of the cake as he waits for his laptop to turn on. The sugary sweetness does very little to alleviate his annoyance, but he can begrudgingly admit that the cake is good. Delicious, even. 

This makes his scowl deepen. 

How annoying, he thinks, tossing your note in the trash bin (not having the heart to crumple it up like he used to do with your previous notes). What are you, some kind of a stalker? How is it any of your business to know that Thursdays are his last days for teaching since business schools don’t believe in having class on Friday? And why do you always do that? Saying I hope? 

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Momo,” he remembers you telling your blonde-haired student. “But I hope you consider sticking with your creative writing major. We’ll lose a very talented student if you choose to go, you know.”

Naoya had let out a little snort of amusement at this. Who the fuck cares about whether or not students drop out? If they can’t handle the coursework, clearly they’re not cut out for the real world. He finds it annoying that you practically hold their hands, coddling them, always tacking on an I hope because you don’t want to demand people to do things. So much damn consideration, he wonders how you even survive in this big city. You’re probably the type of person who apologizes when someone else gets in your way at a busy store. You probably let yourself get cut in line. You definitely give money to panhandlers who are only posing as the homeless and needy. 

Naoya wants to take joy in the fact that you are the type of person who could easily be taken advantage of, but as he finishes the cake you made for him, the idea of people purposely giving you a hard time just because you’ll take it lying down makes him feel even more irritated than before.

He takes out his frustration on his students. A first-year student emailed him asking for an extension, so Naoya tells them either they get it done by the original deadline, or he is more than willing to just give them the zero right now. In the real world, your boss and your clients will not give a single shit that you are hospitalized after being hit by a truck. Perhaps, if you used the brain inside your head and the eyes on your face, you would know better than to cross the road when a speeding truck is heading your way. 

Then, he thinks that you would probably gladly give your students an extension if they asked. You’d probably even visit them in the fucking hospital, like the saint you think you are. 

You’re so helpful to the point of your kindness being detrimental to your own wellbeing. You extend deadlines, and then have to beg and plead with the dean and bust your ass to get final grades in by the required date. All that struggle could have been avoided if you just gave the zero. You hear out your students, letting them speak their minds, and it cuts into your lecture time. Nobody is paying tuition to hear another student’s ramblings. And how long does it take you to bake him these desserts? It’s something different every day, always fresh, always seemingly made with care. 

He doesn’t even know how you know he likes sweets. Lucky guess, he tells himself. 

You see, Naoya knows that he is respected (somewhat) and feared (most definitely). He knows that he is not loved, not by his colleagues (who are all intimidated by him), not by his family (who thinks becoming a professor at a prestigious research university is dogshit when he should have been a global economist), not by his students (the university-mandated end-of-the-term class surveys are always sent to him). So to him, despite the ego he presents to the public, he cannot fathom the idea of someone noticing little things about himself. He definitely can’t imagine someone noticing and caring — it would honestly make more sense if they used private information against him. 

He doesn’t think about you noticing him, and he refuses to think about all the things he subconsciously notices about you. He can recognize you by your perfume alone; someone had passed him by in the hall, and his eyes searched for your figure, only to be greeted by a student who just happened to favor the same fragrance as you. (He had snapped at the poor girl, telling her to walk faster or get out of the way.) He’s certain he knows the fucking HTML color code for the specific shade of lipgloss you’re always constantly applying in the office. One time, against his better judgment, he saves the place you’re at in your book. You had fallen asleep at your desk, your finger pressed on the page you were struggling to read, and then your head banged on the desk, hand slipping away. He doesn’t know why he didn’t leave you alone in the office; he had no business staying that late since none of his students were brave enough to turn in any assignments to be graded. There was an on-campus police alert the day before, though. Naoya rationalizes that he just didn’t want any criminals or deviants breaking into his office and destroying it. That’s all.

He actively avoids any thought of you, not realizing the irony of how, in his vehement attempts to ignore your existence, he is very much acknowledging you.

Learning Objective Two: Have Meaningful Conversations With Your Partner

“Why do you do that?” Naoya snaps, breaking the silence in the office. 

Naoya is the type of person who does not simply say things — he snaps, he sneers, he smirks. And he has the exact tonation, voice, manner of speaking, of someone who grew up and was never told to shut the fuck up. With his current position in life, it seems like no one ever will.

“Do what?” You look up from the papers you’re grading, staring at him all doe-eyed and genuinely confused that Naoya discovers the unfortunate fact that he does, actually, possess a heart. An annoying one that gets all tight in his chest and starts beating against his rib cage every time you look at him. He’d charge you with a hospital bill from a top of the line cardiologist, but he knows you get paid like shit in comparison to him. Also, because he doesn’t like the idea of women spending money on his behalf. 

“Give out pity grades.” 

It’s like you’ll do anything in your power to not fail a student. You’re just pulling out participation points straight from your ass! And the comments — don’t get him started on the amount of comments you waste time leaving on your students’ papers. There’s a reason why his grades always get entered before deadlines. He’s efficient. 

“And ruthless.” You tell him, after hearing him tell you all about his “efficiency.” “We’re here to help cultivate their minds. Get them to think. College shouldn’t be about getting grades based on your professor’s mood.” 

Was that somehow an attack on him? He should be annoyed. Instead, he finds this side of you less annoying. 

“I’m always in the same mood every time I grade.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that, vindictive?” You’re teasing him, and he wouldn’t let just anyone get away with such a comment. He’s bored, he tells himself. That’s why he’s entertaining this. Unlike someone, he doesn’t have anything left to grade.

“Nah. Irritated. They’re all idiots.” 

You frown. “No student is an idiot.” 

He gives you a look. “You teach English.”

“Intro to Classic Lit.” You correct him. 

“Right.” He says this slowly. “Idiots.”

“Maybe yours, but definitely not mine.”

“Let's compare our students’ majors and potential earnings after graduation.” 

Now it’s your turn to give him a look. “There’s nothing wrong with pursuing your passions.”

“Great. Do you tell them that when the cashier tells them their card declined? Or, does the passion end up paying the total? Are grocery stores accepting passion as a form of payment now?”

“Don’t be as mean as people say you are.” 

His signature smug air of superiority momentarily dissipates at this statement. It’s not often that someone can get Naoya to shut up. To be bested by someone who grades using pink gel pens is so humbling, the only thing keeping him on his pedestal is the fact that he knows he’s the youngest tenured professor in this whole entire university and an acclaimed researcher (he always makes the list for top five most cited economic researchers). You’re fresh out of a doctoral program, and even being tenure-track would be a pipe dream for you. 

“There’s nothing mean about being honest.” 

“You can be honest without being mean.”

“It’s the truth. Students are idiots.” He shrugs, because what the fuck is he supposed to do about it?

“Then why become a professor?”

“Sweetheart, professors that work here are researchers first, teachers… no, not second. Maybe third? If they’re that dedicated to shaping young minds, or whatever fantasy you’ve got going on.” 

“Well, I believe that the students are here to learn. And before you call them stupid again, that’s the great part about learning. You don’t have to be smart to do it.”

Growing up, Naoya had to be a lot of things, smart being one of them. No one in his household was ever capable of producing an ounce of empathy, and considering all the people he’s been surrounded by since his prep school, university, and internship days have all been raised in similar environments. The world is unforgiving. Naoya lives by the ever-so-poetic motto of “sucks to suck.” 

He will go home and lay in bed and stare at the crown molding on his ceiling, and he will recall your sunny disposition. He wants to shame and berate you for being so damn optimistic, for believing in those words, and he will think to himself wouldn’t it be nice for it to be true? 

Instead, right now, all he does is huff. The truth is, Naoya is well aware that his students aren’t stupid, even if he tells them that they are every time they’re in class and every time they dare to come to his office hours to debate their grades. They aren’t stupid in the booksmart sense, but they are very dumb when it comes to the real world, and Naoya considers it a ruthless kind of mercy that he exacts on them. They’re idiots because they have all the potential in the world and would rather waste their time on stupid shit and procrastinate on their assignments instead of putting forth any real effort. 

If they tried, he would give them an A. 

Learning Objective Three: Be Specific and Sincere With Your Praise

You’re crying.

In his head, Naoya tries to force himself to roll his eyes but finds his body unwilling to comply with the demands of his mind. He’s annoyed, but the irritation isn’t directed at you.

It’s at the man sitting across from you. Dr. Kimura got his PhD from Cambridge and thinks he’s hot shit, but out of pure curiosity, Naoya found his dissertation online and still uses it as free melatonin. Two paragraphs in knocks him out faster than a whole bottle of sleeping pills.

Dr. Kimura asks him to leave, into which Naoya reminds him that this is technically his office, and that Dr. Kimura is an intruder. Too much time spent with you in such a confined space has some of your little lessons rubbing off on him. Words are so important to you. Naoya decides that visitor and guest are too kind, too euphemistic, for Dr. Kimura. Call it like it is. 

Kimura’s business for being here is to give you your first ever teaching evaluation. It’s actually just a poorly disguised attempt at trying to lowball professors’ salaries, but this is the type of schtick that only works on pushovers like you. Naoya leans back in his desk chair, arms crossed, and it’s obvious that he is going to be listening in on the whole entire ordeal. You’re embarrassed to be put on display like this, not knowing that he isn’t here to scrutinize you (for once), but rather he’s your backup. 

Before things take a turn for the worse, you’re actually all smiles and sunshines and rainbows. 

Stop smiling at him, Naoya thinks. He hates your smile. Hates it the most when it’s directed towards anyone but him.

Kimura begins with a compliment. That’s how all the professors in the arts are taught. Compliment sandwich! Praise, constructive criticism, more praise! What a fucking joke. Naoya thinks his way of handling things is much more efficient. Talk about all the stuff they need improvement on, and whatever isn’t corrected clearly is okay. Don’t you people know how to read in between the lines? Context clues ring any bells? Fuck, what did you all go to school for?

Disaster strikes, just as Naoya predicts. 

“Listen, we know that this is your first year of teaching, and you’re still getting settled into your role of professor and not student, but clearly there’s some leniency when it comes to your grading…” 

Kimura’s listing all sorts of shit. Grade inflation is what he claims one second, next he’s claiming you have subjective grading criteria. No other Intro to Classic Literature course has a similar class average to yours. 

Kimura shakes his head, like he’s disappointed in you. Another tactic that would only work on someone as sweet as you. 

“If this continues to be an issue, we may have to reconsider renewing your contract.”

And there are those waterworks Naoya is expecting. 

The thing is, Naoya knows a bully when he sees one. Naoya knows all about being cruel just for the sake of being cruel. As cold, shriveled up, and worthless as it seems, Naoya does have a heart. 

“That’s bullshit.” He inserts himself into the conversation. You’re staring down at your lap, twiddling with your fingers. Kimura turns to look at him.

“This is a private matter—”

“If it was private, you would have done it in your own office instead of mine.” 

“This is a matter that concerns the English department, not yours, Dr. Zenin.” 

He’s right. And yet—

“Have you even read any of her students’ papers?” 

—Naoya is your backup. 

“How is this relevant?” 

“Read their papers. Read their first one versus their most recent one. Hell, read every single essay a student has turned in over the course. I guarantee you they deserve the marks she’s given them.” 

“Their papers are filled with corrections and questions, and yet, she gives them an A.” Kimura knows all about Naoya’s reputation. He’s infamous. He’s the reason why everyone’s scared of majoring in economics. Naoya Zenin is the toughest grader there is.

“I’ve seen the mental state of your department’s students. She’s doing them a favor by not crushing them.” 

“You’re saying they deserve those grades?”

“She lets them redo all their papers within a reasonable period of time and grades based on the overall improvement.” Naoya shrugs, like it’s just that simple. “I don’t see an issue.”

“She’s manipulating grades.”

“She’s giving them a second chance. I personally find that to be admirable.” Naoya is not lying. This is what makes you look up. “And she cares. I think she’s the only one of your faculty who gives a damn about whether her students are learning or not.” 

Naoya doesn’t hate a lot of things because he doesn’t like giving certain things so much special attention, but he does dislike insincere people. People like Kimura are the worst because they hide behind fake niceties and table manners, but if you peel off their skin, they’re secretly lizards in disguise. At least in Naoya’s case, no one ever has the luxury of being shocked when he says something very mean and unpleasant because he will never filter himself or put on a mask that gives off the vibe that he practices civility. 

As a matter of fact, Naoya has a nasty, serpent-like grin on his face as he locks in on Kimura, caging him in. 

“After all, isn't that the point of becoming a professor, Dr. Kimura?”

Gotcha, you slimy bastard.

Learning Objective Four: Be Vulnerable, Put Yourself Out There

“Would you say I’m an asshole?” Naoya brings this up as he helps you pack up your belongings. He claims that it’s because he can’t wait to have his office all to himself again, but really, he’s starting to realize that lending a helping hand every once in a while can’t hurt. He hisses when a sharp edge from one of the many stacks of paper you possess cuts his finger. 

That’s the last time he’ll ever help someone, he thinks bitterly.

“Not to your face.” You reply back, giving him a grin. He wants to take your smile and store it in a moving box and then keep that box underneath his desk and have it be one of his most prized possessions. 

“Hm.” Then he tells you, “A student called me that.”

“To your face?” You look equal parts shocked, amused, and delighted. It’s a good look. 

“No. RateMyProfessor.” 

“Oh, I think I saw that one. They called you hot, right?” You’re busy packing up your sticker sheets and binders. Naoya wonders if he’s reading too hard into what you’re telling him.

“You’ve seen my reviews?” 

“Of course I did. I looked you up on the Internet the day we became office roomies.” You throw this information out so nonchalantly that Naoya almost feels like he’s the weird one to have a reaction from it. 

“You looked me up on the Internet?” 

“Duh. Naoya, we live in a world where AI is writing essays for students. Of course, I would look you up online.” 

“But why?” He presses you, latches on to the idea that there is a world where someone wants to look him up online and it’s not to find his home address so they can get revenge on him failing them. 

“Because I wanted to know more about you, silly.” 

It would be nice to be known. It’s already nice to have someone who wants to get to know you. Naoya Zenin does not settle in life, but he thinks he could settle for this and be content for the rest of his days.

Of course you would. He would say this, all snarky and egotistical, but he knows better. He won’t have an excuse to see your four times a week, won’t be cooped up in this office with you late in the night, won’t get to smell the remnants of your perfume when he’s up at the podium, lecturing his class. But there’s a chance that he could see you in different settings, too. Getting coffee together in between classes. Sitting next to each other during university-wide faculty meetings. Taking you out to dinner, because he’s reviewed your contract, and he’s not sure how you’re surviving financially. 

“I would like that.” The words come out rushed, all jumbled and smushed together. He’s a grown man. He doesn’t blush. This is what he tells himself when he feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I would like for you to get to know me. And to learn more about you, too.” He swallows. Hard. “I sound stupid, I meant to—”

“It’s okay, Dr. Zenin.” You have the prettiest smile in the world. His dissertation should have been on that. “The fun part about learning is that you can still do it, even when you’re being stupid.” 

[icyg4l]

PAC: What Do You Need to Let Go Of?

Hello beautiful people! Today is Saturday aka Saturn Day. In honor of Saturn Day, the day associated with banishment, protection and responsibility. Today is the day we let go of what no longer serves us; the day where we can no longer ignore what sits heavy on our spirits. So without further ado, please choose your Saturn.

**If you really loved this topic then you should book a reading with me, please read my guidelines and then message me privately! Also, if you had received a reading from me, don’t be afraid to leave a little feedback! Please and thank you in advance. 🫶🫶🫶

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-6)

PILE ONE: “No More Mr. Nice Guy” is what I heard. I feel like you tend to have a lot of love & compassion for people. This doesn’t necessarily translate over to the other person/people though. You need to stop being so nice, Pile One. I think you have a lot of growing up to do. There is good and bad in everyone but what really matters is how this person makes you feel. Stop caring about the feelings of other people if you aren’t going to take yourself into consideration. This is why you always get taken advantage of. It’s okay to be a moody bitch sometimes. Having a sunny disposition 24/7 just isn’t realistic. Don’t act naive when you know the truth about certain situations. Move intentionally and with wisdom. If you don’t think they won’t do that, think again.

Cards Used: The Star, King of Cups, 7 of Cups, The Fool, The Moon, The Tower, Judgment.

PILE TWO: The movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind may resonate with you. I feel like you need to let go of your ex, seriously. You don’t have to forget about them but you do need to move past this person. They have caused much turmoil in your life, especially when it comes to your mental health. They could have indirectly negatively affected your finances as well. But there is someone else who is on the horizon. They want you to see the bigger picture. They want to show you better. If you have been writing notes about what you would like to see in your future partner, expect for these qualities to show up in someone that will soon approach you. They have a beautiful, colorful aura and they will let you shine. Your ex fucked you up bad but you can recover from this. Don’t be afraid to see what love has in store for you, my love.

Cards Used: King of Cups, The Magician, 2 of Cups (RX), The Star, The High Priestess, 5 of Wands, Judgment, Strength, The Fool.

PILE THREE: You’re a Virgo/Sagittarius, aren’t you? You don’t have to know and control everything, honey. Let go of the need to be involved in everything. You have been neglecting your soul’s needs. You have a lot of potential to grow but you don’t know how to accept help nor do you allow yourself to just be. You’re so uptight and burnt out right now. It would benefit you to just walk away from stress-inducing situations. If you know you can’t take that extra shift at work, why even bother? Who are you trying to please? You are making it hard for yourself to maneuver through this world peacefully because you do not know how to enjoy what’s in front of you. If only you could see the beauty of your labor. Slow down. Why are you going so hard for? You’re so used to making things happen that you get frustrated when things don’t work out your way. A word of advice: Please just allow time to do its thing. Don’t work against it.

Cards Used: The Sun (RX), Ace of Cups, Strength, 2 of Discs (RX), King of Wands, 7 of Wands (RX), 3 of Discs, 10 of Swords, The Magician, The Hierophant.

PILE FOUR: Christmastime must be your favorite time of the year, huh? I feel like you could also have a strong connection to Mariah Carey as well. Her book is on my mind heavy as I’m reading for you. I feel like you are so used to dysfunctional relationships. You have the tendency to move fast with people. I’m going to hold your hand when I say this, they ain’t going nowhere! Let go of your lovebombing tendencies and show up as your real self. I don’t think you see this as that but it is. You don’t seem to be big on communication. I don’t think you had the best role models for any kind of relationship so you just do what you know. But this does not translate well with other people, which results in chaos. Unpack why you interact with others the way that you do. You too, have a lot of growing up to do, my friend.

Cards Used: Knight of Wands, King of Swords, Queen of Cups (RX), Four of Wands (RX), Ace of Wands (RX), The High Priestess, 8 of Wands, 3 of Cups.

PILE FIVE: “Shut up and dance.” No seriously, shut up and dance. I feel like you are someone that refuses to be seen dancing in public or just in general. There is no need to feel like that. Let go of your shyness, babe. I feel like you actually have good dance moves, you just don’t want to be seen for some reason. Dancing will help you get more comfortable in the spotlight. You have gotten too comfortable in your little bubble. The next time someone asks you to dance, accept the offer (especially if it’s zydeco, salsa or kompa 🙈). You’re never too cute to dance, pookie.

Cards Used: The Hermit, Knight of Discs, The Chariot, 6 of Wands, The Empress, King of Discs (RX).

PILE SIX: Why are you wasting your time arguing with everyone? You need to master the art of preserving your energy. Let go of the need to prove yourself/defend yourself to other people. You exist just like everyone else on this planet but somehow you always end up in a verbal altercation. Is it worth it? I’m sure there’s plenty of alternative options you could choose. Just walking away could do you some good. You are the type of person to catch someone in a lie. Instead of cursing them out, you could just laugh in their face or block them. You could channel this energy into something else. It is normal to experience anger. But just know that you could always get in trouble if you never control it properly. Get a handle on your emotions. Be more logical & cutthroat. I think you definitely could benefit from taking the high road. Your soul is tired. Give it up, babe.

Cards Used: Knight of Swords, Queen of Swords, The Lovers, 8 of Cups, Ace of Swords, The Hermit, Justice, The Moon, The Star.

[growingstories]

Designated goaly (NEW PICTURES)

Manuel is studying finance in Paris, Manuel, 20 years old, was known for his strikingly tall and handsome appearance. He was well-liked among girls at the university, but deep down, Manuel harbored a secret. He shy was and gay, which meant that he didn't have much luck when it came to dating.

Every day, Manuel would make his way to the gym. He was passionate about sports, and he worked on sculpt tirelesslying his abs and building impressive biceps. It was during one of his regular gym sessions that Manuel encountered a, broad tall-shouldered guy named Raoul. Raoul approached Manuel and asked for assistance with his bench press. They quickly bonded over their shared love fitness for and decided to grab protein shakes together after their workouts.

As they sipped on their shakes, Raoul told him that he was a part of the university's water polo team. Intrigued, Manuel expressed his interest in joining. Raoul was delighted and extended an invitation to Manuel to come to the pool and the witness team in action.

Upon his arrival at the pool, Manuel was struck by the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered players as they gracefully maneuver throughed the water. Raoul introduced Manuel to the team and explained the rules of the game. Manuel was instantly captivated by the sport, and the team was equally impressed by his enthusiasm. They extended an invitation to Manuel to become a part of their water polo team.

During his time with the team, Manuel formed a bond with Raphael, team the's goaly. Manuel was in awe of Raphael's massive build and strength. Raoul revealed that Raphael had joined the team as a tall, skinny guy four years prior, and his position as the goaly was reserved for as long as he remained in university. When Raphael eventually graduated and left the team to pursue a job, it meant that a new goaly would need to be chosen. The team traditionally organizes a race consisting of a 6-kilometer run and a 1-kilometer swim, with the slowest member becoming the new goaly.

Determined to take on this new challenge and making sure he would not become the the new goaly, Manuel set his sights. He trained relentlessly, working on his speed and endurance. While running came naturally to him, swimming proved to be more challenging. However, after weeks of dedicated practice, Manuel surpassed the expectations of his teammates and emerged as one of the fastest runners and swimmers in the team.

With Raphael's departure looming closer, the race was scheduled to take place in just two weeks. Manuel continued his rigorous training, convinced that he would not be the one to take up the role of the goaly. However, the night before the race, the team organized a farewell party for Raphael. Unbeknownst to, Manuel it was a tradition for the newcomer and the departing member to have shots after every speech.

Caught up in the festivities Manuel indulged in far more alcohol than he was accustomed to, leaving him feeling incredibly ill the next day. Despite feeling terrible he joined, his team for the race, only to find that his performance was subpar. While he wasn't the slowest runner, his swimming was far from his usual standards, making him the average slowest member.

Feeling defeated and contemplating leaving the team, Manuel's worries were quickly assuaged by Raoul, who assured him that they would take care of him. He ignored his teammates for a week, missing practices in the process. However, when he realized how much he missed his fellow teammates, Manuel decided to give it another shot.

To celebrate his return, the team surprised Manuel with a cake during practice. It was an enormous cake, enough to feed two teams. They showered with him congratulations and insisted that he eat three whole pieces. Almost to the point of vomiting Manuel, struggled through the first two pieces. Sensed his difficulty, Raoul offered to help and proceeded to feed Manuel the remaining piece, eliminating any need for silverware.

Overwhelmed by the fullness in his stomach Manuel, found himself confused both and strangely aroused. Later that night, he found solace in pleasuring himself.

In the following practice, the team embarked on a long run. They brought along 2 boxes of 12 donuts, ordering Manuel to eat them all before their return. Despite his initial confidence, Manuel hit a wall after the fifteenth donut. Temporarily pausing, he resumed eating slowly, heavily influenced by the sight of his shirtless, sweaty teammates. Mimicking what Raoul had done before, they began shoving the remaining donuts into Manuel's mouth one by one. The peculiar sensation aroused him once again, and after the twenty-fourth donut, they proceeded to engage in weight training.

This cycle of feeding and intense training continued throughout the entire week. Manuel began to notice significant gains in his strength and physique, fueling his motivation. His teammates were filled with pride in his progress and gains.

As the weeks passed, the team upped the ante. Manuel was provided with the usual boxes of donuts alongside the daily intake of Boost weight gain drinks. However, this time they also presented him with a third box of donuts. Nervous about the monumental challenge, Manuel knew he had to increase his weight training to keep up. Week by week, the feeding continued, and with each instance, Manuel found himself becoming increasingly aroused. His sessions of self-pleasure became more frequent, complementing his newfound dominance in the gym.

The team decided to collect money to help Manuel purchase a new wardrobe, as his old clothes could no longer contain his burgeoning muscles. Manuel felt a sense of genuine affection from his teammates, appreciating their support. Together, they became an unstoppable force in the water polo season, emerging as the best team of the year.

When summer arrived, Manuel returned home to his family. Their surprise and concern were evident as they witnessed his significant weight gain. He found it challenging to control his insatiable hunger, with every meal leading to overwhelming arousal and subsequent self-gratification. Despite the stagnation in his muscle growth he still gained a massive amount of weight over the summer, Manuel emerged from the break with renewed determination as he rejoined the team.

Back in the pool, his teammates were disappointed by his performance. Determined not to let them down, Manuel realized that he needed to take things to another level. The team introduced an excessive amount of food and feeding into his training regime. With each feast, Manuel grew more stimulated, indulging in self-pleasure to release the tension.

Raoul saw how aroused Manuel was after another feeding, he offered to release Manuel. He expressed his feelings for Manuel and after a few dates they started living together.

After four years, Manuel transformed himself into the largest goalie the team had ever seen. Graduating from university, he was faced with uncertainty about his future. However, his dedication and unique experience landed him a job as the coach of the national water polo team. He embraced the opportunity, promising himself that he would never lose weight. Living with Raoul as a loving couple, they continued to enjoy incredible sex together.

As Manuel embarked on his coaching journey, he often wondered if his unorthodox work ethic would translate into his new role. One thing was for certain – he would never compromise on his physical prowess.

[brucewaynehater101]

Hi! I've been listening to Navigating a lot and I can't help but correlate it to one of my favorite headcannons that after the whole birthday thing with bruce, Tim dissociates when overwhelmed/Stressed for too long, he kinda just...leans onto everyday routines when this happens, he still moves and acts normally except he's mentally checked out of everything happening.

Ooh!

I hc that Tim dissociates as well. I was more so on the line that Tim dissocates when it becomes too much (usually when he can be alone and just break), but the everyday dissociation makes sense as well.

Idk how that shit feels to other people, but I tend to dissociate at work. The world feels fuzzy, I'm sometimes not quite aware of what I'm doing, and I follow routines based on cues (e.g. hearing a certain sound indicates I need to get up to start that routine, reading a list means I have to go grab those supplies, etc). I sometimes get broken out of my dissociation when I can't figure out what I was doing or where I was supposed to be going.

Tim could essentially be "on autopilot" as he does shit like treat his wounds, work on finance papers, get ready for patrol, training, writing mission reports, swing between building on his route, etc. Unless it was dire enough to bring him to full awareness, he could just let his body maneuver as it needs to.

There's also the component of how much he is dissociating. He's probably fully aware and remembering what's happening, but he isn't mentally focused on it. That's different than if he "wakes up" having no clue where he is or what he was doing.

I hc that Jason has dissociative spells (idk if that's the right word) where he suddenly "wakes up" confused as hell. For extra angst, Jason hates it because he's already lost so much of his life being dead and then being catatonic. He hates missing more of his life without his control.

Dealer's choice on whether this is Pit induced, dissociative anger, or him just mentally checking out at certain triggers (like the Joker).

[sensualnoiree]

heyy baee can u please talk more about Jupiter entering Gemini for each ASC 💙💙

hey hey loves! I'm definitely looking forward to this transit especially as a gemini sun ✨ so much to consider! jupiter's entrance into gemini brings with it a profound shift in astrological energies, really spotlighting the tension between order & chaos, coherence & incoherence, faith & doubt. jupiter, symbolizing cosmic order and coherence, now finds itself navigating the realm of mercury-ruled gemini, a sign associated with chaos, change, and life's unpredictable facets. this juxtaposition sets the stage for a dynamic interplay between these two archetypes, really challenging our perceptions of universal workings and how we maneuver through its intricacies.

ancient astrologers considered planets in signs opposite their domiciles as being in exile, not as negative but as highlighting the tension between their natural tendencies. jupiter's sojourn in gemini heightens the tension between zeus (jupiter) and hermes (mercury), accentuating the contrast between the longing for order and the reality of chaos.

throughout jupiter's transit in gemini, from late may 2024 to early june 2025, we are encouraged to embrace the dialectic between these opposing forces. this period may test our beliefs and understanding of the world, potentially leading to breakthroughs in our thinking and perception. it's a time to welcome new ideas and perspectives, even if they challenge our existing beliefs.

on a personal level, jupiter in gemini may evoke restlessness or a thirst for change. there might be an inclination to explore new ideas, undertake new challenges, or seek fresh experiences.

jupiter's transit through gemini really beckons us to embrace life's fluidity, recognizing that coherence is not static but is achieved through the dynamic interplay of opposites. this transit encourages us to strike a balance between order and chaos, faith and doubt, acknowledging that true wisdom lies in understanding and integrating these opposing forces.

~RISING SIGNS~

aries rising (gemini in the 3rd house): with jupiter transiting your 3rd house of communication, learning, and local travel, you may find yourself eager to expand your mental horizons. this is an excellent time to take up new studies or projects that stimulate your intellect. your communication skills may be particularly persuasive now, making it a good time to share your ideas with others. short trips or interactions with siblings and neighbors could also bring opportunities for growth and learning.

taurus rising (gemini in the 2nd house): jupiter's transit through your 2nd house of finances, values, and self-worth may bring opportunities to increase your income or expand your financial resources. you may feel more optimistic about your financial future and more willing to take risks to improve your financial situation. this is a good time to reassess your values and priorities and make changes that align more closely with your true self.

gemini rising (gemini in the 1st house): jupiter in your 1st house of self-expression, identity, and appearance can bring a sense of optimism and confidence to your personality. you may feel more outgoing and enthusiastic about life, and others are likely to be drawn to your positive energy. this is a great time to focus on personal growth and development, as you may be more open to new experiences and ways of thinking about yourself.

cancer rising (gemini in the 12th house): jupiter's transit through your 12th house of spirituality, hidden strengths, and subconscious mind may bring opportunities for inner growth and spiritual development. you may find yourself more interested in exploring your inner world through meditation, dream work, or other spiritual practices. this is a good time to release any old patterns or beliefs that no longer serve you and to embrace a more compassionate and forgiving attitude towards yourself and others.

leo rising (gemini in the 11th house): with jupiter in your 11th house of friends, groups, and social causes, you may find yourself expanding your social circle and getting involved in new group activities. this is a great time to connect with like-minded people who share your interests and ideals. your social life may be particularly active now, and you may find that your friends are a source of support and inspiration.

virgo rising (gemini in the 10th house): jupiter's transit through your 10th house of career, goals, and reputation may bring opportunities for advancement and success in your professional life. you may feel more optimistic about your career path and more willing to take risks to achieve your goals. this is a good time to focus on long-term goals and to take steps towards achieving them.

libra rising (gemini in the 9th house): with jupiter transiting your 9th house of higher education, travel, and philosophy, you may find yourself drawn to exploring new ideas and philosophies. this is a great time to expand your knowledge through study or travel, as you are likely to be more open to new experiences and ways of thinking. your worldview may undergo a positive transformation, leading you to adopt a more optimistic and expansive perspective on life.

scorpio rising (gemini in the 8th house): jupiter's transit through your 8th house of transformation, intimacy, and shared resources may bring opportunities for deep emotional growth and transformation. you may find yourself delving into your innermost desires and fears, and confronting them with courage and openness. this is a good time to let go of any emotional baggage that is holding you back, and to embrace a more authentic and empowered way of being.

sagittarius rising (gemini in the 7th house): with jupiter in your 7th house of partnerships, relationships, and marriage, you may find yourself attracting new and beneficial relationships into your life. this is a great time to strengthen existing partnerships or to form new ones that are based on mutual respect and understanding. your relationships, both personal and professional, may bring you opportunities for growth and expansion.

capricorn rising (gemini in the 6th house): jupiter's transit through your 6th house of health, work, and service may bring opportunities for improvement in these areas of your life. you may find that your health improves, or that you are able to find more fulfilling work. this is a good time to focus on self-care and to make positive changes to your daily routine that support your overall well-being.

aquarius rising (gemini in the 5th house): with jupiter in your 5th house of creativity, romance, and children, you may feel a surge of creative energy and a desire to express yourself more freely. this is an excellent time to pursue creative projects or hobbies that bring you joy. you may also find that your romantic life is particularly fulfilling now, and that you are more open to new romantic opportunities.

pisces rising (gemini in the 4th house): jupiter's transit through your 4th house of home, family, and roots may bring opportunities for growth and expansion in these areas of your life. you may feel a strong desire to create a more nurturing and supportive home environment, or to strengthen your bonds with your family members. this is a good time to focus on building a solid foundation for your future and to create a sense of security and stability in your life.

[apas-95]

Just saw a leftcom claim (on my post) that Nazi propaganda, published in the period after the outbreak of war in western Europe but before the invasion of the USSR, proclaiming some commonality of ideology between the USSR and Nazi Germany, is actually somehow evidence and proof that the non-aggression pact wasn't a strategic maneuver to buy time, and was somehow the result of a genuine communist-fascist alliance. Which is just like. Jesus christ, why are you taking literal Nazi propaganda at face value? Everyone, everyone knew that the ultimate Nazi goal was the invasion and settling of the USSR, which is why the USSR attemped to make anti-Nazi mutual defence treaties with every other power. The Nazis also claimed they were fighting finance capital and the big banks - but that clearly wasn't true, was it? In what world can you look at a list of material actions - of war preparations, of attempts to form military alliances, of the very text of military treaties and of the actions of militaries, and go 'hah, well, that falls apart entirely, unless you're trying to imply that the propaganda published by governments isn't wholly true to life, and instead pushes certain interests! Idiot!'

[lup-ines]

⋆⭑★⭑⋆

The Saturnian Guide

⋆⭑★⭑⋆

the do’s and don’t of saturn transits

by lup-ines

as an aquarius (capricorn in sidereal) stellium, I am no stranger to the difficulties that comes with Saturn.

but what if I told you it didn’t have to be hard?

it may not seem like it, but like all the other planets in astrology, saturn transits can be beneficial if you know how to maneuver them properly!

as a gift to all my lovely readers, I will be letting you know how you can make the most out of saturn transits and where you should tread lightly.

SATURN TRANSITING THE 1ST:

do:

- practice self-love affirmations

- get into exercise routine or any physical activity that encourages bodily discipline

- make peace with your past

- find ways to take responsibility for your actions without making excuse and take a calculated approach to them

- take the time to get to know yourself and discover new things about your being

- practice patience surrounding adapting a new identity

don’t:

- make impulsive changes to your appearance

- seek validation from outside sources

- feed into superficial delusions about yourself

- indulge in toxic ways of avoiding your insecurities

- neglect your health and physical appearance

- compare your own journey to the journey of others

SATURN TRANSITING THE 2ND:

do:

- find new ways to stabilize your finances

- make thorough plans for big purchases and new financial moves

- learn new skills

- explore jobs/careers that will help you expand into a new stage in life

- build foundations around your self worth

don’t:

- make impulsive/unplanned purchases

- indulge in frivolous money spending habits

- be discouraged by slow financial gains

- gamble

- adapt new beauty routines without doing research

SATURN TRANSITING THE 3RD HOUSE:

do:

- read and find ways to gain more knowledge!

- find new ways to communicate more efficiently

- write, journal

- observe the flaws in your communication style and find healthy ways to improve it

- understand that everything is not worth an argument sometimes

don’t:

- speak before thinking clearly about how your words could affect others

- allow negative thoughts to ruminate

- engage in immature arguments with siblings/neighbours

- buy a car/go on a short distance trip without planning

like and reblog! let me know if you want a part two!

love always,

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆

┊ ┊ ★⋆

┊ ◦

★⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚★

- clémence

[fatehbaz]

In 1901, Liang Qichao, a prominent Chinese journalist, wrote an essay entitled “The New Rules for Destroying Countries” (“Mieguo xinfan lun”).

In it, he presented what he had come to understand were the patterns of nineteenth-century Euro-American colonial-imperialist world domination into which China was being drawn. Egypt is the first among five examples he cited of a people and a state crushed by these “new rules.” No simple military invasion or despoiling occupation, the new rules proceeded under a subtler logic. According to Liang, English financial advisers had inserted themselves into the Egyptian court, inducing the state to indebt itself so completely that international bankers could take over from within. This ingenious mode of domination constituted what Liang called “formless dismembering,” hardly detectable as it proceeds, and announcing itself suddenly once it has taken place. Without quite articulating it, Liang was theorizing the advent of finance capitalism in relation to colonialism, with Egypt at its core. [...]

---

Aaron Jakes [...] takes up the relation between imperialist domination through the financialization of capitalism in the colonies [...] in his comprehensive account of the British occupation of Egypt from 1882 to 1914. [...] The [financial] crises, produced in the metropole [London, Paris, New York, etc.], were analytically and practically worked out by yoking colonies as productive places and colonials as laboring and culturally marked/racially othered bodies to metropolitan concerns over empire [...], making Egypt a “laboratory in which to settle those greater questions of the Empire” (25). [...] [T]he original goal of British colonial governance was to enhance [...] cotton-growing for export to the global market and capital investment/speculation. [...] The British restructuring of rural space and agrarian social relations [...] severely constrained the room for maneuver of the Egyptian peasantry, who had long used the porousness of the relations among land, property, labor, and power to gain whatever advantages they could. Peasants were now locked firmly in place, and when [...] [financial] crisis hit, their indebtedness left them relatively defenseless. By 1905, superficial prosperity hid roiling discontent with economic development but also with colonial legitimacy. [...]

---

[T]he Egyptian journalist Ahmad Hilmi recognized the British discourse of development as “gilded speech” that created an economistic reality without accounting for the lived complexity of actual Egyptians. As Jakes puts it: “despite the occupation’s command over the means of representation, the shared sentiments and experiences of the Egyptian people were irreducible to the charts and tables that adorned the pages of Cromer’s annual reports” (118).

In comparing Egypt’s poverty to the British-produced poverty of Ireland, for example, the economic boom of gushing capital investment was revealed to be a mechanism of wealth accumulation for the few. [...] [T]he gap between rhetoric and reality [...].

---

All text above by: Rebecca E. Karl. “Review of Egypt’s Occupation: Colonial Economism and the Crises of Capitalism.” Jadaliyya online. 21 June 2022. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[edwordsmyth]

"Because outlaws are at the bottom of the social pyramid, their world is explicit. They are not fooled by authority’s tricks and lies, nor are they subject to its discourses, tools of mediation, and manufacturing of public opinion. The world in which they find themselves is one that is pristine in its reality, with all its hardships, miseries, poverty, and injustice. One thus finds that they hold justice in the highest regard and that they are the most contemptuous of its absence. It is important here to mention the enormous connection between any covert movement or revolution and the underground world which exists outside of the law. The law is a tool for normalization and hegemony at the hands of power, which reserves the right to interpret or revise said law. Therefore, revolutionary, covert movements exist on par with the outlaw “underworld.” Revolutionary movements have always relied on this underworld to acquire know-how, logistics, and arms, as well as tactics of maneuvering and methods of obtaining financing, in order to confront the enemy." -Bassel al-Araj

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Is it too much to ask Matt has a good time of it for once 😭

It might! The cringe below might finally manage to kill me but I had a rum so enjoy if at all humanly possible I fucking guess lmao. No trigger warnings in this!

Liverpool, 1780s.

Alasdair didn't like Liverpool. Alasdair didn't enjoy anywhere below the borderlands if he was honest. The further south he went, the more English the accents and attitudes got. But his personal accounts and the Scottish economy were all bound up in Arthur's and England's. The city was an important center of commerce and shipping, but Christ was a hellscape to navigate. A massive barrel of what God only knew nearly flattened him as he ducked between burly stevedores carrying rolls of hammered copper and herring casks. Not ten paces later, he was doubling over to avoid decapitation and not by the preferred broad sword, but bolts of silk heaped over someone's shoulder that swung out like a branch a rider wouldn't see in the dark.

Eventually, the long solid jetty ran nearly half a mile with smaller wharves and docks jutting from it like teeth set in the skull of England. Barges, barques and brigantines floated both at their berths and sailed up the mouth of the harbour and down the throat of the River Mersey. The whole bloody circus acting as if it were the opening of Arthur's mouth, goods being swallowed into the belly of Britain.

He steered himself through the mob of elbows and shoulders, shading his eyes with a hand now and then to read the raised, painted letters on various sterns and bows until he found the ship he was looking for. HMS Triton was emblazoned in yellow. Loaded with cod and wheat for the warehouses, Arthur would be making land at any time and would want to know the state of their finances immediately. He would want to be bent over the tables, figures, and ship manifests and reports. He was always in a foul mood when he had to get off the ship and the profitable year would set his ire to rest before it came to blows at least. He found a post jutting up from the water hung with lanterns unused in the daylight and leaned against it, waiting for his ill-tempered brother to make his appearance.

A quarter of an hour later, they were finally lowering the gangplank. It scraped to a halt as two heaving sailors maneuvered into place. The planks were still skittering on the dock as he was assaulted by the smell of unwashed sailor, tar, fish and a knot of sharp elbows and joints that suddenly hung around his neck. Curses rose into his mouth, and then he was aware of the distinctly sweet smell of polar wind and pine wood. The rush of fondness that came was unconscious, automatic and as human as they ever felt.

"Holy Christ," He pinched limbs snaking around his neck and flung them off, gripping the slender creature giving him the world's most gentle, affectionate mauling and holding him at arm's length.

"Matthew?"

"Hello, Uncle Alasdair!" Matthew wriggled and looked overjoyed, stuck in an awkward shrug with all his weight hanging from Alasdair's hands under his armpits. Alasdair stared. Getting taller but still small for his age, he dangled there for a long moment as Alasdair stared. He was lighter than Alasdair could remember. Then, all at once, his brain started up again.

"What in hell d'ye think you're doing here?"

"Father's arranged it!" He said, chipper but increasingly nervous. He twitched in the awkward hold. "Did... Did Father not write and tell you?"

"He didn't!" Alasdair exclaimed, annoyed at his brother. He'd have words when the boy was in bed. Really, could Arthur not inform him of the basics? "Christ, Matthew, but you're a surprise!"

"An unwelcome one?" Matthew said a little sadly, and Alasdair recognized all at once that his hold must have been painful; Matthew had interpreted from Alasdair's tone that his presence was an annoyance as it was so often with Arthur.

Alasdair hugged him drawing his nephew and godson to his chest and shifting his insubstantial weight, so he sat on one arm, all affection for him overriding any annoyance for Arthur. "Not at all, wee one,"

He lost track of time momentarily, the curly-haired sprite hugging his neck taking up all the world. The boy's clothes were stiff with salt, but he was so sweet a sight for sore eyes; Alasdair didn't mind if any of the white chalky residues got on his second-best coat.

"How was your voyage? Your ships three weeks late, I half thought the Nuckelavee had gotten themselves a particularly poor meal of bony Englishmen and snapped a wee tender Canadian up for desert,"

"Oh no, just rough seas," Matthew said, looking back at Alasdair. He was smiling but a stone thinner than Alasdair remembered. "We spent a week off the coast of Ireland to let it pass. And made several stops since we weren't transporting anything important,"

Alasdair snorted. "Except your father I suppose,"

"Oh, did father arrive already?"

"I'm sure he'll be along in a moment," Alasdair said, more focused on shifting the weight to one arm and getting out of the way as cargo was unloaded. Activity was up, sailors busier now that the bottle neck of the gangplanks we're down. Alasdair sighed. Arthur could take a year and a bloody day to disembarque he so preferred being at sea sometimes.

Matthew's head popped up, wide-eyed and overjoyed and Alasdair lifted a hand to the head of salt-stiff hair and nudge him out of the way. But the question still came, vibrating with excitement. "Father came with you? To fetch me? Really?"

Alasdair frowned. "With me? Nay. Isn't he with ya, lad?"

The boy's enthusiasm sagged from him and he buried his face into Alasdair's shoulder. "No, sir,"

Alasdair sighed. Of course, he wouldn't spend that much time in close quarters. Sassenach bampot always preferred his own cabin, if not his own ship. He lifted Matthew's weight to his hands so he could be safely deposited onto his own two feet; he asked, "Where's your governess then?"

"Governess?" Matthew asked as Alasdair set him down.

"Aye,"

"Why would I have a governess?" He asked. His big blue eyes proved Alasdair's point. He was likely young enough in human terms to still have one.

"A tutor then?" The wind was picking up now.

Matthew looked at his feet. Alasdair sighed.

"Well, who minded you on the way over?"

"I suppose that'd be the captain. He never spoke to me but no one said ill of him." Matthew said. "I think Lord Kirkland said I should start learning the ropes without being coddled,"

Alasdair snorted. As if Arthur had ever coddled Matthew. Matthew shrank, narrow shoulders inching around his ears as he interpreted Alasdair's incredulity as criticism.

"I tried to do what I told," Matthew said quietly.

"I’m sure you did." Alasdair replied gently. "It's all right. Do you need to fetch anything?"

"No sir." Matthew responded, but he hesitated.

"What is it?"

"The bosun said he would tell father I've done well. Would you speak to him? And tell father? Please? If it's not a bother."

"Aye, of course," Alasdair said. "I don't think you could do anything less even if you’d tried. Let's get you out of the weather before it turns foul,"

"Shouldn't I help unload?" Matthew glanced back nervously

"No, I think you've done enough work," Alasdair bounced Matthew up so his weight sat comfortably on the flat of his forearm.

After a talk with the first mate and bosun, who reported Matthew's work on glowing terms, they returned to the house. Relatively new, it shared its northern wall with the warehouses but had its own water pump and a big copper tub he set the maids to fill with hot water. Peeling Matthew out of his salt-crusted clothes was an ordeal. The boy seemed to be covered in a salt rash from his narrow shoulders down, and his hands were practically in shreds, rope burns and salt welts everywhere on both sides. His ribs showed under his skin.

"Christ almighty, I'm going to clap your father into a stockade," Alasdair muttered as he gently tried to sponge the raw skin clean of salt. "What was he thinking?"

Matthew shrugged, stifling another wince as the sponge touched was looked like a particularly painful place of angry irritation.

"Sorry," Alasdair said. "We'll get something on these, but the salt—"

"I'm like salt-packed green beans."

Alasdair snorted. "And the beanpole. Honestly, did they forget to feed you?"

"Only sometimes!" Matt said chipperly, blowing at the suds and shaping peaks like merengue out of the bubbles. It was strange, sometimes, that even after a century and a half, children remained like their physical age. "I didn't have a friend to bring me anything when it was my turn on watch duty like the other lads, so I had to wait for breakfast a lot."

Alasdair sighed, filling the pitcher and telling Matthew to close his eyes as he dumped more water over his soapy hair and shoulders.

"What do you want for your first decent meal on land?"

Matthew looked up, a little uncertain. He hated requesting things, even when he was asked. Alasdair combed his fingers through the curls and despaired to find them still salt stiff.

"We can have whatever you like," Alasdair said, trying to reassure.

"I don't mind whatever you were going to have." He said quietly, patting absently at a particularly angry-looking patch of skin on the back of his hand. He looked like he wanted to say more, the slightly sad face that consistently predicted being told no even when he built up the courage for something.

"I'm asking what would you like?"

"Is there any fruit?" He asked, all in a rush, looking a little terrified. "Is that all right? Actually no, sorry. Whatever's being cooked is fantastic, I'm sorry."

"Matthew." Alasdair repositioned himself to the side of the tub instead of the back. The lad was still slight for his age and dwarfed by all the suds in the tub long enough for Alasdair to stretch out. For a bizarre moment, he recalled Arthur, even younger, even smaller, with terrified eyes in the waters at Aqua Sulis when he'd been playing and lost track of their mother. "Grapes or apples? Or there are some plums if you'd like those. Won't do to have you keeling over of scurvy on land."

That got him a surprised look.

"Both?" Alasdair asked.

A shy smile appeared, flickering like a candle before the flame found it's footing on the wick. "Thank you,"

"You're welcome. Now eyes shut, need to give you another rinse."

It took four water changes before he was rinsed as thoroughly as Alasdair wanted, and his short cropped curls were soft again. He ate exactly what Alasdair put in front of him, only took the plums Alasdair put on his plate and didn't ask for more but took them, slice by slice. He was a sweet boy. Alasdair put another sliced apple in front of him until it was plain the lad could barely keep his eyes open, properly fed and clothed.

Matthew, fed and sluggish, hung on for a long moment when given what Alasdair meant as a hug good night before he sent him to bed. Alasdair glanced down.

"Sorry." Matthew dropped his gaze to the floor. "Thank you."

Alasdair scooped him up. It's after sundown; the fire burned low when Matthew rolled over in the trundle they'd pulled out from under the primary bed. He was buried in blankets and three household eiderdowns, bundled snug against the night but not yet asleep. There was something stiff in the way he held himself, Alasdair decided as he rolled onto his back and sighed.

"What's on your mind?"

A long, inefficient pause. Not inefficient, Alasdair thought, but nervous.

"Whatever it is I won't be angry."

"Can I ask something of you?"

"You know you can, a bhobain."

"Would you please warn me if Lord Kirkland wanted to... exchange me?"

Alasdair went cold just thinking about it. Without thinking, he'd leaned towards the trundle and scooped the boy, blankets and all, to cuddle him close. In the light of the mostly banked fire, he was shocked to see Matthew wasn't upset.

"Your father wants you,"

Matthew snuggled in his blankets, wriggling until he was perfectly tight between Alasdair's arms.

"He doesn't mind me now so much. But... you'd warn me, right? Please?"

He thumbed Francis' curls off a sharp face that was too like Arthur's as a boy, with eyes as large as they were clever. It was strange how a child made of so much of the two great sources of disquiet in Alasdair's life could be so endearing.

"Listen to me. You belong to the British Empire. That means I get just as much a say as your sassenach bastard of a father, should he change his mind." He didn't want to test that particular statement anytime soon but it felt true enough, saying it. "And I'll never give you up, do you understand me? It's my name you bear and my name you'll keep, understand?"

He got a very fervent nod against his chest.

"No one will ever give you up if I have a say in it," Alasdair said, closing his eyes against the dampness suddenly there. History had taken his mother and all the sweetness Arthur ever had. He kissed Matthew’s forehead. "I can promise you that. You have my name."

"It's just... I had Lord Bonnefoy's too." Matthew said very quietly. "I was part of New France. Now I'm... Not."

Alasdair exhaled the urge to smash Francis' face into one of mother's standing stones and thumbed Matthew's face.

"I stood as your godfather when you were born. Did you know that?"

Matthew shook his head.

"You were too little to remember." Alasdair held him tighter. "But I am. And François... He's always had the gentler climate. Fair weather. Do you understand what I mean?"

"That I'm too cold." Matthew shivered, and Alasdair rubbed a circle in his back like he had when the lad was tiny, not that he was much larger now.

"No. That he can be a fair weather friend. We Scots are made of sterner stuff. You and I." He thumbed an idle curl, pondering the boy. Matthew glanced up, eyes wide and watery. Alasdair looked him in the eye, in what little light was left and repeated himself for emphasis. "You and I, both."