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covenofagatha · 3 months ago

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The Psychology of Love (Part 6)

The Dinner

Agatha takes you out to dinner to recap the presentation (among other things)

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: none

A million thoughts are racing in your head on the walk to the car. Agatha’s hand is still pressed between your shoulder blades, warmth from her fingers seeping through your shirt.

Is this allowed? Can a professor get a casual dinner with a student like this? What if someone sees?

You’re already trying to come up with an excuse if that happens—you two ran into each other and you had some questions about the material and Professor Harkness was just so generous as to help you out—when Agatha gives a throaty chuckle. You look at her in surprise.

“I can almost see the wheels turning in your head,” she murmurs and your cheeks heat up.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. Her thumb strokes small circles at the top of your spine and it momentarily makes your brain shut off. “I just don’t want you to get into trouble or anything.”

“Because I’m getting dinner with one of my students?” Agatha asks, humoring you. You nod and she sighs, hand dropping from your back. You wouldn’t have said anything if you’d known that was going to happen. “You don’t have to worry. Faculty here are actually allowed to engage with their pupils outside of the classroom. It’s all about building connections and helping foster a good relationship between us. I promise you, there’s nothing wrong about this.”

And that almost disappoints you, because a part of you wants this to be a little forbidden. It would mean that she’s taking a risk for you—that you’re worth the risk. But at the same time, you’re not putting her in jeopardy so your guilt is assuaged.

She points you to the right once you get to the parking lot. “Plus I want to know what I missed about the delayed gratification study. In one of my other classes, there was a pop quiz and Rio was having some trouble grading a few of them so I had to hang back and help her.”

Agatha clicks her key and the lights on a car two rows over flicker on. She makes a beeline toward it and you trail after her like a lost puppy.

“What other classes do you teach?” you ask once you buckle your seatbelt. Agatha turns on the car and the engine hums to life.

A song on the radio starts playing and she turns it down before glancing over at you. “I have one section of Cognitive Psych, one of Social Psych, and a graduate class, as well as your class of Personality Psych.”

“You must be busy,” you remark and Agatha laughs.

She pulls out of the parking lot and stops at the light. When she looks back at you, the red glow is illuminating her pale skin. “That’s why I have a TA. Thank god, or else nothing would ever get graded. At least they’re pretty small classes for the most part.”

A perfect segue. “Yeah, Rio seems like she’s pretty good,” you say casually, testing the waters. It’s probably not smart to bring up that it doesn't seem that she likes you very much, but you want to see how much Agatha gives.

“She was a good student,” Agatha replies, corner of her lip quirking up. The light turns green and she makes a left toward one of the campus exits. You wonder where she’s taking you. “A better TA than some I’ve had in the past. Although, I might need a new one for the spring semester.”

You peek at her but she’s still looking forward to the road. Is that pointed toward you? “Rio won’t do it again? She seems…dedicated.” Possessive. Territorial.

Agatha snorts and makes a right turn. You recognize the street; there’s a few restaurants up in the next plaza. What does your professor like to eat?

“Dedicated is a good word,” Agatha finally says. “But I know the stress of her master’s degree and her thesis is piling up. I’d rather get someone who can give me—and my class—their full attention.”

This time, she does look over at you and deep down, you know you’d drop anything to help her.

She parks in front of a small pasta counter-service restaurant. You’ve been here a few times before and you approve of her choice. You wait for her to open her door before you open yours and you follow her up the sidewalk to the entrance.

Agatha opens the door for you, gesturing for you to go in first, and you smile before saying, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she murmurs, making your insides warm, and walks in behind you. There’s no one else in the restaurant besides you, Agatha, and one employee who is straining a pot of pasta behind the counter.

It’s a rather intimate place, now that you’re taking it in. Red and white tablecloths, a lit candle in the middle of each table, and soft classical music create a cozy atmosphere.

“One minute, please!” the cook says, glancing over his shoulder at you, and you both nod and smile at him.

“I’ve never been here before, have you?” Agatha asks while you wait.

“Just a few times. It’s been awhile, though.”

She smirks playfully. “You haven’t come here with that friend of yours?” Your mouth flops open and shut a few times while you try to figure out what to say. Agatha nudges you gently. “I’m kidding.”

You try to regain your footing. “No, just pizza. Um, we’re not—I mean, she’s more—”

“What can I get you?” The cook turns around, thankfully interjecting right before you say something clearly not thought through at all and you step forward to order. You’re in a rush to move the topic off of Morgan.

It takes you a moment to find what you want on the menu posted on the wall. “Can I get fettuccine alfredo, please?”

He punches in something on the tablet in front of him. “Any chicken, shrimp, or vegetables?” You shake your head and then he looks at Agatha.

“I’ll take the manicotti with a Greek salad.” And then she looks at you with a wink. “We’ll take two glasses of red wine, too, please.”

The man asks to see your IDs and then types in her order. Before he even tells you the total, Agatha is handing over her credit card. She waves you off when you try to protest.

“I’ll get your wine and then your food will be out shortly,” he says and you both thank him. He walks away and takes out a bottle from under the counter and pours a hefty amount into two glasses.

“Wow,” you say and Agatha laughs in agreement. “Trying to get me drunk, Professor?” It slips out before you really think twice and you feel like she might not appreciate the joke but she turns to you with a gleam in her eye.

She looks you up and down and her lips part. You lean in, anticipation spiking in your heart, but before she can make her retort, the man puts down the wine glasses in front of you, breaking into whatever moment you were having.

“Thank you,” Agatha tells him and you mutter the same, grabbing one of the glasses carefully and walking over to a table in the corner so you can talk out of his earshot. Not that it matters, but the sense of privacy makes you feel special.

Like it’s just the two of you.

You take a long sip of the wine, humming at the rich taste of berries, cinnamon, and earthiness on your tongue. Agatha does the same and when she puts her glass down, there’s a lipstick stain on the rim.

For a second, you let yourself imagine putting your lips on that spot.

“So, you liked the presentation?” she asks and you’re momentarily disappointed that she really does want to talk about it.

Your finger traces up the stem of the glass as you try to collect your thoughts while making sure you don’t just repeat what you said earlier. “Yeah, it was really informative. I can see why you said we should go to it.”

Agatha smirks and lifts her wine up, an imaginary toast to you. “I sometimes know what I’m talking about. Maybe I’ll put a question about it on the first test. I think your classmates would listen a bit more carefully after that.”

It’s unclear if she’s being real or not, but you laugh regardless. “That’s a good idea. Although I’m sure some of them would have a lot to say about that.”

Her eyes twinkle and she takes another drink. “Not my fault they don’t have the good judgement of a particular student.”

Your cheeks heat up and you duck your head, not wanting her to see you flustered.

“What did I miss about the delay of gratification study?” she prompts and you feel composed enough to look back up at her.

“He said something about the two assumptions that were made during the experiment but we can’t actually prove them. The kid has to want the candy bar, because if they don’t, then it’s not really a struggle to wait. The other is that the kid experiences tension while waiting for the researcher to come back. He said that this study may just be testing obedience.”

Agatha leans closer, putting her elbows on the table. If you breathe in deeply, you can smell her perfume and you get a flashback of texting her for the first time while your fingers were still wet from masturbating.

A heat flickers to life between your legs and you try to stay still.

“Those are good points,” she muses and you find yourself nodding along. “I guess it doesn’t really matter if the kid doesn’t want the reward.”

The air seems to tighten around you. You can’t stop your gaze from flicking down to her lips and back up to her eyes. “I…I would want it,” you rasp and a quick expression—shock? desire?— flits onto her face but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. Your heart pounds inside you, beating so loud that it drowns out the music for a moment, as you await her response.

Her tongue darts out before pushing against the inside of her cheek and she sits back in the chair before reaching up to ruffle her hair. “Would you be able to wait?” Agatha asks, barely above a whisper but you hear her perfectly.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and she watches you with bated breath, with dark eyes.

She’s talking about more than just the experiment. She has to be.

“For how long?” Your voice wavers but you hold steady. You don’t have to ask if the reward will be worth it like you did in class—if it’s her, it will be. Anything would be.

Agatha’s mouth curls into a coy grin. “Would you wait, say, a few months?”

Something unspoken passes between you.

A few months. As in, five months? When she won’t be your professor anymore? Or ten months, when you graduate and you’re out of college?

But if she wants you to be her TA and then research assistant after graduation? Does that push it back? You knew that she wouldn’t risk her job for you—you told yourself that over and over—and yet you’re still disappointed. How much time will it really take for you and her to be able to…be something?

You suppose that’s the point of the experiment. You don’t know when you get the bigger, better reward. The prize you really want.

Is she also testing if you’re obedient or not?

But Agatha’s still looking at you expectantly and you’re not sure exactly how this works—you can’t exactly ask when it’d be allowed for you and her to have sex. You nod slowly. “I think I could wait that long.”

She seems satisfied and is about to say something else when the man comes over with two plates of steaming pasta and a bowl of salad. He sprinkles some cheese over them and leaves you two be.

You wait until Agatha begins poking her food with a fork in an attempt to get it to cool off before you twirl fettuccine around your own silverware.

Agatha switches to her salad and chuckles when you take your first bite and immediately groan at how hot it is.

“Oh—fuck,” you say, frantically taking a gulp of wine to relieve your burning mouth. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for cursing, hon. Although, who would’ve known that my favorite student had such a dirty mouth?” she teases and it goes straight to your cunt.

If she wasn’t your professor, and you weren't deathly terrified of being rejected, you’d say something along the lines of “want to see what else it can do?” She might even find it funny. But you’re not about to take that risk.

Not for a few more months, at least.

“Your favorite student, hm?” you say, egging her on with a smirk. “It’s been only a bit over a week since you’ve known me.”

Agatha smiles at your keenness. You’re more comfortable in this setting, able to break outside your shell of timidity that you wear when you’re in class, and you’re holding your ground with her.

She seems very pleased. “That’s true,” she admits, gracefully taking a bite of her salad, “but I’ve heard good things about you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Oh?” That must be how she knew your name, how she knew your year.

“The psychology department here is pretty tight-knit. You’re a really good student—professors notice that. We have little get-togethers before the start of every semester. I always like to ask around if there’s a student I don’t recognize. I haven’t had you in any of my other classes.”

So she really does just know everyone then. Your eyes drop down to your plate of pasta where you attempt a second bite. It’s much less hot now and you’re able to chew it with no discomfort.

Agatha picks up on your sudden coldness. Her right hand reaches across the table to rest on the cloth only inches from your left hand. “Yes, it’s been about a week. But you’re the only one answering questions and the only one staying after class for clarification and the only one who went to the presentation tonight.”

“I think everyone else is afraid to answer your questions,” you answer truthfully, and then add, “Plus, the silence just gets uncomfortable.” And I like when you tell me I did a good job.

She regards you curiously, finishing off the last bit of her salad. “Well, I very much appreciate it. I know I can always count on you.”

You stuff another forkful of fettuccine in your mouth so you don’t say something stupid. But the sentiment travels down to your cunt, and leaves a stickiness in its wake. There’s a buzzing in your veins, a little from the wine, but also from your professor. She’s having just as much effect on you, if not more, than the alcohol.

But that’s nothing new.

“What did you get?” you ask, nodding to her pasta. It looks like seven long tubes with marinara sauce and cheese spread on top.

Agatha sticks her fork into one of the shells and holds it up to you. In the flickering glow of the candle, you can see white cheese as filling with flecks of green. “Manicotti. It’s ricotta and spinach stuffed into the pasta.”

You nod while you consider it. “I’ve never even heard of that.”

“Want a bite?”

It takes you a second to realize that she’s being serious. “Oh, okay, sure,” you finally say, expecting her to cut a piece off and maybe deposit it on your plate.

But she just extends the fork closer to you and beckons at it with her head. Oh. Oh. You hold your breath as you lean over the table, eyes never breaking contact from her, and enclose your lips over half the manicotti tube and bite down. A burst of flavor explodes over your tongue and she watches you the whole time, a dark heat transforming her face. You feel your pulse quicken.

When you sit back, mouth full and chewing, she raises an eyebrow at you. You swallow. “It’s good,” you rasp.

“It is, isn’t it?” Agatha murmurs, the vein on her forehead bulging.

You take another sip of wine and almost half your glass is gone now and then another mouthful of pasta because you’re not sure what to talk about now. Agatha eats her own and a not uncomfortable silence lapses over you. You think about offering Agatha a taste of your dish but you’re not sure if that would be weird or not.

“So how are things with the girl from the pizza place?” she asks casually, but there’s a strain in her voice that betrays her. Your heart skips a beat. It almost sounds like she’s jealous.

All Agatha would have to do is make a move on you and you’d drop Morgan in a heartbeat. It sounds awful and you feel fucking terrible, but you can’t help it.

Is this you settling for the small candy bar?

You shrug and try to pretend that your inner turmoil isn’t tearing your mind apart. “Things are…fine. I think we’re both just trying to see what’s happening, you know, feel it out.” You clear your throat and act as nonchalant as possible. “What about you?”

She snorts and takes a large drink of wine. If you were to kiss her, would it only intoxicate you more?

You don’t even have to test it out to know that it would. It would ruin you and wreck you and change you forever in the best way possible.

“I haven’t had too much luck in that department,” Agatha says, rather evasively. Your jaw drops open just the slightest—how is that even possible? Although you’re not exactly complaining.

“Oh, come on,” you drawl, the tipsiness from the wine setting in. You’ve never been very good at holding your alcohol, especially with wine.

Agatha simpers. “Have you given any more thought to what you’re going to do after you graduate?” It’s a blatant attempt to change the subject but you don’t want to pry so you let her do it.

You scrape the last strands of pasta from the plate and eat them, chewing them slowly to delay having to answer. Your future is definitely not something to be procrastinated, but when you think too hard about it, you become paralyzed. It’s like there’s a block in your mind that’s stopping you from planning ahead.

What you really want is someone to tell you what to do.

“I mean, the stuff you were saying about being a research assistant for you and getting my master’s sounds pretty good,” you say after finally swallowing the thick alfredo cream that makes your throat feel swollen.

Granted, you really should get a master’s degree and some experience, especially if you want to go into a psychology field for your career. That would certainly look good on your resume and you think your parents would be very pleased with that choice.

She nods her approval. A warm feeling runs through you—her validation is slowly becoming all you need. “Do you know which path you want to take?” You shake your head and she chuckles. “Why don’t you come by my office sometime this week? We can take a look at which program you’d want to do and we can start working on your application.”

“Wait—really?” You gape at her, honestly surprised she wants to help so much.

Agatha lightly raps the table for emphasis. “Of course. A lot of students don’t realize how valuable of a resource their professors are. We’re all too happy to mentor you and give you the best chance of securing the futures you want for yourselves.” It’s professional, almost a bit too professional.

The mixed signals are making your head spin. She reels you in, makes you think you’re special, but then generalizes what she’s offering.

But Agatha does want you—doesn’t she?

Maybe it’s a plausible deniability thing, where she can’t be seen giving you special treatment, at least while you’re still her student.

Would you be able to wait?

It’s the same addictive spiral of obsessing over someone that you always fall into, overthinking every single word, reading into every single sign, hoping that this time things will be different. It captures you, draws you in, until you’re totally and utterly consumed.

“Excuse me?” the cook says, stepping up to the table and you startle. You hadn’t even seen him walking over. Agatha smiles politely. “We’re closing in ten minutes. Just wanted to let you know. If you’re done with those plates, I can take them.” He points to your empty dish and Agatha’s salad bowl and you both hand them over. There’s still a few shells left of Agatha’s pasta and she asks for a box.

You pull out your phone and tap the screen. It’s almost nine pm. You’ve been here for almost an hour.

And you feel like you could stay here forever.

There’s a text at the bottom of your screen and you peer down to read it, feeling Agatha’s eyes trying to decipher it upside down.

It’s from Morgan.

Do you want to come over to my place tomorrow before the bar and we can just go from there?

“Everything okay?” Agatha asks just as the man comes back with a styrofoam box.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, turning your phone off and watching Agatha pack up her pasta. “Morgan and I are going out tomorrow.”

She nods, seeming relatively unaffected, but you see her eyes flash. She closes the box and then looks up at you. “Shall we go?”

You follow Agatha out of the restaurant, waving goodbye at the cook who has now begun mopping the floor, and the brisk night air stings your cheeks. It’s a cool contrast to the warm and cozy atmosphere you left behind, also symbolic of the fact that it’s not just you and Agatha anymore.

She punches in the address to your dorm, your heart skipping a beat when you realize that she remembers where you live, and pulls out of the parking lot.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say quietly. You shift so that your elbow is resting on the center console, almost brushing against hers, and your fingers dangle down. There’s a crackle of electricity between your skin and if you moved any closer, your arm would be pressed to hers.

Agatha glances at you and moves her right hand from where it’s resting on her lap to straight off the console, mimicking you. “Of course, honey. You can have my leftovers, too, if you want. I know what they feed you kids in that dining hall.” You both chuckle and silence befalls.

You try to think of something else to say, a conversation starter of sorts, but nothing comes to mind. You’d ask more about her if you thought she’d give you a straight answer and you don’t feel like talking about psychology or what you’re going to do after graduation much more.

If Agatha is thinking about the same things, you’d never know it. Her face, calm and serene, remains on the road and you take careful peeks to just watch. Her ponytail has gotten messier over the course of the evening, multiple short strands of hair now curtaining her face. The tension in her cheeks is gone, the creases on her forehead smoothed out, and you’re stunned by how beautiful she is.

As if she can feel you thinking about her, the corner of her mouth turns up and she shifts her eyes to yours for only a brief moment. The contact sends a jolt down your spine and your lips part instinctively.

And then you feel it—the soft touch of her pinkie against yours. It’s only a graze, too quick to be considered purposeful, but it burns you, rewrites the chemistry in your brain, and you wonder if anyone has gone insane over less.

Your throat is dry and you swallow roughly. Words dance on your tongue and you can almost imagine yourself saying them but when you think too hard about it, it becomes impossible.

Agatha’s perfume swirls around the air, always ever-present, always haunting and lingering over you like a tattoo kiss, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to get rid of the feeling it gives you.

You’re not sure you want to.

She pulls over to the side of the road in front of your dorm. Will she lean over and open the door again, like she did on Sunday? Make you think she’s going to do more than just that?

“Aren’t you glad you went to the presentation?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye. It’s slightly sarcastic but your affirmative answer is not.

The smell of wine from her breath fills your nostrils, intermingling with the Black Opium and creating a dizzying and hypnotic combination.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” you ask, fingers fiddling with the door handle, trying to stall.

Agatha smiles and nods. You force yourself to turn away and you’re just about to open the door when she begins to talk again. “You know—there really is something special about you.”

Trying to calm your racing heart, you look at her over your shoulder. “Oh? What’s that?”

“I don’t know yet,” she muses, hand tapping on her lips. “But I do know that you’re a good girl.” Your stomach ignites and the world tilts beneath you. “In class, of course.”

“Of course,” you breathe and she gives you her classic smirk.

“Have a good night, honey,” she says and you get out of the car in a haze, the scent of the wine and her perfume still hanging over you. You close the door behind you and she gives you one last small wave before pulling away.

You stand there on the sidewalk, watching her drive off, until she’s completely out of sight, your mind replaying her husky voice over and over again.

You're a good girl.

Part Seven

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7 @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @filmedbyharkness @autbot @claramelooo @dandelions4us @agathaallalongg @jujuu23 @21cannibal @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @jeridandridge @hannibalcanniballz @chloeelou02x @hapuchika

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x you #agatha smut #agatha all along #covsfics #psychology of love

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howi99 · 4 months ago

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The nest chapter 1

(a "prologue" to from the nest)

13 years ago

Raven: *rubbing her eyes with exasperation* For the last time, Qrow, i won't come back. Summer is happy, Taiyang finally has someone who can be there for him-

Qrow: *cutting her* And your daughter won't know who her real mother is. *Sigh* I'm not even asking you to come back under Ozpin, but don't you think she deserves to know you exist?

Raven: *rolling her eyes* And for what? So that she can be connected to me? So that if someone wants to hurt me, they can go after her? *Shaking her head* No, she deserves better than this. I might be the one who birthed her, but summer is tenfold the mother i could ever dream to be.

Qrow: *annoyed* How can you be sure you'd be that awful of a mother if you only spent a year with her? You were so happy when she was born, so what changed!?

Raven: *glaring at Qrow* What changed? Nothing changed! *Gritting her teeth* We are Branwen, Qrow! *Taking a deep breath* You might have forgotten, but do you remember why we went to Beacon in the first place?

Qrow: *scoff* To learn aura to become stronger-

Raven: *slamming her hand on the table* No! That's just the excuse we used to leave! *Tightening her fists* We were supposed to change this place! To try finding something else, ANYTHING else, that we could do, instead of pillaging village after village, scrapping by like starved dogs! *Sigh, exhausted* But decades of violence can't be erased by just us two.

Qrow: *sigh* Ray-

Raven: They were dying, Qrow. During our time at the academy, we forgot how hard it was for our family. *Looking back at her brother* I can't leave them to die for a war i never heard of, for the interest of the same people who killed our family without a care in the world!

Qrow: *snapping* Then maybe they deserved it! I can't remember a single good thing happening in this god forsaken tribe! All i can remember is training all day and killing innocent people!

Raven: *grabbing him by the shirt* I KNOW THAT ALREADY! BUT DO YOU THINK THE KIDS DESERVED IT TOO? I-

4yo Jaune: *entering the tent, looking confusedly at Qrow* ... *Shaking his head, focusing back on Raven* Train me!

Qrow: *looking at the kid, then at Raven multiple times* ... Who- *focusing on Raven* Does Taiyang Know-

Raven: *sigh, releasing him* He's not mine, that's just Isabelle and Jacques's son. He keeps coming to my tent even when i kick him out.

Qrow: ... You kick him?

Raven: *rolling her eyes* Not literally, i'm not our dad!

4yo Jaune: *walking towards Raven, hugging her* Aunty, train me!

Qrow: *shocked* A-Aunty!?

Raven: *Blushing slightly* J-Jaune, today i really can't teach you. G-go play with Vernal-

4yo Jaune: *frowning* But she's mean! She keeps bullying me because she's taller, i want to defend myself like you!

Raven: Jaune-

4yo Jaune: *star in his eyes* Like you did when you helped those faunus against the grimms!

Raven: *sigh, patting his head* Can you wait 10 minutes then? *Smiling gently* I just need to finish talking with my guest, ok?

4yo Jaune: *turning to Qrow* ... *Wince* He smells like the meanies you threw out of the tribe.

Raven: *chuckle* I know. Now, move along, i'll be there in a bit.

4yo Jaune: *beaming* Ok! *Leave the tent*

Qrow: ...

Raven: *sigh* Those kids don't deserve the life we had. I know you think they aren't worth it but-

Qrow: *sigh, shaking his head* No, you're right. I spent too much time away from here, i completely forgot about the kids... *Frown* He seemed malnourished.

Raven: *looking down* His family is too big. Seven sisters... it's a lot of mouths to feed.

Qrow: ... Have you tried teaching him how to forage? That might help him a bit, along with the other kids.

Raven: *small smirk* What do you take me for, an idiot? He may look weak, but i can assure you that he's a lot better than before.

#jaune arc #raven branwen #qrow branwen #rwby #rwby au #from the nest au

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lostintransist · 4 months ago

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Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 9

CW: Y'all I'm not gonna lie this chapter is heavy and should be taken with caution. Nyla visits Johnny and Simon to discuss what she learned and about how to move forward from here. Discussions of being a bad person and the missing language between consent and rape.

Part 1 can be found here | AO3 | @/bernardsbendystraws for the dividers

Story is under the cut.

Simon collapsed into bed after he and Johnny had been able to work their way up the stairs. The blank and distant look in his husband’s face would have been more concerning if Johnny could focus on anything but his own tumble into the depths of his soul.

His feet itched to run. His missing foot itched with the need to flee the evil he had done. Evil could be accidental—that was what he took from the conversation with John.

Leaving Simon to his own demons, Johnny took himself to the backyard. Stomping around on the pavers at bottom of the stairs or to the tree near the fence and back did not make the itching disappear. He tried for nearly an hour.

Giving up on that he stripped and settled into the shower. Leaving his leg on the counter he hopped the few steps so he could grasp the handle they installed in the bathroom for times like this. Hand firmly on the bar Johnny turned and sat on the shower chair, swinging his one foot over. Once safely in the tub he closed the curtain and stood to pull down the shower head. He stayed there until the water ran cold.

Unable to fathom putting his prosthesis back on Johnny hops down the hall, dressing in soft clothes. He can’t look at Simon for the same reasons he can’t bear to look in the mirror. Working his way to the couch he lays down, a torrent of thoughts and feelings plucking at him as if he were Prometheus.

When sleep finally steals him away, deep in the night, he has nightmares of his sisters and of being dragged through hell.

The morning broke early, the sun peering into the basement window to wake Nyla from her troubled rest. Her boys needed her today. She had given them the evening to wallow in the mire of their poor decisions. Her flight home was set for the end of the week and a mother to her bones, Nyla needed to see them on the path to healing before she put an ocean between them again.

Some fractures never heal right. And as much as she yearned to piece the words together exactly right to absolve them of their pain, Nyla was a woman before she was a mother. Before a woman she was a sister, and before a sister she was a daughter, and before a daughter she was a person viewed as disposable by every aspect of patriarchy. All of those steps between where she stood and where she had begun could not erase the pain she harbored for failing to teach her son how to care better for those around him.

Smiling lightly at your offer of breakfast she declined. Fasting had focused her connection with God, and His strength would be needed to carry her through now. Resting a hand on the counter she waits for you to look at her. When you do it is with one bowl of oatmeal readied and the other waiting.

“I need to see to my boys.”

You give a weak smile and swallow down whatever you might have said.

“The door will be unlocked for you if I need to leave for any reason.” Pointing your eyes down you open your mouth as if to confess.

“This is not a confessional child, I do not need to know of what you consider your sins. There is no one in right in this situation, and no one way to create a new map to move forward,” Nyla lays the words on the counter, leaving them for you to examine later.

“Now,” straightening up, Nyla girds her mental loins. “I will go and wake your boys and be on my way to see mine.”

“Thank you, Nyla.” Your tone communicates the thanks is more than for waking the children to get ready for school.

The door takes an inordinately long time to open as Nyla waits on the small stoop. When it finally creaks open she is met by her son looking more haggard than when he lost his leg.

“Mum?”

Grown men should not sound like five year old boys. It tears at her heart.

“Aye, now let me in my love,” Nyla steps forward, pushing the door open with her hand and her presence.

John hops back, settling on the stairs as she shuts and locks the door. Turning Nyla finds her son where he landed.

“Son, where is your leg?” Her hands find her hips as she stares at him in exasperation.

The sheepish look that crosses his face has one she has seen for decades, each of her children got that exact look from their father.

“In the bathroom,” John mumbled.

“Well then it seems you need to find a clean sock and put it back on if you are going to accomplish anything other than stewing in sorrow today,” Nyla stepped up the stairs past John heading for the bathroom.

Finding the mess of clothes and towels strewn in the small space she tsks to herself before setting everything to rights. By the time that John has joined her in the hallway the room looks cleaner than before she had arrived.

Handing her son his leg Nyla strides off to the bedroom he shares with his husband. Opening the door she finds a facsimile of a man in the bed and the curtains drawn tight against the morning.

Dodging the dark wood furniture she remembers from her last visit Nyla flings open the curtains with a purpose, ignoring the hiss from both men as the sun assaults them. The room smells of them, their overlapping colognes and the smell unique to sleeping in the same space night after night. Neither is unpleasant, but Nyla cracks the window open anyway. The light hops of John following her further into the room tell her her son is going to put his leg on if nothing else.

Turning around Nyla looks over both men; Simon is staring into the middle distance beyond the mattress, the dark green duvet spread over his waist. John is settling his prosthetic into place and shifting to ensure it has seated correctly.

“John, come with me to the kitchen. We will make breakfast for the two of you,” Nyla started forward as she spoke.

“I’m not hungry, mum,” John protested.

“Does not matter, your body requires food,” Nyla squeezed her son’s shoulder as she passed him.

Settling herself in the kitchen came as familiar comfort. Within reach she would find the remedy for so many pains.

John settled at the table, knowing full well to stay out of the way as his mother cooked.

As two eggs fried in a pan, and a stack of toast grew on a plate John finally spoke.

“Am I a bad person?”

Nyla sucked in a deep breath as she watched the eggs.

“I did not expect you to come home a good man from war, John.” She can feel the flinch, and her heart aches for the pain of it. “I have lost more respect for you with how you handled the situation that led us here than over anything you might have done in service of our country.”

The eggs are done. Nyla turns off the stoves and transfers them to a plate. Settling that plate in front of her son she takes his face in both hands, lifting it up to look at her.

“You will learn as you grow to love your son that no force on Earth or beyond can remove a parent’s love for their children.” Looking from eye to eye, she catalogs the tears there. “You have not shown yourself to be a good man thus far John. Use this opportunity to become better.”

John’s face crumples. His hands reach for her, those same hands that asked to be lifted when he was to small to walk for long, and asked for her prayers when he left for basic training. Compassion sees her pulling her son into a hug, humming as she holds and rocks him from side to side. Nyla sends her pleas to God, asking for anything that He can do to be made manifest.

She leaves him with a plate and an order to eat at least a bite of everything on his plate. Returning to the bedroom she finds her son-in-law exactly where she left him.

Nyla settles on the edge of the bed, fingers drifting through Simon’s hair.

“I never wanted to be anything like him,” the raw quality of his voice tells her to hold her peace. Speaking now would be a mistake whispers the voice she attributes to God in her mind.

Minutes shift and Nyla switches hands, using her other one to rub the breadth of his shoulders.

“He never took no for an answer from my mum.”

The whisper barely reaches her old ears in an understandable form. The ache that had settled below her heart when your call had reached her doubled now. Choices were made that hurt people, that didn’t free Simon or your John of sin. She loves these sons of hers, anything less is would be tantamount to forsaking them.

“I have no absolution for you, Simon. You didn’t see what you were doing to her, but that doesn’t free you from that choice. She is stronger than your mother,” Nyla pulls her hand back in time as he jerks upright.

Ghost, the memory of a battlefield her son spoke about, looks down at her now.

“What?”

“The mother of your child is stronger than your mother was. She holds the pain you handed her with grace. Instead of falling into a bad marriage or a toxic situation, she ran. She uses your choices as a tool to sew safety and structure that houses her and the boys. Your boy is raised with love, patience, and with an eye toward the man he will become. Nothing you can do now will ever undo what was done, but there is a way to move forward here.”

“I raped her, Nyla. There is no moving forward from that,” Simon’s lip quivers, and his adam’s apple bobs.

“She doesn’t call it that. I have never once heard hear call it anything close to that. When she talks about it, it is hardly ever with blame toward you or my John.”

Simon, a veteran who could pick up a weapon for his country and not blink, broke before her.

“What she calls it doesn’t change what it was I did Nyla. I am worse than my father; I am worse than the monsters that created me,” one hand clawed at his chest and the other covered his eyes as he wept.

Nyla pulled him close, letting Simon sob into her breast like her son had moments ago. She started rubbing his hair again. His cries reminded her of when her children were small and the bad thing that happened was the newest worst thing that ever happened to them.

“English is a funny language,” she started slowly as Simon’s sobs ebbed. “It is created in patriarchy and as such does not have words for the spectrum between consent and rape. You all made choices that led to where the stories diverged, if blame needs to be dispersed it will need to be worked out among you three. All I can say is that as of now, your son is excited to meet you and his mother has been clear with her boundaries. Don’t cross them now that you can see them.”

“How?”

Nyla had never heard a broken man before, and prayed she never would again. All the strength Simon collected to keep himself did nothing to spare him the pain of his choices.

“She is strong and wants better for her children than was gifted to you. Lean on your captain as you navigate this new world. He will be here a while longer, and despite his anger, he loves you.”

“Love cannot overcome what I did,” Simon crunches forward. He brings a fist to his mouth as he fights down the need to vomit.

“Again, Simon, that is not your choice to make,” Nyla stands, pulling her son-in-law to his feet with the hand not trapped to his mouth.

“Let’s get you a bit of food and find you and John a therapist, or a priest, to help you work through everything in your heads.”

Simon followed on silent feet as Nyla headed for the kitchen. Her John stared at the kitchen table where she had left him. The both ate under her watchful eye. The road ahead is long and fraught with turbulence, but even if you and her boys interact only in ways that will help the boys grow into good men, that will be better for everyone.

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

@love-kha1 @sweetlike-sugarplum @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai @aethelwyneleigh27 @asexualbuthorny @sleep101 @callsignbumblebee @lucienofthelakes @sirbonesly @demothers-empty-blog @fightmerahhh @skeletonsucker @fruitymoonbeams-blog @bingoz @noheadcanons-juststories @kaoyamamegami

#cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #price x reader #soap mactavish #john price x reader #simon ghost riley #lostinstransit writing #a side of ghoap #ghoap

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laismoura-art · 1 year ago

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Ok so...

Twice now i’ve seen people approach @elsa-fogen about a take that is “Alastor is in hell because of Voodoo” (the latest one basically saying he is in hell solemnly because of Voodoo”) and I can’t help but feel there’s reeks of religious intolerance from his take (even if it’s not intentional) cause let’s not forget, Voodoo is a religion (main one in places such as Haiti and Gana), and it’s often stigmatised and viewed through the wrong light. So you all can understand how a take like this could rub someone the wrong way and be deemed as religious intolerance.

But as I know this fandom is PAINFULLY stubborn and probably will want to keep exploring this take even if it makes some people uncomfortable (take the people who refuse to acknowledge Alastor as aro and the people who refuse to stop calling Alastor a wendigo for instance) I would like to offer an alternative take:

See, I’m not from Voodoo and it’s not that big of a religion here in Brazil, however, we do have two other religions here that are similar/derivatives from Voodoo (Candomblé and Umbanda) and face similar prejudices, so I’m making this based mostly on these two but know that it also applies to Voodoo.

In Umbanda, we have a higher god, the Orixás (entities that provide guidance and protection) and we have spirits, these spirits divide in different groups and offer advices and guidance to all types of people, there are spirits that look after women, children, grieving parents and even the lost (such as drug addicts).

But as we have good spirits, we also have bad ones. they are popularly known as “espiritos de porco” (pig spirits) who are usually mischievous and even ill intended spirits that might loom over you if they feel a bad energy coming from you or if you are spiritually unprotected and they will start to cause you misfortune and even make you feel weak and sick.

Some ill-intended people use these bad spirits against people they want to harm, the bad spirits may guide them in performing a ritual or maybe the spirit will loom on this targeted person.

It’s (partly) due to people like this that these religions have such bad reputation, but these people basically perform their religion in a corrupted way! Umbanda is a religion that connects you with nature and guides you spiritually, it’s deeply connected with healing practises (mentally, physically and spiritually), but as I said, like EVERY other religion, it can be corrupted and used to harm.

I think the best use of “corrupt vs proper use of religion” I’ve seen comes from Disney's The Princess and the Frog. People usually remember Dr Facilier better, who used Voodoo against his enemies and to harvest power (much like a certain deer man we all know and love) but we also had Mama Odie (which is a real figure in voodoo, mind you. Also present in Umbanda, a Mama Odie is sort of a priestess of the religion) notice how she is a much more accurate representation of the religion, she lives in contact with nature, she performs her rituals and prayers in the wide while dancing with a very positive energy around, and she wears white (which is the most recommended colour to wear during rituals, as it’s a neutral colour and pleases all Orixás).

So as you can see, there’s good voodoo practicants and bad ones, and in the end it’s all about how you use your religion, if you use it as you were taught, with pure intentions, seeking guidance and protection of good spirits and Orixás, or in a corrupt way, surrounding yourself with bad spirits and helping them spread their bad energy.

So what I am hoping with all this is is that people put a stop to “Alastor is evil because he uses Voodoo” and adopt the “Alastor is evil because he does malpractice of Voodoo” which is a much more accurate to reality and respectful take.

I’d even like to offer a headcanon of my own:

That Alastor's mom was from Voodoo (maybe even was a Mama Odie herself) and taught Alastor all she knew and he corrupted her teachings and started using them for evil (perhaps even to aid him in his killing) and THAT, that corruption, was what sent him to hell, and true redemption for him would not to give up his powers/forsake his religion but actually to go back to his roots and use his powers for good (perhaps in a way that he ends up healing/saving someone (hopefully Charlie or Rosie)👀

#tw religious intolerance #religious intolerance #voodoo #umbanda #candomblé #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #<- please don't be extremely stubborn about this take #I'm BEGGING you #the princess and the frog #mama odie #dr facilier

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fallingdownhell · 1 year ago

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May I request Zhongli, Itto, Kaveh and Cyno with an s/o who's got crazy good luck? They could win any challenge or game presented to them, never get hurt (to badly), and are always making loads of cash (somehow).

I can imagine at least one of those characters getting jealous over something like this.. Characters Included: Itto; Cyno; Zhongli; Kaveh Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; crack??; some fluff and comedy; nothing too serious here, just some funny headcanons Word count: 942 words Have fun with this<3

Itto

the man, the myth, the legend himself..

he gets SO incredibly jealous. When he challenges you jokingly at first, and you keep winning against him..

His pride is on the line here, okay?

you win a match of TCG against his amazing deck? That's fine, he can always challenge you for another round

but when you keep on winning and winning, he gets more and more desperate with each passing round

okay, screw TCG. How about a beetle fight? He's sure to win this, no doubt about it!

...what do you mean he lost again?

he's heartbroken. Will fall to the ground in disbelief. Have the gods truly forsaken him now?

a little drama queen about it, but it wouldn't be the Itto you know and love if he wouldn't act like this

still, you do feel a bit bad about it. To the point where you decide to only do the bare minimum and let him win against you, so he'll cheer up again

when he does win, his spirit is back up again immediately, bloating about his superior victory for the rest of the day. Like, seriously, he won't shut up about it anymore

unless someone were to mention all his previous losses, then he's back to sulking again

however, the next day, all is forgiven and forgotten again

Cyno

one night, after dinner, he was talking about his new deck in TCG when you decided to ask him if he could teach you how to play

immediate sparkles in his eyes as he gets all excited and pulls out a new set of cards for you. He's been waiting for this day to come!

takes his time to explain the rules to you and helps you build your deck. If you ask him questions, he answeres them paitently

then comes the time for your first duel. Even though you are his partner and it's your first ever match, he doesn't plan to go easy on you. Well, maybe a bit, but he still will take this match very seriously

But when you end up winning against him, he's dumbfounded. How did you manage to do that?

He'd quietly mumble something about beginners luck, then challenges you to a rematch. This time, he plans to go all out

...and he looses again

now thourougly confused, he's looking at his cards like he might find the answer in them, while you are laughing your ass off. Your stomach hurts from all the laughing, but you can't calm down. Cyno's just so cute when he looks so shaken up

it's a mystery to him, how you could win against him, despite him having the better cards, the better deck and obviously having more expierence playing the game

in the end, he does swallow down his pride and congratulates you to your win, though he will work his deck over and challenge you again at a later point in time

Zhongli

as an adventurer, it is unavoidable that people get injured every now and then. It's just a risk that comes with the profession

and yet, Zhongli has never seen an injury on you more severe than a cut and maybe some darker bruises

don't get him wrong, he's glad that you're not getting hurt all the time. It's just that your stories and the results don't match up most of the time

"And get this. Then, a huge rockfall comes falling down in our direction! Can you imagine that?" "Darling, that's very serious. How did you manage to avoid that?" "I don't know. Guess I just got lucky. I only got hit my a small one on the head, but it wasn't even big enoug to give me a concussion, so all's good!"

"I almost fell down a cliff today!", "A group of Ruin hunters attacked us today!", "We got locked in a cave, but luckily, they were connected to other caves, so we got out no problem."

almost every other day, you come home with a similar story and every time, Zhongli questions just how much luck one single human can possess to come out mostly unharmed every single time

still, every time you set out for work, he can't help but worry about you. What if one day, your luck runs out on you? You reassure him that you're careful, but it does little to appease his mind when you come home with yet another tale to tell...

Kaveh

Kaveh isn't one for gambling, never has been and never will be. Though, he knows that you like to induldge from time to time, so when you invite him to come along with you, he agrees

and then he witnesses you winning each and every game you partake in. Doesn't matter how rigged the games might be, you make it look so simple

with a huge grin on your lips, your arms raise into the air as you declare your victory one again, and he's left dumbfounded

when he catches a quiet moment, he can't help but ask you about it

"I don't know. I just always had really good luck when it comes to those type of games.", would be your nonchalant explanaition

now he gets why you don't go out to play more often. You'd get banned from every single location if you were to do this regularely

Going home from a place like this with such a massive win.. he's too stunned to speak, but nonetheless very impressed and proud of you for it

will accompany you more often when you want to go out to gamble again, just to see your excited and joyful expression again

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urban-mutt · 2 months ago

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So... Here's Lalo's whole life story!! All of this is projection and headcanons, but it's obviously not ooc. I wanted him to be fleshed out and authentic, as one does when making up something to fit in with the existing lore (usually).

It doesn't have many details on purpose. You don't need to know how when and where exactly, just that it happened and what it does for the character.

Massive content warnings for rape, all sots of abuse, colorism, sexism, suicidal thoughts, homophobia and more. It's a really heavy backstory, which is appropriate for a cartel member with notoriously fucked up family.

Now we can begin.

Lalo is the only child in his family. His dad married a colorist's dream of a woman. White, blond, green-eyed beauty. Not everyone approved of it. White women are toys, not marriage material. You can shag whoever, but you have to marry a local woman. But Lalo's dad was deeply in love. Didn't care much about what others would say.

Lalo's father didn't shy away from killing in front of him as soon as Lalo could crawl. Something so normalized in this family, it seems appropriate to kill men who you lose poker to. Even if they're friends, and it's your home and your wife yells at you for it and your kid cries from the loud noise of a gunshot.

Lalo didn't go to school in Mexico, he lived in the US most of his life. Which some members of his family also didn't like. "Lalo will be too American! With his white mom and stupid 'merica education." Others thought Lalo might actually have a chance at being smart if he was away from Hector and his other relatives. They weren't wrong.

Being away from many relatives led to Lalo quickly figuring out what he wants. Older boys in his school looked cute. He knows it's wrong, but he can't help it. If his dad nor mom can control themselves, why would he?

His parents didn't really love each other. His mom was miserable with such an abusive and demanding man. So she fell for a man from a rivaling cartel. She told the man everything, betrayed her family for a promise of a better life, and you can't blame her.

Lalo's father and multiple uncles and grandfathers died in the resulting ambush.

Lalo's mother was executed.

"This is why you don't trust a white bitch." Tio Hector said.

Lalo never felt more wronged. How could she betray them? Hector has to be right! All women have to be like this. Thank God Lalo is a faggot! He wouldn't have to deal with this shit when he grows up!

Lalo finished middle and high school in Mexico, close to his remaining relatives and Hector.

By the time Lalo is around 16 he killed and saw people die quite a lot. He was taught how to butcher pigs as soon as he was strong enough to hold a knife. And after you kill it and prepare it, you have to cook it. Because every man must know how to care for himself.

Hector already knew Lalo was gay. He never saw kid be interested in any women, and even if he was, it was obviously a pretend. Hector knew. Everyone knew. Not like Lalo hid it well or tried to hide it at all. Hector was very disappointed.

The night Lalo dared to bring a man home, thinking Hector wouldn't notice. Hector killed the man in front of Lalo, teaching Lalo a lesson. He beat Lalo so bad, broken rib, punctured lung, lost teeth.

Lalo didn't give up, though. He kept seeking connections and Salamanca's people would always report on it and Lalo would get beaten again.

Nothing he isn't used to! His dad beat him for broken vases and stuff, or throw him outside to spend the night in the cold. His mom would always tend his wounds and let him back in while his father can't see.

He was still bitter about her betrayal, he always will be. He loved her a lot.

Lalo was growing up fast, he was an adorable kid, it's evident he's a lucky one among his cousins. Pretty one. And Salamanca family had issues with money for a while now. Hector got an idea. Don Eladio is also a faggot. (Bisexual, but who cares, to Hector it's all the same.) So what can be a better gift than his cute little nephew?

They made a meeting. Lalo knew what will happen. Hector said, "You're a useless faggot, this is your only chance to redeem yourself, be helpful to your family." Lalo can't say no to this. No matter how much, he doesn't want to fuck a man so much older. He has to. It's for the family.

After the deal went through, after it was done, Lalo sat there in this big opulent bed. He wanted to die. He always kinda wished he was with his dad when they got ambushed. Wished to die with his father instead of living and suffering consequences of his mother's actions. He didn't do anything to deserve this. He's not even 18 yet.

Eladio kept seeing Lalo often, Lalo tried to stay positive, knowing he has to do it for his family. This is when he picked up Taoism. Read few books on it. Honestly, anything that could keep his mind off the old hands on his hips worked.

Lalo cared less and less with each time, starting to enjoy it more. It won't be long until Lalo snaps.

Time passed and now Lalo has to go to college, back to the USA, Texas. It seemed like a salvation. Finally, freedom. But Hector decided he won't give Lalo any money. Lalo will have to find a job in the US and work while studying, so Lalo can learn to be useful beyond being a hole for their boss to fuck.

Lalo was mad, Hector has nobody but Lalo to rely on, he hurts Lalo and for what? But still, Lalo was rather live among poor people for a few years than be here. In wealth and misery.

His college years were a blur. Lalo was so broken. He didn't study, he didn't get a job. He lived off of cash he got from prostitution and spent it all on drugs. Homeless and always high, trying to kill himself.

He got a chance to try everything. Kill people himself, without someone telling him who to shoot. Try about every available drug. Once, using a dirty needle, because he needed it so bad. Getting a tattoo. Going to jail, even if for a tiny bit, and somehow avoiding major trouble. He had so much sex and tried so much fucked up shit, he really was living to the max. Burning himself. Trying to end his life on this high.

He didn't die. He didn't get any disease. He didn't go to prison. He is one lucky son of a bitch.

Malnourished and fucked up in the head more than ever before, he returns home.

To Hectors disappointment, Lalo didn't learn shit. He's a fag as he was. Big disappointment. They argued a lot while trying to find Lalo a place in the cartel, he's still young, going to be 30 soon.

Nothing came out of it. Well, if Lalo is insisting on being a fag, why doesn't he do something all faggots do? Rape a kid!

Hector is smart, but his anger and impatience always gets in the way. Tonight, he put something special in everyone's food. Tonight, Lalo will fuck Tuco and twins will watch. Good plan. Make Lalo hate himself so much he will or kill himself or start to act normally. That will be a lesson for all of them. Even if twins are too little to understand and Tuco and Lalo didn't do anything to deserve this...

Lalo snapped. This was the last thing he ever had any real feelings about. Now his smile never genuine, his eyes always dead and empty. He always thinks if his dad raped him, he would turn for the better. If tio raped him too, maybe he would be better. Anything bad happening in his life is now such a common thing, he can't help but laugh at it. He doesn't hurt as much anymore. He doesn't feel anymore. The only thing that is always at the back of his head is all those intrusive thoughts and crippling loneliness. He sleeps less and less. Getting addicted to coke and being more paranoid than ever.

Now, Lalo is at this awkward stage when he slowly turns from a twink to a DILF, but doesn't realize it yet. Less attention from older guys fucked with him, but kids started liking him more. Weird, but he's not opposed to it.

Taking control is fun. He blooms finally. Getting to enjoy the pain and control. Fucking a trans teen until kid gets too scared and kills himself, then jerking off to the news of his passing. Animal abuse, he's used to seeing it. But getting a horse fuck a man to death with your own hands for your own amusement? Lalo never felt better.

Lalo finally feels like he fits in? All the awful things he does for fun with other Dons. He enjoys it.

Now he's 30, he does a great job with the cartel. Better than most, in fact. Hector is desperate for help, and since there's nobody else... He has to rely on Lalo. Who is more than happy to finally be loved.

Lalo is part of his family again. While having his own, at his own home. His workers, his guards. They like him, he likes them. Good.

But... What if someone takes this away?

The more known and successful Lalo got, the more paranoid he became. Scared for his family, insomniac, building a wall around his home. Trapping himself.

It will be fine, he's sure.

Now he's 44, mature, adult. Got it all figured out. He is complete.

He is not human anymore.

Humans wouldn't do this, act like this, enjoy things he does.

But it's okay. He will be okay.

And we all know what happens next! So that's about it :)

P.S. There are many details I didn't mention like, if Lalo kept being alive in canon he would imo quit coke and switched to cigarettes. Eladio doesn't fuck him anymore cause Lalo is too old now, but they still do some things time to time. And more misc stuff...

My Lalo has a lot more lore connected to my universe, but it will be in my universe lore doc when I finish it (in like 50 years lmao)

Don't worry about him, I pet him every day and tell him how we all love him very much!!!

And now that is truly all of it, thank u for ur attention��🎉🎉

#bcs #better call saul #lalo salamanca #my headcanons #my stuff #my thoughts

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lets-try-some-writing · 9 months ago

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hello :] this isn't really a request so much as a hypothetical question, but have you ever thought about writing what would happen if optimus stayed regressed after s2e2 and was brought back to the team as orion pax, with the team having zero idea what to do with him and needing to adjust to living with a guy who's definitely not optimus in optimus' body while also at the same time working to figure out how on earth they're supposed to get his memory back (and needing to teach him pretty much everything about the current operation all over again)??? again, not explicitly a writing prompt, but i do want to know if you have any thoughts (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

I SWEAR this is a fic about this on Ao3 that I read at some point. Look it up. It's somewhere, maybe in the Optiratch stuff. I can't bloody remember. That said, here are my thoughts on the concept.

I imagine that it would be a very difficult adjustment for both parties on some fronts, but also probably a lot easier in some areas as well. Orion Pax was not a warrior, but he was a brilliant tactician unburdened by the horrors of war that left Optimus so very shattered in some regards. Orion's youthfulness and extensive knowledge would allow him to come up with plans that may not be new, but surprising enough to be effective due to having long since been lost to time. Think of it like turning up to a shootout with spears and somehow winning due to cunning. That's how I see Orion's logic working.

Additionally, Orion would be a fantastic foil and glue for the entire team. Being far more emotive, I imagine he would bring much needed life and wisdom back to the group, giving them hope for a better future. It would be like having a young and fresh off the Matrix Optimus back, if only without the added god knowledge. He could actually connect to his team, helping them through their issues as they in turn help Orion adjust and slowly work through the absolute mountain of data and war crimes witnesses by both sides of the war.

Battle would be difficult for him though, and I do imagine Ratchet is suddenly going to have to get back on the playing field while Orion re-learns how properly fight. I think he'd pick it up quickly, muscle memory and all that. But the mental effects would be difficult for him initially, thus leading me to believe he'd be a bit of a homebody while he learned the ropes. But having to learn all these things would give him yet another excuse to bond to his team and learn new battle tactics that he can apply better than Optimus (being so set in his ways) ever could. Who knows? He might actually be able to do some actual damage to Megatron.

Essentially, the mental stuff would be a LOT for Orion, but I imagine he would adjust and maybe even end the war peacefully with the help of his team. Or barring that, he can use old cleverness to earn them a victory without as much bloodshed.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #team prime #ratchet #megatron #orion pax #character analysis #sort of but not really

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windvexer · 3 months ago

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Hi chicken, hope you're doing fine!

I wanted to ask about how to include animal spirits (not individual animals, but The Animal) in one's practice. I'm a polytheist and I never interacted with anything other than gods, my understanding/interpretation of spirits is based on the hierarchical roles of the divine, so I'm not very familiar with animism as a paradigm. I know that some say that gods are just spirits with silly hats (love the image lol), but since it's not my theological pov I'm a bit lost.

I've been thinking for years about adding a few Animals to my cultus, but I don't really know how/what to do - I know how to handle gods, but I have no idea how to do the same with idk the Cat Godhead of all the other cat spirits. I never did anything because I don't want to fuck things up, especially because I don't know how spirits react.

(I also need to add that the ones I'm interested in don't live in my area and surroundings and that for religious obligations I can't touch/interact with animal remains.)

I know it's a silly question, but is there something specific that I can do about this?

Thank you in advance if you'll answer, have a nice day!

Hello! Thanks for your patience.

I think you have great insight that the way you work with gods, perhaps within one or more pantheons, is not the same as working with Oversoul spirits, or whatever you want to call them.

I think it's best to regard each Big Animal as being in its own pantheon, if that imagery translates. Each Big Animal may have its own preference for how you interact with it and what kind of relationship you have.

Big Animals are animals, yes, but they are distinct from the spirits of corporeal animals or those beings recently incarnated or 'close to physical.' They are more alike in dignity to gods than animals, in my opinion.

When working with unknowns, I focus on employing my best rules of courtesy and respect. That way if I piss someone off I can say, "I'm sorry, I did that as a sign of respect, I didn't realize it was rude. Now I've learned." Otherwise I think I might be stuck saying, "well, I don't know what I was thinking," and we can all see that's a much worse excuse. So don't feel a need to cleave yourself from your knowledge of how to work with Gods. Many of those same aspects may be relevant here.

I generally find that when working with Big Animals, you can't necessarily assume what role it will play in your life. For someone, Big Grizzly Bear might become a guardian and display virtues of fierce protection and territorial violence. For someone else, Big Grizzly might appear as a nurturing caretaker who teaches about the joys of feasting on tasty salmon and watching sunsets over beautiful vistas.

What this means for you as a practitioner is that I believe it benefits you to keep a very open mind about what's going to happen, and not try to shoehorn the Big Animal into any specific role, especially not if your expectations are based around Animal Speak or other somesuch "animal correspondence" list.

As such, I recommend being wary of an approach where you meet an Animal just to see what you get, and then take that as some kind of divine soul-lesson about yourself. It's not their prerogative to peer into your depths and present themselves in such a way that harmonizes with your ideal growth.

Instead, it's probably wise to ask yourself exactly what you want from your relationship with that Animal, then explain to that Animal what your goals are and ask if/how that can happen.

To reach out to a Big Animal is trivial, about the same as reaching out to a God. In fact IMO you're probably better served not using animal remains to do so - animal remains are very strong links to a discrete individual animal, and it can be easy to accidentally call forth the ghost of Mittens instead of connecting to Oversoul God-Cat.

Just as you might build one for a God, try building the Big Animal a shrine filled with icons of its living children (or if you like, it's manifested fractal form as it intrudes into physicality), decorated with things from its natural biomes, and!:

Especially include a recreation den, nest, or sheltered resting-space for the animal. It's alright to include traditional man-made substitutes (wooden bird house), as long as those substitutes are made for the comfort and shelter of animals.

(If you're trying to call a predator, an icon or two of its preferred prey may be a tempting lure to get its attention!)

If a shrine isn't possible, try condensing these things into a container like a box or bag; this is functionally a container spell talisman.

Include also some witchcraft: write up a ruleset for this shrine or talisman that clarify you are trying to reach that being you identify as being Cat-Godhead, Animal Oversoul, Top of the Hierarchy. Explicitly state you are not trying to reach out to ghosts or individual spirits. (*You may wish to include a caveat that these 'smaller' spirits may arrive as emissaries or intermediary spirits on behalf of the Big one).

Then, performing whatever ritual of consecration you prefer, consecrate and the shrine or talisman and invite the Animal to dwell there. Here are general tips for this kind of thing:

The road between you and the spirit may be tenuous at first and require many repeated attempts to solidify. Multiple rituals of invitation, perhaps undertaken once weekly or every full moon (etc) may be necessary to establish a solid connection.

All offerings are ideally aligned to that animal's diet, but other offerings (incense, candles, energy, etc) will also be fine. It's ideal to provide an offering each time you call forth the spirit, both to facilitate its presence, but also to tempt it along :)

Animals may begin appearing to you in dreams or in random encounters. I don't mean necessarily seeing a living member of the species, but that coincidental and serendipitous things may begin happening. Pay attention if unusual things happen which seem to be a test of your character, or if you keep having new and repeated dreams. These sorts of things may happen when reaching out to any spirit - they have a way of pressing into our lives.

You are best served to immediately begin treating that animal species with the utmost respect in daily life, no matter what. E.g., you want to know Deer and a friend makes a silly comment about how deer are dumb idiot babies. You should not agree with them. You should say you find Deer to be beautiful and wise in their own ways.

(I hope I've covered all your questions - sorry again for the delayed reply)

#answered

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the-earth-priestess · 9 months ago

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A PICK-A-PILE FOR THE QUEER GOTHS 🔪🥀🩸

(and really, anyone who wants to play)

WHAT'S HOLDING YOU BACK FROM LOVE?

rules: feel out the vibes of each set of images. you can take as long as you like, you can choose more than one or all if you want, either way it's better to go with your gut instincts. then read the corresponding info under the cut. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, have fun! 🩷🖤❤️

also note that this can be interpreted however you like. it doesn't have to be romantic love; it can be any kind of love -- platonic, familial, spiritual, or some secret other thing. anything you like. your limit is your imagination.

Pile 1.

Pile 2.

Pile 3.

Pile 1.

You are holding onto something or someone in your heart that is blocking the flow of your emotions. Whether this be a person in your life right now, a ghost of what was, or more like a collection of memories, God is encouraging you to let go. You don't have to forgive or forget, but moving on is essential for opening up yourself to new love. You need to make the space for it.

You need to remember that you are growing at your own rate, and that's okay. Comparison is the killer of joy. Allow yourself to breathe, and be kind to your own being, as you make progress.

You have someone you want to be closer to, and you could very well be if you pursue it. It's important to take the initiative. You never know unless you try, and you only increase your chances of love if you try.

You need to practice being assertive to be loved. Asserting your boundaries is an important aspect of healthy relationships and the key to being loved the way you need. You need to teach those around you how to love you, even if there's already an emotional connection. Real love takes effort.

You've been pushing yourself too far and too hard as well. Maybe you've been taking care of others without letting yourself be cared for in the process. You need to relax and take a breather! Let yourself regain your energy, because you need to learn how to love yourself amongst learning how to love others, too.

Pile 2.

Things feel chaotic in your love life right now, but instead of shying away from it, try leaning into it. Try looking at things upside-down. You might like what you see.

You've been reaping the benefits of your sown harvest. Your emotional capacity is plentiful and abundant, and so you could try giving where others are in need! What you give to the world returns to you tenfold; this is how the world and God's part in it works.

Your appearance is unassuming, perhaps... but you know the strength you hold within. This is a gentle reminder to not let the opinions of others sway you when you know that you are surrounded by love, warmth and prosperity.

You're nearing the end of a cycle. You'll be collecting the fruits of your harvest, and you can take time to enjoy them; the good and the bad and the in-between; learn and live. You will see another spring just like this one.

A difficult decision is to be made, but you know what you're going to do. You need not hesitate, and you will feel relief in the fallout. You will find your way forward from this, it will not last forever.

You have things you've been keeping from people, and not maliciously -- but it would do you good to get it off your chest. The other person might have something to share too, and you can grow closer through trusting each other.

Face your enemies and stand your ground. You don't have to sacrifice your agency for them. You don't owe them that. You're facing these difficulties because of them, and it is not your fault. Be good to yourself by allowing yourself to be heard.

You've been facing so many situations that are outside of your control, but the way you behave is not outside your control. You know what you need to do, and being good to yourself is part of the journey. Pick your battles. Listen to your inner voice that knows which ones to fight.

Recenter yourself. You've been wearing thin because of these struggles you've been facing, so take time for yourself. Find that balance, reacquaint your body and your mind. It will help you when you need it most.

Pile 3.

Seeds remain dormant for many years waiting for the right conditions to sprout. Now is the time to bide your time. Wait until you're sure you're ready.

You're plentiful in emotional energy right now, bountiful and steady in ways, but someone around you could be struggling. Who haven't you heard from in a while? Maybe you could check in with them.

Your needs are being overlooked by others right now; consider communicating to let yourself be heard. If you have communicated multiple times and it's never gone well? Consider cutting out that which doesn't help you prosper. It's courageous to choose yourself first and foremost.

Taking a break from love is not weakness, it is strength in its own right. You need time right now. You need time to process, to meditate on things. And that's okay. So take all the time you need and know your worth.

Take a step back and soak up some restful energy in the sunshine. You need to tend to your anxieties and worries; soothe them, or try learning how to soothe them. Become acquainted with yourself and how to self-soothe; it is essential that you relax right now.

You're grieving right now. Whether that be the loss of a relationship, a life or a connection entirely, this is a gentle reminder that you are not alone and that the love you cherished will return to you in a new form.

Thanks for playing! :) Please reblog and let me know how it resonated if you enjoyed! 🩷🖤❤️

#i've noticed a lack of queer readers in the divination tags so i'm coining my own tag #divine lesblr #queer #queer reader #divination #oracle readings #free oracle readings #pick a card #pick a pile #aroace #lesbian #love reading #spiritual healing #gothic aesthetic #aroace lesbian #why did this take so many tries to post hello #woc

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theempressofthenile · 1 year ago

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Dark Moon Lilith/Waldemath Lilith (H58) : Mother Gaia, Spiritual Realm, Shadows, Night and the Moon.

Waldemath Lilith (h58) was discovered by scientist George Waldemath .

Wanting to take the time to explain my feelings towards this placement. As it's different from the other lilith placements, but has nothing to do with lilith in its entirety.

When Waldemath saw the planet in the sky, he said he seen it as a dark shadow in the sky and thats when he got the name for it.

Connecting it to lilith is great, but understanding its prophecies are bit different. So lets begin.

With the energy of dark moon lilith, its connecting to a cosmic force that focuses on the 'Mother'. Who is that you might ask?

Well in this case, The Mother is the Universe. But its so much deeper than that.

Because we exist in a timeline where we don't say thank you to mother gaia, where we pretend that the feminine is lesser than the masculine. Where we think of 'God' as a masculine entity and nothing more.

And this is where it gets challenging.

To say its a lilith placement isn't far fetched, just have to take into note that this energy that the dark moon portrays is far more connected to something spiritual than the lilith placement itself.

This one focuses on the spiritual elements, the ancestor, the mother, the unseen forces and realms that we hear about but can't get our grip on.

So when I say this placement has some deep shit to unravel, I mean it.

So starting off with someone having this placement in there first house. These individuals could deal with the world where the empathic effects can be overly daunting or exceptionally healing.

At some point, people will look to you as something other than. For better or for worse.

In the beginning phases of life, you may be forced to see how much different and sensitive you are to others and this may shape you in a way that makes your outlook on life far connected to something spiritual and enlightening. You can explore the different realms and find solace in what it is you came to do without shame once you realize those experiences where you were outcasted were suppose to shape you into your original form.

You're different in a way that connects the universe to your vision, never forget it.

Someone with this placement in the first house would have to learn the hardships & lessons of being 'Other' and knowing how to navigate things in a way that correlates with their plane of existence. You're not alone in it, and deep down you are a source of divine inspiration because all your life you had to get your level of intellect and knowledge from some where. And at times this can reflect on your appearance and show itself brightly. You have a big aura that shapes the people around you, and a lot of times people can see you in a odd way than most, but it's Mother.

Mother isn't just one thing, she is everything. And thats you.

Now for someone who has this placement connected to the Sun, you will have to surrender to the divine forces within more often than you'd like. The shame, guilt and fears you've succumbed to where not that of your own, which is very similar to lilith, but again, its connected to something cosmic. It's as if your life force is here to shape the perceptions and realities of others with just your mere presence. You have a gift that enlightens a lot of people into being who they are and you're very captivating to say the least. You may have been bullied with how unique you stand in your aura but thats because children and even adults had not known what the outer realms we're trying to teach them.

The way you express your divine feminity is not that of anyone else, which can confuse others and they'll try to change your perception of what it is and what it isn't. But you'll keep going nonetheless.

You're a shape shifter, a healer, and a vortex opener. Someone who knows the ins and the outs when it comes to spiritual knowledge. But you keep this to your self. Something about you is incredibly magical, and the more you connect to nature, crystals and animals the higher your vibration will be.

Moon aspecting the dark moon can show an individual whos psychic prowess can take form and connect to the areas around them. You're likeliness is like a witch, and you're connected to the stars and all things unseen in a way that most people will never grasp. It. isn't for them too. You're like the crone but you haven't lived that long yet, its been ingrained in you since a young age.

You guys are different in the way you carry yourself, you could end up going into something connected to candle magick, witchcraft if you will, as the feminine magic you carry needs expression at some point.

Theres a special quality to the connection you have with others, it passes the concept of time and other things related to beliefs in religious doctrines. You have a interesting persona and the way you carry yourself is unique and has nothing to do with social standards carried out in society.

Your energy holds weight and it may push people into believing in something and thinking deeper than what is totally normal.

This was a fun, short, intricate analyzation of the planet and the energies connected to the big 3. I hope this helps someone wanting to learn more about the dark moon and its ties to the spiritual. More to come on this. Adios!

#dark moon lilith #waldemath lilith #astrology knowledge #astro observations #astro notes #astrology thoughts

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explodingchantry · 10 months ago

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dai harbors such disdain for the elves it's honestly baffling. Both of your elven companions hold disdain for the dalish. neither of them ARE dalish. a dalish inquisitor barely gets a say in being forced to carry the title of herald of andraste and inquisitor. their clan can be wiped out in a war table mission with no consequences, no cutscenes, no dialogue, no nothing as a result. you can get one of the most beloved companion of the game defending slavery to you. you can get an elf to command orlais from the shadows but the game goes to great length to let you know that she is corrupt and untrustworthy, too, like the humans.

solas, who is FRAMED as being not just trustworthy, but extremely knowledgeable and wise, denies his connection to the elves. he believes himself better than the dalish who are foolish worshippers of the monsters who enslaved them millenias ago, and better than the city elves who let themselves (in his eyes) be persecuted by humans. if you romance him he takes away your vallaslin, one of the most culturally significant symbols of the dalish, because it actually used to be a marking forced upon them by their evil slaver gods. ther dalish are constantly, over and over, portrayed as foolish and misunderstanding their past and heritage, with very little opportunity to argue against that even as a dalish inquisitor.

Non dalish know more than you even when you are a dalish inquisitor. Morrigan, a HUMAN, teaches you, a dalish elf, about ancient elvhen magic and artifacts. Solas, who through the game is portrayed as a non-dalish elf, teaches you about ancient elvhen magic and artifacts whilst at the same time mocking the dalish who wish to retain their culture, heritage and knowledge

it is so meanspirited. the reveal that solas is fen'harel does very little to soften the blow, especially since it's hand in hands with the reveal that flemeth, a HUMAN, is mythal.

i know there's some interesting lore bits that ties ancient elves to humans, but that doesn't matter, okay? What matters is that the fucking writing is biased against elves. the writing could've raised these questions, offered these earth shattering discoveries, without being so mean spirited and biased against elves and especially the dalish.

imagine being a player who doesnt care to dig into the deeper lore, whose never played a dragon age game before. you would be left scoffing about how foolish the dalish are, obsessed with their past to the point they'll happily believe falsehoods and venerate evil slavers. you wouldn't care about any of the lore implications. and even if you did, it wouldn't remove the negative bias the game really shoves at you. it's literally baffling how no one in the writer's room was like "hm, maybe we should offer a proper dalish point of view to some of these things. maybe we should hold back on the fantasy racism just a teensy bit, considering our fantasy races and cultures are deeply tied to real ones in the real world with very obvious inspirations. it might be best to not portray one of our marginalised races and people as stupid idiots who got their entire heritage all wrong. maybe."

#dragon age replay saga

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atsadi-shenanigans · 5 months ago

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FSBE 12 - Emotional Damage

You make an observation.

On AO3.

Y’all walk. Everything is dim and gloom. Things move outta the corner of your eye and whispers skirt along the edges of your hearing.

Shadowheart seems to still be immune. Her eyes is fever bright.

The fuck does it mean to be in a cult in a place with literal, physical gods.

Fuck.

After an hour or two, Astarion comes drifting back down the line. Dread curls tight in you.

But y’all’re dating. Right? That means communicating. That’s what everybody says. That’s what most of your therapists talked (at) to you about. You just ain’t, like, listened very well.

You take a breath. This is about more than just you. This is about someone other than you, too. So you turn to him. “Good mor—”

“I wanted—” Astarion says at the same time.

The both of you shut up. Then do a little verbal dance, like trying to out polite somebody through the door in front of you.

You win.

“I wanted to apologize,” Astarion says first. There’s a hint of his usual lilting smarm, but it’s too clipped around the edges to be entirely smooth. “For last night. I’m usually, ah, better up to the challenge.”

Oh. When he, well. But you read that plenty of guys do that. Girls, too (you came on his hand in maybe a couple minutes last night, which might be a personal record). You were both going at it, so you don’t really see any reason for him to be so stiff about it. But he’s striding around like some Victorian butler, back yardstick straight, chin perfectly level to the ground (you read British royals train themselves to walk like that).

This man is usually all twirling hands and shoulder shimmies.

You debate it. Decide to take your chances. Lift your hand and flick the shoulder of his armor.

“It’s all good,” you say, when he glances (sharply) to you. “I liked. Um. Being with you.”

“How encouraging,” he says.

The rest of the group is mostly in front of y’all, with Karlach taking up the rear. You hope like hell they mind their own damn business, since half of them got pointy ears and you assume that means they all got super hearing. Fucking close ass quarters.

“How’re you doing?” you say. It’s usually the next step in small talk.

Astarion smiles. There’s something off about it. It’s a little too…perfect. Composed, even.

Fake.

“I’m quite well, all things considered. Rather eager to show you a full sampling of my portfolio, once we get the chance.”

Is he just nervous? Ashamed, maybe? There’s a whole parody song about coming in your pants. He might be worried he, what, disappointed you?

(It did the opposite. It…kinda went to your head in the moment, before he ran off. What an interesting thing to learn about yourself, his soft grunts filling your memory as he clutched at you and the glimpse of his face drawn tight—).

You shake your head. You’re having a conversation, goddamnit, not daydreaming about how he sounds mid-orgasm.

Although you could hear it again. Tonight, even, he seems to be offering. Twenty-five years, give or take, since puberty and you didn’t care much about all that. Felt horny, sometimes, but not really connected to any person (you did have your collection of toys, though, cause you’re a curious kind). Now this man got to you and woke up something in you and your body perks up at the slightest hint of him like a starved dog.

Still.

There’s a weird remoteness to him. And you don’t wanna push things too fast. Right?

“I’m getting kinda rusty on the Chondathan, actually,” you say.

“What?” Comes out flatter than fucking Kansas. The man nearly stops dead.

Ah fuck, you fucked it. Ryan fucking Meadows ghosted you for being frigid and weird and you’re difficult and isolated and, and…

“Chondathan? That you was teaching me?” Because by god, this was the road you turned down and you can’t pull a u-turn now. You just gotta plow further on. “We haven’t used that. Since the Underdark. And I think I’m forgetting it. But it was fun. And seemed important?”

The way he rolled the r’s back at you. The way the words twisted in his smooth voice. The only thing human (kinda) down there. The only other living (mostly) thing that spoke. The tether that meant you wasn’t alone.

“I,” Astarion says. Blinks. Then that weird smile slips back on. “If you like. I do have a few books we’ve picked up along the way.”

And you cannot, can not stop the high sound you make. A month or more. Fucking weeks of sitting around at night, waiting to fall asleep. Sore. Aching. Too tired. Fucking bored.

“Holy fuck, I miss books so bad. Brainworms and monsters and murder and all that shit, I could deal with so much better if I could fucking read.”

Astarion’s lips purse, and he taps his chin with one finger. “Yes, you did mention a ridiculous public library.”

Gale makes a sudden movement ahead.

You kinda doubt he’s got any kids books, though. Nothing you could sound out, let alone comprehend on the little you’ve grasped so far (yet).

“What’re your books about?” You hope to hell they ain’t all religious texts or old essays collections of Old Man Philosopher Yells at Clouds. Historically on Earth, those were the only things valuable enough for people to want to preserve, all copying by hand. Unless they got printing presses here. In which case, could they have novels?

Astarion leans in close (it’s goddamn ridiculous how distracting he smells) and says, “I honestly haven’t a clue. I snatch them up to sort out later.”

Practical, if heavy. Well, maybe not for the average person. Who didn’t grow up in a fuck ass cult out in the sticks that treated anything not the Bible or the printed pamphlets of the Pastor as contraband (you’d been so nervous the first time you ever stepped into the city library) (the lord was gonna strike you dead) (the devil was gonna enter your soul and possess you) (holy shit there was so many and you wanted all of them).

“We can do a book haul,” you say. Which you then have to explain, and this time Gale just stops to let y’all catch up so he can listen in, not even bothering to hide it).

The road curves down and ends in a fuck off giant of a dead tree, fallen on its side over a crevasse. What looks a lot like wagon ruts carve up along that dead trunk.

You’re careful to follow in the exact footsteps of Wyll out front, and absolutely not look anywhere but your next step and the bank beyond. And not visualize your foot slipping, ankle folding, the tumble into the long dark below.

“Would you,” you start, mostly so you can distract yourself. Only to realize how presumptuous you’re being. But Astarion lifts an eyebrow, cause you started a question and need to finish it. “I mean. I don’t wanna be rude. Or demanding or nothing. But um. Would you mind? Reading to me? You can say no.”

“Doing alright back there?” Wyll says, once y’all are across.

You lift a thumb. Which you also then have to explain. Some gestures are the same here, but that one ain’t. Weird.

Astarion watches you, head cocked. Something strains around his eyes. Disappears the second you return your attention to him.

“Of course, my dear. It just seems a waste when we could be enjoying our time with other means.”

His hand in your pants. Maybe even your hand in his pants.

Your body flushes hot and tingling. Greedy. But also, y’know, fucking books.

Gale makes an odd sound and falls back further to join Karlach. You can feel her grin on the back of your head.

“I. I do, um. Like that,” you say. A lot. You’d probably ruin your panties here in a minute or two as your body starts to holler about it. “But, I dunno. That’d get boring if that’s all we do, huh?”

Astarion’s face changes. Or the angle does, or the torchlight hits it odd and you been spending too much time staring at him. Like repeating a word too many times, until it don’t sound real. A twitch, a flicker of something, and he looks like a different person.

His eyes. They’re…round. Ain’t never seen them that young. It makes him look…younger. Softer, maybe. Only for a second. Just enough to clock it. Then he twists himself back to smarm. Lifts a hand and presses it to his chest all offended southern belle, and gives a tiny gasp.

“Boring? Oh darling, have I left you so unsatisfied? Perish the thought. Only, you sounded quite pleased when I joined you last night.”

Said loud enough for everybody to hear. Do not glance back, Shadowheart. Don’t she fucking dare. She fucking offered you birth control, she knows what y’all’re about.

“Oh, what an interesting stone formation over there,” Gale says behind y’all.

You want to swat Astarion’s arm. You want to swat him so bad.

And the reply comes to you. Perfect. Sharp. A glance to his crotch and a crook of your eyebrow and you could say “really” all flat and he would know exactly what you was talking about.

But he ran off last night. Fucking apologized to you about it, and this seems…this is covering. All of it. It washes over you all cold and syrupy. His approach, what he’s said, his offer. He’s…worried. What, that you don’t like him no more? That you don’t want him no more?

That perfection in your mind would hurt him. Maybe more than you even know. You can see that clear as day, and the thought makes your heart ache (jesus fuck, you’re in so fucking deep).

You ain’t gonna do that to him. And fuck everybody else being nosy or judgy to you. You gagged down enough shame on the farmstead for years. You ain’t gonna choke down one drop more. Especially not here. Like this.

You lift your chin. Meet his gaze. “My people got a saying about too much of a good thing turning it sour. If all y’all eat is chocolate, you get sick. So yeah, I did like it. And if you don’t mind, darlin, I’d like you to read to me tonight. You, you got a nice voice.”

Probably didn’t need the last part, judging from Karlach’s tiny squeal and Shadowheart’s face pinching so hard you can see it in fucking profile. But it happened, and it seems to have whammied your target. Man actually takes a step back before he catches himself. And there’s them wide eyes again. Like…like you. In them early days. When Sasha or one of the group home neighbors baked some cookies and brought them to you, and you wasn’t used to getting anything but basic rations and a new dress when yours got too roughed up to patch, because asking for more was a sin. Decadence opens the door to the devil.

To this man, one compliment is a whole tray of cookies. A gift he wasn’t expecting. Something that didn’t even occur to him.

Your heart hurts again.

“I, of course,” he says, all quiet.

Up ahead, Wyll calls out. “I see light ahead!”

#fsbe #these two shitheads #astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #bg3 #the relationship part of a relationship #astarion isn't used to nice things #astarion.exe has crashed

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mrhaitch · 6 months ago

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Harry Potter and the Language of Power

[Someone asked so you're all in danger.]

“It matters what matters we use to think other matters with; it matters what stories we tell to tell other stories with; it matters what knots knot knots, what thoughts think thoughts, what descriptions describe descriptions, what ties tie ties. It matters what stories make worlds, what worlds make stories.” - Donna J. Haraway

As you can guess I've got some thoughts about Harry Potter, and this largely going to be a brief discussion about magical systems within fantasy, and how they can be viewed through a political lens. Are we ready? Not yet you're not.

Below is a video of M Nourbese Phillips giving a reading of her poem "Discourse on the Logic of Language". It's about seven minutes long and it's a poem I used to teach, and in fact a lot of what I'm going to say comes from one particular class I taught about a year and a half ago. Go ahead and watch it, I'll wait.

youtube

Amazing, right?

The central idea of that poem is that language can shape and determine our social realities. The loss of a language can further a community's alienation, feelings of 'separateness' and even dehumanize them. Or, to play on that Haraway quote at the top there, it matters what languages we use to communicate. It also matters, within fantasy, who has magic, and who doesn't - how magic is taught, passed down, enhanced, developed, used, and activated.

Fantasy and magic go hand in hand, with the latter being a staple of the former - you might almost be tempted to call it a cliche, but it's as essential to the functioning of a fantasy narrative as the presence of electricity to science fiction. It is often the very thing that makes the world turn, and can often be used - sometimes deliberately - to articulate an idea of who has power, or even who should have power.

Just touching on the broad strokes, magic is frequently viewed in an academic context and taught much like any other form of knowledge - at school - with practitioners assuming the guise of academics. In other narratives characters arrive at magical prowess by making pacts, deals, and agreements with entities whose own power arises from their connection to or part of the supernatural order of the world (gods, spirits, fairies, etc.). Now I hope I'm not stepping on anyone's toes when I say that pre-1990 these magic practitioners who typically white cishet men of a typically European persuasion - with the notable exception of Le Guin's Earthsea books, although the protagonists ethnicity rarely survives the adaptation process. There's been a distinct shift in recent years, most noticeably since NK Jemisin's Inheritance Trilogy which laid the connections between magic and power bare, by building a world where magic rests entirely in the hands of a single royal family who participated in the enslaving and slaughter of the gods.

With me so far? God, I hope so.

So let's talk about Harry Potter, a series increasingly maligned for its tone deaf portrayal of race, and its author's increasingly unhinged behaviour - which I won't touch on, others have done a far better job. Instead let's look at the magic.

It's all fairly straightforward: you have a magic tree branch that's bonded to you, prescribed movements of the hand and wrist, and then there's the magic words - which are Latin. Latin holds an interesting place in the western world, both politically and culturally, seeing as its native culture more or less fell apart just under a thousand years ago but has persisted as the lingua franca of power in Europe, especially in Britain. We can largely thank the Catholic Church for that, but a considerable hat-tip to Petrarch and the renaissance for its later revival - particularly the reintroduction of Ancient Greek and Latin to secular political life. Its grammatical rules were later deliberately applied to English in the 16th century, in an effort to centralise the language and diminish and discard regional dialect.

Latin also holds a distinct place in British political life - as it is largely the domain of the upper classes, outside of the medical and legal professions, being taught in only the most exclusive of public schools. Since 1900 there have been 25 Prime Ministers, of which 6 attended Eton college, with a further 11 attending some form of privately funded highschool and 14 receiving their degrees at Oxford. That's not even touching the slew of ministers and members of parliament who have passed through similar institutions of which there are many. Latin and Ancient Greek have been a central part of the public schooling system in Britain since their inception, partially due to its prevalence prior to mass-printing and the push towards using the languages people actually speak for the written word (a decision which, in the early days, could attract a heavy amount of censure, if not execution). It's persistence into our current age, and the exclusive nature of the schools that still teach it, has earned it the reputation of being the language of the ruling classes in Britain.

Using it as a magical language brings some interesting, if not concerning, connotations. I will be charitable and assume this wasn't intentional, but taken in the broader context of wizarding society as a whole and it's relationship with the larger world it contributes to a reading of Harry Potter through the lens of social and political class.

We have a small, naturally gifted, separate society housed within our own who are privy to the innermost workings and closely guarded secrets of our world. They possess godlike powers capable of altering the physical makeup and laws of our world to suit their whims, and they use Latin to do so. There's also evidence, in the later books, of a relationship between their government and ours - where the Ministry of Magic assume the role of shadowy advisors or, even, puppeteers. While this isn't explicitly stated in the books, it's a small stretch of the imagination to believe that in a partnership whichever member can kill the other with a word is steering the ship.

What this all amounts to, in my mind, is a restating of class divisions within the UK. There's no critical element, no serious engagement, let alone metamorphosis - this is a direct transplant informed by an author's preconceived notions about how the world does and, potentially, should work.

Much of this has been coloured and affected by my interpretation of Rowling's politics, and I make no excuses for that.

Does this answer your question?

#Youtube #mr.haitch #mrhaitch #mr haitch #mrhaitch answers you too #mrhaitch lectures you #mrhaitch does a rant #i actually really enjoyed the books but holy shit do some elements horrify me #harry potter

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anthroamazed · 2 years ago

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tips for stem majors in math and science courses (spoonie + neurodivergent friendly)

hi y’all! my nameis lila and i’m a 28 year old physics and anthropology major who’s about 2 years through college (in the US)! as we’re coming up on the start of the fall ‘23 college semester, i thought i might share some really solid hacks for fellow STEM students taking science and/or math courses that i’ve basically built my college academic career on. and! these study tips are spoonie and adhd friendly! as a matter of fact, a lot of these are tips/methods that specifically work for me as a neurodivergent spoonie (i have pretty severe adhd, as well as POTS and ME/CFS), but that i think non-disabled/non-spoonie and/or neurotypical students could also benefit from using! so with out any further ado, here are my 7 tried and true study hacks for college math and science classes…

1) discover your learning style and tailor your studying towards leveraging it.

you’ve probably heard of visual, audio, and kinesthetic learning styles, but did you now there’s actually way more learning styles than just those three? i’m personally a “social learner,” meaning i learn best through discussion and socialization with 1+ other people to interact with. this could look like teaching other classmates concepts and methods that we’ve learned or discussing ideas with classmates and/or professors until i fully understand the concepts at play and how they connect and can reflect them in performing analysis and application, etc. honestly, figuring out my learning style was hands down one of the most helpful things i’ve done in college. it has allowed me to choose professors who i will mesh better with in terms of how they teach, as well as to adapt materials and methods to my style of learning in order to master them quicker and more effectively.

2) rewrite your notes after lecture, for the love of god.

this tip actually comes from my high school IB Math HL teacher, who told me to do this when i originally left high school for college. even if you think you’ve mastered the basics of the topic covered during the lecture, rewriting those notes after lecture helps really hammer in the knowledge that you’ve already established and also helps to get the wheels turning on pieces of information you might have less of a grasp on. try tp set aside at least 30 - 40 minutes after class to just rewrite your notes and try to really digest the information.

3) body doubling is one of the most beneficial things ever to be invented even if you’re not adhd, and i WILL die on that hill, thank you very much.

“body doubling” or “having an accountabilibuddy” are interchangeable terms in the adhd community that mean you have one or more consistent study buddy/buddies who you do all the homework and/or studying with in person on a regular basis, even if you’re just working next to each other in total silence. this does a couple of things. first off, it forces homework/assignments/studying to become a concrete social obligation you need to regularly show up for, rather than a nebulous obligation based on an invisible deadline. second off, it gives you 1+ partners to work out your problems concerning course topics with. third off, it allows you to build a network of peers where you feel comfortable helping each other with course material (this is especially great because it’s likely you and your classmates have different strengths regarding course content). tbh, body doubling is the other method that i, personally, have found most useful in college and i highly recommend trying it, even if you don’t have adhd.

4) teach others/your classmates the analysis and application methods you’ve learned, even if those methods aren’t 100% solidified for you (trust me on this).

the goal of stem courses is never memorization, but rather being able to understand a topic well enough to analyze a similar situation and apply the what you’ve learned creatively. this is where teaching others comes in. in order to teach others a concept and its related analysis and application well, you have to have at least a fraction of a decent understanding of these things yourself, and, further, often time in teaching these things you also learn to grasp the concepts/aanalysis/applications even better than you did before with each new teaching session. basically: teaching others is a creative way of also teaching yourself. you get the benefits of repetition, of thinking about a concept/technique/analysis and application in a new way, and of getting to apply the concept/technique/analysis and applicatioin to a new scenario each time. plus, you’ll typically make friends quickly in the process! there’s really no downside to this tip imo ;-)

5) utilize your college’s tutoring center/program(s), even when you don’t think you need to.

usually colleges have either set up a general “tutoring center,” on campus where you can find tutors for all different kinds of topics and courses available during regular hours for walk-in sessions and/or appointments free of charge or departments will hold regular weekly (or twice weekly) free on-campus tutoring sessions for specific courses. regardless of which of these options your college has, i highly recommend attending at least one tutoring session/appointment (ideally with the same tutor if/when you eventually find one you click with) every single week, even when you don’t feel like you’re struggling with the topic(s) covered in that week’s lecture. this will help you review topics and techniques covered in lecture, deepen your understanding of them, and, if nothing else, it’s an excuse to get homework out of the way while having someone else there who can help you if/when you get stuck. attending at least one session weekly also helps you get into a habit and routine of keeping up with your assignments, so you’re not left scrambling at the last minute before they’re due.

6) if you have accommodations, request access to record lectures. if you do not have accommodations, ask your professor if you are allowed to record lectures. IF YOU RECORD LECTURES, DO NOT FORGET TO REVIEW THEM!

okay, so first up for my fellow spoonies and neurodivergent peeps: when you apply for/renew your accommodations, make sure that “recordinng lectures” is on your MOA (memorandum of accommodations), because so long as it is, your professors legally cannot deny you permission to record lectures without risk of themself and the college being sued for an ADA violation. also, make friends with a classmate and ask them to record lectures and send them to you if/when you are absent (let the professor know that you’ve asked this classmate to record and send you the lecture if you are absent)

now, if you aren’t disabled, a spoonie, and/or neurodivergent, you aren’t guaranteed permission to record lectures. however. ask the professor if you can have their permission to audio record lectures (be sure to also let them know that such a recording would be for personal use only and that you don’t plan on distributing the recordings). i’ve found that many professors don’t mind you having an audio recording.

even if you aren’t an audible learner it can be really useful to have these recordings to review at a later point. oftentimes reviewing lecture recordings can be useful if you glazed over and missed a section of the lecture and/or if you can’t remember what a professor taught during a section of a lecture.

7) last but not least, on a related note, if you have accommodations, also request access to your professor’s lecture notes. if you don’t have accommodations, check if your professor posts their lecture notes for students to use.

having your professor’s notes can be extremely useful for review purposes, but they can also help you understand where your professor is going with course content and what they want to stress as important.

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redd956 · 4 months ago

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Hey, hope you’re doing well! Came up with another worldbuilding question that I think is pretty cool (and also is what I’m hyper fixated worldbuilding at the moment).

Myths, legends, folktales (are fairytales the same thing? Think it’s more so cautionary tales??), creation/origin myths, those kinda things. Any ideas on how to create them? Or if pulling from a premade (?) one, how to make it uniquely (or not, you do you) your own?

Slight ramble of my thought process incoming (you can absolutely skip this, these are just my personal thoughts and questions I asked myself while trying to figure out worldbuilding this specific thing):

—-

Also, just to say beforehand, obviously the detail level could be as big or small as someone wants (though more often shorter and simple stories are more common. Also because I don’t think the average world builder wants to make what is essentially “The Epic of Gilgamesh” or “The Odyssey” in their world. Unless they do, in which case good for them) so let’s just assume whatever because if I keep overthinking the specifications of the question I’m asking this is going to get stupidly long. Would be a nice convo tho

ANYWAYS, actually getting into it, I know that there are a LOT of things to consider when creating those type of things for the lore/world one builds, as well as inspiration. There’s the thousands of already documented mythology and stories told over time, the way the details change depending on who tells it (if it’s not recorded. Oral storytelling and interpretation of the cultures and people in the world and all that), and just a lot of resources to pull inspiration from. There’s also the point of building/creating the stories and considering separate accounts done and details recorded by others interpretations of the “original” story (might be a bit more complex but imo I feel like it could make it feel more nuanced).

Of course it makes sense for these type of things to be exaggerated, the details, to give it the story vibe that most have, but what would count as too much? Too little? Or would it not count since, again, it’s a silly little story made (presumably) by the mortals of whatever world you’re building to try and help them understand how the world works and come up with engaging ways to teach what they think is true or a unique anomaly at the time.

Does it matter if the story has purpose such as a lesson to teach children (cautionary tales to get kids to behave or just understand the danger of certain actions or, in the case of gods and mythology, why you really shouldn’t try and say you’re better and be rude to them lest you get chained to a rock and have your liver eaten for eternity or something)?

Or if it’s just a silly tale for how mortals think some things come to be (like certain plants or animals or day and night and all that jazz; concepts be it actual things or make-believe)?

Or perhaps as a way to justify their way of life or connect to their roots?

Off-my-head example from my own wip worldbuilding concept being a tribe of people who follow in a lightning/storm gods foot steps see lightning scarring (the fractal kind. Also as a result from using their magic. Yes they are essentially lightning benders. At this stage of development anyways, I gotta lot more but that’s unnecessary rambling so…) as a sign of honor or that they’re chosen by the god since that god has similar markings and origin story (myth) of how they came to be or something like that, if I’m making any sense at all.

If you want to go into a broader thing, how would other cultures view or interpret each other’s stories? Disdain? Intriguiue? Would they get into a “erm, actually, MY version is the better/true/whatever one because ____”?

If you really wanted to go into the deep end, would older stories you make for a specific (most likely) ancient culture be the base for other culture’s own stories? What would the interpretations be then? Revered? Debunked? Disney-fied (okay maybe not that one but who knows)?

—-

Ramble over, hope that wasn’t too annoying having to read through, and also again, those are personal brain thoughts on how I would consider taking the task on and structure things and I probably answered them all myself (aka literally anything goes, you’re the god of the world, make outlandish bullshit. Honestly might be good for lore).

I simply like to be as thorough and thoughtful as I can. (My Worldbuilding process is essentially a lot of tiny scattered puddles that are deeper than the Mariana Trench. I come up with a concept, deepen it way too much and move onto the next.). Also I like rambling and having thought discussions even if they’re one sided, it’s great brainstorming (so on that note, thank you for hearing me out lol)

BUT BACK TO THE POINT/QUESTION I AM ASKING (because otherwise this would get even longer)

How would you personally go about drawing inspiration and creating interesting (or not interesting. Again, really anything goes) Myths, Legends, Folktales, Fairytales and stories as such?

Feel free to answer in as much or as little detail as you like, hope this isn’t too much of an annoyance or issue (overthinking).

Hope this wall of text isn’t a mess or hard to get through, do let me know if you’d rather I not include the brain ramblings of my thought process/analyzing everything. I understand if it’s a lot of annoying (apologies if I forget in the future if the answer is to not include it)

Hope you’re having a wonderful rest of your day/night and are taking care of yourself, staying hydrated and all that jazz :]

-idk (@idkanonymystuff .just in case I forgo I sent it again. I have the object permanence of a newborn baby lol)

Stories are very important to cultures, traded around from person to person.

Myths, Legends, Folktales, Fairytales in Worldbuilding

Inspiration

There's actually a lot of places I like to draw inspiration from. Some of my favorite examples of this kind of storytelling IRL include...

Native American Folktales (and really folktales from around the world)

Japan's Yokai

Ancient Myths

Ballads (The Devil Went Down to Georgia, Noel's Lament, Hallelujah)

Fairytales

Epics

Campfire Stories

Biblical Stories

Urban Legends

And some of my favorite inspirations and examples to see in worldbuilding and fiction...

Watership Down's stories of El-Ahrairah

Bard songs in D&D

Vault legends in Fallout

Origins of legendary Pokémon

Legend of Zelda, like all of it

The metro gossip in Metro 2033

Curse of Poseidon in Siren's Lament

Creepypasta

Ghost stories in Hanako-Kun Toilet Bound

Creation Myth of the Sun & Moon in My Little Pony

Luke Humphris' post-apocalypse animations

There's also tons of good videos I can suggests, and places to start. In Creative Writing class working on fairytales and creation myths is something we dabble in to get us starting in this kind of worldbuilding mindset.

I wish I had access to some of the creation myths people cooked up because they were beautiful!

Here's some videos I like

youtube

Music & Storytelling

Music can play a huge role in cultural storytelling. It helps people actually remember the stories, and recite them to others.

In fact music alone is about human nature. You can find it in every culture around the world, and hear the beautiful voices of recently contacted tribes of Papua New Guinea setting out on their morning voyages. It is only natural that we tell must tell stories in these forms.

To Tell Lessons

Similarly to how music helps us remember things, so do stories. Stories serve many many many different uses, including entertainment, but one common use is also to teach lessons.

Whether these lessons be religious, for survival purposes, or just genuine lessons of goodness; there is a story for it.

What kind of lessons we can see in a culture's stories depends on the environment they're in. A society that only knows the forest is going to have tales that include poisonous berries, apex predators, and forest creatures. A strictly religious society is going to have primarily or almost always religious themed tales.

To Tell History

Passing on history is incredibly important, and even ancient cultures knew that well. In a time without the printing press or the internet it was difficult to maintain historical stories, and storytelling helped with just that.

However there is few things as fluid and ever changing as stories when passed from person to person. All it takes is for one group to put a religious spin on a historical account, or remove a specific character from old fairytale. Sometimes we see this because a culture loves a story but feels that their people would connect better if it was closer to home, that's when we have things like Romanized stories of Ancient Egyptian and Ancient Greek tales.

We even see this in the early origins of Christianity with Mithraism, or colonizers arriving in the Americas and hearing Native stories.

That's why we have two very different, but same overall lesson told story of the Wendigo and the Skinwalkers.

To Explain

Of course stories also play a role in offering an explanation for something we don't yet understand.

Whether it be the mysterious disappearances of people, natural disasters haunting ancient peoples, or wherever the hell the other sock vanishes to stories serve a tool fill that curious void.

This is especially seen in ancient societies or fairly religious cultures.

Passage of Stories

Stories become easily lost. As mentioned earlier it is near impossible for a story to pass from one person to another and not experience a little bit of change. All it takes is one damaged disc, one dead elder, or one great fire and thousands of stories are forever gone. We see this discussion a lot with lost media and the subtle importance of pirating.

I think it's fun to think about what changes the stories in your worldbuilding have gone through.

From translations, to colonization, to merchant gossip, to religious overseeing, to rewriting.

How did these stories reach your worldbuilt society?

Story Within A Story

When it comes to writing and video games we see the infamous story within a story, which is what worldbuilding these kinds of things is trying to effectively achieve.

There's many different ways to perfect the story within a story when writing. I suggest if you're struggling with this in any way to look into advice from other writers, because I myself am not very good at it in writing. My expertise mostly comes from it in worldbuilding.

#writing #worldbuilding #redd answers #dezert answers #writeblr #world building #worldbuilding advice #worldbuilding advise #writing tips and tricks #storytelling #folk tales #myths #legends #worldbuilding inspiration #worldbuilding inspo

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