#(instead of working on my dissertation)

[croquettish]

Claustrophobia as a Metaphor for Hans' Feelings for Henry

All right. I'm ready to go full tinfoil hat here but I have a theory, y'all. And there is a lot of evidence to back it up even if you decide I'm off my rocker for most of it:

I think Hans' claustrophobia exists in parallel to his feelings and, more importantly, how Hans feels about his feelings for Henry.

We first get the hint that Hans is claustrophobic when he and Henry get tossed into the dungeon at Trosky:

This is immediately post-divorce era. The boys haven't quite yet made up and Hans has gotten his first taste of what life is like without Henry. He did not care for it, and that realization comes alongside an incredibly unexpected vulnerability that Hans is not used to and has not had to deal with before.

The threat of losing Henry before was of course something he could conceive of before, most recently following Henry's ~terrible fall, but that would have been losing him in the abstract. If he lost Henry because of their fight, that would be (at least in his eyes), 100% his fault, at least in part because-- as you'll recall-- Henry was ready to make up literally the next morning. Earlier, even, if you watch the way he tries to look at Hans while Hans is stubbornly staring away as if to keep from being persuaded by Henry's puppy dog eyes.

The divorce era presented a different sort of loss, namely losing Henry not because of God's will, but because of his own stubborn pride. He got Henry back after, but the risk was there and it's only after getting him back that the full weight of what he almost lost hits him. At the beginning, when he's still panicking in the cell, he's still in what he perceives to be the proverbial doghouse, and he promptly follows this up by eating crow and apologizing to Henry for being an asshole.

Panic abated.

Until Henry is taken away from him, of course, and the walls truly start closing in. I have to really commend the creative direction of this scene in particular because that zoom out + transition to a Dutch angle is so fucking haunting in this scene while we watch Hans clearly trying not to have a full breakdown. It really induces the feeling of claustrophobia even if a person doesn't suffer from it themselves.

Henry was taken away from him, and as far as he knows, he might never see him again. No wonder the walls start closing in on him.

After that, things return to normal. No bad claustrophobia concerns for some time, incidentally. Henry is there, and his feelings regarding Henry are completely logical and rational. What a good friend Henry is!

The next time we see Hans' claustrophobia flare up is after Nebakov is hit by the Finger of God/bombard. Hans is trapped under a beam and is (understandably) freaking the fuck out. We also know from his dialogue later on that this scene magnified his claustrophobia even more than it was before.

What's notable, however, is that Henry at this point is barely conscious and isn't responding to Hans. As far as he knows, Henry isn't alive. That bombard could have easily killed any/all of them and tbh it's kind of a miracle that it didn't. Never mind that after his brief foray into consciousness, Henry is promptly hit by a full-length ceiling beam and (presumably, logically) knocked the fuck out. Meanwhile Hans is being crushed by his own fear of his feelings.

We obviously don't know what happens between the time of the tower's destruction and the scene in the cart after, but we do know that Henry was woken up at dawn to the commotion and by the time they get done being tortured, it's very late at night. So presumably Henry was out cold for a while there. Not only are the walls closing in on Hans here, they're literally crushing him. The fear of losing Henry is more present than ever.

And to make matters worse, he has no idea when or even if he's ever going to see Henry again. Henry has no value as a hostage. He could easily be simply disposed of without a second thought.

Henry could die, and it would, in Hans' eyes, be all his fault. At this point his feelings on the matter are guilt and a tremendous amount of self-pity (as we later learn from Brabant). As if to coincide with Hans being confronted with his feelings regarding Henry and the loss of him at this point and time, he ends up stuck in his gilded cage at Maleshov.

Once again, the walls are closing in.

We learn about how he felt about this only later when we chat with him at the Devil's Den:

The big problem with the room, Hans explains, was simply that he couldn't leave.

If we bear in mind the claustrophobia : confrontation of feelings metaphor here, this makes sense. Henry could be dead. He could have been tortured. He could still be in captivity. Hell, depending on how you play Henry being tortured, he even tells the torturer to just go ahead and fucking kill him because he's not talking. Henry was ready to die.

Hans knows Henry. Extremely well. He knows that Henry has some truly insane principles that he will stick to no matter what. There's no doubt in my mind that Hans probably knows there is a good chance that Henry doesn't make it through this. And he's confronted with all of these feelings over an extended period of time where he gets to sit and spin.

In light of that, I think it's interesting that he calls it a hole, because I would never use a word like that to describe what is effectively a fancy hotel room. But figuratively speaking, of course it's a hole for him. He's despairing. He needs Henry in his life and there's nothing he can do to get to him or to save him. He can't leave.

And then, of course, Henry shows up after all. No wonder Hans looks so unbelievably elated to see him. Of course, this is when Henry brings up the secret passageway. Hans is told that he can leave this enclosed space for another, even tighter enclosed space!

Now, if you pick the correct dialogue option here and tell him that you'll make it through, together, Hans of course discloses that the shit about how it's not ~chivalrous was bullshit and that it's because he might endanger him:

He just spent the last x amount of time (depending on how long you had Henry dilly-dallying around Kuttenberg and its environs) trapped here and steeped in his feelings regarding Henry. The fear of losing him is at the top of this list. To Hans, going into that passageway could also make him lose Henry. And it would be his fault. Again.

There's also something to be said here about close quarters. If we're to return here to the metaphors, then those close quarters force Hans to confront his feelings for Henry. Henry even says it himself back when they're in the Trosky dungeon together:

From there, it's on to Raborsch. Which is where things get very interesting.

Hans is told that he's going to be getting married. Much like in the Trosky dungeon, we get that zoom (albeit in the other direction this time) and then his POV. The way time seems to slow, the wobble of the camera... being something of a panic attack haver myself, this is exactly what it feels like. It is honestly impressive how well they mimic the feeling of it. And the way it's executed almost makes it look as though the room is shrinking.

This is my own personal headcanon that will probably not be shared by most people, but I think this is the moment that Hans realizes that he's in love with Henry. It would make sense for him to feel faint and like the walls are closing in on him in that moment.

It's also the worst possible moment for him to realize.

And then he proceeds to try and shove those feelings aside and repress them as best as possible. Nevermind that yet again Henry isn't there to help support him.

There was a wonderful post going around the other day about why Hans' responses to the romantic dialogue options Henry chooses sound so platonic. Because... yeah. He's holding that shit in TIGHT. He is on LOCKDOWN.

And we see that reflected in where he chooses to place himself physically after that point!!!!

After the announcement, Godwin can find him outside on the balcony getting absolutely hammered and talking to Rabbi Jehuda.

Even at the Devil's Den, where he's objectively free, he feels... crowded. Like the walls are closing in on him:

No fucking wonder. If he just realized that he's in love with Henry, then at this point in the story he's still trying real hard to repress that shit. Hans is erecting these walls himself as if he's trying to choke these feelings out of him. It also makes sense why he's constantly going out to get away from this confrontation of feelings as much as possible, riding out whenever he can:

Even in the group meeting with the Devil's gang, he says this:

Now it's the whole tavern! Anywhere that has walls and a roof is choking the life out of him! And of course here Henry is suddenly fucking everywhere.

When talking to him about the rides he goes on in the surrounding areas, this line of inquiry leads him to ask if he's fucking poaching again, and Hans comes back by saying this:

Allow me to just say.

And I cannot stress this enough.

He did not need to tell Henry that.

Henry tells him as much, but it feels fairly obvious that this was said with intent. It's like he's trying to reinforce his own heterosexuality to both him and Henry.

I would also like to highlight here that to Hans, it's always outside that this heterosexuality occurs. Even at the baths those hookups are merely in tents. The girl from Bohunowitz he found in (or near) a hunter's camp in the forest.

So we see a pretty direct correlation here. The inside of pretty much any building (or passageway) that also contains Henry or the Absence of Henry (in the abstract) is profoundly unsafe. This is the space where feelings always seem to happen and where Realizations™️ occur.

So! The outside is safe! Nothing can get him there, not even his feelings for Henry!

It's interesting, then, that Hans decides to invite Henry into that very space not long after:

Even in the space Hans uses as an escape (including as an escape from Henry), he still wants Henry there. Much as I discussed in this post, Hans views hunting with Henry in this scene as an escape into the past. Pre-betrothal, pre-feelings. A simpler time and a return to normalcy.

Naturally, he has to counteract Henry's presence in the Comphet space by bringing up as much heterosexuality as possible:

He brings this up regardless of how you respond.

Depending on your dialogue choices, you then learn that the girl from Bohunowitz is named Karolina. (Tbh if I didn't know better, I'd assume she was fucking made up seeing as she shares a name with the same girl he was running after in The Amorous Adventures of Bold Sir Hans Capon and there is no such girl to be found in Bohunowitz.)

Regardless of whether you chose to tease him or grumble about his womanizing, Henry makes it pretty clear that he doesn't want to hear about it. He says something similar as well earlier, when Hans says that the girl from Bohunowitz (who may or may not be made up) gave him a ~ride:

Hans quickly changes the subject, but Henry keeps them on topic and brings it up again, effectively asking him if these wenches are more important to him than he is:

(Tbh it's pretty fucking obvious from these interactions that Henry is already feeling quite a lot here and is looking for validation from Hans... which Hans then, perhaps unwittingly, provides. Maybe he just can't help himself. The truth slips through the cracks.)

Hans immediately reassures him, of course:

At which point it's Henry's turn to brush him off and put some distance between them again.

Distance which Hans immediately closes up again...

... only to freak out and instantly backpedal.

The assault on Maleshov really hammers this connection home, where even outside, he can't run from his fear.

In this case, because the Finger of God fires and hits the fortress walls.

Hans falls back and just... stares.

And just stays there for a while. For long enough, in fact, that Henry and Godwin have to come help him up.

Henry, in this instance, is both the problem and the solution: all Hans has to do is accept the fact that he's in love with him—with a little help from Henry.

And then we get to the Italian Job. Hooo boy.

It does not escape my attention that these two dialogue options come up in the same conversation, one of which of course leads to a romance choice:

Henry tries to insist on how much he enjoys Hans' company only for Hans to brush him off. Quite substantially. Like if I was Henry I'd be fucking gutted or at the very least baffled that my friend could be that obtuse when I'm over here dropping all these hints.

And then, of course, Hans promptly panics again when Henry brings up the underground passage and asks if he's joining him in going through it (almost as if those two bits of panic are related).

He even brings up societal judgment! But I think it's that last one that carries by far the most weight. He's still looking for any possible way out that he can find and asking for validation from Henry while he's doing it. Which is asking quite a lot of Henry imo.

Of course, then he suddenly doesn't have a choice anymore. Which is also where Hans actually comes to terms with his feelings. He has to go through the passageway. There's no choice. The walls are closing in and he has to accept it or he'll go insane if he keeps repressing any of this any longer. The narrative is practically telling him: you can't run from this anymore. His feelings for Henry are real and they're right in front of him and they're not this terrifying thing that he's been running from all this time.

Katherine tells Henry that Hans was trailing behind Godwin and her "like a dazed sheep" and that she hopes he didn't get lost.

The good news is that he didn't. Instead, quite the opposite happened: he finally found his way to accepting how he feels.

And when he does, he finds that he's no longer afraid of them. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, confronting his fears meant that they're not nearly as terrifying anymore.

Again, Henry asks if he's really all right, and Hans insists that he's never been better. No fucking wonder. This was a come-to-Jesus moment if ever I saw one.

And then he checks on Henry. All this time, he's been looking at his own fear, stuck in this, quite frankly, closet, and not thinking about how Henry has been feeling.

Even so, Henry is worried. At which point Hans gets to reassure him that, no, he's all right. In fact, the one holding him back and hurting him most in all of this has been none other than himself. If anything, Henry has been encouraging all this time. He does his job well. And that includes loving Hans.

Henry suggests that he overcame his fear, and Hans insists that no, that's not quite it.

Which makes sense. You don't just overcome your fears by facing them. Certainly not something like claustrophobia. It's also unlikely that an actual miracle occurred here. If you listen for his idle talk before or after this conversation, even Hans is absolutely baffled that he just... overcame his fear. Just like that.

To me, that suggests that this is about something else entirely, and not tight, enclosed spaces at all. He's always been afraid to face this part of himself.

In fact, if we recall what happened during their successful siege on Maleshov, Hans fell and couldn't recover without aid. Here, he fell and got himself up again because... it didn't kill him. It's okay to have—wait for it—fallen in love with Henry.

Is this a stretch? Maybe. But the fact that it happens twice makes me think that it was done with intent.

(If I wanted to bring in a real stretch here, I'd suggest that there's meaning behind the fact that Hans helps Henry up to his feet several times, first after his terrible fall at the beginning, while they're walking to Bozhena's, and again after he's on the floor getting kicked at the Semine wedding. If this was meant to be a hint as to where Henry realized that he was in love with Hans, having lost him first almost to death and then again to the divorce arc, it wouldn't surprise me tbh. He fell, and Hans was there to be his solution—the only difference is that Henry wouldn't have had a problem accepting it the way that Hans did. But, like I said, this one is a stretch.)

All of which brings us to the second confession.

Henry tried telling him this same exact thing before, after nearly losing him to the noose and their temporary split. Now he's saying this exact same thing again. Which feels... pointed and frankly intentional.

And this time, Hans responds in kind. He also cares about Henry. He's just really bad at showing it sometimes.

Because of course he's bad at it. He's spent the whole game thus far stuck in a closet of claustrophobia battling against his own internally homophobic demons.

But his success in a) escaping that closet and b) battling those demons brings us to the promised land.

Where they fuck in a (relatively, considering Hans' fear from before) small room and with Hans underneath Henry, the safest ceiling to come (down) on him of them all ♥

[fatehbaz]

weekly navel-gazing update: this week is most consequential event in long time. keyword search: "scared" "is it ok to be scared" "beaten and tortured by the ogre"

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

The problem on a week like this is when there are a bunch of busy running-around days I feel like "well I can't possibly be expected to get dissertation work done in the midst of all this" but when I reach a chill day I then think "well I can't possibly be expected to get dissertation work done when I am recovering from all those busy days"

[novella-november]

Not to harsh your joy regarding your personal project, (which does sound awesome!) the fact that you keep answering the "can I do fanfic?" questions with "technically yes, but have you considered not doing that?" does not actually *feel* very fanfic friendly. (Especially for anyone who enjoys fanfic as a hobby and isn't also an ofic writer. For example, I personally write almost exclusively character studies that are an explicit reaction to canon; there is no real way to write that sort of thing except as fanfic.)

Which is just a long-winded way of requesting that you maybe consider less of a caveat with the FAQ if you make one, please.

oh that was definitely not my intention, thanks for the ask! I think it was mostly just because I got that same question a few times in a row from various anons within the same time span (including some that were not published publicly), it just happened that I was thinking of my own project(s, plural now) in the last day when I answered those two, for those who want an extra creative challenge.

There's a reason my own original thing has been in my head for the last ten years without me actually writing it while I've written and posted tons of fanfiction, and even now some of my original works are going to be based on Arsene Lupin, so they'd technically be considered fanfiction since they're based on and use an established work for the characters and settings --

--writing completely original fic *is* harder, and that's exactly why I'm *suggesting* (not requiring!) that people consider taking 1 out of short story 4 challenges to look at their work in a new light.

90% of what I read and (until I actually start and finish my original works) 100% of what I've written in my life is fanfic. I have nothing against fanfic, otherwise I woudn't even be interested in creative writing.

But its also not a diss to say "Would you consider looking at your [fanfic] writing from a new angle and try to figure out different ways of going about it?"

Honestly, being able to even consider this option *as a fun extra challenge* is meant to help improve your writing and creative skills; it's not meant as a cheap shot at people who choose to write fanfiction because I my self write and read tons of it,

it's me saying "if you want even more practice at creative writing during these monthly challenges, try branching out a little bit from your comfort zone, you may be pleasantly surprised."

People who write and read fanfiction already have tons of creative experience, and if people like me and many other fanfic writers who one day dream of being published authors, want to broaden our horizons and seek new experiences, one of the easiest exercises is to take something we're planning on writing or already wrote, and see what we would change to make it brand new and standalone--

-- something that not only helps you come up with new ideas, but also will help when it comes time to *edit*, which can be, depending on the length and complexity of your story, can be a complicated process:

whether that means having to delete scenes entirely,

changing what a character says,

altering an aspect of the worldbuilding to fix plot holes

, re-writing your character so they're not overpowered because it was ruining the stakes and tension,

changing the POV of chapters because it was ruining the flow of the story,

etc etc etc.

I love fan fiction.

I love reading it and I love writing it, and for many people who take on monthly writing challenges, it is a way to test ourselves and gear ourselves up and prove to ourselves that not only can we write x amount of words, but it proves to ourselves that we are *capable of creating*, and for many creatives, that ultimately leads to crafting our own unique stories;

if you're already taking place in a monthly writing challenge, why not push the bounds a little bit *if you're so inclined* and test the waters? Especially when you're surrounded by a community who is cheering you on, every step of the way?

Every Nanowrimo I ever won was fanfiction. Heck, even not during November I once did 40k words in two weeks for a fic.

I always stalled out when I tried to write original works;

it is much easier to start small with a single short story than it is to try to write an entirely original novel, and my encouraging people to try baby steps by *experimenting* with one short story out of four in a month is not meant to be a diss against fanfiction,

but an *encouragement to those like me* who were so eager to write original works but floundered when I tried to jump into the deep end and felt disheartened.

Many fanfic authors aspire to write original fics, and thats who that challenge is for, for the people who want to write original works but are too afraid to fully commit; I'll still be writing and posting fanfiction even if I become a published author, even If I just have to come up with a few new pen-names to post them under.

There's absolutely no judgement on anyone who wants to write fanfiction for these challenges, my "caveat" as you say, is only there as encouragement to those like me who are afraid to take the first step, or uncertain of how to even *begin* that first step, not any kind of condemnation.

TL;DR:

I did not mean for my responses on the "can I write fanfiction" to come off as rude or looking down on fanfiction, its meant to be an encouragment to all the people like me who love fanfic and started out writing fanfiction, and dream of writing original works to take the first step, with a community of like-minded people all taking the same challenge.

Like every other challenge aspect of these events, taking a fanfic idea and turning it into an original short story is completely optional and meant as inspiration, just like following prompts for events is not mandatory, and even completing the 30k word goal is not mandatory; the goal for this month is to create, get in the habit of creating, and having fun with it!

[hotelraleigh]

y'all i was so ready to edit my academic rivals au on the plane tomorrow - like fuck yeah, 3 hours, perfect! - and i just tested my laptop privacy screen. it is not good enough lmfao.

ain't no way i'm letting these strangers see me type out harvey getting RIDDEN!!!!! i'm sorry!!!!!

[darlingofdots]

Formal vs Informal Address in German Temeraire Translations: a report

So I have picked up my German copies of the Temeraire books for the first time in over a decade for reasons unrelated to this post but I immediately got distracted by the matter of formal address in German and how translators have to make a very specific and important choice when translating from English. German (like French and many other languages) has two forms of direct address in the 2nd person, an informal one for friends, family, children etc., and a formal address for strangers, teachers, colleagues, professional contacts. It is famously a Whole Thing when you switch from formal to informal with somebody: usually the person with a 'higher' position in the relationship has to explicitly offer it and it can be a big deal! A common instance might be when you've worked at a new job for a while and your colleagues tell you to use informal to indicate they consider you Part Of The Team, or your girlfriend's parents do it when you've been dating a while and they signal that you're part of the family now. In translation, this can be a really tricky choice! For instance, I have not watched Elementary in German but I would say Sherlock and Joan would absolutely start out addressing each other formally (Sherlock calls her "Watson" most of the time), but by the end of the show there is no way they would not have switched. Obviously English-language media does not have an explicit conversation about this and the closest analogue would be switching to first names when they've only ever used last names before, but you can't rely on that and translators end up having to make choices about characterisation and relationships based on like, vibes. With all that said!

In the Temeraire series, there's a lot of formal address around, such as among officers; I knew Laurence would be addressing his cadets formally because even though they are like, 9 years old, they are his officers and deserve to be treated with that respect. I only have books 1-5 in German but I'd be willing to bet that this doesn't change even Emily's been with him for nigh on ten years, and the same goes for Temeraire. Also Laurence uses formal address with both his parents, in case you were wondering.

What I was not sure about was a) how other people address dragons and how dragons address each other and b) the finer interpersonal relationships among aviators. Jane addresses Iskierka formally but Temeraire informally; the dragons of the formation are formal with each other but Temeraire, Lily, and Maximus are not, and Temeraire quite happily scolds Iskierka like a misbehaving child. I would LOVE to find a bit of, say, Laurence talking to Lily or Berkley to Temeraire!

Among the aviators, Laurence and Jane are informal with each other once they've slept together, but I just saw that Laurence is also informal with Harcourt but not with Chenery, which is interesting but I suppose makes sense if you go by the dragons' relationships too. What really fascinates me is that at the end of Victory of Eagles, Laurence and Granby are still formal, which makes sense because until five minutes ago Laurence was his superior officer, but if I were the translator for this series I'd have them switch to informal with the beginning of book six but unfortunately I do not have that on hand so I can't check.

Now for the main event: Tharkay uses formal address with Laurence when he leaves to fetch more ferals at the beginning of book 4, and I thought he switched for the infamous "Laurence, what are you doing" which would have been exactly the right moment if you'd asked me, but in fact there is one random informal when they're out rescuing Granby in London (loose quotation: "that is [Woolvey's] problem and for those who would weep for him, even if they are close to your [informal] heart")? And then he goes right back to formal all the way to "Laurence, what are you [informal] doing" and finally switches properly, at which point Laurence follows his example. At first I thought that was weird and I am not sure if it was done on purpose, but on second thought I kind of like that he tries it out first when speaking of something personal (Laurence's concern for Edith) but isn't sure of it yet and retreats back to familiar territory until he realises that he needs to shock Laurence out of his war crime depression.

It's interesting to me that Tharkay was the one to take that step. Traditionally, like I said, it would be on the person in a position of authority to offer or, like with Granby, Laurence could have just switched once Granby was confirmed in rank to indicate that he wants to be friends now that he doesn't give orders anymore. Of course it makes perfect sense that Tharkay would not care one bit about rank, and he's not really an officer anyway and he certainly does not consider Laurence to have authority over him. I love that the translator (Marianne Schmidt) recognised that moment on campaign for what I think it is: not so much a turning point in their relationship but one that cements a degree of intimacy that Laurence doesn't have with anyone else. They would not have had access to book 6, I think, when they were working on book 5, so it very much is a deliberate choice based on their interactions up to this point. I made a list recently about people that Will Laurence calls by their first name (former first lieutenants, Catherine Harcourt, 1 FWB, and Tharkay) and now I feel like I need to make another list of people German!Will Laurence uses informal address with!

[rist-ix]

Hi Rist!!

Okay, so I’m pretty sure I already know the answer, but on a scale of “someone’s going to die” to “everyone’s going to die” how angry would Sparked!Valtor be if, after an argument, Bloom slept with someone to get back at him?

Like, this is during one of VERY rare times he isn’t watching her and it’s a one night stand with a random guy whose name she doesn’t know that she met at a bar/party. Someone she’s never going to meet again.

AND, as a “fun” little bonus, she flaunts the marks he left while she’s transformed and fighting Valtor.

No idea where this idea came from but I want the chaos and possible murder, so yeah. Also hope you’re doing well and life and school are being nice to you! 💙

Eden you are a menace and I love u

And as always the answer is: IT DEPENDS! my law course prof would be so proud of me rn

Mainly, it depends on the timing. If it’s in the first few chapters, he'd be his usual “someone's gonna die” kinda mad, and that someone is the poor unfortunate soul Bloom deemed sexy enough for a one night stand. RIP bozo u really didn’t do anything wrong but alas

On the other hand!!! Valtor LOVES to be the cause for her actions. He THRIVES knowing that Bloom does anything because of him, that he has any kind of direct influence on her. It's entirely possible his reaction would sum up to “she's a little confused, but she's got the spirit!” Additionally, he's never really jealous per se, in Sparked. He thinks Sky is boring and is insulted that Bloom — HIS equal and nemesis! — would waste time on her boyfriend when she could be hunting him instead. And later it’s more that he hates how much Bloom genuinely cares for him, not that he would really acknowledge that. Since I think he's somewhat casual about sex I don’t even think he would be that mad about a one night stand if he can tell himself that really, she was thinking of him all along. The thing that would really set him off is if Bloom entered a serious relationship with someone he deems actually competent and potentially worthy of her, like Stella, because THAT would be a threat. THAT would actually require him to commit copious amounts of crimes, right the fuck now before this gets any worse. Fuck.

If we're talking post Eraklyon tho, that man is unhinged and repressed and entirely too ready for violence, u give him any reason at all to feel slighted and he will start stabbing people. If Bloom looks at any attractive individual for a second too long he will have a breakdown. What does a man have to DO to become his enemy's center of the world and sole raison d'être? Srsly Bloom, he's asking.

[pianonoita]

I'm writing a conference presentation about Led Zeppelin in the narrative continuum of Virgil and Geoffrey of Monmouth and this is how it's going

[xxgoldie]

attempting to cook up a new theme rn pray for me

[captorcorp]

girl help i'm romanticizing academia and doing research again

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

Oh no I'm sleepy

[egoarc4de]

made a cute figure for a presentation

[out-here-listening]

doing work to procrastinate on doing other, more important work

[mashupofmylife]

The theology teacher from my freshman year of high school died a few days ago. His kids were both younger than me by more than a few years, and its always a weird mortality check on my family when something like that happens.

He was one of the giants of my high school--a teacher that had legends associated with his name. His class was hard. I credit it with being where I actually learned to type. I got lucky and was the first class that didn't have to prepare a massive animated powerpoint presentation on the book of Exodus, because at that point no one needed to be taught how to use powerpoint. (I would have benefitted from that project, but I'm not complaining that I was spared.) One random day, he would cancel class by surprise and regale us with the story of how he proposed to his wife. And at just fifteen years of age, he assigned a gospel research paper so focused that I had to visit a local seminary college and use their physical library to find information. Exegesis of a pericope anyone?

(I now realize how much this ages me, that I went to a highly specific university library to research a few bible verses, because I couldn't access the necessary resources with the limited online research tools available at the time)

I could wax poetic about tiger amulets, a class known as FARTS, and how I learned about so much more than the Catholic bible from this man, but this is already highly specific. Going to a women's high school meant that we had weird narratives built up around the male faculty, even when they were older than most of our fathers, because there weren't high school boys to distract us. Almost all of them have retired, and three of those men have died.

Adulting is weird and sad, and as much as I was a ball of stress and anxiety during high school, I really love my memories, friends, and experiences and look back fondly on those times in life. It makes me more grateful for the relationships that I've been able to form with some of those same faculty members as an adult.

[xi-vz]

Shen Yuan stared up at the man, disbelief clear on his face.

The man before him huffed a laugh, brown eyes becoming crescent shaped with amusement. He was a little taller than Shen Yuan, a little broader, with a sleeve tattoo covering his right arm to his wrist. His dark brown hair was softly curled, more wavy, and a little shaggy, falling to his shoulders. His face reminding Shen Yuan of Binghe. Not a lot, but just enough if he were to tilt his head and squint.

“You’re just a kid.” When the man finally spoke his voice was as smooth as velvet. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” Shen Yuan automatically responded as he gawked.

The man had round wire glasses, a piercing on the left side of his lower lip, both ears were pierced, and he had cheekbones that belonged on a magazine cover. He was a little older than Shen Yuan expected. Somewhere in his late-twenties compared to Shen Yuans late teens.

“Cucumber-Bro, come on, I’m not that different.” Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky offered a smile, showing off dimples underneath a days worth of scruff.

“How old are you?” Shen Yuan demanded, still blocking the doorway into the dorm.

“Thirty.”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Shen Yuan asked aloud.

Seriously, this was the caffeine addicted crack-writer?!

When Shen Yuan had woken up back in his dorm room instead of in bed with his husband in the bamboo house, he immediately contacted Airplane—it was a gamble, but it paid off. The relief Shen Yuan felt when Airplane responded was like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He gave the other man his phone number and address, then waited an excruciating five days until the two could meet. (Because Shen Yuan lived in Beijing, but Airplane apparently lived in Chengdu, and last minute flights weren’t cheap.)

Shen Yuan knew that his friend would look different. Hell, Shen Yuan looked different! A little shorter, a little rounder, way younger. With pitch black eyes, short inky black hair, and an ear piercing. He was pretty rather than handsome, softer than Shen Qingqiu.

And it wasn’t that Shang Qinghua wasn’t handsome—he was! Like everyone else in PIDW. But Airplane?

“Can I come in?” Airplane asked while shoving his hands into his back pockets. He wasn’t dressed fashionably. His beat up backpack was slung carelessly over a shoulder, jeans were ripped due to wear and tear, his faded band shirt was due to too many washes, his sneakers were scuffed. And yet…

Shen Yuan dressed in the latest fashion. He tried his best to look good, he had standards for himself! He looked like a C-Pop star.

Airplane wasn’t even trying to be hot. (WHY WAS HE SO HOT?!)

It shook something inside of Shen Yuan. All of his past theories of Airplane being a troll flew out the window.

“Well?” Airplane looked like he wasn’t above shoving past his friend to get in.

Shen Yuan allowed his friend inside, still shook.

“Shang Qinghua.”

“What?”

“My name, bro.”

“Wait…you used your actual name for the character closest to Mobei!? Fucking Mary-Sue!”

“Ah, there we go, there’s the Peerless Cucumber I know. Although it’s weird to hear such vitriol from a face so cute.”

Shen Yuan felt the blood rush to his face and wished he had a fan in his hands to use as a weapon when Airplane chuckled.

“Come on, let’s try to figure out how to get back home,” Shang Qinghua said as he moseyed to the desk in the room.

Shen Yuan sighed as he closed and locked the door.

BONUS:

SY: I thought you said you were a broke university student who wrote to make sure food was on the table.

SQH: Yeah, dude. I’m working on my dissertation. Writing pays the bills.

SY: YOU’RE GETTING YOUR DOCTORATES?????

SQH: Yeah, in Topology.

SY: YOU’RE GETTING YOUR DOCTORATES IN MATHS?????

[humanpurposes]

Hi hiiii I couldn’t resist to not slide into your inbox and request a Christmas fic based on this prompt with a Aemond who isn’t used to his girl’s flirty behavior and gets flustered soo easily👀 you can totally ignore this if you don’t like it<3333

“Since I can’t ride in Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?” “Sorry, what?”

HI RUE ✨ Kinda put my own spin on this but I'm sure you'll love it <3

Can I Ride You Instead?

modern!Aemond x reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, Aemond being a workaholic while his girl has needs

A/n: It's tiiiiime, happy 1st December!!

Main Masterlist // Christmas Masterlist

One more night in King’s Landing. You look out from the window at the lights in the city; street lamps; lively pubs; offices that have been abandoned until new year; and all the festive lights lining the highstreets. Conquest Street is your favourite place to be this time of year. You love the displays in the shop windows, the market in the square, the little wooden huts selling scarves and handmade jewellery, the smell of mulled wine, sugar and cinnamon, almost tangible in your nose and on your tongue. What you wouldn’t give to be there right now.

Aemond’s apartment is bleak by comparison. He doesn’t see the point in decorations, not when he’ll be spending Christmas at his family’s estate– at Dragonstone, Christmas is Alicent’s territory. Aemond’s place is clean, lit by lowlights with no bursts of colour or fairy lights and no tree.

He’s sitting at the dining table. The cold glare of his laptop shines over his face and reflects in the lenses of his glasses.

This boy never takes a break.

Term technically doesn’t end until tomorrow but everyone you know has already gone home to make the most of the break. Not Aemond. He wants to stay for as long as possible. He doesn’t talk about his family much, but you can put pieces together. You booked your own train ticket home according to his because you could think of nothing worse than leaving him alone on the run up to Christmas.

“Sit down, you’re making me anxious,” Aemond says, not looking up from the screen.

He’s been on the verge of irritation all day. You’re in the kitchen trying to make hot chocolate? Too much noise, he says. You’re at the dining table wrapping presents for your parents? Too distracting.

You take slow steps across the floor, behind his chair, draping yourself over his shoulders. He’s working on some project for an internship and simultaneously trying to get ahead on the research for his dissertation.

You love how he looks when he’s focused, the frown that means he’s utterly absorbed in what he’s doing. It’s not quite so endearing when he could be focusing on you instead.

Your arms wrap around him. He pushes his glasses up and puts a hand over yours, a featherlight touch. You want more.

“It’s getting late you say,” letting your lips ghost over his temple.

“It’s not even six.”

“You should take a break. We could order food?”

“Yeah, when I’m done with this, I just need to–”

“Aemond.”

Your arms fall away from him and he looks up at you with a slow breath. His expression is soft, his eyes slightly hooded, his lips fallen. He knows he's upset you.

“Aemond, it’s our last night together before Christmas.”

He shuts the lid of his laptop and leaves his glasses on the table. As much as you love how he looks with them on, there’s something about the unobstructed view of his face that never fails to take your breath away. Especially his eyes, one blue, one glass and made to imitate a sapphire, framed in a neat scar running down the left side of his face, an injustice of childhood.

He leans forward, snaking his hands to your waist, pulling you in towards him. 

It’s an unfair move really. Suddenly all you want to do is run your fingers through his silver hair, tilt his chin up, hold his face in your hands.

“You’re right, darling,” he says, stroking his thumbs in circles where they fall against your belly. You feel the pressure of it through the knit jumper you wear. “Let’s go out. Pub? Restaurant? What’s the market thing on Conquest Street, didn’t you mention that a while ago?”

“It’s a bit late to go out now, I’d have to get ready.”

“We’ll stay in and watch a Christmas movie then, yeah?”

“I didn’t think you’d be in the mood for something festive.”

He makes a quick face. Not that long ago you’d tried to get him to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, and he was far from impressed. What horrors will you have in store for him next? “Whatever you want. I want whatever you want.”

You coax him to the sofa, big and plush and expensive. Aemond throws a blanket over the two of you and with a few taps of his phone arranges the food. Without much deliberation you put on Love Actually, meeting Aemond’s eye with a wide grin.

He hides his face in his hands but survives the ordeal.

By the time the credits are rolling it’s not particularly late, but you’re dreading the morning. You’ll have to wake up early, pack a bag, then you and Aemond will go to the train station together and go your separate ways until the new year. A whole two weeks apart.

You cozy up to him, breathe in the smell of his aftershave.

“What now, another film?” He asks, trying to find the remote.

Another idea pops into your head. “We could do something else?”

Aemond catches your eye, trying not to smile. “Now let me think, what else could we possibly do, hmm?” He’s awful at playing coy and has been since the moment you met him. He’s too observant, too intent on the details to play dumb.

“Well,” you say, tracing fingertips along the material of his sweats, over his thigh, “since it is the season, and I can’t ride Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?”

His mouth bursts into a messy smile. “Sorry, what?”

You mean to huff out of annoyance but it comes out like a laugh. “I’m trying to be cute!”

Aemond takes your chin in his fingers and your body freezes. “You really don’t need to try,” he says, and leans in to capture your lips with his.

The way Aemond kisses makes you melt every time. He’s slow and commanding, like he’s savouring every precious moment. His hands slide underneath your jumper, dragging along your skin to hold your waist. The promise of what will come next puts you on edge.

Sparse gasps for breath hum in the back of your throat. Aemond smiles against your lips and holds you tighter, dragging you to straddle his lap. He pulls away from your mouth, to your frustration, and places a wide palm at your navel, the waist of your jeans. “Stand up, need to get these off.”

You move off him and go to undo the top button, but Aemond grabs your wrists and pulls you closer. You watch as he smiles slightly, his fingers moving to undo the button and the zip. He’s teasing you, drawing out the anticipation as much as he can. 

You sigh in relief once they’re off, dragging them down your legs, tossing them aside and coming back to straddle Aemond. 

His hands settle at your thighs. “Look at you, so eager, hmm?”

“You can’t blame me, you’ve been ignoring me all day,” you say, grinding your clothed core against the bulge in his sweats. You can be teasing too, with drawn out movements of your hips.

Aemond’s jaw tightens. You can see he’s trying to stay smug. “Well, we’re fixing that now.”

You press a kiss to his cheek while your fingertips curl at the top of his sweats, dragging them down enough to free his cock. He’s taught you what he likes and if you were feeling patient you might have come to your knees before him, but at the slightest touch of Aemond’s fingertips against the fabric over your clit, you know what you need.

He pulls your panties to the side, dragging you along his leaking cock with a hand at your lower back. He’s hard and you’re achingly wet. He holds you where he wants you, lining himself up to pull you down onto his length. The stretch is sharp and sweet, hollowing you out and filling you perfectly. 

Aemond’s head falls against the back of the sofa as you sink down.

“Does it feel good?” you tease him.

He’s breathless, helplessly watching the space where your bodies meet. “Fuck, perfect little pussy– feels so good,”

You cradle your arms around his head as you ride him, unhurried, hands restless as you feel his hair and the sides of his face, along his jaw.

Aemond hardly has to do anything, as soon as his fingertips are on your clit you feel your spine straighten and something inside you tighten. He circles over you lazily, watching your face with a soft, admiring kind of amusement. 

“Right there,” you whisper, “don’t fucking stop.”

“Are you gonna come for me, darling?”

Your thighs are burning at the effort but you don’t care. You’re so close, so close.

“Beg me,” Aemond murmurs.

A slew of slurred and breathless pleas fall from your lips. You can feel the slickness between your legs, how easily he glides over you, how deep his cock reaches inside of you, pushing against the right spot.

Aemond hums as he grabs your hips with his free hand, fucking you faster and harder until you’re falling apart, convulsing, melting. 

You fall against Aemond, holding each other closer as you wait for the deliriousness to fade away. Suddenly the air is unbearably cold. You cling to Aemond, to his warmth, content in his arms.

“Happy with your ride?” Aemond asks. You can hear him grinning.

You lift your head and rest it against his shoulder. The light of the TV catches in his features, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, the details of grey in his right eye and the unnatural bright blue of his left.

“Can I go again?”

Aemond leans into you, pressing his nose against yours. “You can ride me as many times as you want, darling.”

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