#That's literally the best way to teach and learn about them

[antianakin]

See, the other thing to keep in mind is that attachment doesn't mean love at all, not in a positive way, at least.

The word attachment, as it is used in Star Wars, means a greedy, toxic obsession with something. It doesn't actually have to be a person, either, it can be a place, an object, or even just an idea. Attachment is an unwillingness to accept CHANGE. It's a desire to hold on to something exactly as it is because you believe it will make you feel good. It's also in some ways a fear of loss, as well, a fear that that loss will cause you pain and a belief that holding onto the thing as hard as you can will keep you from feeling that pain.

Letting go of attachments isn't a good thing because the Jedi happen to be psychic space wizards with abilities that have the potential to be dangerous and so they have to limit the things they do in order to avoid being dangerous as much as possible. Letting go of attachments is a good thing for LITERALLY EVERYBODY because it is, quite simply, the healthy way to have relationships with anything in your life. People leave, homes get destroyed, objects can be lost, and ideas can be changed as you grow and learn more about the world. The only guarantee that anybody has in this world is that things change, and that can be scary, for sure, but you have to be able to accept that or you'll always be miserable.

A lot of people find ways to explain away the Jedi's rules by saying "well they're Jedi, so things are just different for them" without realizing that the whole point of the Jedi is that they're intended to be examples of the best possible way to live your life, both in universe and out of it. The Jedi's entire culture is based on good mental health practices, things that they do try to help teach everyone they meet if they can, but it's also things that you as the viewer are perfectly able to learn from them, too. Anakin is a cautionary tale of someone who chooses selfish greed over selfless compassion, someone who can't let go and accept change. And so it stands to reason then that if Anakin is the cautionary tale, then the Jedi are the opposite. They are what Anakin was MEANT to be, which means you as the viewer should be able to look at them as an example of what YOU can be, too.

The rule about attachment isn't just about keeping your powers in check. The Jedi have years of specialized training to keep their powers in check. The rule about attachment is there because literally EVERYBODY should be doing this as a general rule of thumb. Anybody can cause someone harm by being too attached to something. Anakin's attachments destroy an entire galaxy in order to make a really obvious point, but there are plenty of other ways your own attachments to people, places, things, or ideas might be causing you or someone else harm.

It's not "great power comes with great responsibility," it's "being a person living in the world automatically comes with a responsibility to yourself and the people around you." If you try to look at this as just a thing the Jedi have to do because they have magical powers, then you've kind-of missed the whole message behind Anakin's fall and the Jedi's destruction. You can look at Anakin and go "Well, but that wouldn't happen to ME because I don't have magic powers" as opposed to recognizing that this can still absolutely happen to you even if the consequences are smaller and so you still need to learn the lesson that Anakin couldn't in order to live a happier, healthier life.

The attachment rule arguably has nothing to do with relationships specifically, it's just the place where Anakin tends to struggle the most (although I'd argue he also struggles with attachments to his own IDEAS of how the world works, as well, but that one's a little less obvious) and so that's what people tend to focus on.

The Jedi do also seem to have rules about their members getting married and having kids, but that's more of an issue with COMMITMENT to the work the Jedi do and not an issue of attachment, so that's a completely separate conversation.

I was listening to a star wars podcast that mentioned the no attachments rule and I was once again reminded that people have a very odd interpretation of that rule. that interpretation being that jedi condemned love as something bad that should be avoided at all costs. whereas I've always understood it as a kind of 'necessary evil' precaution.

let's look at a more mundane analogy like speed limits. I know this sounds ridiculous right off the bat but bear with me here. does driving inherently mean you have the potential to be dangerous to those around you? yes, it does. if you hit someone with a car, you're more likely to hurt or kill them. it's a privilege that should be used with caution. okay are there people out there who drive responsibly and aren't likely to hurt anyone even at high speeds? sure, tons of them. probably even the majority because they learn all these rules and pass a driving test and all that. does that mean that we should allow everyone to drive as fast as they want? no, it doesn't. because there are people that are irresponsible or don't exercise enough caution and even one of them can deal severe irreparable damage if they're allowed to drive at high speeds. so can people exist normally without driving above the speed limit? sure, they can still get to their destination just fine.

are we sensing the pattern here? high speed driving itself isn't the villain, it's not inherently bad. but knowing there are people out there who might do it irresponsibly and will deal real bad damage when they do and the fact that we can't predict who these people are and apply the rules to them selectively means that it's safer for everyone if there's one universal rule which doesn't ban driving altogether but just limits it for the sake of avoiding future accidents.

okay, now let's apply that to the Force, only we multiply everything thousandfold.

does being Force-sensitive inherently mean you have the potential to be dangerous to those around you? yes, it does. a person with a car can do a lot of damage but nowhere near what we've seen a single dark side user like Palpatine or Vader do. same thing here, being able to use the Force is a privilege that should be used with caution. are there people out there who use the Force responsibly and aren't likely to hurt anyone even when they allow themselves to have specific relationships (like spouses, children, etc.)? sure. probbaly the majority of the Jedi order because they're taught all this philosophy about how they should use their power, it's this really nice set of teachings about love, selflessness and managing your emotions.

now...

does that mean that we should allow every force user to have specific relationships? no, it doesn't. because there are people that are irresponsible or don't exercise enough caution and even one of them can deal severe irreparable damage if they're allowed to be reckless with their relationships (I didn't even need to reword this part). so can people exist normally without specific relationships? sure, they can still form deep loving connections and have their emotional needs met, in fact the jedi are explicitly shown to encourage community and cooperation, their whole social structure is very akin to one big family. masters and padawans being clear examples of the order's version of parent child relationships, your crechemates being like siblings to you, etc.

so no, the no attachments rule isn't implying that all forms of love are inherently bad or dangerous. what it is, in my mind, is just the result of a long history where the jedi realized that some behaviors can lead to disastrous consequences if left unchecked. my guess is that there must have been many jedi who fell to the dark side because of attachment i.e. obsession so the most natural thing to do if you're an institution tasked with the responsibility of teaching Force users how to use their power responsibly is to make a rule for these behaviors and I don't understand why this is so offensive to people.

it's not that different from analyzing a bunch of car accidents, identifying a pattern (high speed), deciding that you can do away with that without seriously harming anyone and establishing a rule to minimize the chance of future accidents.

and yes, these kinds of rules require some sacrifice. taking longer to get to your destination sucks but you make that sacrifice to keep the people around you safe. and of course having to be careful about your relationships and avoiding some types of relationships is a much bigger sacrifice but as we already said, so is the danger that one dark side user poses in comparison to one reckless driver.

great power comes with great responsibility and this applies to Force users to an extreme extent. yes, personal sacrifice and selflessness at that scale are extremely difficult to comprehend for most of us but so is the power that comes with being able to wield the Force. it's much easier to 'deconstruct' that idea and say it was wrong and corrupted to begin with without bothering to try and imagine what the implications of such a power are and it's sad to see that this is the route most people take when looking at the jedi.

[catinfroghat]

I started a literature course at the public library and there was the poshest women I've ever heard in my life there my eyes literally widened in disbelief at the way she was pronouncing some words omg...

[snekdood]

i love my gma but man I really wish she didn't take on Every Household Responsibility Ever growing up bc she did for a long time take care of my cat for me, which I think is partially why hes such a loud demanding asshole who thinks hes owed the world because she has a tendency to let people (and sub-sequentially animals) walk all over her .-.

[lilith-vodkaaunt-of-demons]

Article Titles in the next 20-30 years:

My children only ever speak to me during holidays or birthdays? Why is their Generation so Selfish?

I just learned my adult child [Insert major life event]! Why didn't they tell me about it?

I can't seem to connect with my adult children, I know almost nothing about their personal life, and what I do know I learned from someone else!

My Child moved out the moment they turned 18! It's been almost 4 years and we've spoken twice. What happened?

My Adolescent Child has had a SO for the last 2 years and I didn't know about it? When I asked why they didn't tell me, their answer was ridiculous!

My Childs therapist is a quack! They say the reason our relationship is so shallow is because I didn't show an interest in them as a parent while they grew up.

Demons are real and they write for the new york times.

[solxamber]

Pick Us!

In which you have to choose a club and it looks like everyone wants a piece of you.

Part 2 (Choosing a club)

You were minding your own business, dodging Grim's increasingly creative ways to get you to buy premium tuna, when Crowley swept in with his usual dramatic flair.

“Ah, my dear pupil!” he exclaimed, arms wide like a bad community theater actor. “To better immerse yourself in school life, you must join a club. It’s mandatory!”

Before you could protest or ask any clarifying questions, he disappeared in a swirl of his cape, leaving you standing there with nothing but Grim’s unsympathetic shrug.

Naturally, this information traveled faster than you could process it, because the next thing you knew, Ace was practically dragging you by the arm across campus.

The Basketball Club

“Alright, listen,” Ace began, spinning a basketball on one finger and grinning like he just invented the sport. “You’re obviously joining the basketball club. It’s the best. I’m here, Floyd’s here, and even Jamil’s here, so really, it’s a no-brainer.”

“Is that supposed to sell it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, tossing the ball toward you. It immediately bounced off your hands and hit the floor. Ace, undeterred, caught it mid-bounce and gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. I’m, like, super good at this. Just ask him!”

From across the gym, some poor guy—bless his heart—tried to nod in support, but you caught the nervous look he shot Ace instead.

“Okay, sure,” you said, “but isn’t this just an excuse for you to show off?”

“Maybe,” Ace said with zero shame, dribbling the ball dramatically before attempting a layup. The ball bounced off the rim and into Floyd’s waiting hands.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd called, tossing the ball behind his head without looking (and still somehow making the shot). “Join the club. It’ll be fuuuuun.”

You hesitated, because with Floyd, “fun” could mean literally anything. “Define fun,” you said cautiously.

“Simple! You, me, and Ace crushing people in games!” Floyd grinned, leaning closer to you. “And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll squish ‘em.”

Ace groaned. “Floyd, you can’t just threaten people into joining.”

“Why not?” Floyd asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s weird!”

“No, it’s effective,” Floyd countered, shooting you another toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re already here. I’ll even let you call the plays. Or, you know, not. Whatever.”

“...You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Floyd admitted, leaning lazily against the wall. “But hey, if you join, I won’t let Ace hog the ball. Win-win, right?”

And then there was Jamil, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, observing the chaos with his usual exasperated expression.

“Are they done?” he asked, finally standing and walking over to you.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, watching as Floyd tried to steal the ball from Ace mid-dribble.

Jamil sighed. “Typical.” He glanced at you, his tone cool and measured. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to drag you into their antics.”

“Antics?” Floyd repeated, offended.

“Yeah, Jamil,” Ace added, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you implying?”

“I’m implying you’re both terrible at convincing people,” Jamil said smoothly. He turned back to you. “If you’re interested in joining the club, you’ll actually get something out of it. Physical exercise, teamwork, strategy. And if you stick around, I’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them during practice.”

“Hey!” Ace protested.

Floyd just laughed. “Jamil’s still salty about the last scrimmage.”

“Hardly,” Jamil said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m just pointing out that if you want to learn how to actually play, you’d be better off with me.”

You blinked. “Are you… offering to train me?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint smirk on his face. “If it means saving you from their nonsense, yes.”

All you can do is sigh and say "I'll think about it"

Track and Field Club

You barely made it out of the basketball club’s gym alive when Deuce grabbed your wrist like his life depended on it. His expression was that unique combination of earnest and panicked—classic Deuce.

“Wait, don’t decide yet!” he said, already dragging you down the corridor. “You haven’t even seen the track and field club! You might like it better!”

“Deuce,” you began, trying to keep up without tripping. “I haven’t even—”

“Just come on!”

Before you knew it, you were standing on the edge of the outdoor track, blinking in the sunlight as Deuce shoved you forward like he was presenting a prize to a panel of judges. Jack, in the middle of sprint drills, stopped mid-stride to look over at you. His tail flicked once, and he jogged over with that intimidating mix of focus and curiosity he always had.

“You’re trying to recruit them?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

Deuce nodded, puffing out his chest like he was making the ultimate sales pitch. “Yeah! Track and field’s way better than basketball. No offense to those guys.”

“I take offense,” you muttered, but neither of them heard.

“Plus,” Deuce continued, “we’ve got variety. Running, jumping, throwing—you can do anything. It’s not just bouncing a ball around, you know?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s good for discipline. Builds strength, endurance, and focus. If you want to improve yourself, this is the place to do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing at the track. “And what if I… don’t exactly have focus?”

“That’s fine!” Deuce said, grinning brightly. “We’ll help you! Right, Jack?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. We’ll start with basic drills.” He gave you a once-over, sizing you up. “How’s your stamina?”

“Define… stamina,” you said cautiously, because you had a feeling your answer wasn’t going to impress him.

Jack’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly closer. “How far can you run without stopping?”

“Uh,” you began, nervously shifting your weight. “To the fridge?”

Jack blinked. “...You’re joking, right?”

Deuce coughed loudly, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that! Everyone starts somewhere, right? Besides, they’re here because they want to try something new.”

You stared at Deuce. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Exactly!” he continued, ignoring you entirely. “Think of how awesome it’d be to have us training you! We’ll get you in the best shape of your life. Right, Jack?”

Jack, who was still mildly horrified by your fridge comment, hesitated. “...Sure.”

Deuce, now fully in salesman mode, gestured to the track like it was some sort of holy land. “And you don’t have to worry about teamwork stuff! You can focus on your personal goals and—”

“Unless you’re in a relay,” Jack interjected.

“Right, but relays are cool!” Deuce added quickly. “Like… team spirit, you know?”

You glanced between the two of them, taking in Jack’s intensity and Deuce’s enthusiasm. They were both staring at you with a mix of hope and determination, and honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “If I join, do I get to skip the first practice?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

Deuce grinned sheepishly. “But we’ll go easy on you!”

“Jack doesn’t look like he believes that.”

Jack tilted his head, his tail swishing once. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive later,” you muttered.

Deuce ignored that, clapping his hands together. “Great! I knew you’d love it here! C’mon, let’s give them a quick demo, Jack!”

Before you could protest, the two of them took off around the track, moving at speeds that made you feel dizzy just watching. Deuce kept glancing back to grin at you, while Jack stayed focused, every stride perfect.

You stood there, bewildered and vaguely impressed, wondering if joining any club was a good idea at all. Still, as Deuce stumbled back toward you, sweaty but grinning like a puppy who just fetched a stick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” he said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “We’d love to have you here.”

Jack jogged up beside him, barely winded. “You’ll fit in if you put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, nodding earnestly. “So… what do you think?”

You hesitated, glancing at the track, then at them. “…I’ll get back to you.”

Deuce grinned like that was a victory, and Jack just nodded approvingly. As they walked back to their drills, you realized you had yet another club to consider—and these two weren’t going to make it any easier.

Board Game Club

Before you could make your escape—or even fully process the events of the day—your wrist was suddenly seized by Ortho, who zoomed in out of nowhere like a missile with a purpose.

“There you are!” Ortho exclaimed with unsettling cheer. His grip was surprisingly firm for someone who probably didn’t even need to touch you to move you. “Big Brother’s been waiting! Come on!”

“Wait—what? Ortho, where are we—”

“No time for questions!” And just like that, he lifted you into the air like you were a deranged package and he was some kind of express courier. You barely had time to flail before he rocketed off, delivering you with precision to the board game club's headquarters.

You landed with an unceremonious thud, right in front of Idia, who nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ortho!” Idia hissed, his flaming hair flaring. “You can’t just abduct people like that!”

“But you said you wanted them to join!” Ortho chirped. “Mission accomplished!”

Azul, seated calmly at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Well, well. A delivery service—how efficient. Welcome to the board game club.”

You were still processing the fact that you’d been airmailed when Idia slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Ugh, so embarrassing. Ortho, seriously…”

“Uh,” you began, brushing yourself off. “Hi?”

Azul gestured grandly to the table in front of him, where an array of meticulously organized board games was displayed like they were ancient treasures. “Here, we focus on strategy, intellect, and the fine art of outwitting your opponent. Unlike other clubs,” he said with a pointed glance at the door, “this one doesn’t require you to break a sweat.”

“That’s actually kind of appealing,” you admitted, still wary.

Idia perked up slightly, his hair flickering a little brighter. “See? I told you it’s cool. I mean, if you like, uh, not running around like some NPC.”

Ortho leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “And Big Brother’s really good at this stuff! He’s undefeated in our club tournaments!”

“That’s because you’re the only other member who’s not a liability!” Idia blurted, before realizing what he’d just said. “Uh—I mean—you’d totally, like, be an asset. Probably.”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being excluded from the compliment. “Allow me to demonstrate. Why don’t we have a quick match? You against Idia.”

“What?” Idia sat up straight, his hair sparking nervously. “No way! That’s not fair—I can’t just—”

Azul gave him a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing, Idia.”

Idia’s face turned pink. “Fine,” he grumbled, setting up the board. “But don’t blame me if I crush them.”

You sat down reluctantly, realizing too late that this was probably a trap. Idia’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he set up his pieces, muttering calculations under his breath. Ortho leaned over your shoulder, giving you completely useless advice like, “Just believe in yourself!”

To your surprise, you managed to hold your own for the first few turns. Idia glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were reevaluating your existence.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Not bad. For a newbie.”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, moving your piece cautiously.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said quickly, his face turning red again.

Azul chuckled from his spot at the table. “See? A game of wits and strategy. Isn’t this far superior to running laps or throwing balls into hoops?”

“Hey!” you said, pointing your game piece at him. “Don’t diss the other clubs. They’re passionate too!”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Passion doesn’t win battles. Strategy does.”

The game dragged on, and by the end of it, you were completely out of your depth. Idia, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped out of an anime boss fight, his hair flaring dramatically as he made his final move.

“Checkmate,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Wrong game, Big Brother,” Ortho corrected.

“Whatever!” Idia snapped, but he didn’t look too upset. “It’s over, okay?”

Azul leaned forward, smirking again. “So, what do you think? Ready to join?”

You leaned back in your chair, your brain fried from trying to keep up. “I… I need to think about it.”

Ortho beamed. “That means they’re considering it! Success!”

Idia muttered something under his breath about “too much pressure” and “why is this so stressful,” but you caught a tiny flicker of a smile as he fiddled with one of the game pieces.

Azul, ever the businessman, handed you a brochure as you left. “Take your time. But remember—intellect always wins.”

You left the board game club feeling like you’d just survived a high-stakes negotiation. And as Ortho cheerfully waved goodbye, you couldn’t help but wonder if all the clubs were this intense.

Film Studies Club

You were rounding a corner, still recovering from your latest club recruitment ambush, when a perfectly manicured hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Before you could even yelp, you found yourself being gracefully pulled into the Film Studies Clubroom by none other than Vil Schoenheit. His strides were purposeful, his posture impeccable, and his expression…well, let’s just say it was the definition of I’m doing you a favor, peasant.

“Vil?” you sputtered, barely managing to keep up. “What are you—”

“I need to vet you,” Vil said simply, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “The Film Studies Club could use some fresh blood, and you look… adequate.”

“Adequate?” you echoed, mildly offended but too intrigued to argue further.

He led you to the center of the room, gesturing for you to stand under a perfectly angled spotlight. “Don’t misunderstand,” Vil continued, crossing his arms and regarding you with a critical eye. “I’m merely evaluating your potential. Our club requires both talent and diligence—qualities that, if I’m being honest, are rare in this school.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Vil ignored you, pulling out a script and flipping through it like he was deciding your fate. “If you can’t pass the audition, you can still join as a backstage hand,” he said airily. “We’re short on those too.”

“Wow, what an inspiring pitch,” you muttered, but Vil’s sharp gaze silenced you immediately.

“Read this,” he instructed, handing you the script and gesturing for you to begin.

You hesitated, glancing at the lines. “You’re serious? Right now?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes about art?” Vil asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Point taken.

Clearing your throat, you started reading, trying to put some effort into it. Vil watched you intently, his expression inscrutable. He occasionally tilted his head, as if mentally dissecting every word you spoke, every movement you made.

When you finished, you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

Vil tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not hopeless,” he said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a compliment. “Rough around the edges, yes, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be smug. You’ll need work,” Vil continued, ignoring your tone. “But I suppose you have potential.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Vil gave a delicate shrug, his expression cool. “Then you’d still be useful behind the scenes. But consider this your opportunity to elevate yourself. Being part of my club means striving for excellence—no exceptions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Is this really about me, or are you just desperate for members?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. I’m simply ensuring that my club remains unparalleled. If you happen to benefit from my guidance, so be it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I'll think about it.”

Vil’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice. Now, don’t make me regret it.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there wondering what exactly you’d just signed up for—and if Vil’s idea of “elevating yourself” involved a complete personality overhaul.

Science Club

You barely had time to process Vil's dramatic exit when a familiar voice whispered theatrically, “Ah, my muse! Fate conspires to bring us together!”

Before you could react, Rook Hunt appeared—swooped, really—out of nowhere and expertly whisked you away from the Film Studies Clubroom. It was less like being led and more like being caught mid-flight by an overly enthusiastic bird of prey.

“Rook?!” you yelped as he practically danced you down the hallway. “What is happening?”

“Mon ami,” he declared, his eyes glittering with fervor, “you must see the science club! A world of wonder awaits you!”

“Wait—science?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’re in the science club?”

“Ah, oui! Science is but another stage upon which the beauty of nature and humanity performs its eternal dance! The experiments! The cultivation of life! The creation of culinary masterpieces! All expressions of art, no?”

You weren’t sure if he was describing scientific principles or poetry, but before you could argue, Rook had dragged you into the science clubroom.

The room was a chaotic mix of activities. One corner housed a vibrant garden under grow lights, another had chemistry equipment bubbling away ominously, and a third corner smelled suspiciously like freshly baked bread. Trey Clover stood near a counter, pulling cookies out of an oven as if this were the most normal thing to happen in a science lab.

“Ah, there you are,” Trey greeted, smiling warmly. “Rook said he’d bring someone by. I’m guessing you’re deciding on a club?”

You glanced between Rook, who was already gesturing dramatically at a rack of test tubes, and Trey, who held up a tray of cookies like a peace offering. “I… guess I am?”

“Bien sûr!” Rook exclaimed, sweeping an arm toward the greenery in the corner. “Behold! We grow life itself here! Tomatoes, basil, flowers—anything your heart desires!”

Trey added, “We also bake and cook as part of our activities. It’s a great way to learn about chemistry and make something useful at the same time.”

“And explosions!” Rook chimed in enthusiastically. “Occasionally, there are explosions.”

Trey shot him a look. “Not… intentionally.”

Rook turned back to you, his expression radiant. “Think of the possibilities, mon ami! With science, you can cultivate beauty, create masterpieces, and perhaps even unlock secrets of the universe! And, of course, I am here to guide you—to nurture the artistic soul that dwells within!”

“Also,” Trey added, far more pragmatically, “we’re not picky about what activities you want to try. It’s a flexible club, so you could do a little bit of everything.”

You considered this as Trey handed you a cookie. It was warm and delicious, which admittedly swayed your opinion a little.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “so I could garden, bake, and blow things up all in one club?”

“Exactly!” Trey said with a smile.

Rook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “And think, mon cher—if you hone your talents here, you could support Vil in creating the cinematic beauty he so envisions! Science and art, united in harmony!”

You blinked. “Wait, are you trying to recruit me for this club and help Vil at the same time?”

Rook grinned. “Nature does not limit itself to one purpose, mon ami, and neither do I.”

Trey sighed but didn’t deny it.

“Well, this is definitely… something,” you said, nibbling on the cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, a maybe!” Rook clasped his hands together like you’d just promised him your soul. “A victory in itself!”

Before you could say anything else, Rook twirled you toward the door, clearly ready to drag you to your next destination—or possibly just keep talking about “the poetry of chlorophyll” until you gave in.

Pop Music Club

Just as you were beginning to suspect Rook was about to wax poetic about “the lyrical mysteries of yeast fermentation,” a sudden voice interrupted.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?”

Before you could even react, Lilia Vanrouge materialized out of thin air, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “Ah, my dear friend! You’re far too bright a star to waste away on science experiments! Come with me—pop stardom awaits!”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

And just like that, you were swept up in Lilia’s whirlwind. He dragged you down the hallway with a skip in his step and a mischievous laugh, leaving Rook and Trey in his dust.

“Lilia, I can walk, you know!” you said, stumbling to keep up.

“But where’s the drama in that?” Lilia replied, cackling as he pushed open the doors to the Pop Music Clubroom.

Inside, the room was a cacophony of sound and color. Disco lights spun, a half-finished banner reading ‘Next Big Thing!’ hung lopsidedly on the wall, and Kalim was gleefully banging away on a drum like it owed him money. Cater sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone and periodically snapping selfies with sparkly filters.

“Oh, hey!” Kalim greeted you, waving so enthusiastically he almost hit himself with the drum stick. “You’re here to join us, right? This club is the best! We have music, dancing, and it’s all just super fun!”

Cater glanced up from his phone, his grin wide and just a little too calculated. “You’d fit right in! Think of all the magicam-worthy moments we could create together. Plus, the followers you’d get? Off the charts.”

“Followers?” you echoed, glancing at Lilia.

“Ah, but of course!” Lilia said, flinging his arms wide as if presenting you to an adoring crowd. “The Pop Music Club isn’t just about music—it’s about presence! Charisma! The ability to captivate a room with a single note or a dazzling smile!”

“It’s also about having a good time!” Kalim added, spinning in a circle for no reason other than sheer joy.

Cater nodded, holding up his phone. “And don’t forget—every moment is a potential viral video. You, me, Lilia, and Kalim as the dream team? We’d own the algorithm.”

You hesitated. “Uh, I don’t even play an instrument.”

“Neither does he!” Lilia said brightly, pointing at some unfortunate bystander.

“Hey!” he protested. “I play the Kalimba!” He promptly tried to play a note, missed the rhythm entirely, and Lilia laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“See?” Lilia said, unfazed. “Talent is optional here. All we need is your spirit!”

Cater stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We also dabble in choreography, so if you’ve got two left feet, don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to make them look intentional.”

“Come on, join us!” Kalim said, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like an overexcited puppy. “We could totally use your energy!”

“What energy?” you asked, deadpan. “I’ve been dragged between clubs all day—I barely have any left.”

“Exactly!” Lilia said with a wink. “We’ll channel what’s left into a glorious crescendo of pop music excellence!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just surrender entirely to the chaos. Lilia’s grin was practically infectious, Kalim’s enthusiasm radiated like the sun, and Cater was already adjusting the angle of his phone to catch you in the best light.

“Well,” you muttered, “at least it sounds… lively.”

“Lively is an understatement,” Cater said, snapping a selfie with you and Lilia in the background. “Hashtag PopStarsInTheMaking! You’re gonna love it here.”

“Let me guess,” you said dryly. “You’re already planning to upload that, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cater said with a wink.

Lilia clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, what do you say? Ready to unleash your inner star?”

“I… will think about it,” you replied, edging toward the door.

“Think fast!” Kalim called after you. “The bass is calling your name!”

You bolted before anyone could shove an instrument into your hands.

Equestrian Club

As you hurried down the hallway, still reeling from the pop music chaos you'd just escaped, you nearly collided with a flash of red.

"Ah, there you are!"

You blinked up at none other than Riddle Rosehearts, who looked as though he'd been scouring the entire school for you. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried a tone of stern authority mixed with subtle relief.

"I've been looking for you," Riddle said, crossing his arms. "Ace and Deuce mentioned that you’re considering which club to join. As housewarden, it’s my responsibility to ensure you make a proper choice."

You blinked, still processing. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

"Enough dilly-dallying," Riddle said briskly, taking your wrist with surprising firmness. "You're coming with me to the Equestrian Club."

"Wait, what—"

Before you could finish, Riddle had already begun marching you toward the stables. You were half-dragged, half-guided, catching snippets of his lecture along the way about the merits of horseback riding, discipline, and poise.

When you arrived, the warm scent of hay filled the air, and the sound of soft nickering greeted you. The stables were pristine, the horses sleek and well-groomed. Standing nearby were Silver and Sebek, both tending to the horses.

"Riddle, you found them" Silver greeted you with his usual calm demeanor. He gave you a faint smile as he gently brushed a dappled gray mare. "Perfect timing—we were just about to go for a ride."

Sebek, on the other hand, straightened like a soldier at attention, his voice booming. "THEY WILL JOIN US, OF COURSE! IT IS ONLY FITTING FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OF WORTH TO EMBRACE SUCH A NOBLE ART!"

"Sebek, indoor voice," Riddle said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I AM OUTDOORS!" Sebek retorted, though he did lower his volume slightly.

You glanced nervously at the horses. "Uh, I don’t know if I’m… horse material."

"Nonsense," Riddle said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Riding teaches discipline, focus, and responsibility. It’s the perfect club for fostering growth—and for avoiding unnecessary distractions like some less dignified clubs."

"Pop Music Club?" you guessed.

Riddle sniffed, his expression sour. "Among others."

Silver walked over, still holding the brush, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry. The horses are gentle, and we can teach you everything. It’s a peaceful activity once you get used to it."

"Peaceful!" Sebek exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It is a pursuit befitting the greatest warriors! EVEN LORD MALLEUS—"

"Sebek," Riddle interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Focus on the matter at hand."

"Apologies!" Sebek barked, saluting.

Riddle turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "The Equestrian Club isn’t just about riding horses. It’s about elegance, partnership, and understanding. You could benefit greatly from it."

"And the horses are great listeners," Silver added.

"Unlike some humans," Sebek muttered under his breath.

You bit back a laugh as Riddle gave Sebek another glare.

"What do you say?" Riddle asked, stepping aside to let you see one of the horses—a chestnut with a kind, inquisitive gaze. "This is Vorpal. Perhaps a ride would convince you?"

The horse whinnied softly, and for a moment, you considered it. There was something appealing about the tranquility of the stables, the camaraderie of the club members, and the undeniable charm of working with such majestic creatures.

But then you remembered the drum chaos, the science experiments, and Vil’s dramatic vetting process.

"Let me, uh… think about it?" you said, taking a step back.

Riddle sighed, though he looked more exasperated than disappointed. "Very well. But don’t wait too long—indecision is unbecoming."

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Got it."

As you made your escape, you could hear Sebek booming, "RIDING A HORSE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!"

You weren’t sure about that, but you were certain that escaping club recruitment was starting to feel like an Olympic sport.

Magift Club

As you staggered away from the stables, thoroughly frazzled by Sebek’s enthusiastic yelling and Riddle’s intense lecture on discipline, you barely had time to catch your breath before—

“Yo, gotcha!”

A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you let out a very undignified yelp. You turned to find Ruggie grinning up at you like a mischievous hyena that had just found its next meal.

“Ruggie! What—?”

“No time for questions, boss,” he said, practically dragging you down the path. “Leona’s orders. He told me to bring ya to the Magift Club.”

“The Magift Club?” you repeated, already sensing disaster.

Ruggie nodded, smirking. “Yup. Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But—wait—I don’t even have magic!” you protested as he hauled you toward the field.

“Details, details,” Ruggie waved off, his grip on your arm firm.

Soon enough, you were dumped unceremoniously on the sidelines of the Magift field. Leona was lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree, looking entirely too comfortable for someone allegedly trying to recruit you. Epel was nearby, aggressively practicing his throws while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll show ‘em.”

Leona cracked one eye open lazily as Ruggie dropped you off. “’Bout time,” he drawled.

“Leona,” you said flatly, “why would you want me in the Magift Club? I don't even have magic.”

He yawned, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah, I know that. You’re still better than the other herbivores running around. You can be the manager.”

“Manager?”

“Yup,” Ruggie chimed in, plopping down next to Leona. “You’d handle all the boring stuff—paperwork, schedules, snacks, makin’ sure Epel doesn’t throw a fit when he gets tackled.”

“I don’t throw fits!” Epel yelled, narrowly missing a hoop with his throw.

Leona smirked. “Sure you don’t.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Why me, though? You’re telling me I’m the best candidate for this?”

Leona sat up slightly, his sharp eyes locking on yours. “I’m sayin’ you’re the least annoying option. I don’t need some herbivore manager who’s gonna cry every time I take a nap instead of practicing. You’re not useless, so quit whining.”

Ruggie leaned in conspiratorially. “Basically, you’re the only one Leona doesn’t feel like chasing off the field after two days.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

Leona shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me.”

At that moment, Epel ran up, panting slightly from his practice. “C’mon, you should join us!” he urged. “You don’t need magic to be part of the team. And if you ever wanna learn some tricks, I can teach ya!”

Leona gave him a lazy side-eye. “Don’t scare them off.”

“I’m not scarin’ ‘em! I’m convincin’ ‘em!” Epel shot back, glaring at Leona before turning back to you. “Seriously, we could use someone like you. The club’s fun, I promise!”

Ruggie snickered. “Fun’s a stretch. It’s more like… survival of the fittest with a ball involved.”

“And napping,” Leona added with a smirk.

Epel crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if someone practiced instead of nappin’, we’d win more games!”

Leona waved him off with a scoff.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know, guys. This sounds like a lot of chaos.”

“Chaos is half the fun,” Ruggie said with a grin. “C’mon, boss, think of all the free food we get during games. And you’d get to boss Leona around as the manager. Ain’t that worth it?”

Leona snorted. “Good luck with that.”

You glanced at the trio—Epel brimming with determination, Ruggie radiating mischief, and Leona looking like he didn’t care but also somehow cared just enough to try. It was… weirdly tempting, in its own way.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said finally.

“Fair enough,” Leona said, already reclining again. “Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a game next week, and I’m not filling out paperwork.”

Ruggie winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll come around. Everyone does.”

As you left the field, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been almost recruited into something much more taxing than a simple club.

Mountain Lovers Club

Before you could escape the Magift field and all its potential paperwork, you took a sharp turn—only to smack right into what felt like a wall of polite menace. A soft, knowing chuckle sounded above you.

“Oh dear, do be careful,” came Jade Leech’s unmistakably smooth voice.

You took a step back, already dreading the conversation. “Jade,” you said warily, “what are you doing here?”

His sharp smile grew ever so slightly. “Waiting for you, of course. Word travels fast, and I’ve heard you’re in the market for a club.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “You’re not here to—”

Before you could finish, he was already guiding you away, his hand light on your arm but unyielding, like a vice hidden under a silk glove.

“Come now,” he said, his tone as polite as ever, “I simply must show you the Mountain Lovers Club.”

“The what now?” you asked, bewildered.

“The Mountain Lovers Club,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And… who else is in this club?”

“Why, just me.”

You stopped in your tracks. “It’s just you?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled serenely, as if this were not a glaring red flag. “I am the founder, leader, and sole member. But with your arrival, that could very well change.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d misheard. “Wait, so you’ve been running a one-person club this whole time?”

“Indeed.” His expression didn’t falter in the slightest. “The Mountain Lovers Club is dedicated to the appreciation of all things mountainous. Hiking through beautiful terrain, foraging for wild plants, observing unique ecosystems, and—on occasion—befriending the local fauna.”

“Befriending?”

“Examining, petting, observing closely…” His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps all three.”

You shook your head, trying to process. “So… why me?”

Jade clasped his hands together, the picture of poised enthusiasm. “You strike me as someone who appreciates unique experiences. The Mountain Lovers Club offers a chance to explore the great outdoors, expand your horizons, and develop a deeper appreciation for nature’s wonders.”

“And by ‘great outdoors,’ you mean mountains?”

“Precisely.”

“And it’s just you?”

“For now,” he said, his tone warm but his gaze uncomfortably intense. “But every great journey begins with a single step. Yours could be joining this club.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t think hiking through mountains is really my thing.”

“Ah, but how do you know unless you try?” Jade’s smile widened. “Besides, I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. No need to worry about getting lost… or encountering anything unexpected.”

The way he said “unexpected” made you want to run for the hills (ironic, given the circumstances).

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, his tone polite but with a note of finality. “At least allow me to show you the club’s activities. Perhaps a short hike this weekend? I’ve already prepared a route.”

You stared at him. “You’ve already…?”

“Of course.” His gaze was calm, calculating. “Preparation is key. I’ve even packed a lunch.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jade, I—”

He tilted his head, his smile remaining perfectly composed. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse without at least giving it a chance? I’ve put so much thought into this.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice?” you muttered.

Jade’s smile was razor-sharp and utterly unrepentant. “Because you don’t.”

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. One hike.”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone soft and victorious. “I’ll see you this Saturday at dawn.”

“Dawn?!”

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “The mountains are at their most beautiful in the early morning light. You’ll love it.”

As he sauntered away, leaving you to process your fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just agreed to something far more treacherous than a simple hike.

Gargoyle Research Society

The moment you finally reached Ramshackle Dorm, exhausted from the whirlwind of club-hopping and increasingly bizarre sales pitches, you let out a long sigh of relief. The day had been nothing short of chaotic, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your creaky old bed and forget the words “club activities” ever existed.

But just as your hand touched the doorknob, a familiar voice, deep and regal, called out from the shadows.

“Child of man.”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see none other than Malleus Draconia emerging from beneath the pale light of the moon, his presence as imposing and enigmatic as always. He stood by one of Ramshackle’s crumbling stone walls, his expression calm but his eyes bright with an unreadable intensity.

“Oh, Malleus,” you said, your voice tinged with weariness but also a touch of warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was merely admiring the architecture of your dorm. It has a certain… wistful charm.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Then, with the sort of graceful confidence only Malleus could manage, he stepped closer, his presence looming but never threatening. “I have heard,” he began, his tone soft and deliberate, “that you have been seeking a club to join.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“The winds carry whispers,” he said cryptically.

“Right,” you muttered, deciding not to question it.

Malleus folded his hands neatly in front of him, looking every bit the picture of regal sincerity. “If you have not yet made your decision… I would like to invite you to join my club.”

Your brain, still reeling from Jade’s mountain escapades and Leona’s managerial demands, stalled for a moment. “Your… club?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. “The Gargoyle Research Society.”

“The… what now?”

“The Gargoyle Research Society,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am both its founder and sole member.”

Of course, he was.

Malleus seemed oblivious to your stunned silence as he continued, his expression softening into something almost earnest. “The society is dedicated to the appreciation and study of gargoyles. We explore the campus, observing their intricate designs and marveling at their history. There is so much beauty in their silent watch over us.”

You blinked. “So… you just walk around and look at gargoyles?”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone unironically enthusiastic.

“And… that’s it?”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is a noble pursuit, one that nurtures both the mind and the spirit.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. Of all the clubs you’d encountered today, this might just take the crown for most niche.

Malleus, however, seemed utterly earnest. His eyes bore into yours, his expression sincere and unguarded. “I understand if this does not align with your current interests,” he said, his voice softening. “But should you ever feel the call of the gargoyles… know that you are always welcome.”

There was something so genuine in his tone, so quietly hopeful, that you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about brushing him off. You sighed, offering him a tired but sincere smile. “You know what? I’ll definitely consider it.”

Malleus’s eyes lit up, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of pure joy. “Truly?”

“Truly,” you said, nodding.

“Then I shall look forward to the day you join me,” he said, his voice as soft as a promise.

With that, he gave you a small, graceful bow before disappearing back into the night, leaving you to wonder how you’d managed to end the day not only agreeing to a potential club but also feeling oddly flattered by the idea of studying gargoyles.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What a day…”

Masterlist

Part 2: Choosing a club

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is in film studies sorry :(

[the-media-pit]

ben and hannah have such interesting ways of dealing with the girls as the two adults that spend notable time with them. the way that ben starts to hide from the circumstances they're all in, tucking himself away in his memories and fantasies of what the future could have been. and then, eventually, literally hiding from them in the cave.

and then hannah adapting as quickly as she can to try and save herself from their violence. because she knows pack mentality and she knows things about behavior. especially animalistic behavior.

and i think, to a degree, it speaks to their identities as well. coach is a gay man who has had to hide his queerness out of fear of repercussions. he isn't fully open about who he is, understandably so, and that teaches him how to get good at hiding. how to make himself disappear in certain settings. so, that's what he does out in the woods.

whereas hannah, as a woman, has to learn to adapt to her surroundings so people don't do something to her that she doesn't want. she's aware and observant and yes, that is because she's a scientist, but it's also because she's a woman. she's had her whole life to learn how to adapt, to figure out the best course of action to keep herself safe, and she uses that to her advantage.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Survivor - Zombie Apocalypse Au

Yandere! Survivor who's at ground zero when the infected start attacking. Who watches the world turn to chaos in the blink of an eye.

Yandere! Survivor who's willing to face off against hordes of infected because he wants to live. Even if the grisly horror of it turns his stomach.

Yandere! Survivor who knows there isn't hope for anything. The army is scattered and helpless. The cities are overrun. The people don't have a chance in hell.

Yandere! Survivor who knows but fights anyway.

Yandere! Survivor who saves you from a whole pack of infected. Who can't belive his eyes when he sees you. The city is overrun with freaks and you're still wearing a pretty little sundress, not a single weapon in sight.

Yandere! Survivor who stands frozen when you hug him. Who can feel the way you're trembling, your fingers knotted into his shirt. Who finds his voice and promises to keep you safe. Somehow.

Yandere! Survivor who fights tooth and nail to get you out of the city. Who scavenges guns and ammo off dead soldiers and tries not to look into their milky, rotting eyes.

Yandere! Survivor who finally has someone to look out for and it makes the loneliness much more bearable.

Yandere! Survivor who gets stronger each day. Who can feel his muscles literally straining against his shirt.

Yandere! Survivor who tries to teach you self defence and fails miserably, because every time he has you pinned under him he can't help but get turned on.

Yandere! Survivor who inspects the hem of your sundress and let's his knuckles brush against your thighs. Who scoffs and tells you its way too flimsy to keep you safe, that a zombie could bite straight through it.

"Hell, I could rip it off without even trying."

Yandere! Survivor who loves how helpless and scared you are. Who feels a rush of pride every time a zombie shrieks and you immediately grab onto him.

Yandere! Survivor who quickly learns to trade with other survivors but to never let his guard down.

Yandere! Survivor who notices the way men stare at you. Like they're dying for a taste of you even worse than the zombies are. Who notices the way people talk about you like you belong to him.

'Your girl.'

Like you're his property or something.

Yandere! Survivor who feels a rush of pride every time it happens. And soon he starts thinking that way too. You're his responsibility therefore you are his.

Yandere! Survivor who never settles down or allies himself with other people. He doesn't trust them. But more than that, he doesn't trust them around you.

Yandere! Survivor who finds it easier and easier to kill the infected. And from there, it's just a small step to start killing the living.

Yandere! Survivor who slits the throats of an entire trading party because he heard them talking about you. In the morning, he tells you they just left early and that it's nothing to worry about.

Yandere! Survivor who doesn't let your disappointment linger when you have to leave camp and move on. Who constantly reminds you he's doing what's best for you.

Yandere! Survivor who insists on being with you when you bath in the rivers and lakes that dot the countryside. He'll keep his back turned for most of it, but inevitably he'll find an excuse to turn around and watch you. Your clothes always cling to you afterwards and he's throat always goes dry when they do.

Yandere! Survivor who takes any chance he can to share a bunk or sleeping bag with you. Who tosses his arm around your waist and tells you it's just to conserve heat.

Yandere! Survivor who knows there isn't a future for the world, but he'll be damned if he can't see one with you.

[artemisiatridentata]

As an educator it never fails to floor me (and, often, nearly bring me to tears) how kids react and open up when I give them positive feedback. Often it seems like no adult has ever bothered to engage with them and center them in the conversation. Maybe it helps that I still enjoy “childlike” things like drawing and star wars and dinosaurs, but like. still. any time I treat them like the complex, fully-formed human beings that they are, any time I ask questions that get beyond the surface level, their eyes light up and they transform.

Like once on a five-day field program, I complimented a shy, quiet kid’s watercolor painting, told them I liked making art too and asked them more questions about it — what their favorite medium was, if they found watercolors tricky like I do, etc. — and it was like a switch was flipped. They told me all about their art classes and what they liked to make, what techniques they were struggling with, AND we found out we both were interested in herbalism! The kid stuck to me like glue for the rest of the week and kept showing me all the art they were making, as well as asking me all about the edible and medicinal plants in the region. And all it took was me saying something like, “Whoa, that painting is amazing! The detail on the trees is so realistic, and you really captured the texture of the sandstone! I like to paint, too, but rocks are really hard for me. I can never get them to look right. How did you make them look so 3D?” instead of just “wow that’s pretty!”

And that happens over and over. A little boy who didn’t really talk to anyone saw me drawing a mandalorian with sidewalk chalk and the next day he brought a bunch of his drawings of clone wars battle scenes to show me, and after I told him how impressed I was with his creativity and attention to detail, he wouldn’t stop talking to me and asking me how to draw various characters!! Recently I had a long and delightful conversation with an 8 year old about his favorite species in the ceratopsidae family. I’ve had hours-long discussions with teenage boys on the various merits and minutiae of legends vs. canon star wars material and the ways that universe mirrors our real-life sociopolitical landscape. 9 year old girls talk a mile a minute when they find out I like horses and ask them about their favorite breed, and shy 18 year olds suddenly can’t stop smiling and bouncing on their heels when I ask them to tell me more about their favorite music artists and mention that hey, my 25 year old best friend is also into K-pop, just like you!! Who’s your favorite group?? 12 year olds have asked me if they can have more free time instead of a structured lesson and are shocked when I say yes, and then confess to being stressed and sad because they’re already so exhausted and burnt out from the school-homework-extracurriculars grind and they can’t imagine doing it for six more years and then working for decades like their parents. and then they ask if I want to come see the fort they’re building out of fallen branches and maybe help them build it? or would I like to come catch crawdads or build a little snail hotel?

Kids of all ages are dealing with so much stress and negative feedback. They’re often made to feel — whether directly or indirectly, by their parents or teachers or peers or bosses or church elders, etc. — that they’re not doing enough. That they’re lazy and always on their phones and that their interests are frivolous and that they’re too loud or in the way or annoying. Hell, I was made to feel that way when I was their age, and it breaks my heart that many kids are still not getting the positive feedback they need to thrive. So I make a point of giving them the level of respect and autonomy and engagement that I give adults.

The least us adults can do, especially those of us who teach kids or are otherwise around them a lot, is show them through our words and actions that we genuinely value their interests, opinions, and presence in our lives.

consider: teenagers aren’t apathetic about everything they’re just used to you shitting all over whatever they show excitement about

[wordsofwhimsy]

did somebody ask which version of mark is puttin it down best?

guess i'll give my analysis 😮‍💨

main!mark is all about pleasing you, sooo he's definitely giving the other boys a run for their money. his oral & finger game? UNMATCHED. he's not dumb and aggressive about it like the majority of the others. he keeps it slow, intentional, so dedicated, living in your pleasure. the more praise you give him the better. his sex game tho takes awhile to come up to par - he's so scared of hurting you for soo long that he just takes it too easy, or doesn't take the lead at all. once he learns the fine art of blowing your back out without killing you tho? 😏

mohawk!mark is soo aggressively fun, but he's really only in it for his own pleasure. he kinda just assumes (rightly so) that you're gonna feel good either way but he never bothers to actually check in with you, see how you're doing lol it's probably also a MUST for you to suck his dick every time, forcing your head down and then mocking you when you gag or gasp for air. he doesn't care to return the favor too often but if you whine too much he will. it's not really that great tho - he's rushing and careless, just trying to move on to the main event

viltrumite!mark takes some teaching. he's of the mindset that sex is just for procreation, and if this is a scenario where he's taken you back to viltrum he's not going to really feel the need to view it any other way. but if he's staying on earth with you? well, sex sells baby and the influence is all around. he starts noticing things in movies and in songs, stuff on the internet--hell even billboards and magazines. don't be fooled his dickin is good even when it's boring missionary but once he starts coming around to trying all the other fun things? oh lawd have mercy

omni!mark is an interesting mix of dominance without aggression, no dirty talk. all business, really but this man IS in the business of pleasure - for you at least. he struggles to let you take the lead though which is kinda boring sometimes, and anything kinky? like spanking or choking? absolutely not. you're not some scallywag hoodlum (LMFAO) and he's definitely not going to treat you like one. buuut if you start talking dirty and cussing? he might be flustered, and maybe even a little more turned on than usual (he'd never admit it)

sinister!mark is all about HIM HIM HIM. but the caveat of this is he needs to know he's GOOD at what he's doing - which means you need to feel good too. he's so unbelievably aggressive and doesn't do missionary. you are not coming away without bruises and marks every single time. i think he likes to make you dance for him too beforehand. that's his idea of foreplay - something that reminds you both who's in charge and who it's all for. you better hope he's not in the mood to go down on you cause that bitch bites 😭

no goggles/lensless!mark is probably my fav 🤭 is literally 100% about whatever it is you're into. i guess except missionary whoops. like he's fine throwing it in there occasionally but not a chance he's opening or ending in that position. in fact switching positions is HIS personal favorite thing. honestly his oral is so-so. he's just too damn talkative and can't focus on the task at hand. he also doesn't take it well either - the man's LOUD. and honeestly busts pretty quick but that's okay! he bounces back quicker. viltrumite stamina is crazy and his libido just adds to it

shiesty!mark has probably fucked more people than all of them combined so, yeah, he's got the practice and experience. he KNOWS his dick is phenomenal and tbh if he's not really into you he's letting you do most of the work. he thinks he's doing YOU favor by letting you ride it. but if you were hard to get? ohhh he's got something to prove now, and trust he will. this man reaches spots none of the others even knows exist, uses his strength in a way that is just chefs kiss - pinning you without hurting you, playing with your nipples and the other sensitive parts with expert care. and probably my fav thing about him is that he's the only one (except maybe main!mark) who ever thinks to put on musiccc

moustache!mark is 😛 father dearest. TOTALLY showing you what it feels like to be owneddd - unquestionably, but not in the way sinister does. he does it with affection. you know, like a 'pet' and all that jazz. he's got this way of making you feel simultaneously small and like the most important person in the world. and when he goes down on youuu? THE TICKLE?? biiitch stop. he also is the one who appreciates the thickies the most ughh like he NEEDS all that ass in his hands, in his lap, on his dick. the love handles? the tummy? give him alllat - trust ☝️ he can handle it

prisoner!mark is an interesting one. if we're talking straight out the pen? he's an ANIMAL. i'm talking y'all are going at it aaall night long, him painfully impatient through every little break you insist he gives you. he's also physically the strongest of them all, and, yeah, it shows. all that body pressed into you? those arms? 🥴 idk how anatomically that would even work but for some reason i feel like he'd have a thicker cock too. he'd be so deep and guttural with his groans, all in your ear with it. no holding back. after some time though i think he'd be focused on you and learning what you like - buuut at the end of the day, he still is the most deprived and wants it ALWAYS

[kxsagi]

hear me out bllk characters with an “innocent” s/o who doesn’t understand pickup lines/takes them too literally 😭 with my freaky kings shidou, kaiser, aiku, karasu and otoya, pretty please

“𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐳? 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?”

a/n: omg nah this is peak 🙏

(ac: miiuu1103 on tik tok)

ft. shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, aiku oliver, karasu tabito, otoya eita

shidou ryusei

shidou, being the menace he is, cannot resist dropping the dirtiest, most unhinged pickup lines on you. 

he corners you one day, eyes gleaming, and purrs, “you wanna ride me like a skateboard, baby?” 

you blink up at him with those wide, innocent eyes and a soft gasp. 

“but ryu... i don't know how to skateboard.” 

and you sound so genuinely distressed about it too, like you just failed a pop quiz. 

he stares at you for a second. just stares. like a man witnessing the purest creature alive. 

his brain actually short-circuits. 

“nah, nah, princess, you don’t gotta know how to ride. i’ll teach ya, easy.” 

you perk up immediately. “really?! i've always wanted to learn!” 

shidou goes through it. 

next thing you know this man is out here dragging a skateboard out of the garage, fully committed to giving you lessons like he didn’t mean it in the filthiest way possible. 

he falls in love every time you wibble-wobble on the board and giggle when he catches you. 

thinks you're the best thing since violence and energy drinks. 

kaiser michael

kaiser is OBSESSED with you. 

he thinks your innocence is a gift from the gods, handcrafted to make his life more entertaining. 

one afternoon, he leans back lazily against the wall outside, smirking, and says, “are you a magician? because whenever i look at you, everyone else disappears.” 

your eyes go HUGE. like a cartoon character. you start whipping your head around, frantically looking around the room. 

“wait, where is everyone? what did you do?!” 

you’re actually worried. you start listing people: “wasn’t ness just here? and that man selling pretzels?” 

kaiser nearly slides down the wall laughing. 

he’s gripping his stomach like he's about to ascend. 

when he finally manages to breathe, he cups your cheeks and plants a kiss right on your forehead. 

“relax, schatz. it’s just me being stupidly in love with you.” 

you still make him check if ness is okay, though. (he texts ness “u alive?” ness replies “unfortunately.”) 

aiku oliver

oliver has no shame. 

if he sees you in cute shorts or a dress, he will immediately pull out the worst pickup lines he knows. 

lounging on the couch one day, he winks at you and says, “your body’s 70% water... and i’m thirsty.” 

you stare at him, so genuinely confused, like, “you can just drink from the kitchen? i refilled the brita.” 

realizing how sassy that might have sounded, you legitimately run to get him a bottle of water and come back looking so proud of yourself. 

“here, stay hydrated.” 

oliver’s just sitting there with a hand over his face, sobbing internally from how precious you are. 

he accepts the water, kisses your hand dramatically, and mutters, “god gave you to me because he knew i couldn’t handle anyone else.” 

karasu tabito

karasu thinks he’s the king of smooth. 

he leans over your shoulder while you're cooking, breath warm against your ear, and says, “are you from tennessee? ‘cause you’re the only ten i see.” 

you immediately turn around and frown very seriously. 

“tabi... i’ve never even been to tennessee.” 

you sound so sad about it too, like you’re worried you disappointed him somehow. 

karasu has to physically restrain himself from collapsing into giggles. 

he straightens up, clearing his throat dramatically. 

“nah, babe, it’s just a cheesy way of saying you’re insanely hot.” 

you light up like a christmas tree. “oh! thank you!!” 

and then you very earnestly offer, “i can go to tennessee if you want!” 

karasu almost proposes on the spot. 

from that day on he makes it his mission to hit you with a ridiculous pickup line at least once a day just to see your confused little face. 

otoya eita

otoya thinks he’s the smoothest operator in the universe. 

he slides up to you while you're minding your business and purrs, “do you have a map? ‘cause i just got lost in your eyes.” 

immediately, you gasp and start rummaging through your bag like your life depends on it. 

“i don’t have a paper map on me, but i have the maps app in my phone! wait, wait, don’t panic, i’ll find it!” 

otoya watches you absolutely spiral over helping him and he has to cover his mouth to hide the fact that he’s losing his mind. 

when you look up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, holding your phone out like a lifeline, he just melts. 

“no need, princess,” he croons, tucking your hair behind your ear. “i’m exactly where i wanna be.” 

you: "yay! so you’re not lost anymore?" 

otoya internally: somebody please call an ambulance, i’m in love. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[mossymallow]

People on this site joke a lot and yearn a lot for toxic, doomed by the narrative yaoi in their media, but Toby Fox delivered some of the best doomed toxic yaoi in the last decade with Spamton and Tenna and it's honestly incredibly impressive because it feels so real.

Two people who are so lonely and so afraid of being forgotten (be it because of the natural passage of time, being just plain annoying and intrusive, or both) that it turns both of them into a black hole that absorbs literally everything around them into their own ego like a tarnished suit of armor (it couldn't be me that's difficult/obsolete/irritating, it's everyone ELSE that's wrong) that the only thing they can do once they find each other is collide and inevitably destroy themselves

We see that in Spamton and Tenna's relationship (whether it was orchestrated to fail by Mike or not), is that they both believed they were getting something for free from the other (guidance on how to succeed/love/validation), when reality, the cost was that it shifted their already horrific levels of co-dependency from the Lightners onto one another. As a side-effect of both of them becoming too big to fail, they both became incredibly fragile, who's success and continued happiness relied solely on the other. It only took one mess up- one misinterpretation- to ruin everything, and now they both blame the other for their failure to appeal to the Lightners anymore. Their relationship was ALWAYS doomed to fail because in the end, despite any positive feelings they may have had for one another (be it love or friendship or just plain idol worship), they both put aside any genuine emotion for one another that may have blossomed for their own ego.

The one thing that could have saved both Spamton AND Tenna was honest, earnest, communication, and that's what's so tragic about it, because this happens in real life to people all the time. Without honest communication, relationships crumble- especially business partners, but I feel like they had something deeper. They were earnest in one way with one another, and that was how direly terrified they were of being alone. With proper communication they could have figured something out, been better for each other, and maybe grown past their fear of obsolescence out of, if nothing, mutual respect for one another's skills.

Yet they didn't. They chose the fickle whims of fame and the adoration of strangers over what could have been real. They chose a fantasy of popular anonymity (and probably money, at least in Spamton's case) over each other. Now at the end of everything Tenna doesn't even recognize Spamton, but he still keeps a pipis hidden in a dresser, and when he has a breakdown, just like Spamton did in Chapter 2, the first person he blames for his failure is his old business partner.

Because at the end of the day- to the both of them- it couldn't have been me, it couldn't even have been that other people have lives outside of his influence. It was obviously THAT guy, my old partner, how dare he leave me like this/not teach me to be able to sell things/learn how to use email?

They're more co-dependent now than they were even when they were together, except now it's divorced flavored. Tenna's mannerisms and speech are even Spamton flavored, but considering everything, who was actually coping who in an effort to stay relevant?

Relationships take work, and practice, and above all honesty, which is something that neither of them had the ability to exercise until they were both about to die- and that lack of empathy and genuineness is what made their relationship fall apart with heartbreaking inevitability. Time caught up to them in more ways than one.

If that is not the most toxic of doomed yaois to grace your radar idk what is.

[darkmatilda]

𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after prentiss leaves, someone has to take care of her cat. you decide to share the responsibility between the two of you, leading the people around you to some strange conclusions.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, mini absurd arguments, spencer texting her at 3 a.m. just to infodump about cats (theyre too sweet i cant), theyre completely in their parents era, proof that my sense of humor is silly, diva pov in the final scene!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.3k

𝐚/𝐧: this idea was suggested to me in a comment when i asked for fic ideas for the marathon—basically i think two people mentioned something about the return of that little kitten 🫶🏼

marathon masterlist

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” she asked, turning her head toward him.

Reid, sitting in the passenger seat of her car (her wonderful car…), sighed and closed his eyes.

“You should’ve asked me that when we were still at my apartment,” he muttered. “Then I could have checked. But I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything—like the litter box, the food…”

“A silk pillow?”

“Since when do cats need silk pillows?”

“Well, maybe other cats don’t, but mine does. The delicate fabric is the best for her fur.”

“And she’s still going to sleep on the shelf in the bathroom. Or the fridge. Anywhere but there. It’s a cat.”

She hesitated for a moment, but decided not to push. A brief explanation of what it was actually about—a while ago, they had both saved a kitten they found on the street. Neither of them had the time or the means to care for it, so it ended up in good hands with Emily. But when Prentiss accepted the job at Interpol and moved to London, it became necessary for someone else to take care of the kitten. Her second cat, Sergio, was taken in by Penelope, but she couldn’t adopt both, so they came up with the idea of sharing the responsibility.

This meant the cat would spend a few days with Reid and a few days with her, depending on their plans, schedules, and simply the time they had. It was a fairly new arrangement, so Spencer was about to take the cat in for the first time, and he felt as though it was much more serious than it really was.

After the first night, she literally came over in the morning to check if all her precious one's needs had been met and if she was well cared for. As it turned out, of course, everything was fine, and since she was already there, they went to work together.

“By the way,” she began, just as Reid reached for the car door (her wonderful car…!), which made him turn back toward her, hand paused midair. “I’m not convinced about that food Prentiss was giving her.”

Spencer barely held back an eye roll. Most of her concerns (and there were a lot of them) were entirely unfounded.

“It was fine. The vet recommended it himself.”

“But it didn’t look very good.”

“That’s because it’s cat food. It’d be weird if you thought it looked appetizing.”

“We’ll come back to that. Last thing—I had a few things delivered to your place…”

“To my place?”

“Yep. A harness, a leash, a bowl…”

“She already has a harness and leash. And I have bowls at my apartment…”

“Yeah, but these are nicer. Red with gold accents. They’ll match her black fur.”

“I’m genuinely starting to worry about you.”

“Why? Is it so wrong that I don’t want my baby getting laughed at by the other kids for wearing outdated clothes?”

“She’s a cat. Cats don’t laugh at each other for wearing outdated clothes. That kind of mean behavior is strictly human.”

“Say what you want, but I saw those judgmental looks last time I took her out for a walk.”

“You should be teaching your child that her worth isn’t tied to clothes or material things.”

“She knows that. And soon she’ll also learn that her father’s a cheapskate who doesn’t want her to have cool accessories.”

Spencer ended the conversation with a wave of his hand, deciding the level of absurdity had officially gone too far.

“We’re about to be late,” he pointed out, glancing at his watch.

She gave him a wounded look, as if time were a concept he’d personally invented just to get rid of her. Still, the fact remained—they really were about to be late.

They stepped out of her car (her wonderful... ha! Not this time) (...her wonderful car...) and almost immediately ran into Morgan’s surprised stare.

His takeaway coffee cup froze halfway to his lips.

“Since when do you two show up to work together?”

They exchanged a glance. Spencer’s was mildly awkward; hers was completely unfazed.

“Good morning, Morgan. Nice to see you too. That’s usually how these things start,” she replied in a lecturing tone, to which their friend only rolled his eyes.

“Good morning and all that. So?”

Spencer decided to step in, offering his own explanation—he wanted everything to be clear, no misunderstandings, and most importantly, no two weeks of Morgan shooting him those suggestive looks from beneath raised eyebrows.

“She was already leaving my apartment this morning, so we figured we’d just come in together,” he said plainly.

Morgan did exactly what Spencer had hoped to avoid—he shot him a suggestive look from beneath raised eyebrows.

She, too, fixed her gaze on him, the corner of her mouth curling with mild pity.

“Leaving each other’s apartments in the morning…I’ve gotta say, you two surprise me, but I can’t say it’s unexpected,” Derek commented, completely ignoring Reid’s emphatic head-shaking.

Before he could get another word out, he was silenced with a wave of her hand.

“Better not make it worse,” she told him, then sighed and turned to Morgan. “We just have a baby together.”

Spencer stared at her, wide-eyed.

 “And I’m the one making it worse?”

Morgan shook his head at them with a small smile and simply walked off, calmly sipping his coffee.

Naturally, Spencer hurried after him.

 “A cat! We have a cat together…!”

*

Spencer barely noticed Hotch’s arrival or the fact that the whole team had gathered—he was far too absorbed in the book he was reading.

Alex had been a little surprised by his choice of subject, but he’d explained that lately, he’d been reading a lot about cats. That was just the way he was. He felt a constant need to expand his knowledge, especially in areas that directly affected his daily life.

It had been two weeks since they’d taken the cat in together, and while he had grown used to the added presence in his apartment on certain days, he was still learning fascinating things about these creatures—either from personal experience or through books and articles.

Whenever he came across something particularly interesting, he made a mental note of it to share with her later. That is, with his colleague in shared cat ownership. In shared responsibility for Marie. Since they were doing this together, they needed to be equally educated.

And since there was quite a lot to learn, he eventually started texting her things like:

The claws on a cat’s back paws aren’t as sharp as the claws on the front paws because the back ones don’t retract and, as a result, get worn down.

To which he would receive replies like (which gave him a strange internal delight he would never admit out loud):

really?? going to check wait

Only for five minutes to pass in silence—until a new message popped up:

can’t check, she’s sleeping. you should be too, it’s 3 a.m

Spencer mentally bookmarked the exact page and line where he’d left off so he could return to it later.

In the meantime, Penelope stood before the team, remote in hand, ready to brief them on their next case. But before she could say a word, someone else walked into the room—despite the fact that the whole team was already there.

Funny. He’d just been thinking about her.

“I looked into what you asked me about,” she said, her eyes focused solely on Garcia, not sparing even a passing glance in his direction.

Not that it was particularly strange. Even though they hadn’t seen each other yet that day. It’s not like he always looked for her face first, in every room he happened to walk into.

In any case, she handed Penelope a few papers.

“I adore you, I swear,” Penelope gushed, accepting the papers with heartfelt gratitude.

“I know you do. Oh—and I know you didn’t ask for this, but I figured it was worth looking into, and I actually found something interesting. Take a look…”

She launched into something connected to their new case. Reid reached for the case files, flipping through them quickly to catch up with what she was referencing.

His gaze moved in a steady rhythm—from her face, to the page he was reading, and back again—following the cadence of her voice.

At one point, she caught the look he gave her and tilted her head slightly, a thoughtful expression forming on her face. She didn’t say anything, just kept talking about the case, and their eyes didn’t meet again until she was already at the door.

With one finger raised, she spun on her heel, as if something had just occurred to her. That finger landed squarely on him.

Curious about what she was about to say, Reid straightened in his seat. And then…

“I hope you remember the castration appointment. Six o’clock. You better be there early,” she said briskly before walking out of the room.

Every gaze in the room—unified like a single entity—turned toward his now unnecessarily upright figure.

Spencer’s fingers fidgeted with the papers in his hands, one drifting to his mouth as he cleared his throat.

“We…have a cat now…”

*

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the test results spread out in front of you. Someone appeared at your side, and you knew exactly who it was—even without turning your head.

Over time, you had learned to recognize the people who regularly stepped into your lab—their footsteps, the way they moved, even the sound of their breathing.

This one was new. Quiet, almost shy. He’d only just joined your team, and he was young, with those perpetually shadowed eyes that always seemed to drift around the room in a distant sort of way. Judging by those eyes alone, one could assume he was constantly contemplating the essence of human suffering—and quietly mourning all eight billion souls, one by one.

But truthfully, he had the makings of a brilliant chemist. All he needed was a little more confidence.

“Um, you wanted to see me,” he reported, hands clasped behind his back. Or at least, that’s what you assumed he was saying—he usually stood like that until your stare reminded him he looked like a lost calf, and then he’d shift his posture in embarrassment.

“Indeed. Take these to Dr. Reid.”

You handed him the analyzed results, and he gave a simple nod. He returned ten minutes later, once again taking his place silently by your side, waiting to be noticed.

By then, you were already done with your coffee, fully immersed in your work, and you gave him only a brief nod—enough of a signal that he, too, should get back to it.

“Dr. Reid asked me to tell you…” Winchester began, looking even more awkward than usual. “That unfortunately, he won’t be able to take Marie this weekend.”

You sighed in frustration, and he nearly jumped, thinking it was directed at him.

“We agreed to take turns looking after her every weekend. Does he really have to change it at the last minute?” you muttered under your breath, mentally noting to call him and yell — just on principle. Because honestly, nothing was stopping you from taking the cat for the weekend.

But doing it this way was just more fun.

Winchester nodded and started assisting you with your work, occasionally swallowing nervously, as if trying to find a topic of conversation.

He seemed to live under the impression that whenever you were silent, you were probably planning to destroy the galaxy you all lived in — so he always tried to make awkward small talk, which, truth be told, he had no real desire for as a self-declared introvert.

“So…” he began hesitantly. “Her name is Marie? Is that after…?”

“Marie Skłodowska Curie? That’s right, point for you,” you replied, pausing for a moment as something crossed your mind, making the corners of your lips curl up unintentionally. “Although, at first, it was Albert. We thought she was a male. Blame Spencer and his bad vision,” you snorted.

Winchester looked genuinely shocked.

“How...how could you...what about the doctors?” he stammered, still trying to process the situation.

“What's wrong with them?”

“Didn't they tell you that you...have a beautiful little girl?”

“They did. But we thought it was a boy at first.”

“O-okay,” he muttered, suddenly opening his mouth like he had just realized something. “Oh, okay, now I get it. And, well, I admire you. A home birth must’ve been…tough.”

Only then did you look up at him, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he deeply regretted not keeping his mouth shut, but at the same time, had no idea where he had gone wrong. He scratched his head.

“Sorry if that's a sensitive topic.”

“Our cat would be a sensitive topic?” you asked, trying to hide your amusement because the sheer panic on his face was almost comical. It was reminiscent of Reid’s mortified expression when he tried desperately to conceal that something you did or showed him embarrassed him—though his cheeks gave him away.

“Your…your...I thought...I thought Marie was your and Doctor Reid’s child,” he stuttered, panicking. “And that...I don’t know, you’re divorced or something...should I just shut up now?”

You stared at him for a moment, as if he were battling with himself to close his eyes, as if that would make him disappear.

“Yeah, that’d be probably the best best”

Lmaoo Winchester = Whitaker from the pitt this is exactly what I had in mind while writing

[kingdom-carer]

How to regress when you’ve literally never done it and you have no idea what to expect (or it’s been a while)

*turns around in chair like Captain America* so ……. you wanna be tiny.

Awesome! :D

Voluntary regression, when done intentionally, can be immensely fun and healing. Let’s get you set up for success.

Step 1: Set Your Goals

Your goal should never be “to regress” - it may not happen. You may spend all of your time just age dreaming (acting small with your big brain still in). You need to be okay with that.

The reason you’re regressing isn’t the same as your goal. “Because I’m traumatized,” “for fun,” and “for chronic pain” are all valid reasons, but they don’t provide you with the framework for healing that we’re looking for.

Here are some specific, achievable goals:

“I want to relax and have uninterrupted fun after a long day.”

“I want to reparent my inner child through affirmation work, gentle parenting, and rules for self-care.”

“I want to work through trauma I’ve experienced through play so I can experiment with new outcomes for tough situations.”

“I want to complete easy tasks/assignments to give myself a sense of pride and accomplishment.”

“I want to allow myself to trust and be cared for in a way that I am usually resistant to.”

“I want to allow Jesus to speak to me when I feel most vulnerable and receptive to His kindness.”

“I want to improve my self/care habits by making them fun and digestible.”

“I want to revisit childhood/deep-rooted fears so I can work through them with effective coping mechanisms, like journaling.”

Step 2: Selecting Your Tools

Here, you might have seen lists of things that people like to use when they’re little, but rarely do they explain why they like to use them. These lists also may not resonate with older or alternative regressors.

So instead, I will give you categories of things that I believe are relevant to regression, and you fill decide what satisfies it best for you.

Something to wear: do you have clothing that is easy and comfortable to move around in, makes you feel good to wear, and/or gives you sensory input you crave?

Something to watch: do you know of a show, movie, or YouTube channel that holds good memories for you? Is there one out there that piques your interest? It doesn’t have to be “kid-friendly,” but its effect should be comfort and peace, not intellectual or emotional strain. We are not looking for challenge - that is for developing your grownup brain. Many regressors prefer kids media for this reason.

Something to do (with your hands): Stimulating senses other than sight is vital for grounding, especially in today’s online world … and, considering the nature of the work we are doing, you may need it. Painting, sensory sand, going to the beach, swimming, making music, woodworking, crocheting, polymer clay, diamond painting, puzzles, coloring books, and more can all bring out your inner child. Again, we are looking for joy, not challenge; perhaps your local dollar store has a craft kit!

Something to read: are you a scientist who loves learning about animals? A horror fan who loves spooky tales? Do you remember a series from your childhood that brought you joy? Reading is a great way to escape into a simpler world and evade screens, especially if it’s crafted without profanity or triggering subjects. Children’s books may also minister to you in ways that adults failed, such as teaching emotional regulation, socialization, and how to fight common fears.

Something to hold: plushies have been proven to be beneficial for mental health, but a companion doesn’t have to be stuffed! Action figures, dolls, and other friends can be thrifted, bought, or dug up from closets. They provide sounding boards for scary thoughts that get less scary when said aloud, companionship during play, travel, or sleep, and serve as willing recipients of your creative outputs (bracelets, clothing, drawings, etc). And, when you need a hug, your favorite toy can be right there with you in the absence of a human friend.

Something to nibble: food is fuel for the body, but it is also love. Choose foods that are nutritious and fun, just like you’d give a child. My personal faves are Slim Jim’s, pepperoni, berries, nuts, dairy, and veggies with dip. Treats are great too, but spend your tummy bank on nutritionally valuable food first! Regressors also find fun in experimenting with different vessels for food and drinks, like crazy straws, bottles, ZooPals plates, or character dining sets.

Something to play with: ‘play’ has many definitions and types. Below is a short list of types of play. No matter if you like toys or not, gather objects or activities that encourage play.

Symbolic play - using one object to represent another (i.e. a flower becomes a wand - try blocks or play scarves)

Locomotor play - moving play (try roller skates, online exercises/dance classes, or small exercise trampolines)

Creative play - invoking a desired or experimental outcome (try Legos and art supplies)

Deep play and rough-and-tumble play - play that involves bodily risk and movement (try hiking, rock climbing, or swimming)

Dramatic play - orchestrating play without personal involvement (“setting up” elaborate scenes with toys was a big part of my childhood play! Try small toys and accessories like Calico Critters, stuffed animals, or dolls)

Exploratory play - play to gain information (try boxed or homemade science experiments, or simply asking, “I wonder what happens if I …?”)

Fantasy and imaginative play - playing in a way that is unlikely to occur in real life and/or the rules have changed (try dressing up to be a superhero, royalty, animal, etc)

Mastery play - bringing a task to completion (build a campfire, dig holes in sand to fill with water, complete a video game level, etc)

Object play - manipulating objects to learn more about them (common in developing babies and autistic stimming; try fidget toys)

Socio-dramatic play - taking on a role that involves social interaction (I.e. playing house or doctor)

Somewhere to go: novelty can be hugely effective in delighting your inner child. Try hanging out in the backyard, going to a park/museum/aquarium, taking yourself on a “little” shopping spree with a set budget, going to a theme park/state fair, or checking out kids media from your local library. Since you are exiting your safe space, you must be mindful of those around you. This is why I usually recommend this to those who know they will only be age dreaming, unless they are completely alone. For your safety, please do not involve anyone who has not consented in your regression.

Something to see: if you can, decorate your safe space or a portion of your safe space in a way that makes your inner child happy. Try changing your phone wallpaper, collecting figures, displaying stuffies on your bed, putting up wall stickers or drawings you’ve made, or changing your bed sheets.

A note on pacifiers: pacis made for adults are a great way to abate thumb-sucking and unhealthy oral stims. They will shift your teeth only if you use them excessively; try limiting use to an hour at a time, and always wear your retainer if you have one. If you feel pain, stop. Disassemble and clean immediately after use.

A note on diapers: I personally do not use diapers because I don’t want or need them, but should you choose differently, there are lots of creators who have more information on them. Most importantly, they are not shameful.

Step 3: Meeting Your Inner Child

How do you know when you’ve regressed?

When play takes over.

When you find yourself fully engaged in what’s in front of you, finding captivation in the simplest things, you are regressed. It isn’t some magical transformation - you’re just revising a part of you that has always been there, latent. It is an unlocking of childhood whimsy … a state of being easily awed.

Thoughts may simplify; adult reasoning for comfort objects may reduce to a petulant mine. Anxious spirals may be replaced by a simple mama, I’m scared. Thoughtful analyses of character arcs and subplots may sound more like yay, ponies!

If you have an internal monologue, it may disappear, replaced with more primal emotions like “angry” or “scared” or “happy” or “calm.” There have been many times that my husband has asked little me what’s wrong, but instead of words, only sobs make it out of my mouth. Then, when he holds me, a warmth I can’t name fills my chest and makes me sleepy.

What is your inner child like? Are they more or less …

Sensitive?

Chatty?

Energetic?

Creative?

Impulsive?

Experimental?

Outspoken?

Stubborn?

Relaxed?

Giggly?

Curious?

Focused?

Defiant?

Angry?

Expressive?

Your inner child, like all children, is subject to fits and flights of fancy. This is normal! Love them as you would love a normal child.

Step Four: Caring For The Bunchkin

Since our goal is not to regress, we have the freedom to take a third-person point of view while we are in our safe space, check in on ourselves, and see how we are doing.

If your goal is to heal, take things slow. Choose one activity at a time that allows you to explore your deeper thoughts, and allow ample room for fun and relaxation.

Instead of focusing on your trauma and hurt, start by asking yourself - “what are my deepest desires? What am I lacking? What is important to me? What can I give myself that I did not receive?”

Kids’ “About Me” worksheets are a great place to start, since there are no wrong answers. As you get more comfortable being small, try making or completing worksheets that ask the weightier questions.

Caring for with your inner child can be as simple as imagining them like another person. For example:

If you are shameful of your desire to connect with an old fandom, ask yourself why that might be. Did someone tell you that it was shameful? Did you have a bad experience in that fandom? Were you at a turbulent point of your life? What might you say to a child experiencing these emotions now?

If you are reluctant to make noise or take up space, ask yourself why. Did someone tell you that you were ‘too much?’ Were you afraid to be judged? Did someone punish you for getting in their way? What would you say to a child afraid to take up space in your presence?

If you are distressed at the idea of stimming openly while small, ask yourself why. Did someone - or life experience - teach you to mask? Are you afraid of being judged as a “faker?” Are you afraid of looking or feeling incapable in some way? What would you say to a child who is afraid to stim?

If you are upset with yourself for reacting to a trigger, ask yourself why. Do you feel like you should be more healed, or more in control of yourself? Are you afraid of slipping back towards a state you used to be in? Are you afraid of re-experiencing trauma?

What would you say and do for a child who struggles with a trigger?

Showing your little self compassion and modeling joy from an adult headspace is vital. Don’t say anything to your inner child that you wouldn’t say to an actual child.

You may not be quite ready to believe the healing truths you have learned when you are big, but putting them into practice when you are small is a great way to soothe yourself from the inside out.

(I filled up my star chart by making my bed each day! Good job, me! I worked so hard, and now I get a treat!)

(I did a drawing all by myself! I can put it on my fridge now. Wow, I’m so glad I made something today.)

(I went outside, and there are so many cool things to see! What an awesome world I live in.)

Healing can be tough, but it’s so fantastic. It all starts with being kind to yourself. You can do it!

Step 5 - Putting Out Fires

Oh dear, something went wrong, and now a tantrum is afoot. Or a meltdown. Or a flashback. What do we do?

Hold up your fingers like birthday candles and blow them out to encourage deep breathing.

Play a song that makes you feel good, and dance if you can. Physical movement is your best antidote.

Name 5 things you can see, 4 you can touch, 3 you can hear, 2 you can smell, and 1 you can taste.

Repeat your affirmations aloud. There is power in hearing something that isn’t your own mental hurricane. “I am loved, I am safe, I am going to be okay.”

Assign the trigger to a stuffie (don’t worry, they are willing participants!). Say, “hey, wait a minute, why should you be in charge? These are MY thoughts! Take that! And that! And that!” Toss your stuffie around and get those crazy thoughts away from both of you!

Assign the trigger to a stuffie, and pretend they are you. What would you say to calm them down and tell them you are here for them?

Get a change of scenery. Go outside, go somewhere else, take a shower or bubble bath.

Scribble your feelings on paper. No, really, go ham. Break some crayons. Then crumple them, tear them, and throw them away.

Most importantly - don’t be mad at yourself.

The debrief - what can we do for next time?

Handle triggers with care, but don’t be afraid of the feelings that accompany them. There is an unmet need somewhere in your soul - what is it, and how can you meet it?

Journaling and affirmations - record what happened and why you think it happened, and then write kind things to and about yourself.

“Do it scared” - push past the lies you have been told about yourself and enjoy things anyway.

I am a Christian, and I live by the phrase: “if it isn’t your reality, make it your prayer.” Even if you don’t believe now that you are safe, loved, and capable, saying these things to yourself constantly will help them be realized.

Obviously, avoiding negative language about yourself in your adult life is the other half of the pizza. Your inner child is doing work for adult you, too! Don’t undermine it!

The Wrap Up

Well, Kiddo, I’m so glad you’re taking this step in your healing journey. A few things to remember before you go:

You may grow out of regression! That’s good! It’s a sign that your inner child is happy and content.

You may never grow out of regression. That’s okay! Your inner child can get love all your life!

Your regression is your business. You don’t have to tell anyone about it if you don’t want to. Choose who you tell very carefully.

Ignore the haters. You’re doing great.

Bye, Kiddo! You are so loved!! 🥰

[monstersholygrail]

Imagine an entire bird colony of all male Bird Hybrids where you are their dancing instructor.

Every bird in the colony is absolutely feral over you. They desire you so much to the point where they started taking your class to learn how to woo possible mates but now they only wanna use what they learn on you.

They’ll do the steps wrong on purpose so that they can feel your soft hands on them when you correct it. Wishing you’d slip your hands further down till your thick fingers wrap around their aching cocks. You just smell so good and consume all their senses. Their adorable chirps fill the air whenever you give them any attention, their minds spinning with you.

Sometimes they’ll act like they aren’t getting it no matter what. You all know what’s going on and you’re not too shy to admit you love the attention they give you back. Your panties gushing with arousal as their eyes are trained on your every move.

So you tease them further. Inviting them to grab your hips and feel the way you move into the step, grinding against them every now and then. Loving the way their faces always drop, staring down at your wide hips and round bottom. Their feathers ruffling and wings flapping as they get more turned on. They try not to make it obvious but it makes you so hot to see how deeply you affect them.

By the end of every class all the bird hybrid’s cocks are rock hard and they’re in desperate need of you. They try anything they can think of to get you to stay after class with them. Showering you in affection they now want to drown in you in unimaginable pleasure. Stuffing your tight cunt over and over again with their cocks. Filling you up with all their cum till your belly bulges with it.

You always look so pretty underneath them. Especially as a handful of them always seemed to get you to agree to stay after. One after the other they take you hard, each of them coming inside of you until you’re all fucked out and cum is leaking into a puddle between your thick thighs. Of course they take the best care of you after.

After months of this you had realized that this colony was the only one you were teaching. And the bird hybrids make sure to keep it that way as they fill up all your available slots. Anyone can be competition and they don’t want your attention on another colony. Not that it ever would. You’re more than happy with the affection they constantly show you.

You always have more mating gifts than you know what to do with. Sometimes they give you pretty pebbles or other brightly covered objects. Other times they give you adorable little twigs and materials for a nest you don’t have. But they wanna help take care of you anyway. Then some give you food, wanting to keep your plump body healthy by making sure you’re eating good.

But the feathers that fall off their wings throughout class are your favorite. You put them up on the walls for decoration. The bird hybrids preen whenever they see their feather on the wall, viewing it as their claim on you. They boast to the other birds but then others point out that their feather is up there too and they turn playful as they try and say their feather is longer or fluffier.

Eventually they go to you, thinking that if they can’t prove they’re the better mate through their feathers, they can see which one can make you cum harder. It takes hours for them to come to any sort of agreement as they each use their fingers, tongues, and cocks to make you explode around them long past till you’re seeing stars.

They come from a place of love above all. Wanting to please you, their mate, more than anything. They’d do whatever they could to make that happen as caring for you is what they enjoy most.

I will literally beg for asks about them!! They’ve been a brainrot for me just about all week now. I’d love to see others expand on them and the idea. Or even just to join in the freak out and gush about the fluffy guys together!

[funnygirlthatbelle]

i suspect that a huge factor in the defense of students using gen ai (and academic dishonesty in general tbh) comes from the fundamental misunderstanding of how school works.

to simplify thousands of educator's theories into the simplest terms, there are two types of stuff you're learning in school: content and skills. content is what we often think of as the material in school- spelling, times tables, names, dates, facts, etc.- whereas skills are usually more subtle. think phonics, mental math, reading comprehension, comparing and contrasting; though students do those things often, the how usually isn't deemed as important as the what.

this leads to a disconnect that's most obvious when students ask the infamous "when will we use this in the real world?" they have- often correctly- identified content that the content is niche, outdated, or not optimized but haven't considered the skills that this class/lesson/assignment will teach.

i can think of two shining examples from when i was a kid. one was in middle school when they announced that we were now gonna be studying latin, and we all wondered why on earth they would choose latin as our foreign language. every adult promised us it'd be helpful if we went into medicine, law, or religion (ignoring that most of us didn't want to go into medicine, law, or religion), but we didn't buy that and never took it seriously. the truth was that our new principal knew that learning languages gets harder as you get older, and so building the skills of learning a language while it was easy for us was more important than which language we learned, and that's an answer twelve year old me would've actually respected.

similarly, my geometry class all hated proofs. we couldn't think of a single situation where you'd have to convince someone a triangle was a triangle and "look at it, of course it's a triangle" wouldn't be an acceptable answer. it was actually the band director who pointed out that it wasn't literally about triangles; it was about being able to prove or disprove something, anything using facts.

and so, so, so many assignments that are annoying as hell in school make more sense when you think about the skills as well as the content. "why do i have to present information about something the teacher obviously already knows about?" because research, verifying sources, summarizing, and public speaking are all really important skills. "why does this have to be a group project?" because you will have to work with other people in your life, and learning how to be a team player (and deal with people who aren't) is an essential skill. "why do we have to read these scientific articles and learn about graphs?" because if you can understand them, people can't lie to you about them.

now, of course, there's a lot we could do better- especially we as in the american school system. the reason i have an education minor but am not teaching is because of those issues. there are plenty of assignments that are busywork and teachers that are assholes and ways that the system is failing us.

but that doesn't mean you should cut off your nose to spite your face!

the ability to learn and grow and think critically is one of our most powerful tools as people. our brains are capable of incredible things! however, the same way you can't lift a car unless you consistently lift and build up to that, your brain needs to train in order to do its best.

so yeah, maybe chatgpt can write a five paragraph essay for you on the differences between thomas jefferson and alexander hamilton's governing philosophies. and maybe it won't even fuck it up! congratulations, you got away with it. but by outright refusing to use your brain and practice these skills, who have you helped? you haven't learned anything. worse, you haven't even learned how to learn.

[rhyrhy]

Professor Anderson

[a/n]: I literally couldn’t get this out my head, so I had a few headcannons for a fic later, where the idea came from!, short random blurb, suggestive-ish.

Professor Anderson, who loves her job.

Professor Anderson, who is always so patient. She replies to every email, text message, and phone call because she cares deeply about her students’ success!

She’s fully aware of her own appearance, who tolerates no fraternizing from her students—no flirting, no jokes, none of it. “You are here so I can teach you, nothing more, nothing less.”

She would never even look at a student below the neckline, loves eye contact. shows respect and that you are engaged in her material.

always has someone help her when she’s trying to present because she’s so bad with computers. The type to leave the YouTube video off full screen, unable to get the sound right until someone steps in to help.

Often forgets her glasses are on the collar of her shirt or the top of her head until someone calls it out, and it’s a short laugh every time. Just a little chuckle, followed by a soft, “I swear, I’ll never learn.”

Professor Anderson had always imagined she’d be married in the next few years but was okay with her own company. A framed picture of her loving canine sat on her desk, a constant companion who was always there for her, even when no one else was.

She never specifically says “wife” or “husband,” just “partner” when asked if she’s married. Yeah, probably wasn’t straight. She never felt the need to explain herself—just content with the way things were.

Professor Anderson always signs her webmails with:

————————————————-

“Do the best you can until you know better. Then, when you know better, do better.” — Maya Angelou

Abigail Anderson

Spanish, English

XXX-X-XX

Click to schedule an appointment | Classroom Padlet

She’s just such a sweetheart! So when you accidentally sent her a selfie to her work phone, she just replied:

She didn’t think much about the interaction after. Just a mix up.

Professor Anderson did notice how you held eye contact with her, head rested on your hand as you soaked up her every word. It made her smile. you liked her class. Liked her teaching you. So she did, she smiled at you a little, then turned her attention back to the board, going over the study material. But just for a moment, a smile that she quickly masked, focusing on the next point in her notes.

She would find herself enjoying the small back-and-forth on discussion boards, especially when classmate Emily corrected yours, laughing at the response.

You were her best student. So Bright. Always prepared. Always watching her so closely, like what she said mattered. So of course she opened your latest assignment ready to grade and be done for the day. Only to be greeted with another photo of yourself—less modest than usual.

Professor Anderson, who immediately closed her laptop. Heart racing against her ribs. She stared at the screen for a second too long before it went black, the image still burned into her mind. That wasn’t meant for her. Not at all. A slip-up, clearly. An accident.

Why would you even have something like that saved on your computer? Why had it ended up in her inbox? She ran a hand over her face, fingers brushing against the frames of her glasses perched on top of her head—forgotten again. She let out a shaky exhale and removed them, setting them gently on the desk like she was setting the moment down, trying to ground herself.

————————————-

Subject: Wrong File

Dear,___

I believe you may have attached the wrong document to your last message. Please double-check and resend when you have a moment.

Best,

Professor Anderson

—————————————————

She took a deep breath, taking off her glasses. You were gorgeous, yes. But that’s simply not a line she’d cross. She’s better than temptation. She wasn’t about to risk her career, her boundaries, or her principles just for a moment of fleeting attraction.

I NEED HER TO IMPREGNATE MEEE ?!