#art piece that haunted me for years

[mourningmaybells]

piss christ. remember my friend piss christ. to counteract the sanitization of the crucifixion and commercialized religion. piss christ

[akairokara]

this is such a reach but ive spent over an hour frantically searching so... if you own a zosan doujin called Morning by the artist Makina in the dawn dj circle... please rb this and lmk...

the cover looks like this

[mitochondria-larson]

feeling cute. might draw a crucification later <3

[bread-that-draws]

Happy 8th birthday Undertale I’m so glad nothing bad happened to my kids here

[jinbeshawaiianshirt]

Im aware I'm late to the new year party but, happy new year 🎉

same to you!

[sroloc--elbisivni]

taking ten seconds out of my otherwise peaceful morning to be annoyed at a remembered piece of writing workshop feedback that went ‘this part of your poem reminded me of x personal experience. i think it would be a better poem if you rewrote it to highlight that bit and bring it out.’ cool! glad you could relate! it actually wasn’t fucking about that personal experience of yours, though, and i’m not interested in highlighting that just to make it reflect you, personally, better! write your own poem!

[reshramlove1ob]

Oh my gosh…it’s him…the tiny bowl of Reese’s puffs man…i found him after all these years..!

[volchitsa-of-winterfell]

y’all ever rewatch hawayek & baker’s absolutely sublime Chopin free dance and just cry a little (or a lot) at how beautiful it is?  highly recommend

[txttletale]

NOT asking this as a gotcha, I'm 100% sincere, can you point to pieces of AI art that you feel are interesting uses of the medium? Because I'm not philosophically opposed to it, but at the same time I've never seen anything that wasn't naked bandwagon shilling by the same people who pushed NFTs

sure! i think a classic of the medium is secret horses

(i sadly don't know who made it, but i've seen it around and fallen in love). this is everything AI art should be, imo, taking advantage of the liminal dreamlike quality of the medium and using titling and framing to say something about the piece that wouldn't exist if it was presented on its own. secret horses...

my favourite band, everything everything, released an album last year that made use of AI generation, both for the album's art and for small portions of the lyrics (interestingly, they've refused to say which lyrics are AI written and which are human written, which adds another layer of intrigue to me -- the only lyric that they've confirmed is AI generated is the title of 'software greatman', which forms the haunting, powerful chorus of the song that gets deconstructed into electronic incoherence. other highlights include the album art, part burning skyscape, part incomprehensible machine. what is the machine? is it a camera? a monitor? a train? does it matter?

and finally from this album cycle i adore the hallucinogenic exuberance of their video for i want a love like this:

in terms of dedicated artists working primarily within the AI medium, i'm a huge fan of @reachartwork, a really innovative artist who keeps blowing me away with evocative and interesting pieces and pioneer in ethical and cooperative AI art techniques. i'm an especially big fan of their grotesque and uncomfortable 'tooth machine' series:

as well as their desolate, bleak, alien landscapes:

(hole in the sky / river lethe )

and their project, the @infiniteartmachine, a model that produces art based upon algorithmically generated prompots -- effectively a long-term art piece.

finally, i'm a very very big fan of @roborosewater-masters, a bot that makes AI-created magic the gathering cards. this might not parse as 'art' to some people, or be interesting to analyze as such, but to me, someone obsessed with games and game studies, i think that the mix of synctactically correct magic the gathering rules text and abrupt non sequitur makes for really striking and funny pieces that prompt me to think about what the limits of games and gaming are

these are just the artists and pieces i can name off the top of my head, but i hope that they're representative of what generative art has to offer when it's not being done by grifters chasing the lowest common denominator.

[feverdreamjohnny]

The Epitaph of Anything Goes

I decided that this morning I would talk about The Museum of Anything Goes and the subject of lost media.

For the uninitiated, The Museum of Anything Goes is an obscure "game" released in 1995 by Wayzata Technologies, a company that is so far under the radar that I was unable to find any useful information about it outside of TMoAG.

All I could uncover is that they published a few multimedia projects (which are essentially lost now) alongside some asset discs (clipart, SFX, etc.). That's it.

The brains behind Wayzata are even more difficult to locate these days: there are only two main names credited inside of TMoAG - Michael Markowski and Maxwell S. Robertson.

The game alleges that Michael and Maxwell are well known in the art world, but any additional information about the duo is scarce beyond the confines of the museum. Attempting to search for either name online turns up plenty of rabbit holes - but none of them have anything to do with the Michael and Maxwell responsible for TMoAG.

This is particularly fascinating because it essentially means that TMoAG is the only accessible record of their lives. Before we dig any deeper into that statement, let me step back and actually address what this game is.

The Museum of Anything Goes is, by definition, a virtual art museum. Functionally it's a prerendered point-and-click adventure game where you can explore a bunch of multimedia exhibits that give the surface-level impression of a children's edutainment game, but once you start exploring further it reveals a side that firmly plants the game's feet into a haze of substance abuse and surreal humor.

Many exhibits are essentially just toying around with the astonishing new powers of CD-ROM. Everything has to make noise. Everything has to spin and flitter around. There's an air of genuine excitement for the medium, and I can't help but find it extremely charming.

The game also functions as a scrapbook, filled to the brim with photos of random trips to the zoo and snow-mobile rides with friends. At one point we even get insight into something as specific as Michael's one-year job as a tutor at a Chicago middle school, where he talks about how it opened his eyes to how poorly funded and mismanaged the school system is.

It's simultaneously quaint and chilling to see so much personal history packed into a world doomed to obscurity. As I explore the deeper parts of the museum, I contemplate if the creators are still alive today. It's a bit morbid, but imagine that - you create a single obscure game with your friend and it's all the world can see. TMoAG is currently the only surviving piece that gives any insight into who these two men were.

While many exhibits are lighthearted or nonsensical, there are occasional moments where the game dips into the eerie.

One exhibit has the player kill a man by dropping him from the sky, and after burying him you open the coffin to a video of a rotting pig carcass being put into an incinerator.

Other exhibits just feature simple 3D renders shifting around a dark screen while haunting groans play in the background.

While I would never refer to the game as "scary," its darker moments combined with the occasional mature subject matter definitely begs the question: Who is this game for?

You have to remember that this game came out long before the concept of "alt-games" had become codified in the digital space. Sure, unconventional digital art had been around before the advent of 256 colors, but TMoAG was being sold on disk as a game! It came out 2 years after DOOM hit shelves!

The trend of using the PC for entertainment was certainly on the upswing around that time, but It's not like TMoAG had a massive audience to find a niche in. With its mature themes it certainly wasn't suited for the kids market either, so who was it for?

At the end of the day, it's a moot question. We already know the target audience for The Museum of Anything Goes: Nobody. It doesn't have an audience because by its nature, TMoAG wasn't being made FOR someone, it was being made BY someone. It's a raw, unfiltered form of personal expression.

I think games like these are pivotal, because they question why people assume a game has to exist for the sake of being a consumable product. TMoAG certainly has the shape of a product: it features an intro cutscene, it has a tutorial, it features intuitive UX, it even has a map! These are all features that are solely integrated to provide comfort to an end-user. But once you actually wander around the museum for a bit, you realize how bizarrely its packaging fits its contents.

I think TMoAG is criminally underrated. It's not because its core content contains some earth-shaking truth, it's because the game defied all odds and cheated death.

How many thousands of other personal projects were deemed a little "too exotic" to be archived? How much history was lost these past 40 years as the digital space evolved and ate its old skin?

God knows how many other TMoAGs we'll never learn about because they weren't lucky enough to be preserved.

The Museum of Anything Goes isn't just some nonsensical art piece, it's a grave marker for so much lost media. Its existence is a reminder that some people's lives were fossilized, then macerated into nothing because a construction company built a skyscraper over them. The only evidence we have of those other games existing is this little fossil that somehow slipped out from under the skyscraper unscathed.

Even though so much has been lost, TMoAG survives as an epitaph.

[cloudiewrites]

OMG. Hiiii. I love Tom Riddle and Theodore Nott. So I am totally going to ask you if you are comfortable to write either Professor Tom or a Professor Theo x fem reader fic with smut. Feel free to ignore this but I really struggle to find Professor Tom fics and Idk how to write them 😅

Professor Tom Riddle x f!reader

Warnings: strong language, toxic behaviour, manipulation, SMUT reader is a student in the beginning (still over 18!), reader becomes a little bit unhinged towards the middle (who wouldn't after meeting TR?) 18+MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Author's Note: Wow, this took me ages to post! I was having a break from this blog due to my exams, but I promise I will be more active from now on. Also, this is actually my first smut! (Idk how to write them either, so I do hope you like it.) I tried to build some plot into it, so it is not just filthy p*rn, haha. Thank you so much for your request! <3

There are moments that change your life. Moments when you realise you will never be the same and your whole existence is divided into two parts - before this, and after this.

For you, this moment was meeting Tom Riddle.

The memories of that rainy day when your gazes crossed for the first time continue to haunt your thoughts almost every second of your existence. And no matter how hard you try to forget, they become more and more vivid. Sometimes you wonder if you are actually reliving it or if it is just a fruit of your imagination.

The rain was so cold that day, that your whole body was shivering under your soaking clothes. You were running across the courtyard, trying to get inside as soon as possible. Both of your hands were clutching your bag on top of your head, trying to prevent the water from getting into your eyes. You were almost at the door when your body collided with someone, and you lost your balance falling into a muddy puddle.

You looked up, ready to give a piece of your mind to whoever made you end up like this, but your words got stuck in your throat the moment your gaze crossed his.

Eyes as dark as the night. Skin as pale as the moonlight. Hair falling in elegant curls on top of the most beautiful face you have ever seen. He silently offered you his hand, before he took off his jacket and wrap it around your trembling figure.

"Are you alright?", he asked. His voice was smooth like honey, yet deep. You couldn't do anything else other than slowly nod before your cheeks turned a light shade of red. He offered you a small smirk, before guiding you inside the castle. No words were exchanged between you after that.

Looking back, you are sure that this was the moment that changed your life.

You didn't know who he was at first. He looked so young, that it was natural to assume he was your age. You have not seen him before, so he must be a transfer student, just like you were a year ago. "He did not wear a robe, so he must not been sorted yet", you said to your friends later that day and they just shook their heads. No one has heard of any transferring students this year, yet here you were claiming you have seen in the flesh the man of your dreams.

And you were almost convinced you were dreaming a few days later when you found yourself sitting in the back of the class, while he was neatly writing his name on the black board.

Professor Riddle.

"As your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I would like to establish a few ground rules right now", his voice was calm but dominant, "Always come prepared. I do not tolerate lazy students. No talking during class. No questions during lessons. If there is anything you do not understand, you can either conduct your own research in the library or visit one of my additional sessions every third Friday of the month."

Unlike you, the majority of the students have already heard of Tom and some even knew him personally, as he graduated just a few years ago. They carefully listened to all his rules, noting everything they should do to stay on his good side. No matter the house, the respect and fear felt towards Tom was felt by all students. You would lie if you said that this did not include you.

Yet in two weeks time during his first Friday session, you found yourself leaning over your notebook, while Tom was calmly explaining the lesson material to you. You were nodding your head, not paying even a little bit of attention to what he was saying. All you could focus on was the sound of his voice and the tingles that covered your whole body every time he lifted his eyes to your face, checking if were actually following.

"I am curious, miss, for the real purpose of your visit today", he said once you started packing your bag. You immediately froze in place, cold sweat forming on the back of your neck. Your trembling hands closed your bag before you turned to him with a tight-lipped smile.

"I am not sure I understand what you mean, professor."

He offered you a small smile, before grabbing his coat and briefcase and making his way towards you. Stopping just a step away from you, he lifted his hands toward your neck, making you gulp. You stood still, expecting him to wrap his hand around your throat, while his eyes burned into yours. His long fingers inched closer and closer to your skin, before wrapping around your tie and adjusting it so it could be centred.

"I am a patient and understanding man, miss", he said, his hand resting on the piece of cloth for a few more seconds, before moving away, "But I am no fool."

And you knew his words to be true. Because if there was a fool here, that was you. You knew it was wrong to pursue the foolish feelings that started to blossom in your chest. Despite the age difference being only a few years, falling for a professor was never a good idea. But how could you stop yourself when every time his eyes laid upon you there was a feeling of longing behind them? The small touches on your arms, every time he tried to explain to you the parts of the textbook you claimed "not to understand", the way his lips curved in a small smirk every time you volunteered to help during demonstrations in class, the way his gaze darkened that time he saw your friend's arms wrapped around your shoulders during dinner...

He may have thought he was subtle, but you knew there was some part of him that desired you as much as you did.

"What do you think of me, professor?", you asked one day, while sitting on the desk, arranging papers. As you were the only student who showed any interest in DADA sessions outside the scheduled classes, Tom moved the Friday meetings to his private office. They also started to happen every week, rather than once per month. And often, you were helping him with work, rather the other way around. "Why?", his gaze lifted from the papers he was grading, eyebrows furrowing in suspicion. He laid his pen down, crossing his arms in front of his chest and resting his body back on his chair. You sat next to him on a smaller wooden chair, but your hands did not stop arranging the graded exams, and neither did your focus move from them.

"I am...", you took a deep breath, thinking how to phrase your explanation, "Curious, I guess."

Tom watched you with interest, noting the way that your voice trembled in the beginning. Looking up at your face, his eyes trailed every single one of your features, before stopping at your lips.

"You are a good student", he finally said, his tone flat. Your shoulders immediately slumped and you let out a quiet "Oh.", your fingers now pressing the tower of papers on its sides to make sure it is stable. The silence between you grew longer as you tried your best to hide the disappointment you felt from his answer. Tom, on the other hand, was still staring at your face, trying to read your emotions based on your pursed lips and furrowed brows.

"All finished. I think it is better if I go", you finally said, unable to sit in his presence anymore. You stood up, ready to grab your bag from the floor, when cold fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist halting you in place. Tom stood up from his chair, moving behind you. Laying his free hand on the side of your waist, he leaned towards you, nose just a few inches from your hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume, and let out a low groan.

"What I really think...", he murmured, the fingers on your waist digging into your flesh, "is not something I shall voice out loud. The thoughts that flood my mind every time I see you are too..."

Your breath hitched.

"Too?"

"Sinful", you felt his breath on the back of your ear and your body involuntarily shivered. Before you could think of an answer, his hands left your body and he took a step back. You turned around, eager to close the distance again, but were stopped by him grabbing your shoulder and gently pushing you away.

"Do not", he warned, "do not make this harder for both of us."

"But I-"

"I think it is best if you leave."

You gulped. And the first time your eyes did not cast down in shame - instead you held his gaze, your expression hardening.

"You cannot do this to me", your voice trembled, "Toying with my feelings , then pushing me away."

He raised his brow and his hand fell from your shoulder. You stood in place, not making any attempts to get closer.

"I did not do such thing", his voice sounded low and dark, his eyes suddenly turning colder, "In fact, I am telling you now... Whatever hope you hold in your heart about anything happening between us, you should kill it now."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said", he interrupted you impatiently, "And I mean it. But whatever affection I have towards you does not change the fact you are my student."

Your fingers wrapped around the edge of your skirt and you clenched your jaw, moving your gaze towards the door. The rational part of your brain was telling you to just grab your bag and dash through the door. The other part, the one led by your heart, was screaming at you to stay and confront him. It did not take you long to decide which one to listen to.

"Why does it matter?", you snapped, "I am an adult already. And you are only a few years older. It is not illegal or anything!"

Tom let out an annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, before running his fingers through his dark curls. He turned around and walked around the desk, before slamming his hands on the hard surface.

"Merlin, you just do not understand!", his voice was full with irritation, "I can not lose my job. I can not lose everything I have worked for!"

"We can hide it", you protested, gluing yourself to his side and gripping his bicep, "Only for a few months! Only till I graduate!"

The man tore your hands away from his arm, cupping them in his palms instead. He tilted his head, searching your eyes, which were now starting to form tears of stress and frustration.

His face suddenly relaxed. The air between you felt lighter and a new spark of hope started to burn inside of you. His finger made its way to your cheek and wiped one of the tears that started to trail down your skin.

"Is it not curious, how weak love makes a man?", his finger trailed down to your jaw, before cupping it, "And no spell in this world is strong enough to save a man that has already fallen."

Your head instinctively leaned towards his hand and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of warmth of his skin on yours. If you could only freeze time, you would stay in this moment forever.

"I don't want to be saved", you murmured and despite not being able to see him, you could feel the small smile that grazed his lips once you said it. You freed your hands from his and wrapped them around his torso, burying your head in his chest. It took a few seconds for him to embrace your body, resting his chin on the top of your head.

And if you could only see the satisfied smirk and cold gaze on Tom's face, you would have known how true his words are. There is no spell in this world that could save you not that you have already fallen...

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You can't say exactly when the dream had turned into a nightmare.

Private sessions became everyday afternoon meetings, where you talked about different random topics. Tom never opened up about his past, even his Hogwarts years. On the other hand, he was a good listener and without you realising it, he managed to unravel your whole family history just within a week.

His silent nature did not bother you, however. You finally had someone who listened to you. You slowly started to detach from your friends, excusing your unnatural behaviour on all the extra academic work you were taking. They were worried, but every time they tried to voice their concerns, you rolled your eyes, before running to Tom to tell him about their words. "They are just jealous of you, my dear, " he would always chuckle, gently stroking your cheek, "because you found what they would keep searching for a long, long time."

Soon, he was the only person you really trusted. And he claimed he felt the same.

This is why he couldn't ask anyone else to sneak into the Headmaster's office and get the little leather diary in one of his desk drawers. This is also why you had to find a way to get the books he was interested in from the restricted section without getting caught. This is also why you had to lure the naive fifth-year Hufflepuff into the Chamber of Secrets and leave her there.

There was simply no one else whom he trusted to do these tasks. And you gladly completed each of his requests without question, doing everything in your power to keep him happy.

But soon this was not enough. And once you graduated all the promises he made to you broke into thousand little pieces, which were discarded into thin air.

"I don't need you anymore", his cold voice said, his eyes glued to the papers in front of him, "You can leave. Make sure you close the door."

Without sparing you even a glance, he grabbed the pile of papers and left for class, leaving you to gather your thoughts and pieces of your heart by yourself.

What did you do wrong? Why did he change so suddenly? Was it all a lie?

These questions continued to poison your mind for the next few years, while you tried to rebuild yourself. You did not realise how dependent you were on him, till you were left on your own. The weight of all the unsaid feelings within you was forcing you onto your knees, making you unable to get up and continue with your life.

And this is how two years after your graduation you found your way back to Hogwarts. The place where it all began...

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The wooden clock on the wall was ticking dangerously close to midnight when Tom finally got to his office. The teacher's gathering has been prolonged unnecessarily due to Dumbledore's ramblings and him finding problems where there are none. The amount of control the young professor has exercised to endure this long meeting has left him completely drained of energy, but he knew he still had to do some research about the Founders' Relics. After so many years he was finally getting close to achieving his goal and he was ready to sacrifice as many nights of sleep as necessary.

He knew something was not right the moment he opened the door. The lights were still off and everything seemed to be in the exact place he left it... but there was just the faintest sound of someone breathing which made him immediately reach for his wand.

"Ah, look who finally came", your giggle reached his ears before he saw you turning on his chair, fingers moving towards the small lamp on his desk, "Terribly rude of you to make me wait this long."

Tom's lips pressed into a thin line and his grip around his wand tightened. He traced his eyes over the visible parts of your body, noting the little changes that had occurred since he last saw you.

Your hair, which was usually neatly combed and put in a bun, was now in a messy braid, the front pieces framing your face. Your lips, which usually curved in a shy smile, were now forming an arrogant, almost sinister smirk. Your eyes, which have always looked up to him full of admiration, were now staring down at him with a glint of insanity.

"Get out", he commanded, striding towards you with his wand pointed towards your head.

Your raised your eyebrows and your mouth shaped an "o" in a mock horror, before you reached for your own wand, pointing it back at him.

"Now that is not a way to welcome your ex-lover, is it?", your eyes squint.

Tom scoffed at your words, stopping at the edge of his desk, before his expression hardened.

"You were never my lover", he stated, his head tilting to the side, "And I thought I was extremely clear when I said last time I saw you that you are not welcome here."

You hummed, eyes moving to the ceiling. Still holding your wand towards him, you relaxed further into his chair, lifting your legs onto his desk. With a curious gaze, you followed the stone patterns of the walls around the room, while scrunching your face in disgust.

"3 years, Tom", you finally said, landing your attention back on him, "3 years you have been here and your office is as bland as it was when you first came here. It brings my mood down, you know? It's so grey!"

"You can leave then", Tom hissed through his teeth, making a few more steps till he stayed right in front of you. The tip of his wand rested under your chin and he pulled it upwards, making you look up, "I am giving you exactly a minute to leave, before I take your life."

A loud giggle left your lips and you pressed your neck further into his wand.

"How generous!"

"45 seconds."

You gently put your own wand back into your pocket, not moving your eyes from his. Tilting your head, your mouth formed a wide smile.

"Okay."

His brows shot in confusion, his jaw clenching. You could see his on the wand became tighter, his knuckles almost white.

"Okay?"

"Do it", you shrug your shoulders, "My ghost will be eager to see how are you going to explain why your new assistant went missing after coming to your office to drop a list of all the students that are going to be in your... our class this year."

Before you know it, his free hand flew to your face and gripped your face. His fingers dig into your jaw, lifting it dangerously close to his face.

"My assistant?", he let out a dry chuckle, "Good try, dear. And a terrible way to waste that minute I gave you."

With lips already starting to form the words of the deadliest spell, his fingers dug deeper into your face, before his eyes landed on the sparkling object in your palms. The unforgivable words quickly died in his throat and he withdrew his wand, stumbling back. Eyes full of anger met yours, who in contrast were sparkling with playfulness.

"How did you get that?", he demanded, reaching towards the object, but you pulled it back, before laying it on your head. Putting your elbows on his desk, you fluttered your eyelashes, smiling brightly.

"Do you think it suits me?"

"Stop playing around."

"You are such a bore", you rolled your eyes, "I went on a holiday to Albania. And I found this gorgeous, gorgeous diadem, which turned out to be Rowena Ravenclaw's. What are the chances?"

Tom seemed unamused by your story, instead twitching his jaw. His eyes stayed glued to the diadem on your head, the reflection of the sapphire on it sparkling in his cold eyes.

"How did you know where it was?", his gaze moved towards you, his hand putting his wand back in his coat. His tall form moved towards you again, this time taking a seat on the empty surface of the desk in front of you. With a smile, you took the diadem out of your head, twirling it between your fingers.

"You don't think you were the only one who managed to charm the famous Helena Ravenclaw, do you?", you raised your eyebrow, moving your tongue across your top lip, "You underestimate the power of women's empathy and love for gossip, Tom."

He let out an airy laugh, running a hand through his thick curls. After two years, he hasn't changed anything about his appearance. His face, his haircut, and even the suits he wore were the exact same ones he already wore when you were a student. You would lie if you said you didn't enjoy it - that meant that the Tom you loved was still somewhere inside of him. Your Tom.

"I'm impressed", he finally said, moving his hands towards his knee and locking his fingers around it. His face dropped into a serious expression once again, "Give it to me."

You tilted your head, pursing your lips. Your eyes moved to the diadem, before landing back on him.

"Oh, I can't do that, Tom", you rested your palm on your chest, looking up at him with doe eyes, "He would be very disappointed if I don't bring it back to him."

Tom took a deep breath, his upper lip twitching.

"He?", he pressed his tongue to the side of his cheek, "Who is "he"?"

You twirled in his chair, pressing the diadem closer to your chest.

"My Lord, of course", you let out a giggle, resting your cheek on your shoulder and closing your eyes. You still managed to see the way Tom's body tensed, however.

"He sent his regards to you", you smiled, standing up, "If you hadn't left me that day, he wouldn't have met me and subsequently learned all about making horcruxes."

The man's eyes immediately darkened and his hand flew towards your wrist, stilling you in place.

"Name."

"Huh?"

"Tell me his name", Tom hissed, his nostrils flaring. You stepped closer to him, noses almost brushing.

"And why would I do that?", you raised your brows, your voice turning into a mocking laugh, "Do you think I would betray him... for you?"

The sudden feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you forward made you almost lose your balance and you grabbed his shoulder in reflex to keep you from falling on top of him. Nesting his head in the curve between your neck and shoulder, Tom pressed his lips next to your ear before muttering:

"You, my dear, are a liar", his teeth grazed the end of your earlobe, "And a very bad one."

Your whole body froze and you tried to push yourself away from him, but his arms were holding you firmly in place. Suddenly all the confidence you have displayed in his presence so far melted under the warmth of his touch, and you were left only with the hope you could still lie your way out of this situation.

"I am not lying", you protested with a quickening breath.

Tom lifted his head from your shoulder and rested his forehead on yours instead. His eyes stared deep into your own and his warm breath on your face made your whole body involuntarily tremble.

"I have already told you I am not a fool", one of his hands slid from your waist towards your arm and then hand, where you were still clutching the diadem. His fingers wrapped around it and pulled it out of your grasp with ease. Without looking at it, he placed it on the desk behind his back, before his hand found its way to the top of your head.

"I know you better than you know yourself, my dear", he muttered, his hand gently stroking your hair, "And I know there is no room in your heart for anyone but me. You would not be here otherwise."

He pulled back enough to be able to take a better look at your face. His gaze fell from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

"You are mine. Always were, always will be."

A loud whine escaped your throat before it was swallowed by Tom's mouth on yours. His plump lips were chapped, a result of hours of his teeth sinking into them, trying to hold back all the snarky remarks he had for his fellow colleagues. The rough feeling made your knees buckle and you closed your eyes, relaxing fully in his arms.

Without breaking the kiss, he turned you around and with a swift move of his hand, pushed the diadem and a few books out of the way, before laying you on the cold surface. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging the soft curls.

A low growl left his lips and he lifted his lips from yours, a trail of saliva connecting them, before it was broken by his fingers cupping your chin.

"This is what you wanted, is it not?", his voice was suddenly deeper and darker, "For me to take you on the same desk I once you graded you."

His words made a loud moan to escape you and your back arched up, seeking nothing more than to be close to him. With a low chuckle, he pressed his palm between your breasts, pushing you flat on the furniture beneath you. You opened your mouth to complain but were quickly silenced once he pushed his index and middle fingers in your mouth, almost making you choke. Fixating your gaze on his, you closed your lips around them and started to suck, making sure to flatten your tongue in the process.

The image before your eyes was something you had dreamt of countless times before - Tom, with his messy curls and parted lips, panting while the fingers of his free hand were skilfully unbuttoning his vest. You did not waste any time in helping him, focusing on shakingly unbuttoning his belt.

"So impatient", he clicked his tongue, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, so could remove his shirt. Once his torso was in full view, you did not hesitate even a second before you lifted yourself in a sitting position and attached your lips to his neck. Nibbling and sucking the smooth skin, you started to nibble and suck your way down to his chest. His head fell back and he closed his eyes, his muscles relaxing under you.

Tom Riddle may not be a man who was capable of love, but he was a man after all. And it would be a lie to say he has never thought of you in a more... erotic way. You have always been so obedient and good, doing everything for him without any hesitation. He has always found that incredibly attractive, but not enough for him to act on his desires.

Now, however, the sight of you has ignited some primal urges within him that he never felt before. Maybe it was the few drinks he had consumed prior at the gathering or maybe it was the idea of the the crazy lengths you were willing to go in order to get back to him...

Tom Riddle would probably never know the reason for him giving up control for the first time in his life. To you, nonetheless.

His mind came back to reality when he felt you pushing him on his chair and nestling yourself between his legs. Looking up at him, you tugged his pants and boxers down, letting his erection free. You let your index finger gently caress the length of it, making it twitch. A small giggle left your lips before you repeated the gesture.

"Stop teasing me", the man groaned, and his palm rested behind your head in order to push you towards his member, but you swiftly moved to the side dodging it. You squinted your eyes, moving your hands to his thighs and digging your nails into them.

"You", the word was hissed through your teeth, "are in no position to order me around."

Tom scoffed and was about to argue when your mouth unexpectedly wrapped around the head of his penis, twirling your tongue around it. He let out a choked gasp and he tried to put his hand on your head again before you smacked it away. Swallowing his pride, he rested both of his arms on the side of his chair, bucking his hip forward.

Carefully watching his reaction you wrapped your hand around him, slowly moving it down and back up again, following the movement of your mouth. The feeling of him filling your mouth was causing some saliva to start dripping your chin, but rather than pulling away, you pushed him further into your mouth till your nose was buried in his dark pubic hair. The feeling of his swollen head hitting the back of your throat made you gag, causing Tom to groan in pleasure.

"Fuck this", he muttered, before grabbing you by your hair and pulling your head up, before pressing it down again. His hips buckled in harmony with your head, making sure you were taking all of him. His dick was now coated in your saliva, making it glisten in the dim light. You closed your eyes, the lack of oxygen making them sting. The rapid pace with which he was moving was making it hard for you to breathe through your nose and you tried giving him a warning slap on his leg, which he purposefully ignored. Instead, he moved his other hand towards your chin and held your head still, while he continued to thrust his hips up and down. Sloppy wet noises filled his office, being interrupted only by his heavy breathing.

Your thighs clenched together in a weak attempt to relieve the burning ache between your legs. The way he was using your mouth to satisfy himself was making your underwear damp, yet you knew better than to touch yourself yet. After so many sleepless nights during which you tried to relieve yourself, imagining how would it feel to taste him, you wanted to focus all your attention only on him.

Feeling he was close, Tom finally pulled your head back and examined your face. Both saliva and tears were smeared all over your chin and your cheeks were flushed in rosy colour.

"What a pretty sight you are, my dear", he smiles, wiping some of it with his thumb. You licked your lips, getting up on your feet.

"And you are such a smooth talker", your face leaner just inches from his, "I wonder if you are as good with the action as you are with words."

Taking this as a challenge, he stood up and pushed you back onto the desk, before lifting your skirt. His fingers hooked under the elastic bands of your panties and with one tug they snapped, leaving you completely exposed in front of him.

Tom gulped, burning the image of your waiting arousal into his mind. His fingers made their way towards your slit, gathering the wetness before easily sliding his middle finger in. You moaned at the contact, fluttering your eyes closed. He pumped his fingers a few times, his eyes carefully observing your facial expression before he slid it out. You whined at the loss of contact, opening your eyelids only to find him smirking down at you.

"Do you really think you deserve me wasting time on your pleasure?"

"Fuck you!", you snapped, resulting in him grabbing your neck and squeezing so hard, an airy cough left your lips.

"Such a dirty mouth", he lifted your face up, his jaw clenching, "but such a weak mind. Look at the pathetic mess you are..."

Your lips parted to offer a snarky response, but your mind quickly went blank the moment he slid fully into you. Arching your back, your hands found their way around his shoulders, while his rested on both sides of your head.

Tom did not waste any time in developing a quick pace, which made you roll your eyes back. With each thrust the head of his cock was brushing against your cervix, making your whole vision white. His left hand moved towards one of your breasts, pinching and twisting the oversensitive nipple between his fingers. His other hand made his way to your pussy, where his thumb started to draw sloppy circles over your clit.

Never in your life have you felt such pleasure in your life. Of course, you had previous lovers during the past two years while trying to get Tom out of your mind, but nothing compared to this. Curling your toes, you lifted both of your legs and rested them on his shoulder.

Both of you groaned in unison when you felt him going even deeper than before. His upper body collapsed on top of yours, his lips immediately latching onto your other nipple. Still gripping his shoulders, you dragged your nails down his back, leaving angry red marks behind.

The knot in your stomach started to tighten and your moans became louder and louder. Moving your hips so you can meet Tom's thrusts, you looked at his face, only to find him staring back with eyes clouded with desire. His fingers were now working faster on your sensitive bud and you let out a shaky breath: "Tom, I...", you could not finish your sentence, your vocabulary suddenly consisting only of his name.

"Shhh", he whispered, his hand moving from your breast to your cheek. He gently stroked it with his thumb and suddenly you saw in front of you the same Tom that charmed you years ago, "I've got you."

His words were enough to cause the knot to snap and your whole body went rigid, squeezing and pulsating around him. A few harsh trusts and Tom suddenly tensed on top of you, as he painted your insides white. You both held onto each other, fingers digging into soft flesh, as you melted into your shared euphoria.

It was not romantic.

It was primal. Rough. Dirty.

It was everything you have imagined.

Finally relaxing on top of you, Tom buried his head in your shoulder, trying his best to calm his breathing down. You laid under him, crushed under his weight, yet enjoying every second of the contact he allowed you to have.

Against your better judgment, you lifted your hand and started to gently stroke his hair. Against his better judgment, he allowed you to and closed his eyes in the process.

Tired from the long day and your office activity, Tom lifted you in his arms, his now soft member slipping out of you and he sat back on his chair, adjusting the backrest so you can both take a more comfortable position.

You lifted yourself from his chest and raised your eyebrow, but bit back your tongue the moment your gaze crossed his stern one, warning you not to voice whatever you had in your mind. Letting out a small chuckle, you shook your head and laid it back down on his skin.

There was an urge burning inside of you to mock him about showing gentleness, but deep down you knew this was your only chance to enjoy it. So you closed your eyes and relaxed, finally being able to fall asleep without the haunting dreams of what could've been.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sunlight was painting the whole room in a beautiful gold colour and Tom let out a low groan when he felt it hitting his face. His hand made its way over his eyes, shielding them from the light, while his mind slowly started to become aware of his surroundings. The uncomfortable chair was making all of his muscles ache and he immediately regretted not gathering the energy last night to make his way back to his room. The chill air coming from the window has not helped too, especially when we was only partly covered and-

Tom's eyes shot open looking down at his body and finding his suit jacket thrown over his waist and private parts. You, however, were not to be found. Not on top of him, not on the desk, nowhere in the room.

He immediately stood up, grabbing his pants from the floor and furiously putting them on, while breathing heavily. His gaze fell on the stack of books he pushed from his desk last night and he immediately fell on his knees, scanning the floor around him.

"No, no, no", he hissed under his breath, pushing his hair out of his eyes, "That little serpent!"

Not only you have left, but you also have taken the diadem with you. No matter how much he searched for it, it was definitely not here.

You tricked him.

Getting up back to his feet, Tom kicked one of the books on the floor, before slamming his hands on his desk. His breathing was hard and he could feel his blood boiling in his veins. Suddenly, his attention was caught by a small parchment of paper placed next to his quill. Unfolding it, he could have sworn his heart stopped for a second.

"My dear Tom,

Thank you for our wonderful night together. I did not want to leave you so early, but I had to be out of the castle before everyone else woke up. To be truthful with you, I am not going to be your new assistant. But your already knew that, so I guess it is not shocking news. I sneaked it yesterday when all of the teachers were having a party (or what you call a gathering, ha!). Neither do I have a new lord. You already knew that as well.

Do not stress about the diadem, as it is safe with me - if there is one thing I learned from you is that I need to take good care of horcruxes once they are made. I know it was probably foolish of me to bring it to you last night, as it does hold a part of my soul, but I promise that from now on I will take better care of it.

Without doubt your paths shall cross again. Remember Tom: You are mine. Always were, always will be.

Love, y/n

P.S. - I hope you do not mind that I helped myself by getting your keys from your jacket and getting a shower in your room. Also, I think you need to follow your own advice and start putting your objects away. I found your diary resting on your bedside table, so I had to take it with me. Do not worry - I promise I will keep it safe...

for now."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

CC artwork: Nasan Hardcastle

[makingqueerhistory]

Queer Book Recommendations

Every once in a while I like sharing some queer book recommendations on here as I read a lot and I get requests to share some of the books I love, so here we go! 

Tell Me I'm Worthless: Three years ago, Alice spent one night in an abandoned house with her friends Ila and Hannah. Since then, things have not been going well. Alice is living a haunted existence, selling videos of herself cleaning for money, going to parties she hates, drinking herself to sleep. She hasn’t spoken to Ila since they went into the House. She hasn’t seen Hannah either.

Our Wives Under The Sea: Miri thinks she has got her wife back, when Leah finally returns after a deep sea mission that ended in catastrophe. It soon becomes clear, though, that Leah may have come back wrong. Whatever happened in that vessel, whatever it was they were supposed to be studying before they were stranded on the ocean floor, Leah has carried part of it with her, onto dry land and into their home. 

You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty: Feyi Adekola wants to learn how to be alive again.It’s been five years since the accident that killed the love of her life and she’s almost a new person now—an artist with her own studio, and sharing a brownstone apartment with her ride-or-die best friend, Joy, who insists it’s time for Feyi to ease back into the dating scene. Feyi isn’t ready for anything serious, but a steamy encounter at a rooftop party cascades into a whirlwind summer she could have never imagined: a luxury trip to a tropical island, decadent meals in the glamorous home of a celebrity chef, and a major curator who wants to launch her art career.

Silver Under Nightfall: Remy Pendergast is many things: the only son of the Duke of Valenbonne (though his father might wish otherwise), an elite bounty hunter of rogue vampires, and an outcast among his fellow Reapers. His mother was the subject of gossip even before she eloped with a vampire, giving rise to the rumors that Remy is half-vampire himself. Though the kingdom of Aluria barely tolerates him, Remy’s father has been shaping him into a weapon to fight for the kingdom at any cost.

Disintegrate/Dissociate: In her powerful debut collection of poetry, Arielle Twist unravels the complexities of human relationships after death and metamorphosis. In these spare yet powerful poems, she explores, with both rage and tenderness, the parameters of grief, trauma, displacement, and identity. Weaving together a past made murky by uncertainty and a present which exists in multitudes, Arielle Twist poetically navigates through what it means to be an Indigenous trans woman, discovering the possibilities of a hopeful future and a transcendent, beautiful path to regaining softness. 

The Perks of Loving a Wallflower: As a master of disguise, Thomasina Wynchester can be a polite young lady—or a bawdy old man. She’ll do whatever it takes to solve the cases her family takes on. But when Tommy’s beautiful new client turns out to be the highborn lady she’s secretly smitten with, more than her mission is at stake . . . 

It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror: Horror movies hold a complicated space in the hearts of the queer community: historically misogynist, and often homo- and transphobic, the genre has also been inadvertently feminist and open to subversive readings. Common tropes—such as the circumspect and resilient “final girl,” body possession, costumed villains, secret identities, and things that lurk in the closet—spark moments of eerie familiarity and affective connection. Still, viewers often remain tasked with reading themselves into beloved films, seeking out characters and set pieces that speak to, mirror, and parallel the unique ways queerness encounters the world. 

Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture: Everything you know about sex and asexuality is (probably) wrong. The notion that everyone wants sex–and that we all have to have it–is false. It’s intertwined with our ideas about capitalism, race, gender, and queerness. And it impacts the most marginalized among us. For asexual folks, it means that ace and A-spec identity is often defined by a queerness that’s not queer enough, seen through a lens of perceived lack: lack of pleasure, connection, joy, maturity, and even humanity.

[just-cofffee]

Glimmers of the Past

- gojo satoru x reader

genre: just a little angst

In the midst of the kitchen, Satoru found himself surrounded by utensils and ingredients, determined to surprise Y/n with a delicious homemade dinner. However, his culinary skills left much to be desired. As he attempted to follow the recipe, the sauce burned, the pasta turned sticky, and the vegetables resembled more of an abstract art piece than an edible dish.

Y/n, observing the scene from the table, couldn't help but laugh at Satoru's desperate attempts to salvage the culinary disaster. Amidst laughter, she approached him and embraced him gently, reassuring him that the gesture meant more than the outcome. Satoru's eyes radiated adoration and love for the woman now in his arms, showering her with soft kisses all over her face.

Deciding to leave behind the culinary debacle, Satoru opted to order takeout. Together, they enjoyed an improvised dinner, sharing laughs as they relaxed on the couch, wrapped in blankets and watching cliché movies.

Satoru always made sure to demonstrate his love for Y/n. Despite his youth, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He was deeply in love with every aspect of Audrey: her voice, her soft hair, her smooth skin, and her exquisite aroma.

-

His heart ached with pain and betrayal as the evidence unfolded before him. Evidence confirming his alleged cooperation and collusion with Geto Suguru. First, the loss of his best friend, and now, the betrayal of the one he believed was the love of his life.

"I didn't do anything, Toru, it's false, you have to believe me," she pleaded, but Satoru was blinded by anger and pain. He shouted without listening, wounded to the core. You understood his pain, but he was also hurting you, accusing you unfairly with words filled with hatred and contempt.

"Leave, or you will regret it," he snapped, his tone icy and filled with hate, cutting you like a sharp dagger. It pained you to feel those bitter emotions directed towards you. You tried to approach, but his infinity was active, something that had never happened before. Wiping away your tears, you decided to leave…

-

And there you were, shining like an angel, ethereal as he remembered you. So close, yet so far away. He watched as you laughed, illuminated by the jokes of one of your fellow teachers. A knot formed in the depths of his stomach, rising up his throat like a blazing fire as he watched you share laughs with that man who was clearly flirting with you.

Satoru knew your gestures, your looks, your laughter, and he could sense that you didn't perceive the true intentions of that individual, just as it had been with him in the past. A familiar feeling of helplessness and pain washed over him as he watched the scene from a distance, trapped in a sea of turbulent emotions.

It had been more than six years since the last time he saw you, and, by all the gods, you were even more stunning. Your hair now cascaded like a waterfall down your back, framing your face with a beauty that had matured, yet still retained the same tenderness that had always characterized you. What never changed was your gaze, that pair of eyes that always hypnotized him, making him nervous like the first time he approached you. Those eyes, seemingly normal, were magical and unique to him, capable of unleashing a storm of emotions within him. Now, that last look you gave him continued to haunt him, filled with pain.

He didn't rest for a moment until he found the truth, and when he finally unearthed it, he was consumed by a burning desire to disappear. He loathed himself with a searing hatred that devoured him from within; he had falsely accused you. He fought to find you, but, as expected, you slipped masterfully through the shadows, out of his reach. There you were, just a few meters away, perhaps unaware of his presence, and your eyes, as if they could read his mind, observed him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity..

[mrs-snape5984]

„In the dark of night, those faces, they haunt me…“

„I wish you were so close to me. Yes, I wish your were by my side…“ („By my side“ by INXS)

I’ve always had a special soft spot for Severus in his teenage years. This way too skinny, raven-haired boy with his adorably crooked nose and those beautiful - and yet so sad - obsidian eyes never failed to trigger some kind of an overprotective goddess of revenge in my heart.

There are nights, in which I‘m drowning in my thoughts about Sevy…writing my stories for him. My OC Jules (totally self-inserted…I admit it!) allows him to show his vulnerabilities in her presence. She’s protecting and defending him….in every aspect of his life.

This man deserves some love, respect and comfort…and that’s, what we all in our beloved Snapedom are granting him.

Some time ago, I’ve read a poem by Amanda Lovelace, which reminded me of the consolation and comfort, I’d wanted to give to Severus. I want to share it with you (please ignore my scribble…that’s exactly the reason, why I’m commissioning art from all the incredibly talented artists of Snapedom 😅):

The artwork on top of this post was a gift from my friend @exlibrisseverus and I love everything about it! The whole mood in your beautiful drawing makes my heart aching for Severus…makes me wanting to fix the whole goddamn world for him.

@exlibrisseverus, you’re a gem of a human soul and I’m beyond grateful that I was allowed to get to know you better. Your resilience and your strength are - just like Severus’s - extremely inspiring to me, my friend and I hope, that you will stay in touch with me! 🖤🥹 Thank you so much for each kind word, for each recommendation and of course for this stunning piece of art!

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

[hawkland]

Art masterpost: If Only You Return to Me Author: arlingtonchamberofgay/ @arlington-chamber-of-gay Artist: sidewinder/ @hawkland Time for Pinefest art post #2 for this year! I'm always up for tackling a good fixit fic, and I had a lot of fun doing my pieces for this story.

This was the first piece I worked on, as it was just a scene/moment in the fic that immediately jumped out at me. I won't say more than that for spoiler reasons, but as much as I love painting elaborate backgrounds and scenes, sometimes it's fun to do an "Empty" scene because of the chance to really just hone in on the character(s) and their emotions against a complete black background.

The second piece I did for the story is for a scene where Cas, newly resurrected, finds himself back in the bunker right where he died. So I wanted to suggest the sigil still there but faded/darkened on the door behind him. Like the first piece, I did this one on smooth/hot press paper which I've been slowly getting more fond of for certain types of illustrative pieces. I was going to stick with using it for all my art for the story and to do them all on the same size (12"x6") watercolor block, but then...

...When I started thinking of a banner art piece, I wanted to go bigger. I also felt the need to go back to my usual rougher/cold pressed paper for the layering I wanted for the image in my mind.

This was a really challenging one to try to capture what I envisioned: Dean, in Heaven, chasing through different multiverses looking for Cas (and haunted/thinking about the moment of his death and not getting to respond to what Cas said to him.) So it's meant to be kind of overlapping images with a not-quite-real look to it. I went back and forth working on it a lot and it's a BIG piece (20"x16") but it finally came together in time to post today!

This last piece ended up being my favorite, and I tried to keep it kind of soft and warm and dreamy to fit the moment :)

Thank you to arlington for being so easy to work with and so enthusiastic for my work! Please go read the story now, and enjoy (and I'll be back next week with, at long last, my own Pinefest fic!)

[makshu]

Ok. There's something going on and I need to talk about it.

We've all seen that AidaIro is posting new art every day, and on the 18th there will be a new chapter.

But I noticed something, all these arts are about the last arc and are telling the story of it again.

Let me show you

The first one we had was on chapter 111, which shows Yashiro. Everything is normal, but behind her we can see typical theater spotlights, it could just be something mundane or reference her school play rehearsals. Well we started with this.

So we have this art of 12y Tsukasa. Referencing when Yashiro and Mitsuba ended up in the past and found 12y Tsukasa talking to them. He said a rumor about the big clock that further opened the theme of this arc, really an omen for everything.

This art by Sakura is worth mentioning, as she is part of the broadcast gang. She is behind everything, and theories about her being the god or something powerful are increasing more and more. It's worth mentioning that she wished something for Tsukasa, everything he's doing is because of her (because of Amane too, but he has a bond with Sakura). Sakura is an extremely important piece in this puzzle.

Let the fun begin! Next in the series we have Mitsuba and Kou enjoying their time at the festival. Eating and playing together. We were informed, the festival has started.

More moments at the festival. This scene happened in the manga, it is the beginning of the festival that we see. Hanako and Yashiro in the haunted house made by Kou's class. Until that moment everything was normal (or so we thought).

This one is curious. We only see seal Tsukasa in this arc after the plan is initiated. But I believe he was also out there enjoying his last moments. And you can tell that it's really Tsukasa and not the creature. Well, now we're getting close.

Ohhh look what we have here! President and vice-president enjoying the festival as well, despite their work they still managed to find some time to have fun. Natsuhiko had already confronted Akane earlier and Teru had already discovered the black crane, they were probably already alert for anything suspicious. But, everything's still normal.

We return to Sakura, now in her maid outfit. We also have Natsuhiko's first appearance in these arts. This was possibly before or during the festival, but following the chronological line it must have been during. Note that until then this was the only art that did not have a black border (I will talk about this later). Moving on to the next...

From here things started to get serious. The plan had begun. This moment happens in chapter 105. Blood had started to spread throughout the auditorium and Hanako noticed that something was wrong. We are just a few steps away from entering No.1 boundary.

And finally we have today's art. The revelation of the immortal human, Natsuhiko. Breaking the timeline, in this art we go back to chapter 104, where Natsuhiko spreads his blood across the clock, thus executing the plan to go after the last yorishiros.

And these were all the arts released so far, the arts that reference the arc in this case. They all seem to be retelling the story of the Festival arc. Now why? Why would AidaIro be recapping the last arc?

We know that the past has changed and everything has a chance of being different from what we know. We go back to the beginning of the festival, where nothing had happened yet. Therefore, none of these events had happened, if everything really changed, the arts are telling an alternative version of history, the version we know.

Moving from analysis to theory... did you notice that almost all arts have a black border? Black borders are used to indicate flashbacks, the past in JSHK. Now, why would they be using this artifice? Assuming the present has changed, this would be the past. But not a past like something that happened years ago, but a past that no longer exists, in the sense of what it was before this current one. That's why the black borders, indicating that this would be the past.

What breaks this theory is Sakura's art in her maid outfit, as it doesn't have a black border. Maybe the borders are part of the new AidaIro style and are something made to style the arts, or actually have a connection to something. Well, that part is just a crazy theory.

But what do you think of this analysis? The images seem to be telling the arc of the festival all over again, and for what reason? Maybe we'll find out on the 18th, when chapter 112 comes out.