#it was made by a bunch of philosophy students

[mathysphere]

Science Humanities Minis: Philosophy

A little jaunt over to celebrate some of the humanities with two friends sitting and debating the day away 🤍

This was inspired by the HD rerelease of the classic flash game Socrates Jones: Pro Philosopher. It's a beautiful little gem of a game, perfect for anyone who likes indie games or philosophy or Ace Attorney-style visual novels. You can get it for free on Steam today!

[Pattern here] [Series here] [🏛️Socrates Jones here🏛️]

[wisteriagoesvroom]

schools of thought

A landoscar college AU, told through social media

oscar, a quiet english major, and lando, chaotic maths boy, are paired together in a philosophy module at Federation U.

author's notes:

we're being a bit fluid with grid ages, but oscar and lando are sophomores/year 2 of college here

ignore the timestamps, they don't really matter

if you enjoy it, please consider liking / reblogging / commenting! 💙

part 1 🍊 (of 4?)

——————————introducing our protagonists——————————————

INSTAGRAM

@landoooonorriz

📍fed U more like fed UP

liked by charliesangles, carloswithone_S, wochi_jianbing and 158 others

landoooonorriz get in my dump truckkk

view 23 replies

charliesangles photos taken moments before disaster 🕷️😬

maxisnot_here: batman isn't part of the MCU ⤷carloswithone_S: buzzkill

wochi_jianbing nice pic bro ⤷landoooonorriz: ty GY, enjoy shanghaiiii. haha that rhymed comment liked by wochi_jianbing carloswithone_S: on the decks next week let's gooo

GOODREADS

@oz-peartree

oscar spent most of his summer (or australian winter) hanging out in cafés and reading. he once wrote a 2,000 words review on the merits of good omens on goodreads, but then got embarrassed and also thought it would interfere with his deliberate choice to not leave any reviews besides stars. so he deleted the whole thing and saves it in a folder for himself instead. one of his sisters once stumbled on his goodreads page by accident. he has tried to block her IP across multiple devices but has largely been unsuccessful.

——————————— the seminar —————————————

we zoom in on Federation Internationale University (FIU), a sunny campus nestled up in the hills of monaco. two students, lando norris and oscar piastri, have made it into their sophomore year.

prof vettel's philosophy 204 module is notoriously hard. both of them have to take it as part of their degree requirements (but for lando, maybe also because he enjoys a challenge).

assignment pairs are set by prof seb early in the semester. lando already knows of oscar, and vice versa, but nothing substantial beyond passing each other in the hallway or the occasional library run-in in freshman year. lando's made quite an impression because he once spent half the seminar chatting about how "young stalin was kinda cute" despite stalin not being related to the philosophy syllabus, and it being totally tangential to the topic at hand. half the class agrees with lando, the other half is too overwhelmed by his energy to argue.

oscar just wants to get on with the work already. he was the best kid at his prep school, the prep school that he moved halfway across the world for at 14 and worked hard at, and doesn't like being distracted from his very important goal of being class valedictorian at FIU eventually.

lando gets oscar's number after class, before they both skirt off in different directions. oscar wants to talk to lando about the assignment, but when lando exits the room he's already off talking to another bunch of friends, and oscar's too awkward to jump in.

lando texts first.

iMessage

oscar rolls his eyes and gets back to writing his eighteenth century literature class notes.

meanwhile, lando texts max, his roommate and padel bud, about it. max is at a campus hackathon. (max is a junior who has been scouted by at least three big tech firms already, and is on track for early graduation. but lando thinks max has other reasons for wanting to stick around...)

the other thing lando is sure of is that oscar is not in fact better than him at padel. but he is not going to worry about that. or think about how oscar might look, red-faced and flustered and sweaty...

lando's phone pings with social notifications, and the thought disappears.

————meanwhile, the boys do some research——————

lando:

oscar:

and contrary to popular belief, oscar does have some feelings on the matter. he makes these feelings known to his friend logan, one of the few non-europeans on campus who also knows distinctly what it's like when people make fun of his accent. nevermind that everybody has an accent, oscar thinks. the idea of a neutral accent is an arbitrary invention. he'd just rather not expend the energy fighting people about it.

if oscar has any thoughts about how he would feel should lando choose to turn his flirty energy towards oscar himself, well... that is besides the point. because that would never happen. oscar is not interesting, oscar is not noticable. oscar is here to get his grades and move on.

oscar can think of three things that he hates, which he is in the process of overcoming. flight delays, going to the dentist, and now: working in group projects.

but, oscar tells himself, he is a grown man. he's moved halfway across the world to pursue his dream of getting his degree, and then heading on to work in publishing. he tells himself he'll stay focused on this, and nothing else. because pursuing his goals requires singleminded determination. or like the great poet pitbull once said: for anybody going through tough times, been there, done that. every day above ground is a great day, remember that.

so oscar puts his phone face-down on the table. he tries very hard not to think about bee statues or lando for the rest of the day.

(he fails.)

——————————— What happens next, you ask? Stay tuned for Part 2 to find out —————————————

📚 part 2 now live!

more author's notes:

eyy it's my first multimedia(?) fic for f1blr!

this was inspired by an ask. i took some key elements from this (lovely!) prompt and remixed. i meant it to be just one post but i think it's now gonna be four parts, oops.

i love chatting so if you have thoughts or even remotely enjoyed this story, let me know what you think :) or lmk if you want to be tagged on the next updates!

bye!

[vhagarlovebot]

can we get some cute modern Aemond hcs ?

modern!aemond targaryen headcanons: first date / college student.

modern!aemond goes to therapy twice a week and he always sees you sitting on the same couch in the waiting room, a book in hand.

the first time he talked to you, you were reading about voltaire, mumbling and publicly showing the challenge it was reading something like that. he asked you what was your favorite part and you confessed not understanding a single word.

modern!aemond is a philosophy student and was more than happy to help the pretty girl.

modern!aemond lives off campus with aegon (who dropped college and did not have where to live).

modern!amond does not like parties. he doesn't like crowds of drunken collage students. if you ask him, he would say he prefers to stay at home.

but he starts going to these parties once he learns that your roommates like to have one almost every friday.

modern!aemond asks his brother to come with him.

modern!aemond spends the whole night by your side, talking about random things until the topic of voltaire comes up, and you confess that you're only reading it because you have seen him in the library with a bunch of books about philosophy.

he's surprised to know you have noticed him before but he has never seen you outside the therapist's office.

modern!aemond doesn't kiss you right away, but asks you on a date.

when the day of the date arrives, modern!amond waits for you outside your classroom. he doesn't have flowers, or chocolates or any kind of cheesy gift. he doesn't like that kind of things.

modern!aemond likes old films. he takes you to a drive-in teather where they're showing a black and white film. and makes sure you understand it, apologizing when he realize he's talking too much, afraid that you would think he's boring and annoying.

but you reassure him there's no problem, you like to hear him talk about the things he's passionate about.

modern!aemond would never admit a lot of things, how happy your words made him feel being one of them.

then, at the end of the night, he takes you back to your apartment. he still doesn't kiss you, smiling goodbye while leaning on his car until you are finally in the safety of your home.

it's not until the third date that he finally kisses you.

and it's not like the didn't liked you before, he liked you a lot and all he wanted was to kiss you the first day he saw you. but modern!amond was raised a certain way and to respect women is his top priority. he wanted you to feel safe and comfortable with him first.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Two Hours - Chapter 1 - Shigaraki x Reader

***

Maybe, just maybe, some things might be worth waiting for.

***

Two hours.

He was late by a full two hours. Meaning 120 minutes, 2700 seconds, 7200000 precious milliseconds wasted of your life. You'd know, you counted.

You glared at the library clock again, as if it was its fault you had been stood up. Disgruntledly, you pushed back your chair, getting up to put your laptop and revision materials back in your bag. It was the last time you'd try and help a stranger because clearly, strangers sucked.

You had done tutoring for different classes since your second year in college. Literature, philosophy, anthropology, history- name it, you could teach it. And you loved doing it like few other things made you happy. Was there anything as wonderful as showing others the beauty of human nature, its creativity, its passion, its sincerity?

"Sincerity my ass," you thought, angrily shoving your backpack on one shoulder. It clunked loudly as it bumped against a wooden shelf, and the librarian threw you a dirty look from the other side of the room. Part of you felt bad; you had spent a while trying to cultivate a good relationship with the older man, since you spent most of your free time in the library. But the rest of you, which was to say almost all of you, didn't care, because you were unbelievably frustrated.

You had had students give you tons of excuses before: they were sick, their mom was sick, their neighbors' dog was sick, and they just had to skip the tutoring session. You didn't mind that; they'd always text at least an hour in advance, and you'd have the time to read their message and go home with a smile, instead of walking all the way to the library. 

But today's guy was different. You knew he had your number and your email address: it was part of the tutoring agreement you had both signed online. And yet he hadn't had the decency, the respect, to send a single message to tell you he couldn't come to the two-hour appointment he himself scheduled. And now, you had just wasted two hours, excitedly waiting to expose the wonders of literature to a guy who couldn't even bother to text you "can't come". 

You gave the librarian a half-hearted nod of apology and headed toward the big glass doors at the front of the building. The weather looked moody outside, the sky grey and heavy like rain could start pouring at any moment. You didn't need to check your bag to know you didn't pack an umbrella. It was clear this was one of the days.

Sighing, you opened the heavy door to walk out at the same moment a man pushed to get in. You tucked your body to the side to keep the door open for him, but he flatly ignored the gesture, walking past you without uttering a "thank you".

"Yup," you thought, "strangers suck."

Before you could take more than a few steps outside, a droplet of water fell right on top of your nose, stopping you in your tracks. And then another, and another, and in a flash, the area was getting flooded, puddles already forming around on the dark asphalt. You couldn't help as another sigh escaped you, bracing for the impact of the freezing rain as you took a step forward into the tempest.

Then, something grabbed you by the shoulder.

You yelped in surprise and turned around, fists instinctively bunching up to your chest to protect yourself, heart racing. It took you a few seconds to recognize the rude guy who had just passed you on his way in.

He was tall, taller than you had first realized. His oversized hoodie made it hard to gauge his frame, the visibly worn-out fabric stretched shapelessly around his torso. Your eyes looked up for a face you couldn't find: the black hood fully obscured his features, and for a second, images of killers in horror movies alarmingly flashed through your mind.

You shoved yourself out of his grip and took a step back, eyes wide. He nonchalantly placed his hand back in his pocket, an unimpressed glare staring right back at you. His eyes were red, bright red.

"You're the tutor, right?"

You looked at the ominous figure incredulously.

"What ?"

"You're the tutor, right ?" he repeated in a low, raspy tone. He sounded annoyed.

You kept staring at him, wondering if he was speaking in a foreign language you had never heard of.

Then, his words started registering.

"Tomura..." you started uncertainly, the math adding up in your head as you remembered the name on the little manilla folder you had prepared for today, "Shigaraki ?"

A small smile etched itself onto the man's face, and you noticed how cracked his lips were, a faded scar going through the dried skin. Strands of slightly greasy hair, white as snow, rebelliously escaped the black hood, and for a second you caught another glimpse of his crimson eyes. But they disappeared back under the shadow of the fabric, and you realized your body had tensed like a rock.

"I'm the guy," he said nonchalantly, the hand you had pushed away going up to his neck and mindlessly scratching the skin there. There were marks there, some old, and others so fresh they looked like they were bleeding. Anxiously, you wondered if instead of a killer, you had stumbled on an addict.

"Hey, so when do we go get a seat inside? It's fucking cold out here," he added, gesturing lazily towards the library.

You kept staring.

And staring.

And staring.

He hadn't possibly said what you thought he had just said. No one was so impossibly clueless and self-centered that they would come two hours late to a meeting and act like they were the one who was being bothered. But the cold rain falling down your face made it aboundedly clear: this was real.

"No," you finally said, enunciating the word slowly.

He looked as confused as you first did, the smug, composed look on his face instantly falling. He didn't look like he was told "no" often, and you felt the flame of anger start to burn inside you.

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no," you replied drily, feeling confidence coursing back through your body. There was no doubt in your mind you already looked like a drowned rat from the rain, and that your waterproof mascara was starting to reach its limits. But you weren't about to be scared of some loser trying to look tough with a crusty hoodie and unwashed hair.

"You came two hours late for the tutoring, which lasts two hours. My work slot with you is from four to six, and it's exactly," you snapped, bringing your phone up to his face, "Ten past six, so my work here is done."

He stared at your phone in incomprehension, then back at you, irritation slowly settling on his pale features. His thin brows frowned, and you noticed another scar marring his right eyelid the piercing crimson stare bore into you. Maybe he was some kind of gang member, and if so, was it a good idea to mouth off to him?

"Look, I don't know what crawled up your ass, but I'm paying to have a tutor," he snarled drily. "That's not fair."

You had to wonder if you were even talking to an adult. So maybe he was a killer, or an addict, or a gang member, and he would end up stabbing you for it, but by God, were you going to put that guy back in place.

"Well, tough luck, buddy," you almost spat out, your usually level-headed patience entirely fizzled out, "it wasn't fair to make me wait two hours and then expect me to have nothing other to do in my life than tutoring your sorry ass. But life isn't fair, is it ?"

You turned around, throwing the man one last angry look: "If you want tutoring, then be there next week. On time."

You felt oddly proud of yourself as you walked away, leaving him wet and alone in the rain. And if you were slightly trembling at the feeling of the crimson stare boring through you all the way down the library path, well, you just had to pray he didn't notice it.

---

"Huh," you noted with both surprise and apprehension, "you're here."

And indeed, there he was, slumped in one of the library's chairs, the stranger you were certain wouldn't come to your meeting this week: Tomura Shigaraki.

You had spent a few days feeling bad about the way you had handled things; yes, he had been incredibly late and entitled, but you never gave him any time to explain himself for it all. Maybe he did have a good reason, and maybe he had only acted so entitled because he was having an especially rough day.

One look at the condescending glare he threw you was enough to confirm that wasn't the case.

"Yeah, I'm here," he muttered, looking away, his right hand still ripping away at his neck like the last time you had seen him. You couldn't help but wonder about the gesture, the practiced way his fingers would visibly carve into the skin. Allergies? Eczema?

His vermillion eyes never left your figure as you put your bag down and awkwardly sat across from him, looking down at the carpeted floors. 

"Why are you that surprised ?" he added flatly, "I told you, I'm paying for this shit."

You weren't a confrontational person; or at least, you did your best to avoid confrontation. But you'd been tired last week, and his whole little disrespectful charade had pushed you over the edge. You weren't sure you were up to deal with it again.

Your lack of response seemed to irritate him; he picked up a small handheld console from his lap, immediately busying himself in a game like your presence held no meaning to him.

You took a small breath, not wanting your temper to rise again; if you wanted this to work, you'd need to be the first to give the olive branch. You put on a nice, professional smile: "Let's put everything to the side for a moment, start over. Maybe we could both introduce ourselves again ?"

His thumbs toyed with the joysticks on his handheld, disinterest palpable."Why? I know who you are."

You could have strangled him.

"Nevermind," you smiled so forcefully it hurt your cheeks. "So, you're here for Lit 3250, Absurdism in Literature. That's a fun class."

"I'm only taking it because I have to," he grumbled. "I'm in computer programming. They make us take a class in the humanities department because the education system is fucked."

You raised an eyebrow at that, genuinely surprised: "They're making you do literature in computer science ?"

He shrugged, his eyes going back to the game on the small screen with obvious boredom.

"Told you. The system is fucked."

You pulled out the little manilla file you had prepared for him from your bag, spreading a few documents on the table between the two of you. For a second, you could have sworn his bored expression flickered into something new, but it was gone before you could register it.

"Well, I might not be able to do much about that, but I can try and make the class easier," you smiled a little more genuinely this time as he put his handheld to the side to look at the papers you had slid in front of him.

To your complete astonishment, as you guided him through the material, the man listened, never once taking notes, yet able to answer any question you threw his way in the shortest, most concise way possible. He seemingly absorbed the information while looking wholeheartedly disinterested, like remembering the words was barely any more work than eating or breathing. You had to wonder if the programmer in him coded the sentences in his mind, imputing every word as little lines of binary code, or if he was just this naturally, annoyingly smart.

"Alright, that's it for today," you concluded, noticing you had gone over the material you had planned for two sessions in just the last two hours. "I didn't take you for the kind of guy to listen to a tutor, but you've done a really good job today."

You gave him an honest smile, hoping to finally mend the bridge from last weekend's incident. Instead, he promptly looked away, lips tightening into a thin line.

"S' just cause I need to pass the class to get my diploma. I don't really give a shit about any of this stuff."

If he saw your face fall at that, he didn't show it. He grabbed his handheld and shoved it in his front pocket, promptly throwing his ragged backpack over his shoulder, as if the last thing he wanted was to stay here a minute longer with you.

"I'll see you next week, then," you hesitantly said, more a question than a statement. He didn't look back at you when he spoke with a grunt, already making his way out.

"Whatever."

---

"So Camus' thing is society is fucked, and as soon as you realize it you gotta kill yourself, right ?"

"Basically !" you beamed excitedly, circling a paragraph in the text facing him with the tip of your finger. "It's the idea that when you understand your role as just a cog in the machine in a mindless daily life, you have to either ignore it to rejoin society, or leave society altogether." 

A small smile danced on Shigaraki's chapped lips, as smug and mocking as all his smiles were. You sometimes wondered if his face could ever express pure, genuine happiness, or if it was perpetually stuck with that self-satisfied expression. 

"Yeah, I can get behind that."

It fit him, in a strange way. And he had every reason to be pompous: in three weeks, you had both gone through double the material you had planned for his first sessions, as be blasted each lesson like a simple tutorial fight in one of the many video games you'd catch him play before each lesson.

"Me too, actually," you agreed.

He looked at you disbelievingly: "You? Feeling like you're not a part of society? Give me a break, you're a tutor in university, there's probably a normie award for that."

"Well, even us normies are really just always doing the same thing, aren't we ?" you explained, laying your chin against your hand pensively. "Take the two of us. We always meet here at four o'clock on Wednesdays, at the same library, at the same table. We don't go through the motions because we want to, we do it because we have to, and that's what everyone expects from us. Kinda makes you want to quit society too, doesn't it ?"

For a moment, he said nothing. There was something unsettling in the way his ruby eyes bore into you, like he was judging your very soul. You felt your cheeks unwillingly redden after a few seconds under his piercing stare, looking away in slight embarrassment. If a few weeks spent with him were enough to convince you he wasn't a serial killer, you still found yourself troubled whenever he'd look at you too long.

He finally seemed satisfied with whatever he found looking into you, eyes mercifully leaving your face before settling on something on the table.

"That's a Plus Ultra sticker," he commented flatly.

You followed his gaze to your cellphone, face down, the small video game logo barely visible on the cover. How had he even noticed it? 

It wasn't that you were ashamed of gaming in your free time, but you knew for a fact the entire literature department bore a clear disdain for any media not printed onto pages. They laughed off anything else as childish and a waste of time. Needless to say, you had never shared that passion with anyone on campus before that moment.

But damn, did you love Plus Ultra.

You couldn't help but grin excitedly at him: "Oh wow, you play too !"

"Sometimes," he shrugged with obviously fake disinterest, his crimson eyes brighter than you had ever seen them before."It's not the best game or anything, but it's alright. I feel like the whole hero fantasy trope is kinda overplayed."

He suddenly clammed up, like he had just remembered who he was talking to. The classic sour, haughty look you had gotten to know reappeared on his face.

"I just didn't know any girls played that game," he mumbled.

And there he was, the asshole you had met on that first rainy day. 

"Well," you replied drily, "I play, and I'm actually one of the top All Might players in the country."

His pale fingers tremored at that, the excited brightness that he was trying very hard to conceal back in his eyes. It was so childish it was almost endearing, in a way.

"Well, what a coincidence. I'm also a top All Might player, except I was in the world ranking, last time I checked," he bragged, nonchalantly picking at his fingernails. "Maybe I could teach you a thing or two later." 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the implication of a "later", of a world where you would be together outside of the required tutoring time, seemed to dawn on him. He stammered wordlessly, red spreading like fire on his pale face. It was... a lot more endearing than you would have thought.

"F-forget it. That was stupid."

You couldn't help but soften at that. Maybe, underneath the dirty hoodie and the deadly glare, he was as timid and insecure as you felt he was. The lashing out, the quips, the bratty entitlement- were they all just a facade for a guy who genuinely didn't know how to interact with others?

 "Well," you hummed, "maybe after you're done with your midterms you could come over to my dorm for a match. There's a big communal TV you can pair consoles with."

The cold, detached mask was back, but it was much harder to believe with the pink coloring that reached the very tip of his ears.

"Yeah, maybe."

---

A month passed before you encountered your first hurdle in your tutoring work with Shigaraki, in the form of a "CLOSED" sign glaring back at you from the library's glass doors.

"Damn it," you mumbled, opening up your phone to find an unread message from the faculty announcing a temporary shutdown. Shigaraki, who had taken up the habit of coming on time for your sessions, looked incredibly pissed.

"So the fuckers think they can send one email and be done with it ?" he angrily snapped, kicking the library's plexiglas door so harshly it made you flinch. You took a mental note to never do anything to find yourself on the wrong side of that kick.

"Well, we can reschedule for tomorrow!" you chirped. Perhaps he'd appreciate you trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

The look he gave you could have turned you into dust.

"I'm already here. And I'm busy tomorrow. I have important things to do."

Briefly, you wondered if by important things he meant staying home and gaming. The college's main campus wasn't very large, and in the few years you had studied here, you had never caught a glimpse of him once. He had the kind of dim presence one could easily forget, but if you had passed him before, you would have known.

"I think the law building lets you take rooms for study sessions, " you proposed.

He sighed, voice raspy with irritation. "It's full of pretentious assholes," he replied drily, "and it's almost a thirty minutes walk from here."

"You're kind of a pretentious asshole yourself", you thought silently. It was clear he wasn't going to help or do anything that required too much effort on his part. When Shigaraki wanted to be annoying, he was really annoying.

"You got a better option ?" you mumbled, frustrated.

He looked down at his shoes, suddenly silent. "Ah ha", you thought victoriously, "didn't think so".

Then, words you could have never expected came out of his mouth: "Yeah. Come to my place."

You looked at him incredulously. He looked as surprised as you did, like he wasn't the one who had just talked.

"I live like ten minutes from here," he explained hurriedly, glaring down at the asphalt like it might melt and swallow him whole, "it'll take way less time."

It wasn't as if you didn't know the guy at all, but to say you knew him enough to go to his house, alone, was a stretch.

Although you had been able to shake off your initial fear of him, you still felt something dark and looming in the way he carried himself. For as easy as it was to read him when he was embarrassed or caught off guard, the calculating, sharp gaze he seemed to judge the world with still left you at a loss. Even more so right now, when it was directed at you.

"Ok," you eventually said before you could decide against it. What was the worst that could happen?

At first, you hadn't had much reason to worry; you walked along the main streets that cornered the campus, still filled with quite a few students going about their business. But then, he took you into a small alleyway. And then another, and another, and another, to the point where you couldn't recognize what part of the city you were even in. The buildings you passed had gotten older and older the more you walked, most of the ones surrounding you were now decrepit and abandoned. They loomed over you and Shigaraki, fully blocking the sun, a claustrophobic maze of old bricks and concrete.

You realized that you had drifted closer to Shigaraki unconsciously, your shoulder almost brushing against his. But you couldn't bring yourself to move away, the simple proximity of someone you at least relatively knew reassuring to your mind.

If Shigaraki noticed, he said nothing, his long, lanky legs moving forward without hesitation. You took a moment to discreetly observe the man, his features more detailed now that you stood next to him. The scarring was much worse than you had first realized. It spread from the small glimpses of his forehead you could see behind strands of shaggy white hair, to the start of his chest hidden by his black shirt. In some spots, the skin looked dry, old; in others, it was like it had been freshly ripped apart by sharp and uneven nails. You had found it worrying for yourself, at first, when you thought he was some kind of junkie; but now you found yourself worrying over how much the bruising hurt him.

His hand protectively grabbed his neck when he noticed your staring, thin eyebrows frowning in annoyance.

"Before you ask, yes, I've tried creams and ointment and all that shit the doctors send you to buy at the drugstore. It doesn't work. I know I'm ugly, you don't need to rub it in."

A pang of guilt hit your chest. You didn't think before honestly replying: "I don't think you're ugly."

He looked at you coldly, any trace of friendliness gone: "You think you're real smart playing with me, don't you?"

"No, I mean it, I don't think you're ugly!" you hurriedly exclaimed. "Just, ok, look."

You quickly pulled back the sleeve of your shirt, showing him the inside of your forearm with insistence. His eyes narrowed suspiciously: "What the hell am I supposed to look at?"

"A scar," you replied, showing him the thin pale line that crossed your skin. "I got it as a kid when I fell from a tree in kindergarten. Oh, and I also have this one!"

You tugged at your pants to reveal a darker webbed mark on your ankle, the skin smoothed by time: "That one is really stupid, I got it from wearing heels three sizes too small at my high school prom and falling down a flight of stairs. And I also have this other one-" 

"I get it !" he interrupted, frustrated. "Yeah, alright, you have some scars too, but it's not the same thing as me."

"I know it's not," you replied calmly. "I'm not trying to say it is. But... I don't think having scars makes me ugly. I think they show I've been through something, and I'm still here to tell the story. And I think you might have been through a lot, but you're still standing here with me. So... if you don't think my scars make me ugly, then you shouldn't think yours do."

 

He didn't reply, silently making his way forward. Had you made him feel angrier, or even embarrassed? In one last effort to get your point across, you added:

"I think they kind of make you like Eraserhead in Plus Ultra 3."

That made him stop right in his tracks.

"You...think I look like Eraserhead ?" he hesitantly asked.

You nodded, and his cheeks reddened slightly. He took a few seconds before letting out the next words:

"Don't laugh," he warned you, "or I'm leaving you here. You can just find your own way back or get murked in an alley for all I care."

You crossed your fingers, presenting them to him ceremoniously.

"I won't laugh. Promise."

"I actually decided to grow out my hair to look like him."

Cute.

That was the first word to come into your mind. Cute. 

You quickly chased the very strange and unwelcome thought away, in case Shigaraki interpreted your pause as a laugh. 

"Well," you replied, "when I was seventeen, I dyed my hair bright yellow to look like All Might. I think I definitely got the short end of the stick in the idea department. "

He laughed, honest to God laughed, a raspy and genuine sound that made something foreign in your chest tightened. You started laughing too, and soon, you were nothing but two giggling idiots in the absolute middle of nowhere.

"Guess you're not that smart after all, miss tutor," he commented with a smirk.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, like he wanted to say something else, but ultimately chose against it. He continued walking without a word, and you followed him the rest of the way in companionable silence, never straying far from his side.

---

It was a bar.

Or rather, the remains of something that once was a bar. A dingy neon sign with the three-letter word hung precariously above the door, the large "B" flashing within an ounce of its life. The walls were covered in graffiti and grime, a suspiciously moldy smell seemingly emanating from the bricks themselves.

"You... live here?" you asked hesitantly as Shigaraki made his way towards the building with no hesitation.

"Yeah," he let out, head snapping back around and eyes narrowing defensively. "You have a problem with that?"

Yes, several, including the probability of being stabbed to death here and my remains being found in the back of a garbage truck.

"No, no problem," you said.

He answered that with a grunt. The small staircase that lead to the entrance creaked under his weight, and he pushed the front door open.

"Wait here," he commanded. It was clear the subject wasn't up for discussion, so you opted for nodding along. "I'll come get you when I'm done with something."

It was all starting to feel like a terrible idea. So what if he liked the same games you did and actually seemed to listen to you rant about literature? You barely knew anything else about him. 

You knew he felt lost in society and rejected by the world. You knew his whole face would become red as a tomato anytime he felt embarrassed or flustered. You knew he would bite his lip in concentration when he played on his handheld, and that his leg would bounce up and down like a puppy's tail every time he got close to winning. You knew his eyes were unlike any you had seen before.

But what did you really know?

"You lost ?"

You spun around so fast you stumbled on your own feet, almost falling straight onto the dirty pavement.

The man standing in front of you had sneaked by so silently you had never registered his presence, even with how close he had gotten. He seemed very amused at the way you backed away in fear, your eyes wide.

"No, no I'm fine, I'm- I'm waiting for a friend, actually," you managed to stammer out.

Somehow, he didn't look like he believed that at all.

He was the picture-perfect example of men your parents had told you to stay away from. His skin was covered in dark tattoos, their shapes incomprehensibly mingled with what appeared to be burn scars, seemingly spreading all over his body. In the dark, one could mistake him for a walking corpse, blue eyes glistening unnaturally in the middle of a patchwork face.

The man dragged his cigarette across his lips, letting a dark puff of smoke escape.

"What a friend, making you wait outside in the cold," he commented, the burnt and inked skin around his mouth moving in a manner you could only describe as uncanny. "Pretty stupid of you to hang out with people from here, princess. Lots of creeps in the area."

He moved closer, so close you could smell the tobacco off his breath, and the instinctive need to run coursed through your body.

"No need to be scared though," he let out with a smirk that screamed the absolute contrary. "I can stay with you for a while. Protect ya."

He was too close for you to run, now; if you tried, he could easily grab you with the large hand that was nonchalantly making its way toward your waist. 

"Dabi."

Your head spun towards the entrance at the same time as the man's did. Relief spread through your body at the sight of Shigaraki, standing in front of the door where he had left you. His crimson gaze, which usually never left your form alone for more than a few seconds, was not focused on you, but on the stranger, who looked back at you with an utterly flabbergasted expression. Whoever he was, Shigaraki wasn't happy to see him.

"That's your friend ?" the stranger snorted as he started laughing uncontrollably, like he had just heard the funniest joke in his life. "Holy shit, you're even dumber than I thought you were !"

Clearly, Shigaraki did not find that funny in the slightest. You had forgotten how cold his expression had been when you first met him, uncaring and eerie. This was that, but colder, angrier, like the ripples that started forming in the water as a devastating storm would approach.

"Dabi," he repeated, and his tone was dark, final. For the first time in weeks, you felt something akin to fear at the sight of him, even knowing his anger wasn't directed at you. Had he always looked so unnervingly intimidating?

"Ok, ok, she's all yours, boss," the man finally said as he backed away, dropping the butt of his cigarette before unceremoniously stomping it. "Didn't mean to touch the property."

Tomura silently walked towards you, a rigid, cold hand forcefully grabbing yours and pulling you towards him. He headed back in, fingers so tightly clutched against yours that it hurt, and you followed without protest. You threw one last look at the man he called Dabi, a look of pure amusement on his face.

"Property", he had said. 

The innards of the bar were much cozier than the outside view let on. It was relatively well kept, with a red counter with a few retro-style stools occupying the majority of the space, the leftover corner dedicated to an old leather couch facing a battered TV. With no windows on the walls, the only light came from a few yellowish neons hanging on the ceiling. The room was empty except for the well-dressed man behind the counter, who you could only assume was the bartender. He merely nodded at your arrival, his face obscured by a cloud of dark hair in the dim light, what you could discern of his body barely a shadow against the wall of bottles.

Shigaraki ignored him, pointedly dragging you to a door at the back, which lead to a small, dark corridor. He only stopped when he reached the last door, swiftly turning the rusty knob.

It wasn't difficult to understand it was his bedroom; the only light came from the double monitor screen connected to an impressive gaming PC. With the exception of a few shelves filled to the brim with trinkets and figurines, the walls were mostly bare, the white coat of paint discolored and yellowed. Visibly dirty clothes were pilled up in a corner, as if someone had hurriedly picked them up for the floor and tossed them there in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal them.

"Sit anywhere," he grumbled, looking away. "Or don't. Whatever."

He was even worse at hiding his blush than he was at hiding his clothes. You couldn't help but smile.

There were only two spots you could sit in the room: the expensive-looking gaming chair, which was clearly the most valuable item in the entire bar, or the messy one-person bed, which seemed to not have seen a washing machine in a while. The last thing you wanted was to anger Shigaraki after the encounter with the man outside, so sitting in his gaming chair seemed like a bad idea. You opted for the bed, praying to God the sheets naturally looked so patchy and discolored.

"W-what the fuck are you doing?" he sputtered immediately as you sat, eyes wide.

"Sitting," you replied simply.

"Not there! Are you stupid or something?" he audibly cringed. Damn it, you had made the wrong call. "Just sit on the floor. It's not dirty or anything, Kurogiri cleaned it recently."

You glanced doubtfully at the impressive amount of energy drinks and used tissues littering the room before lowering yourself down out of fear of seeming rude. Briefly, you wondered if Kurogiri was the man you saw mend to the bar. He looked nothing like Shigaraki, and referred to him far too politely to be family. He was too young to be his father either way. Was he both the bartender and the housekeeper?

"But why would Shigaraki have a housekeeper?", you wondered silently

"The guy outside, Dabi," you finally said. "He called you boss."

Shigaraki didn't even bother turning around to answer flatly: "And ?"

"Do you... own this place?"

"Something like that. Here."

He handed you a controller you immediately recognized, your hands automatically wrapping themselves around it just like with the one you had spent countless hours playing with at home. Shigaraki smirked slightly at the sight of you already being ready for combat.

"So, spill it out. What's your tragic backstory ?" you asked, leaning your back to the wall with a mischievous smile.

"What ?" he replied, seemingly caught off guard.

"C'mon," you pressed. "I've never seen you wear anything other than a black hoodie over a black shirt and black sweatpants. You're not subtle about it."

"I don't think you've unlocked that dialogue option yet," he retorted, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "How about you? What's your tragic backstory ?"

You chuckled: "What makes you think I have one?"

"You'd have to be a little fucked up to follow some guy you barely know into a shady bar in the middle of an abandoned factory district," he replied, raising an eyebrow, a wicked smile on his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at that; he was right. "Well, I don't think you've unlocked that yet either, Shigaraki."

"Just call me Tomura," he offered, a touch of resignation in his voice. Was he finally warming up to you? "Might as well if I'm stuck with you for the rest of the semester."

Maybe not. But something felt oddly nice about this, about him, and no matter how weird it all was, you couldn't help but let yourself bask in the strange feeling.

The computer let out a familiar little tune as the game booted up on the screen. Shigaraki visibly hesitated between sitting on his own chair or the floor, ultimately selecting the floor while keeping a reasonable distance from you. You had a feeling he wasn't very comfortable with women. But what he may have lacked in social skills, he definitely made up in gaming: his eyes burnt with fiery passion as the title screen appeared on the monitor, his hands tight around the controller. The look he threw you was one of pure confidence:

"C'mon. Show me what you're made of."

He immediately selected All Might in the character selection, implicitly daring you to do the same. All Might was the most powerful character in all the game, but he was famously the hardest one to master, with his controls requiring intense speed and dexterity. You could tell Shigaraki hadn't been lying about being one of the greatest All Might players; his fingers were already lined up on the buttons for a noticeably hard deadly combo. But you weren't one to back down on a challenge.

"5 rounds. No bonus power-ups," you smiled right back at him, pressing the button to also select All Might. The screen flashed red as the game loaded the fighting arena.

"You're playing a pretty dangerous game, you know that, player two ?" he commented, a hint of warning in his tone.

"I don't intend on losing," you replied with a grin.

And if the wild spark in his eyes meant anything, neither did he.

[phoenix-manga]

Ottilie Phosia

CV: Mizuki

Biographical Information

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Birthday: April 5

Starsign: Aries

Height: 175 cm

Eye Color: Bubblegum

Hair Color: Cornflower & Lavender

Professional Status

Dorm: Futterwacken

School Year: 1st Year

Class: 1-A | Student no. 8

Occupation: Student

Club: Gardening Research Club

Best Subject: Alchemy

Fun Facts

Favorite Food: Hors d'oeuvres

Least Favorite Food: Eggplant

Dislikes: Heat and insecticides

Hobby: Collecting butterfly eggs

Talents: Perfume alchemy

Idol Stats

Performance: Voice fit for musical and can recite tongue twisters in a song

Choreography: Often performs in the style of irish tap dancing

Styling Jewel Outfits: Quirky | Elegant

She may have the typical ojou-sama personality with proper manners and etiquette; however, her whimsical attitude is often mixed in. She can’t read the atmosphere sometimes and ends up making things confusing or awkward.

But she is helpful when it comes to studying. All her mind-blowing way of phrasing often get stuck in someone’s head, her parent’s tutoring her also contributed to that.

She definitely would be one of those who would say mind blowing things like “Why call them apartments when they’re built together?” 

Ottilie will probably end up eating weird things in the forest if left by herself. She can’t help but want to eat something very colorful, so someone always has to stop her before anything happens. She always says that she is doing it for discovery, no honey, the medical books states that is NOT edible, you don’t need to discover if it can kill you or not!

Though a lot of her friends and relatives thought she’d be a professor like her parents, she actually wants to make perfumes in the future. She has a home-made pipette that she brought from home to make a variety of scents and fragrances. Her side of the room always has a lot of scented things kept in boxes such as candles, perfume, scented paper, incense sticks and many more.

Whenever she makes a fragrance, she always has colorful smoke swirling around her, sometimes she can make fragrances that form shapes from the smoke when used. That’s because she incorporates her magic along with magical herbs into them.

Hometown: Kingdom of Roses

Family History

Ottilie lives in the Kingdom of Roses, her parents are both professors of a school and they teach philosophy and mathematics. The entire family is an odd bunch, always living by the Hatter’s philosophy and would all quote odd poetry that doesn’t make much sense to others other than themselves. 

Her family may be a bit odd but they are well respected for having so many students to sign up for their classes and getting good grades. They are also of nobility so they are always invited to gatherings and parties.

Ottilie was just as whimsical as her parents, which often made her stick out among other children. But it’s not like anyone could say anything when Ottilie was more well-behaved than most children.

Childhood Memories

Ottilie once experienced the cruelty of nature when she released a wild rabbit she fostered when it was injured, just a few meters away a Hawk flew down and snatched it. She cried for a week and even made a crude drawing of the rabbit and placed it on a fake grave her parents made just to make her feel better. Her parents won’t let her live it down and would always tell guests and friends about it, Ottilie is embarrassed from being reminded.

Ottilie tends to be a bit unpredictable when it comes to incantations and alchemy. She is never one to follow the rules and tends to go into a different direction. It always ends with a chaotic scenario… mostly scent related.

Despite her mishaps, she doesn’t struggle with most of her subjects thanks to her parents who were both teachers. But not a lot of students ask for her notes despite her excellent academic skills because… all of her notes are indecipherable. Littered with riddles and scribbles that make no sense to none other than Ottilie.

Squeaks

Her pet is a Hickory Horned Devil Caterpillar that makes a lot of squeaking noises. Ottilie has a terrarium purse to always carry Squeaks around in.

Unlike other animal companions, Squeaks cannot be heard talking even by other animals oddly enough. But Ottilie can understand his squeaking as if they were words with no problem.

Squeaks is just as odd as his owner. Like a synchronized being, Squeaks gestures when Ottilie gestures.

Her unique magic is called, “Shroomy Sprout”. Just by touching a patch of dirt, she can grow mysterious mushrooms with a variety of effects.

Every mushroom always changes from every little thing she does such as what food she ate, how she felt and even if she was sick. The mushrooms don’t stay there for long and will disappear in a puff of smoke after 10 minutes if not used. 

Ottilie tends to use these mushrooms to make special perfumes that have different after effects depending on what mushroom she used. This type of perfume is not all that popular due to its unpredictability. They were probably used for pranks by a certain someone.

Ignacio Phosia

A Mathematics professor who is fascinated with numbers so much that he arranged his belongings in a certain amount if one plays close attention. His study is his perfectly counted space, he doesn’t like it if the number of items is in disarray. So, he is the only on who can clean his study and no one can enter without permission.

He manages the house budget of course due to his love for numbers. Many would often consult him about finances despite his eccentric personality. Ignacio is quite friendly and outgoing.

But despite being seen with a goofy grin, his smile turns into a scowl if his family is insulted in any way. Other than numbers, he can count the number of flaws and failures of a person had he wanted to. Fear the nice ones, as they say.

Ottilie often gives him perfume, bottled herbs and caterpillar eggs as gifts. Ignacio keeps them in in his study in the highest shelf where you could see but not reach.

Calix Phosia

She was known to be a popular woman who was often sought out by bachelors to wed. But she fell for Ignacio for being whimsical instead of vying for her status and reputation. She just loved how absurd he was and being such a gentleman on top of that.

She was the one who reads poems to Ottilie when she was a child. Which is how Ottilie developed a certain love for the whimsical wonders.

The character’s name, “Ottilie” came from a Google search for the most unique sounding names, while her last name, “Phosia” was made up from the word metamorphosis.

Ottilie’s first design was confusing. The pigtail-curl hairstyle was hard to draw repeatedly.

She was meant to be the weird one of the first-year group. She was supposed to have a butterfly as a pet but instead was given the largest caterpillar, the Hickory Horned Devil.

[anlian-aishang]

Kinktober Day 3: Professor Ackerman

“pls do a second part with professor ackerman!!!!! smut if u can/wanna :0”

Word count: 1900

Tags: levi x reader, smut, masturbation, sex dream, slight bondage, power dynamics (student!reader crushes on professor!ackerman, feeling unrequited), modern AU, gn!reader

Crushing on Professor Ackerman? Read more here.

Journal deadlines overdue. Department meeting upcoming. Talks at campuses across the country. Faculty life had Professor Ackerman stressed, stressed past the point of reason. For certainly, if he was still capable of reason, he would not have done what he did.

His goal for tonight was to finish grading his class’s midterms. Calculus 1, it should not have been that hard. If he could just check that one task off of his to-do list, it would make his life feel a whole lot easier. Unfortunately for him, his physiology had other plans. If Levi was going to try to tackle his itinerary, the universe would just find a way to lengthen it. 

Lengthen it. Literally. Levi rolled his eyes at the thought. Inhibitions lowered as other parts of him rose. A tiny old office, cramped space, flooded with obligations, his circumstances were anything but attractive. Why was he getting hard right now? The answer lay in complement: he had not gotten off since the onset of this chaos, which, come to think of it, was nearing a month now.

Faced with the facts, Levi mindlessly marked the multiple choice sections, the math professor’s real focus on calculations of his own. Would it be better to work nonstop at a less efficient pace? Or would it be better to take a break, unwind a bit, and come back faster than before? That said, there was also the toss-up of his refractory period: would he be struck with a new burst of energy or wind down and tire out afterwards?

Given the increasing tautness of his pants, it was getting harder and harder to tell. Harder and harder not to give in. The floor’s silence turned deafening. Autumn-night darkness blinding. The lock on his office door shined in reflection of the moon and its stars. All of his surroundings made him think back to the philosophy class from his own time in college: If a tree falls in the woods… If a professor masturbates in his office…

On that train of thought, he recognized: the battle was over. Levi cursed to himself, defeated, “Fuck me.” Hands slapped atop his desk and pushed himself up from his seat. Fists bunched at his sides, he made it to his door in one deliberate stride. Levi turned the lock shut and turned on his heel. Flopping back on his chair, unbuckling his belt on the way down. 

It had been too long, and at the first stroke, that became overwhelmingly clear. Fingers trembled on the initial climb up his shaft, out of practice, nerves stinging with stimulation. Precum surfaced and spilled onto his slacks, faster than he could push them down his shins. Clear turned to white, sure to stain, silver eyes snuck a glance and swore at the sight, “Sh’Shit…”

Not just the stain, but the self-waged war he was quickly losing. Wrists found their innate rhythm, and with that instinct came more animalistic adrenaline. His heart was racing, breaths correspondingly light. Chest caved in to match the curve of his abdomen, his washboard muscles rippling as his blood rushed down. Conventionally, after so long abstained, one would have wanted to prolong their pleasure, but for Professor Ackerman, this was merely a stint of humiliation he was happy to have over with.

In this occupation, it could be hard not to have one’s ego heightened. Constantly the smartest in any room however massive. Hundreds of eager hands hurriedly taking notes on every word he said. A line out the door for one-on-one time. Levi watched so many of his fellow faculty float around like they were royalty, but he had largely avoided such arrogance, especially at times like these. Jerking himself in his office because his schedule had gotten the better of him, the doctorate struggled to think of anything more pathetic. 

Reduced to nothingness by his own self. Despite his gasps and twitches, his muscles continued to work himself without mercy. Forearm outlined as he squeezed himself tighter. Bicep curled as he found the right angle. Knuckles tugged at his tie, loosening. Shaking fingers undid his top buttons, letting him breathe just enough. Palm pressed down his front, cupping himself below as his other hand worked the length above.

Neck veins shadowed, tendons raised. Jaw clenched, he grit his teeth. His throat tightened up, shameless sounds threatening to escape - some succeeding in their endeavor. Levi cursed under his breath, certain that if anyone was here, they would hear - but also certain that he could not stop himself at this point.

Levi continued his pumps even as he flinched and screamed. Eyes darted in a frantic search for something to support him through the sensation. Telltale pulsations at his middle, an uncontrollable rock of his hips. Movements so acute, they almost hurt, making his pursuit of pleasure that much more desirable. Tension of such build-up would not only release, it would explode, placing the clean freak in an awkward arrangement of both anticipation and anxiety. As his left hand reached its maximum speed, his right hand drifted atop his desk, feeling for the tissue box to catch his mess with. In that way, he came up short, even as his climax lasted incredibly long. Wave after wave, not even the math professor could keep count. 

With each rise, tidal, and crash, his fingers clenched around whatever they could find. If not for his deafening cries, maybe he would have heard the distinct crinkle of paper. If not for the overpowering feeling, maybe he would have felt the thickness of the packets he was grabbing. If he could have managed past the overstimulated squint, maybe he would have seen your name on that sheet and realized: in the midst of his orgasm, he had clutched and crumpled your exam. However, with the pleasure he felt and the high he rode, in that moment, he did not care.

Coming to, in a cold sweat, Levi’s first thought was recognition - how lucky he was to have his reckless actions go undetected - besides the shame that he himself would live with. Finals were only two weeks away, which made tonight one of his last office hours for the semester. He should have seen someone there - looking at the test in his hands, he cupped his forehead and realized - most likely you. But that was a problem for his future self. For now, leaning back in his chair and exhaling, he could only be thankful that no students were outside his door.

Instead, the one most likely to come was having an occasion of their own. 

// // //

Sorry about your test.

I’ll help you forget about the grade.

Lie back, relax, baby. 

I’ll make it all better. 

That was what he would say to you. 

Before he fucked you stupid.

Even in its sleep, your mind could paint such a vivid picture. The way his rolled-up sleeve would sweep his desk clean, just to bend you over it. His leather belt would wrap tight around your wrists, perfectly to the notch, as if he had been fantasizing and planning it since the first day he met you. His pencil cup would rattle, his desktop would light up, his low voice would moan your name with each deep fuck he gave. 

You would never admit it, but this was not the first time Professor Ackerman had made an appearance in your dreams - both awake and asleep. You could not figure out if it was a blessing or a curse to have ended up in his lecture. All of your friends expressed envy for having a class with the hottest instructor on campus, but if only they knew the side effects of it. In class, your eyes would wander off the blackboard and onto the man standing before it. From his perspective, he probably thought you were really interested in the subject material, but in actuality, you were interested in things even less relevant than math. His handwriting: so fast, but so satisfying to look at. Just like his outfits: button shirt with complementing slacks. Glasses, belt, briefcase, and Oxford shoes all of the same matching shade. Such fascination with his details made it hard to learn what he was teaching, and therefore, you often wondered: was this a chicken or the egg sorta thing? Did you go to his office hours because you had not paid attention in class, or did going to his office hours make you even more head-over-heels and thus more prone to distractions? Either way and as a result, math was simultaneously your worst subject, yet the one you attended the most office hours for. In psych 101, you had learned that dreams were inspired based on what you had thought about during the day. Professor Ackerman constantly on your mind meant your dreams repeatedly led you into his arms.

If that dream had been your reality, you would have woken up beside him - snuggled up and spooning on the sofa in his office. As the sun rose over the hill, he would have snuck you into the faculty lounge and made you a cup of coffee before taking you off campus to his favorite breakfast cafe. However, last night’s escapades were just that - an escape. You woke up to a much more humble sight, to an empty half of your twin bed, sheets crinkled by fists you had balled in midnight climax. With one last breathless sigh off of the cusp of your sex dream, you slung your legs over the side and tugged on your Friday sweatsuit - ready to trudge through the weather and meet him in the lecture hall instead.

// // //

It was the last class before the final. Both of you recognized there were far more students here than the average day. Still not as many as the first day, though, before Ackerman’s intimidating vocabulary and crass tone had scared a sizable fraction away.

His voice was much weaker today, you chalked it up to the winter cold that had been spreading throughout campus. Each clear of his throat garnered concerned looks from his pupils, even more so when he approached them one by one and handed back their latest midterms. Shoulders rolling, neck cracking, his body language begged them to look away. With each step he climbed up and up throughout the lecture hall, his muscles chastised him for last night’s excursion: Couldn’t you have waited just one more day? What a sorry specimen.

But that hazing was nothing compared to the moment he made it to you. 

The doe-eyed one, the one so soft-spoken, the one who always maintained their mannerisms in his office hours - saying please and thank you every tutoring session - no matter how blunt or terse he had been during it. You - of course - it had to be you, whose test he had crumpled in a heat-of-the-moment back-breaking climax. 

As he placed the wrinkled packet in your hands, his lips parted in a stammer, struggling to come up with any possible excuse. Ultimately, he failed to summon anything, knowing you were too smart to believe any bullshit he had in mind. The most he could offer was a collateral apology. 

“Sorry about your test.”

Those four words lit a flashbulb in your mind, rekindling the flame you had put out just last night. Even if not for the contextual callback, that crinkle looked awfully familiar. In fact, you had seen it this very morning. The five divots at the top - the fingerprints. The peaks just beneath them - the knuckles. The hole at the middle - the palm. There was no doubt in your mind, albeit keen to fantasize, the nature of this handprint. 

No doubt about the nature of the handprint, but the backstory to it - how powerful his climax was, the sounds he made during it, what led him to grabbing your test in particular - you could only imagine.

// Kinktober Year 3 Masterlist //

[quirkwizard]

If you could only have one Quirk out of the following categories, which ones would you pick? Categories are: 1-A, 1-B, PLF, Pro Heroes, UA Faculty, AFO/Nomu, Other Students, and Other Villains. For clarification you can handle multiple Quirks, use them simultaneously, and don’t have to worry about fitting them under one Quirk. You have full training of the quirks. Not sure if this is an hero student, hero, villain, civilian, just whatever’s the most interesting.

So here's the thing: the fact I have all of these powers at once greatly changes the trajectory of the question. I'm of a similar philosophy to All For One: powers need to be simple and easy to mix. Something like "Manifest" is cool, but it'd be a pain to deal with when used with the other powers. So for this, I'm more focused on building an arsenal rather then powers I'd want on their own. If you want something like that, I'd rather focus on these groups on their own, like what I did with Class 1-A, Class 1-B, and the Pro Heroes.

Sludge Form: This is going to work as the basis for the rest of the Quirks I pick out. It's a really good power on it's own with the amount of flexibility on offer, the high survivability, and how easy it would be to build around it with the rest of the Quirks.

Blood Manipulation: I'm not totally certain how this would work with a body made of sludge, but I think being able to make a make a liquid I can shape and harden would work great with the sludge body, such as making a spiked club from the shape shifting or hardening

Shock Absorption: This one is mostly here just to counter act the biggest weakness of "Sludge Form", helping to keep me cohesive when getting beaten up. Maybe it could help enhance other aspects in terms of durability, like with whatever is made with blood.

Dupli Arms: This works both for a general stats improvement given the augmentations the Quirk offers and can help out with some of the body morphing aspects, like making arms and eyes on wherever I want on the muddy body and more options for the other powers.

Telescopic: Truth be told, I went with this one due to a lack of any other real options with in the category, but it could still be pretty useful. Being able to fold in on yourself would be good for hiding or escape being confined within a closed space.

Foldabody: While this may be redundant with "Sludge Form", but I think it would give me a lot more control over the sludgey body, like applying the same folding affect to dozens of other limbs at the same time or being better at sneaking around.

Weld: Since we know that Awase can apply this with his own body, it would help immensely in both climbing around and fusing objects to the main body, like pulling off a bunch of plates to make a shield wall or augmenting the body with random junk to make a monster form.

Anthropomorph: Again, this option is really here because a lot of the PLF aren't that great for this. Still, I think that being able to make my own minions could be neat, especially when combining them with things like "Weld" to make all kinds of bizarre looking minions.

[alisonfelixwrites]

Hi beautiful!! Hope you’re doing amazing. I just wanted to let you know that Informed Consent is one of the BEST stories i’ve read recently. It touched me on so many levelsssss. I’m still at part 4 and every time i remember that i still have a few parts left i kick my feet and giggle.

I really love how Harry ended up being someone who’s soft for her like i kept waiting for the angst to come but it didn’t and that surprisingly made me obsessed with the fic. I’m pretty sure I’ll be rereading it a gazillion times once i’m done hehe🫠

It’s just so chefs kiss i can’t even find the proper words for it. All i can say is that i’m always smiling like an idiot when i’m reading. It’s other wordly bestie!!!

Also GUESS who’s a first year psychology student🫠🫠 where is my hot cute philosophy student who’s a menace but soft at the same time….

Btw sorry i’ll reblog as SOON as i can but tumblr is being an ass and won’t let me do so for no reason🤨

omg thank you!! i always loved writing informed consent. there's a bunch of longgggg (smutty) continuations of their story over on my wp :))

hahahaha i wish you your very own version of an IC-harry!! <3

[conspiracyofequals]

tagged by @kommunarde to talk about five things i like. i can definitely do that :-)

1. i like history and recently i've been focusing on the nineteenth century for some reason because it's a time period we tend to not study a lot in schools anymore. and when we do study it i start having amnesia because of unrelated factors (in quatrième i was suicidal and in première i was too busy getting brain damage from supernatural. i only started really killing it in history class in my last year of high school when we talked about economy and politics as factors all the time). it has been crazy to realize specifically the articulation between the french revolution the empire the other revolutions in france the second empire the commune the first world war and so on and so on. like to me until recently there was a huge hole between 1794 and 1914 and i knew about the events that happened in between obviously but i wasn't really connecting them well. and right now i am making the connections it's actually maddening. for example victor hugo author of les misérables french poet novelist playwright politician and overall legend lived at the same time as karl marx which somehow never occured to me. but now it has and i feel like i've unlocked a secret of the universe. & we'll be studying a time period from the late nineteenth century to the 30s next year. i fr can't wait to go back to history class in september it's going to be so awesome!!!

2. dark netflix is one of my favorite tv shows of all time it's basically about becoming your own worst enemy and how fate might or might not be inescapable. it's a circular narrative spanning multiple generations and decades and universes. it's awesome it has everything important namely philosophy failed marriages and killing people with rocks. it's a crime tv show slash horror slash mystery except then it becomes something else i can't tell you about but fleabag voice this is a love story. it's like stranger things if stranger things was better and about something else entirely. it's incredibly smart and it's the only tv show i've rewatched so far in my life because it's just so well made i don't think i'll ever see something like that again. i can't tell you about it without spoiling it and it's definitely necessary to not look at anything online before finishing the show but please watch it please please please

3. i love falling into wikipedia rabbit holes!! everyone makes fun of me for it because apparently that's not a "reliable source" (some students don't go to the source section and look up the sources listed, and instead they mindlessly copy what the page says instead of going deeper in research or at least rephrasing it a little or just. at least at the very least deleting the hyperlinks. that could not be me! wikipedia is a great tool when you know how to use it and when you use it to its full potentialities. i could never hate wikipedia my beautiful website. it's just that some people are really not smart when it comes to plagiarism). and also because reading stuff for fun and remembering all of it forever is not "something everyone does" and i need to "get diagnosed with autism". WHATEVER. i'll remain cool and knowledgeable about many fun facts and you'll do nothing about it. what i have open right now: prépa as a system, the far left in france, a bunch of pages about the weimar republic, republican calendar, pierre-sur-haute military radio station, les cloches de bâle, rené girard, lycurgus, junge welt, sdaj (i've been looking up far left looking stuff i see stickers for as a desperate attempt to understand the political landscape of this country but alas it's something that wikipedia cannot bring me i think), harmodius and aristogeiton, maquis du limousin, acéphale. also chronology of social movements in france (i am cooking something)

4. okay bear with me for this one because it's going to sound insane and parasocial but i'm aware that it is so it's basically fine. maybe. it's not that i "like" him he's just extremely entertaining and something is wrong with him in a way that is also wrong with me. so there's this guy who used to be in charge of the social media strategy for arguably the most famous french left-wing politician (jean-luc mélenchon, our bernie sanders, even though that's not an adequate comparison because france is a pays finito as i like to call it but not as finito as the united states of america. anyway) and said politician is like 70 but every once in a while during the presidential campaign he made this really funny social media post and every jeune con dépolitisé was like oh mr mélenchon you know memes you're so cool i'm going to vote for you. not me because i'm a critical thinker and i can't even vote but i do love myself a good reformist grandpa post i'm sorry. the first half of 2022 was a weird time. and we knew the guy behind that it was the guy i'm going to be talking about next. so we did not win that presidential election obviously (insert image of me crying tears of blood) (it's fine haha reformism is a dead end) and we have this second round between margaret thatcher and a fascist. but since we do not have a loser mindset and need to bounce back (this country is rotten to the core and we are never going to win electorally or otherwise unless a biblical level miracle happens. when i talk to my neighbors and my family members and my classmates i realize how fucked we are and how truly awful it could get and how easy it would be for a lot of us to look away. it makes me a little sick to think about. but there is much pain in the world but not in this room right?) they said hey! vote for us in the legislative elections! and in france we have a constituency system basically you have a local mp. so our social media guy became a candidate! and he was elected! and then inexplicably (i've followed him for several years and can confirm it came out of the blue) the man turned into a hardcore robespierrist like a month into it. i got really into the french revolution in may to cope with well everything so i was like oh okay interesting that's cool. it's cringe because he's a grown man with a job but it's also sort of funny, in an absurd way. it's a waste of taxpayer money but he's a good mp as far as mps go and i don't pay taxes so i don't care. and at first it was just like a few tweets here and there, he also invited a ya author who makes educational tiktoks about the terror to the national assembly in robespierre cosplay, but recently well uh. he quotes either robespierre or the 1793 constitution literally every intervention. he wore a wig. we're technically in the same political movement because i was peer pressured into joining and in my city the choice is between them or maoists (which way modern man). but i don't have the time to be that invested unfortunately since i have to go to my beautiful torture labyrinth (prépa) every day. during the pension reform protests (don't even talk to me about it.......) a few videos of him surfaced going to face the police in order to well i don't know intimidate them with his écharpe de député into not being violent anymore. it didn't work he got hit tear gassed multiple times but then he had proof of police violence and he could say look at this it's not normal and it didn't achieve much because this country may be beyond hope but it's very brave of him i think. or in another video he was being kettled with a colleague and said colleague was like hey antoine can you quote an article of the declaration of the rights of man and of the citizen at this policeman? and he did. like overall he's a really cool mp he's just also very dedicated to rehabilitating robespierre for some kind of reason. and the real life embodiment of this emoji combination 🤓☝️. and he has a child i think. and we're twitter mutuals

5. i like this poem i think about it so often i have bits of it memorized bouncing around in my head like a dvd screensaver. the way i want you has its own climate like how storms are magnetic. shortest war on earth. every room i enter is empty and i wake searching for you still. and so on and so on i actually want to chew on the poem a little it's like a really comfortable mattress but for my brain if that makes sense

okay this got long!! tagging @isaidilovedu2death @brutalistarchitecture2 @vassyflorence @sotiriabellou and anyone else who wants to do it really. please tell me about things you like!! i haven't written most of this tonight but tonight i am sad and there is a chance i'll be sad for a little while so tell me about you. i care. i love to hear about the things you all are passionate about. if not in public send me a dm. actually you can send me a dm about virtually anything

[cantuscorvi]

Is there any life philosophy that young Raum has had to let go over the years? Any hopes or dreams Raum used to cling to even in his 20s that he has gradually abandoned or ones that were ripped out from him by force/trauma? Or perhaps opinions/beliefs he had that were crushed by experience? If older Raum, late 30s/early 40s, could say something to his 19yo self, what would it be?

@nezumivc103221

Oh absolutely. A bunch of things that shaped how Raum sees the world actually hit before he reached 20, especially regarding trauma, but you asked about this time period specifically, so I won't mention those here. The development of 20yo to 40yo Raum is like, a problem of just generally being young and stupid. His inexperience, decadence and idealism.

Raum has always had an issue with selfishness and with idealism of his own capabilities. He always wants to have his cake and eat it too. When he was younger — it made him a bit of a fence-sitter. He didn’t really have to think hard, or make any tough choices. He would follow whatever his father told him, and when he decided he didn’t like it, he would run to his uncle instead. He would jump back and forth on that seesaw however it suited him, basically playing them against each other so that he could feel the most comfortable.

Growing up spoiled like this, he was lazy. He had a philosophy that things should be handed to him without having to choose, or to take action. Or, that he could choose both options in any scenario and take advantage without having to lift a finger.

When you don’t commit to anything, then you never lose. Right?

Eventually he even grew fed up of that game of seesaw. He felt alienated by his father and suffocated by his uncle. So what to do? Well, nothing seems to be working out, so you throw it all away and start again.

Raum had an intention to leave his current life (both it's privileges and responsibilities) behind when he was eighteen. Travelling abroad to study seemed like a perfect excuse. Tired of feeling pulled in two directions by his family, and in effort to create distance and rethink the direction of his life, he wanted to take some steps toward independence. At that time, there was some part of him that wanted to disappear. He had an — admittedly, naïve — idea that he could just go to where nobody knew him and try becoming someone else.

A period of experimentation, Raum spent the time in university trying to live as ‘normal’ a life as he could. He studied pretty hard because he was genuinely interested in his subject matter, ( history & conservation) but he also did a lot of drinking, partying, experimentation with sexuality and drugs. In the end, mostly normal student behaviours. After spending a lot of time under the control of others, he went a bit wild when away from their magnifying glass. He had a sense of freedom he hadn’t held before, but also a lack of personal growth. However, he was only able indulge that fantasy life for one year before Friedrich died.

Friedrich’s death essentially threw a grenade on any plans Raum might have had (tentative as they already were) and forced him to take over his position as the head of WC due to the process of his will. He didn’t really have room to refuse, to prevent the company stock from crashing and burning into the ground and everything being saddled under a mountain of debt. It was a time of emotional turmoil and fragility in his life. One where all of that pressure he had been avoiding was put upon his shoulders without warning. He couldn’t escape anything.

In the end, Raum crawled back to Cyrus for guidance on how to pick up the pieces, meanwhile silencing his negative emotions using those hedonistic activities that he had previously only dabbled in. He had to fix what he considered to be a broken company with a severely outdated business model, meanwhile the previous allies had turned into new competitors trying to profit from their potential demise.

In the end, he realised that by not choosing anything to start with, he gave up his free will entirely. Even with how he behaved to avoid his emotions ; he essentially got addicted to escaping. He gave up his opportunity to choose the path in his life. And throughout his twenties, even though it was still something he sometimes wished for, he eventually gave up on the idea of escape. From then on his approach to life totally flipped and he became very proactive about setting targets, making decisions, and taking steps to obtain what he wants.

To be honest, if Raum had to talk to his younger self he would just get so caught up in berating him for being dumb that he wouldn’t be able to offer any important advice LMAO. Hindsight really is 20/20 in this situation, there’s almost no way he could’ve predicted or prepared for what was out of his control. And, the only way Raum could offer any warning is if he knew the circumstances that caused Friedrich to die.

[thenugking]

1-6 for a Tav of your choice?

I do really need to talk about Eiryn more sometime but Val is so fun to roast

What was your Tav’s place of birth and raising like?

Their mother’s family had an estate, between Baldur’s Gate and the Shadowcursed Lands. They grew up in luxury, as the child of a noble, but were somewhat isolated and looked down on, as the child of, yknow, specifically one noble and not her husband. 

2. What relationship did your Tav have with their family/guardian(s) growing up? Has that changed with age?

Their mother loved them, and made sure they weren’t treated unfairly, but that relationship was decidedly strained. I think she made a lot of effort to tell them that just because they’re half-drow, it didn’t mean she loved them any less than her other children, which was… maybe less helpful to tell a child than she thought it was. The relationship with their step-father was non-existent, he definitely did not enjoy having a very obvious indication of his wife’s infidelity around. He never wanted to be cruel, but he definitely did want his non-bastard kids to know they were superior to the bastard half-drow he was having to raise, which, again, not a helpful environment for any of these kids! Val’s half-siblings looked down on them and resented having to share things with the kid they were being told they were better than, while Val thought they were a bunch of stuck up assholes.

The only person they really considered family was one of their step-father’s own bastards, and maybe his mother. Lord Rosebrook’s bastards and their families lived in the estate and were well provided for, if not officially part of the family. Val and his brother considered themselves better than all the snooty nobles who cared too much about their status (which ofc had nothing to do with any insecurity over not having that status), and to have more sense than anyone else in the estate.

Val’s relationship with their mother greatly improves after the game, mostly because after years of Val being distant and snarky, Astarion wants to be introduced to their mother. She’s ecstatic to have Val let her know anything personal about their life, and that after years of them claiming love clearly isn’t real, they’ve stopped letting her own disastrous relationship sour them on romance. Val is surprised how supportive she is, once they actually talk to her, of them, and Astarion, and everything else they cautiously start letting her know about.

3. Did your Tav receive any formal or informal education? If yes, how well did they learn? If no, why not?

Val received all the education of the other noble kids, and was an excellent student. I don’t actually know what’s a normal level of education in the Forgotten Realms but I’m thinking secondary/high school level? 

Val’s definitely intelligent, but… less so than they think. If you know the experience of being a top student in school, but it’s because you’re specifically good at school lessons and you never actually have to try, or learn how to study for yourself? Val’s that, but unlike me a lot of other people, they never went on to university to discover they’re no longer the top student when they’re surrounded by other Top Students and can’t keep up anymore and don't know what to do when it doesn’t come easily. As such, Val still unfortunately has an over-inflated ego because they incorrectly think they’re smarter than almost everyone they meet.

4. What hobbies does your Tav have? How did they acquire these interests?

Val, along with their brother, is a massive fan of philosophy. Except see the above point on intelligence. Val’s the kind of person who starts reading Fantasy Plato’s Republic and goes “This guy thinks a city should work together as a community? Umm well THAT'S not gonna happen because actually most people are just mindless sheep. And people think he’s the father of philosophy??? Wow, clearly they don’t know anything and I’m better at philosophy than any of them, because I have all these cool ideas and deep thoughts that probably aren’t mentioned in any of these other philosophy books that I’ve decided I’m too smart to need to read.”

They have several other “surface level intellectual” hobbies too, like hanging out in Sorcerous Sundries talking about how they appreciate The Annals of Karsus way more than people who think they should just be allowed to read such a powerful ancient book. Other hobbies include goth fashion, indulging in quite frankly dangerous levels of masochism, and making sure everyone they meet outside their family likes them.

5. Did your Tav have any formal or informal employment? If yes, what was their job? If no, how did they make ends meet? How did they feel about it?

Lmao no, they’re still lounging about in the Rosebrook Estate until like a month before the game started, making ends meet by Rich Mother. After an argument with Lord Rosebrook, they finally decided to leave to seek their fortune/become a warlock/prove they’re way better than you guys actually. They were just about to go back home after running out of money and having no way to get more (what do you mean “get a job”, all the jobs on offer are boring and common) when The Tadpoling happened.

6. What is your Tav’s favourite childhood memory?

Running away with their brother (they were like six and probably didn’t even get off the estate, but in their minds they were Miles away, starting a new life for themselves). They hung out making plans for Great Adventures for several hours, before people finally realised they were missing and there was a whole lot of drama until they were finally found.

[stone-cold-style]

Headcanons for Sparrow, my beloved under developed asshole:

Ok so. He wasn't raised as the next Robin Hood. Just like Poppy and Hoppy, he was a twin, and his brother, who was older by a few minutes was the one raised as the next Robin Hood.

But then something that was promised to be impossible happened. His brother died, years before he could follow his destiny.

People couldn't just find out that a legacy died before fulfilling his role, so Sparrow, still a grieving child, had to fulfill it and pretend to be his twin at Ever After High

Sparrow was a rebel much before some students started to be called that. He hated that school, he hated the royals, he hated this world took his brother from him and now wouldn't even acknowledge that he existed. And god, did he hate to be Robin Hood.

You see, the Hood twins where perfectly happy before. Sparrow with his music, his brother with the heroism and archery. Sparrow wants to play and have a band and be a stupid teenager not some legendary hero. But he doesn't get to choose anymore 

He and the Duchess became friends when Headmaster Grimm told Sparrow to steal from her since, despite being rich, she's not important enough for it to be a big problem if people steal from her.

She's the only one that knows about his brother and he swapping places.

As much as he hates the whole legagy things, he does use it in his favor sometimes, like to steal from students and then say that he's just "following his destiny!"

And don't take him wrong, he does agrees with his father's philosophy of "fuck the rich", he just wants to do it in his own way

He'll also go on long rants against rich people/royals every now and then. It happens. 

He and the Duchess have a… difficult relationship to say the least. It's a bit of a "can't live with you can't live without you situation". The Duchess treats him very badly but Sparrow doesn't think anyone else would accept him, so he stays and she ends up taking him for granted.

They do have a fall out at some point where he has enough of it and she realizes how much she needs him. Then, she apologizes and they go back and their relationship gets a bit healthier 

They also have this weird thing where nobody knows if they're dating or are just friends. Not even them. They've made out sometimes and never talked about it. Until they did it again.

The Duchess would never admit, but she likes his music. She thinks it's cool and likes to make choreographies to it. 

He has a bunch of piercings that he made himself. 

He's actually awful at archery. And is not really trying to get better

His gender is "cool dude", his pronouns are he/they/it.

Maybe I'll add more.

[whentherewerebicycles]

I CAN GET THROUGH THIS WEEK and then I can get through the two weeks after that and then it will be thanksgiving and then it’s basically just a downhill slide to christmas. and then I can maybe restart a low dose of my meds if I’ve made it to the second trimester 🫠 I am feeling superrrrr unmotivated about work stuff right now but I think it’s just a mix of being off my meds, still feeling kinda in limbo about pregnancy stuff and thus not feeling secure enough to plan for the future, and also being in kind of a lull of the semester where I don’t have a ton of stuff to look forward to coming up. gonna think through some things under the cut

THIS WEEK:

I have to go into campus for an hour tomorrow morning ughh so I honestly might as well just commit to spending most of the day on campus. I think I could get myself to feel less feet-dragging dread about the upcoming weeks if I just power through a bunch of stuff on my list. for instance I’m dreading this workshop thurs and that dread is coloring the whole week so why don’t I make myself stay on campus and power through the workshop materials tomorrow? also I want to give myself permission to keep it simple/casual—it’s a small group of students and I can make it feel interactive just by asking them questions and engaging them in some group strategizing about how to tackle the thing I’m training them to do. I think if I approach it less as “I must ensure they are entertained” and more as “I can make this a collaborative exercise where I also draw on their knowledge/expertise” it will feel naturally more engaging for them and lower stress for me. I have so many of these random one-off presentations and workshops coming up and I put soooo much pressure on myself to make it Entertainment!!!!! capital E for them, but I need to remind myself that like… that’s not my teaching philosophy in general and also things tend to go better when I have a looser, more flexible plan instead of something super scripted.

ok. so I will go to campus tomorrow and I will finish this workshop AND get a good solid draft of the annual report—I don’t necessarily need to write all the text yet but I want to do the annoying work of gathering all the info/data in one place and deciding how I’m going to organize it. if I can do both of these things I will feel significantly less trepidation about the week to come and also I’ll feel smug about being prepared in advance.

tuesday is also a lot of weird unstructured time which I am prone to frittering away & then feeling really bad about if I don’t plan very deliberately. so I think on tues I may make it my goal to spend at least one hour brainstorming for the other much longer/more involved workshop I have to run in a couple weeks. I don’t need to have everything totally prepped since it’s still so far out but I think I’d feel less of the free-floating nerves about it if I had a solid grasp on my learning goals for the workshop + a decent grasp on the activities I want them to do. oh and I can also spend tuesday finishing the annual report. then wednesday will be packed fortunately so I won’t have time to fret about the ultrasound thurs!! hopefully thurs will go well and I’ll be buoyed by good news + getting to hang out with my mom and that will get me through to the weekend.

OKAY. I will FACE MY DREAD!! if I just do all this prep work early I’ll feel sooooo much better and then it genuinely won’t matter if I waste a little time because I won’t be procrastinating on anything I’ll be basking in the glow of being ahead of schedule.

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 4.6

Practice, my dears, is about repetition, rhythm, and presentation. We take some form of power, often something Others have to offer, or a bit of our Self, and we use our inviolable word to push that power into the ruts that the past has carved into existence. Those ruts are the circuits in the computer of reality, the currents in the aether of unreality.

oh I love this. What a great description of how magic works in the Otherverse

This was my difficulty, because I was raised with what I would term craft, rather than by practice.  The word ‘practice’ implies rote repetition, with aim of perfection.  Craft, on the other hand, is skill.  Something that comes from the honing of the self.

this is an interesting philosophy. Makes me wonder about other completely different approaches to magic

It is possible for an Other to step into humanity and assume nearly everything about a human life, including the ability to practice

Blake... :|

“No,” Dreg rasped, speaking with an adult’s voice. “A good familiar is a partner, something you can control, or something you’re willing to be controlled by.

depressing but true. I feel like most practitioners fall into the second category

“Meh.  If you asked around you’d probably hear something like how my family’s a bunch of magic janitors.” “Janitors? What do you do?” “I’m a knight of seals."

cool name though

If I got kicked out, no high school education or anything, then I’d probably end up a goblin exterminator.

ok. so. 1) teach your children enough to get a GED and 2) MAYBE NOT WITH THE EXTERMINATING OF SAPIENT BEINGS? Like, I can see how you might need to deal violently with some goblins, but "extermination" is a hell of a loaded word

Like… boy band attractive, but without the attached annoyance of the boy band.

I think the band is supposed to be part of the appeal?

“I find,” Jessica said, “the proportion of bad people remains roughly the same.  If ten percent of people are assholes, they’re going to be assholes whether you’re in a big school or here, or in the city or a town like mine.” “The proportions may remain the same, but the smaller the group, the harder it is to find the necessary number of people to surround yourself with, and the harder it is to avoid the monsters who are not Other.”

even leaving aside actual assholes, its so much harder to find people you genuinely like if the pool of total people is small

I think you have to find a family, found family or blood, and I don’t think Zed, I, Eloise, Ulysse, or Amine can be yours.

... yeah. I think Zed is a good ally, at least so far. But I think longterm the difference in goals is always going to be a divider. But the Kennet Trio have each other.

“Younger students, move closer to the front.  Don’t be scared,” he said, as he placed his laptop beside him.  “I byte with a y, but I don’t bite.”

oh, bad cs jokes

Not entirely sure what's going on with Ray here, if he's being racist or if he's seeing how Lucy responds to provocation

“That,” Ray said, after a short while, “was the Faerie. Seven courts.

oh! going back over those descriptions: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, dark Autumn, dark Summer, dark Spring?

She struggled to.  All she remembered was how upset she felt as her emotions had gotten away from her.  Like Ray had hit a button and made her feel something.

this makes me think Ray is deliberately pushing at her emotions. Maybe something to do with trying to figure out what was up with the Hungry Choir binding?

Are these categories from the Pactdice practices list? I think some names have been changed, but I remember Divine being a column header, and I think goblins and abyss were in the same column

“You’re agitated.  Please relax.  I would like to explain and move on to a practical lesson, but I can’t do that like this.” You’ve been telling me to shush, you’ve been keeping me from raising my hand… She bit her tongue. “Would you step out, please?  I am doing my best to include you in the class when I don’t have data on you.  I will include you more after I have a better idea of where you stand, skillwise.  For right now you’re being disruptive.”

literally not doing anything!

So. From what Zed's saying, this seems mainly to be that at practitioner school, the professors all might have issues or unreasonable pet peeves and students just kind of have to roll with it. Sucks and is unfair, but that's how life goes.

But. If Ray's issue is people being angry, it is deeply unfair to hook someone up to an emotion detector and then react to the emotions being shown by the detector, even if the person controls them.

And also, out of all the students there, including other new students, including other students who didn't fill out the forms. The student he singles out for being overemotional and angry is the one Black girl.

She found them, not that far from the school or that deep into the paths.  The Dollmaker, Graubard, and the ex-headmaster, Bristow, talking.

hmm. Don't like that!

Verona turned a book so it was at an angle both she and Lucy could read, and she beamed, excited and happy.

I wouldn't be surprised if Verona wants to consider staying at school for the school year rather than returning home.

It isn’t nothing, answered that other part of her, that had just been lit up with simulations of karma and divinity, colored with spirit and seven shades of Faerie, and shaded with darknesses both visceral and ruined.

this is a hell of a closing line

[dasklaus]

I love my master's program ("philosophy - neuroscience - cognition") very much. It's fun, it's interesting, I'm learning most of the things I want to, and it's small and tight-knit (only one other person starting the program with me this year), I met so many people that all remember my name because we can all expect to run into each other again. But there's also some weirdness that I expect comes from the fact it's a very new program (existing for ten years or so?) at a very new university (thirty years or so) and interdisciplinary (with courses at three different institutes, with different procedures and deadlines and, of course, scheduling conflicts).

I am taking, among other things:

Project Cognitive Neuroscience - this is a weird name for an intro to programming, but that's what it is. Taught in two groups, one learning Python, the other MATLAB. In a follow-up class that I can take next semester, I could then use these skills to work on an actual small empirical study, utilizing data from surveys, fMRI, eye trackers or possibly other tools. I do want to dip my toes into empirical science, but with five years of job experience in software development, it's pretty boring (though the teacher is sympathetic). It's a pretty slow class as most of the other students (mostly neuroscience students) have never written a single line of code in their life.

Computational Neuroscience - this is a lecture plus exercises. The lecture covers neuroscience, the exercises are calculating the stuff the lectures talk about with MATLAB. In contrast, at least one course of MATLAB and also a bunch of math is presumed here. I take this together with the upper semesters of bachelor students, but for me it's an orientation class to bring me up to speed, as my BA is in philosophy. It took me six hours to get MATLAB installed and running because afaict it's really buggy on linux, I'm the only linux user in class, and as it's a class for higher semesters nobody bothered to walk us through the installation and setup.

This is a weird pair of classes in that the course I'm supposed to be taking for "orientation" is much harder than the "advanced" one (though not really hard for me, once I finished the setup - but my one fellow first-semester classmate is freaking out, a bit).

Introduction to Nervous Systems - this is wonderful and the lecturer is amazing. It's a bit slow but never boring, and really drives home important concepts, explaining the basics in a way that makes you really understand. It's another orientation class and we take it together with the first-semester bachelor students.

Fundamentals of Cognitive Neuroscience: Perception - super interesting, but I had to drop it after the first week. It'd be my fourth consecutive class on Thursday, and we take it together with psychology and neuroscience students. The lecturer made clear that he expects the knowledge base of a biology degree, and also starts classes by letting a random person summarize the day's reading for twenty minutes. Most people fail this class on first try, and there is no interest whatsoever even acknowledge participants from my program. I'll leave this one for later semesters.

Basically, there's absolutely no consistency in what a course's prerequisites are, at which level it's taught and what the teacher's expectations are.

Another thing that threw me is that the philosophy courses are very stingy with credit points. To finish in time, I'd have to write three to four term papers every semester, along with essays, presentations, protocols. I don't know what's normal but the one time I wrote two consecutively I was going a bit crazy. Four is unthinkable - I need at least two weeks of warming up to a topic and then two weeks of intense focus for research and writing (this is pretty much independent of the number of pages to write). Unsurprisingly, I've heard that basically nobody finishes within two years.

Still, I'm starting out with an ambitious schedule and will see whether I need to drop anything else later on. Socially, I'm already much better connected as I ever was in my home town. I think it's because the program is so small, and especially the first semester bachelors are looking up to me for my previous studying experience, and my non-studying experience makes me automatically cool and wise, it seems.

[187days]

Day Forty-Three

Whew! Today was a lot, but it was also a lot of fun!

There were surprise donuts in the prep room (from our administrators), so I snagged one before the morning bell. Once my GOV students arrived, I passed back the tests they took yesterday and we had a chat about their scores. Some students were psyched because they did better than they’d done on previous tests; some were disappointed because they didn’t do as well as they wanted. I reminded them that this kind of test-taking is hard, especially if this is their first AP course, and it ought to be. It’s a college level course; they’ve been taking high school level courses. It’s okay if they find themselves needing to study more than in the past, or coming to see me for extra help. I actually encouraged them to do that, whether it’s because they want their grade to go up five points or twenty-five. 

They asked me to go over the FRQ section, so I did. Then, I went downstairs to meet one of our local state senators, who’d agreed to do a Q&A. My students were a bit quiet, at first- Friday at the end of the quarter during college app season- but the senator asked them what issues they thought were most important (answers: divisiveness and gridlock, inflation, drug addiction) and then gave his views on those issues. He got questions about abortion, gun control, mental health, affordable housing, and some other issues, as well. So it was a good conversation, and I was glad he made the time for it. At this point, my students have chatted with a congressman, a state rep, and a state senator- different ages, different ideologies, different experiences- and that’s really cool.

I walked the senator to the door a couple minutes before the bell actually rang so he wouldn’t have to deal with the crowded halls, and so I could rearrange my room- stack all the chairs in corner and push the tables up against the walls- for World. The GOV seniors helped me do that, which was awesome. And then Mr. W and one of our former students, who also trains in martial arts, walked in. I told my seniors that we were going to do a demo for the ninth graders, and a bunch of them asked to stay (two were in a gym class, and convinced their teacher to bring the whole class, some had open blocks). 

The reason for the karate demo is to explain how our style is influenced by Buddhism, Confucianism, and Taoism because one of my big points in this unit is that religion/philosophy can impact other aspects of culture. I could give students readings, or show movie clips, or whatever, but this is so much cooler. Plus, it allows us to teach some other lessons, too. We make the point that karate is only meant to be used in self-defense, and that being an aggressor is boring. Anyone can do that. Anyone can yell, attack, bully, whatever. Being a real man or a real woman means being in control, having self-discipline, remaining calm, and understanding that it doesn’t matter what someone else does or says about us because it doesn’t actually change who we are. Not everything needs a response.

Mr. W and I taught that by having a fake fight, in which I was doing my impersonation of a wannabe tough guy. He kept walking away from me to show that he had nothing to prove, that all the mean things I was saying- like, calling him coward- don’t change the fact that he’s deadly. Finally, when I kept pushing, he took me and pinned me on the floor. He did it super fast, which impressed the students, and he explained that, since I was on the ground and couldn’t hurt him anymore, he had no need to continue to hurt me. There’s no point in it. 

I hope that lesson sunk in.

We also did some katas (with and without weapons), some “magic tricks” (I pulled then unbendable arm trick on one of the big, football-playing seniors who’d tagged along with my GOV students, and it was hilarious), a bit of sparring, and then we took questions. Students asked about what to do in certain situations, we answered by demonstrating. One of them also asked to see Mr. W do the one-inch punch, so he did it on me, which definitely left a mark, heh. Actually, I’ll be able to see bruises all over my hands and arms once they darken up. That’s alright, though. That’s part of training.