#temporal arrangements

[imowlysh]

do you know what solomon and barbatos have in common? they're the only two assholes whose bedrooms don't show a fucking bed. also i'm madly in love with them

#the wall painting and the temporal new arrangement for nap time got me thinking #where the fuck do these bitches sleep #i mean you can argue that solomon's bed just isn't on screen and even then he has a couch but man #i still choose to believe barbatos has a second bedroom in the castle my man can't live in these conditions #it's just that he doesn't find us interesting enough to show us his actual chambers yet #owlysh hoots

[wh0re43van]

Just friends- (Peter Maximoff X Reader)

Summary: While staying with the Maximoff family, you admit your feelings to your best friend, and he doesn’t seem to feel the same until you inform him that you’re going on a date with another guy

Word count: 4K

Warnings: angst, sad Peter, a brief mention of Unsolicited groping

I’m so thankful for the Maximoffs. They’re allowing to stay with them for a couple months after getting kicked out of my parents’ home. I’m rooming with my best friend of four years, and I’ve never been happier. As soon as he heard about my situation, he welcomed me into his home- into his bedroom- with open arms.

“Honey, I’m home,” The goofball announces as he walks into our temporally shared room holding two pizzas, a 2 liter of dr. pepper, a bag of breadsticks with all the fixings, and a rented copy of The Exorcist.

“Wow, what’s the occasion?” I giggle, sitting up in our his bed, setting down the book I had been reading.

With a fwp, he’s turned down the lights, popped the movie in and arranged the food at the foot of the bed before sitting beside me, now in his pajamas.

“It’s a party!” he gives me a cheesy grin, popping open the pizza box and pulling out two slices, handing one to me.

“Oh god, Peter are we really so lame that this is what we consider a party?” I laugh before taking a bite of the greasy pizza, still hot since Peter was able to get it here in less than three seconds.

“This is the best kind of party! Hanging with your best friend, piggin’ out on junk food, and watching a bitchin’ horror movie? What else could a dude ask for?” He says as he stuffs his face, licking his greasy fingers. I cant help but laugh at the man child sitting beside me, even though it hurts my heart a bit knowing that he only considers me his friend. Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than grateful for Peter (and his mother) being in my life, but I just always hoped for more. It’s been four years and nothing’s escalated despite my many attempts, so I guess it’s time to accept that. I mean, we’re out of high school now, were adults. If he hasn’t shown interest by now then I guess it’s a lost cause. “Besides,” he smacks his lips, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “The main thing that makes this a party is the fact that you’re here,” he gives a goofy wink, making my cheeks tint pink- but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“How flattering,” I nudge him playfully before opening the 2 liter, taking a sip out of the bottle then handing it to Peter. He mimics my action, then lets out a loud belch.

‘how in the hell does this man have me absolutely smitten over him,’ think to myself as he shoves an entire breadstick into his mouth.

“Whatever,” he chuckles looking away for a second.

“God damn Peter,” my eyes go wide when I see that he’s already eaten half a large pizza.

“What?” he asks as he holds his head up, his arm extended as he lets the cheese slide off the crust into his mouth. “Gotta fuel my metabolism, these rock hard abs don’t just appear overnight,” he snickers before lifting up his shirt, revealing his toned stomach, then takes another gulp out of the soda bottle.

“I guess your body does look pretty good for someone whose diet is 50% carbs and 50% sugar,” I tease, thanking whatever deity it is above us that the lights are too dim for him to see the blush rushing over my face as I stare at his bare stomach.

“You’d think the chicks would be all over this,” he wiggles his eyebrows before deepthroating another breadstick. “They wouldn’t know charm if it bit ‘em in the ass,” he mumbles through a mouth full of bread as marinara sauce drips down his face. “I mean come on, how do I not get girls?” He snickers as he wipes his grubby hands on his pants. I roll my eyes at the messy boy.

“Peter, I know you very well,” I reach for my second slice of pizza. “The reason you don’t get girls is because you can never tell when they’re flirting with you,” I tease, but meaning every word. He’s the dullest guy ever when it comes to picking up on social cues.

“I know,” he chuckles as he turns to look at me. “Real shame too. Sometimes I realize it after they’ve already walked away. Sucks cause I probably coulda’ lost my V-card by now if I understood the first thing about gals. I really can’t pick up on flirting” he says matter-o-factly as he takes a sip of soda.

“Oh, I know all too well, Peter,” I laugh out, my eyes focused on the tv screen. He gives a soft, almost confused laugh, then he’s silent for a minute before speaking up.

“Wait a minute,” he sits up straight in the bed. “Are you implying that even you’ve flirted with me?” he asks with wide eyes full of skepticism. I take a deep breath, sitting up to be eye level with him.

“Peter,” I start, he’s staring intently at me with his brows threaded in confusion. “The only reason I talked to you for the first time was because I thought you were cute,” I laugh out. How can he be so dense?! He stares at me in bewilderment in silence. I can see the gears turning in his head as he thinks back to our first encounter all those years ago.

“Oh my god!” he comes to the realization. “You were flirting with me that summer day in the arcade?” he asks still shocked. It makes my heart happy that he remembers the first time we met. “How did I not realize. God I’m stupid,” he slaps his palm to his forehead.

“Only took ya four years, Quickie,” I tease before taking a sip of Dr. Pepper. “Wasn’t the very first thing that I ever said to you: ‘You’re really good at that, handsome’?” I say and he repeats the quote with me, smiling and nodding. He remembers it word for word. “Come on man, how did you not know?” I chuckle. His eyes are still full of disbelief.

“I was really focused on the game!” his face turns red as he has another epiphany: “That probably wasn’t the only time, was it?” he asks, rubbing his hand on the back of neck, letting out a small laugh.

“God no,” I chuckle, a bit embarrassed but enjoying reminiscing on our friendship none the less. “Remember, two weeks after that, I invited you out to go roller skating?” I ask.

“Yeah of course, you were wearing that limited edition ‘Eagles’ shirt that you still to this day won’t let me touch,” he laughs. I thought that having this conversation would help me get over him, but hearing how well he remembers all our fondest memories together makes me swoon.

“Well, when I asked you, I meant it as a date,” I admit, watching his face once again fill with bewilderment. “But the whole time you were calling me dude and roughhousing me, I just assumed you either didn’t like me that way or you were to dumb to realize it was a date. Lucky for you, I had a lot of fun and chose to ignore it,” I nudge him playfully. He face palms himself again.

“Y/n, I had no idea. I never in a million years thought a girl as rad as you would be interested in me in that way, so the idea of a date never even crossed my mind,” he flops back on the bed, processing all of this new information. “Wait do you still flirt with me? How oblivious have I been? Oh my god am I still missing stuff?” he shoots back up in the bed once again..

“Peter,” I say flatly. “Just last week I changed right Infront of you. I literally stripped into just my bra and panties right next to the tv when you were playing Space Invaders,” I can’t believe this guy. He blushes thinking back to that moment.

“I thought we were just really comfortable with each other! We change infront of each other all the time,” he chuckles nervously. “I still tried not to look out of respect, but I’d be lying if I say I didn’t sneak a glance or two though,” he admits but looks away, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s alright Peter,” I sigh as I close up the pizza box before laying back to watch the movie. “Once a girl comes along that you’re actually interested in, I’m sure you’ll pick up on her signals,” I say not looking at him, accepting my defeat. He’s quiet for a moment.

“Well, how do I know?” he asks genuinely. I look at him, raising my eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. “Like, obviously I know a hot chick when I see one, but how do I know when I’m actually interested. I’m clueless y/n,” he lets out a light laugh after the last part, seeming a bit embarrassed as he intently awaits my answer.

“Well,” I prop myself up on my arm to look at him. “I guess it would have to be more than physical attraction. If you’re genuinely interested, then you’ll want more than her body, but also want more than just her friendship. You’ll want to talk to her, to just be in her presence. You’ll care about what she thinks about you. Stuff like that,” I shrug, not sure how to explain what attraction feels like to someone who claims to have never felt it before. He nods silently, absorbing my words. The fact that he hasn’t laughed in my face yet for admitting to liking him is giving me false hope that he could possibly feel the same way. I need this conversation to end soon.

“So it would have to be someone I can see a future with? Someone that I want to impress? Someone that I genuinely care about? But also someone who’s super smokin’?” he asks, wanting a genuine answer. I smile downwardly.

“You’re getting it now,” I sigh. “I’ll be jealous of whatever girl wins your heart over,” I laugh, holding my breath in anticipation for how he’s going to respond to that, preparing to have my hopes crushed so I can move on.

“Oh don’t worry,” he smirks. Here we go. “I’ll make room for the both of you,” he winks. And there it is. My stomach drops, but it’s out now. Now I know that he’s not interested, I know for sure that I’m going on this date tonight. Part of me hoped that Peter would admit his feelings and I could cancel this stupid date, but I have to get out there. “Oh! No, y/n I didn’t mean-” Peters smile drops, and he reaches for my arm.

“No, I get it. It’s cool, man,” I force a smile, standing from his bed, checking my wristwatch. “I gotta get ready for my date anyway. I didn’t even realize what time it was,” I say honestly as I walk over to my suitcase.

“Woah, what?” he zooms in front of me, blocking my bag. “Date?” he asks, a bit of panic in his voice. I scoff, pushing him to the side.

“Yeah, I went to the arcade yesterday while you were out with your mom, now I have a date,” I smile weakly as I strip, then slip into my dress before I walk over to my mirror that I hung on his wall to fix my makeup.

“No- y/n- i- that’s- who… whos your date with?” his words fall out a stumbled mess as if he can’t sort his thoughts from one another.

“Steve. Ya know, the one from the arcade that’s always trying to beat your high scores,” I explain as I brush my hair.

“Steve!?” He shouts in disbelief. “That asshole? Y/n come on, man!,” he almost sounds angry.

“Yeah?” I shrug as I apply some lip gloss. I see Peter pacing behind me in the reflection of the mirror.

“Steve? Really?” he throws his hands up.

“He’s cute. Plus, you know I have a thing for nerds,” I remind him. His face turns red. Why is he acting like this? He just crushed my dream of being with him and now he wants to act jealous?

“Cute?! You mean you’re not just going to be nice?” He sounds so shocked and almost hurt. I turn around to face him.

“I- of course Peter why would I-,” I’m completely flustered. “No.” I say sternly. “No Peter. You don’t get to do this. You had four years man, and just 15 minutes ago I admitted my feelings for you and you said that you didn’t feel the same,” I’m getting frustrated with him, I can feel my blood pressure raising out of anger and embarrassment.

“But that’s not- I didn’t- no you misunderstood!” he starts to raise his voice, laced with panic. “What if I do have feelings for you?” he asks with pleading eyes.

“Do not do this. Peter please don’t do this to me! You can’t suddenly have feelings for me just because I have a date with you nerd enemy!” I shout as my ears burn red with anger. “Don’t be immature,” I poke my finger to his chest, completely irate. He looks like his mind is running a thousand miles a minute. It takes him a couple seconds to rebuttal.

“No! I never said I don’t have feelings! Y/n I didn’t say that!” he shouts, but his voice isn’t angry, it’s worried as he places a hand on my heated cheek.

“No Peter,” I say calmly even though I’m beyond frustrated as I pull away from his touch. “You’re really hurting me right now. You’re the last guy I ever expected to fuck with my emotions like this,” tears well up in my eyes. I can’t believe what he’s doing. My ego was already bruised when he didn’t respond to my confession and now he’s trying to keep me from a date just because the dude plays video games just as well as him. Peter stares at me, his hand still outstretched in the air where he tried to console me. He doesn’t say anything.

Honk! Honk!

Steves car horn sounds from outside the Maximoff home, beckoning me.

“Please don’t go,” his voice is feeble. “Please just give me some time to think. Just five minutes to figure this out,” he pleads with desperate eyes. I almost give in, but I stay strong.

“Peter, there’s a guy outside this house that already has his feelings sorted. You stay here and figure it out. I’m leaving,” I seethe as I stare at his confused and hurt expression, almost making me apologize, but I’m too hurt and embarrassed. He doesn’t say anything, he just grips his fists so tight that his knuckles turn white, his jaw clenches, and I see that he’s holding back tears. I immediately turn to run up the steps because if I look at him for one more second, I would be holding him in my arms, telling him I’m sorry and letting him cry it out. Not today.

•

•

After Steve picked me up, we went to dinner, then to the drive-in theatre. I’m having… a decent time. He’s a little boring compared to Peter, no one can make me laugh like he can. I’m also a bit distracted at how I left my best friend. I think I may have been too hard on him. Now that I’ve calmed down, I think he really was just trying to sort things out. I know that Peter isn’t the most emotionally mature and definitely doesn’t have a way with words.

‘oh god, what have I done?’ I think to myself in horror.

“What do you say, huh?” Steves deep voice shakes me out of my thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” I smile sweetly. “What was that?” I bat my lashes at him, hoping he doesn’t notice that I’ve been thinking about another guy the whole time he’s been speaking to me.

“I said: Why don’t we move to back?” he smirks motioning towards his back seat.

“Uh,” I know exactly what he’s alluding to. Do I really want to go down that road? “Yeah, okay,” I smile. I guess I do. We get out of the vehicle and hop into the back. He immediately pulls me into his lap. I’m a bit taken back by his sudden grip on my body.

“You ever been touched by a real man?” he asks as he peppers kisses all over my neck as his cold hands slip under my dress without even asking. I’m shocked, disgusted, and confused.

“I-uh- can you stop please?” I pull arm out of his grip and crawl out of his lap.

“Hey, I paid for your food and your ticket. You owe me!” he shouts, grabbing my arm again. I have so much pent up rage from earlier, I didn’t even realize it when my hand shot out to slap him across the face full force. He looked at me stunned before getting out of his car, opening the door and literally throwing me out. He picks me up by shoulders and tosses me onto the dusty, bare, dirt. He drives away without a single word.

“What the fuck,” I mutter to myself as I stand up, brushing the dirt off myself. A young man from the next car over rushes to the scene, asking if I’m okay. I simply thank him for his concern, then take the walk of shame back to Peters house.

Now I remember why I waited for Peter for so long; He’s the only decent guy I’ve ever met. As if the silent, cold, horrifying walk back to the Maximoff house at midnight wasn’t punishment enough, once I arrive and enter his bedroom, the sight I see makes my heart break completely in two. I feel physical pain when I see Peter.

His room is dark as he’s laid on his couch, curled up In a blanket, staring at the starter screen on his Tank video game on the box Television. The flashing light reflects on his blank face, allowing me to see his bloodshot eyes, red nose, and puffy lips from crying. He hasn’t seemed to notice me enter the room. My own eyes immediately fill up with the tears I was trying so hard to hold back.

“Peter,” I let out a somber whisper. He jumps up, looking at me with wide, puffy eyes.

“Are you crying?” he zooms up to me, grabbing my arm. “Did he hurt you?” he asks, putting a hand on my cheek. How can he still care about my feelings after how I left things?

“I’m okay Peter,” I lean into his touch. “I should have listened to you, though. You were right about him,” my tear stained eyes meet his. His face flushes in anger.

“What did he do to you? Is he still here? I swear I’ll kill the guy!” He raises his voice with every sentence, balling his hands into fists.

“It’s- I, uhm, would rather not talk about it,” I look down avoiding his gaze.

“Y/n, did he hurt you, yes or no? That’s all I need to know,” He gently lifts my chin to meet his gaze again but I close my eyes. I can’t look at him with out the guilt from making him cry making me feel sick.

“…Yes,” I Whisper, not wanting to elaborate. With a fwp Peter’s gone. I hear the front door open, I rush out to the sidewalk.

“Where the fuck is he?” Peter screams in a tone that I rarely hear from him. He turns to look at me, his once sad expression now pure unfiltered anger: A look I’ve never seen on him before. I’m almost scared.

“He’s not here Peter, I had to walk home from the drive in,” I sigh. Peter looks at me as if he doesn’t believe what I’m saying. He kicks the neighbor’s trash can in anger. With a loud clang, the metal bin is sent flying down the street, his foot mark now permanently indented in the can.

‘Steve’s lucky he isn’t here right now. Jesus Christ’ I think to myself.

“Let’s just go inside, please. I need to talk to you,” I say softly as I grab his tensed arm. He looks at me, his expression softening before he allows me to lead him inside.

I bring him in and sit him down on the couch, it’s silent for a few beats, neither one of us want to look at the other one.

“I’m sorry,” we both blurt out at the same time, snapping our heads to look at each other. The awkwardness subsides as we smile at each other. We both try to start our apology at the same time, then erupt into giggles.

“Let me go first,” I put a light hand on Peters knee. He shakes his head ‘no’.

“No. I’m going first. I finally got everything sorted out,” he takes a deep breath. “Y/n, I do have feelings for you and I’m sorry. I’m just a stupid boy that never learned how to process emotions. You’re amazing! You’re my best friend and I feel so horrible that I hurt you. When you were explaining what it felt like to be attracted to someone, you just explained word for word how I feel about you. I was just confused, everything happened so fast, and I honestly thought you were joking with me at first. I’ve always kind of had the hots for you, but I never in a million years thought that you could ever be attracted to me, so I locked those thoughts away. I’m sorry that I couldn’t express this sooner. I’m so so sorry,” he says in a rush of words, I almost have trouble keeping up with the words coming out of his mouth. His big brown puppy eyes scan my face for my reaction. I just smile at him, tears once again swelling in my eyes for about the third time tonight.

“Peter, you’re such a sweet guy,” I grin and his face beams with joy. “I was such an asshole to you earlier… I’m sorry. My ego and my heart were hurt and I should not have taken that out on you. The way that you still cared about me when I got back from that awful date even though I had upset you right before I left just shows how amazing of a person you are. You are the best thing in my life,” a tear rolls down my cheek, Peter quickly wipes it away.

“Hey, come here,” he says softly before pulling me into his chest. As he pulls me into his strong arms, the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body makes me forget about every problem I’ve ever had. The steady rise and fall of his chest and his fingers running though my hair could put me to sleep in an instant. “I don’t blame you for anything. That situion just unfolded really poorly and we both said some things we shouldn’t have, but that’s over now,” he kisses my forehead as I snuggle further into him.

“Thank you, Peter,” I yawn as I wrap my arms around his torso. He continues brushing his fingers through my hair and tracing mindless designs on my back, I feel myself drifting off to sleep, all the stress I had been feeling now completely subsided. I lay in his arms, wrapped in comfort as if he’s a warm towel straight out of the dryer. I hear him whisper,

“Goodnight, beautiful,” as he clicks off the tv with the remote. A small smile creeps onto my lips as I slip off to sleep.

#evan peters #evan peters smut #ahs cult #ahs hotel #jimmy darling smut #kai anderson #kit walker smut #ahs asylum #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #evan peters x reader #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff #warren lipka smut #warren lipka #tate langdon smut #tate langdon

[peoneys]

“She freezes, but Solas keeps moving, and she has to move with him so she doesn’t stumble. Her feet are bare, the only familiar thing other than Solas’ presence besides her. Except he is not familiar at all, no hint of the humble apostate. She is out of place, plain and small. [...]

Here is another person to talk to, another introduction made. They look at her briefly, but with no challenge. They are there to talk to Fen’Harel.

That is what they call him, again and again. Her mind screams. Unreal. Unreal. Unreal. [...]”

That drawing was largely inspired by “Temporal Arrangements”’ first chapter by thevikingwoman ahaha

Extremely proud of this one,even tho I battled to death with the iPad’s colorimetric setting..I just hope the colors will look okay on your screens 🌟

#fanart #my art #art #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas #lavellan #solavellan #seth lavellan #dai #lune #oc

[veritas-dolos]

so since i recently reblogged a post with fic recommendations i realized i should maybe make a list of all of my favorite fics so you can check them out.

just letting you know, these are all going to be for the 2012 tmnt!! i'm not going to give a summary for each one, just a little detail.

tw's are stated where necessary. also, some of these are ship fics, and they're kinda spread out throughout the list so they might be hard to find.

for the future, for you. by SpectrumWriting

this one is donnie centric.

Tendencies by orphan_account

leo centric.

Under The Skin by Red_Dragonn

tw for bugs and body horror. raph centric.

on my own by feduphufflepuff

raph centric.

The Hostage Situation by taizi

mikey centric!!

Desolation by goodstoryfan

this is part one of the series (next fic below is part 2). leo centric and mind control!

Devastation by goodstoryfan

part two of the series. leo centric during the space arc!

Bro, You Literally Got Hit By A Bus by emmals16

in this fic leo got hit by a bus. it's mainly written for the 2003 show, but it can be read as 2012.

The Nature Of The Wind by This_world_of_beautiful_monsters

tw for rape/noncon. this is a dark fic, but leo centric. it's really good despite the themes.

Consequence for Indifference by Professor_Anxietree

mikey angst, and the brothers aren't abusive.

Interrogation or Malpractice? by Professor_Anxietree

more mikey angst for the end of season 3 where he goes through that thing that was supposed to read his mind.

unwavering by OverlyObsessed223

mikey and leo centric angst!

i've got my eye on you by taizi

mikey angst and donnie worries about him.

Despite Everything, I'm Still Human by WastedAndReady

raph angst!

Be like your brothers (And never like yourself) by ItzZaira

mikey angst!!

Mixup by The_Fourth_Queen

okay so this one is leo x casey but it's so funny i had to recommend it.

where it all began by a_rutabaga

leo angst where he and his brothers don't get along. this one is really good i've read it many times.

The Orange Turtle Without The Dimension of X by itz_me_E

mikey angst post dimension x.

Angry tender hearts. by Koalagriton

this one is raph x casey but it's really good.

Whatsername by less_depresso_more_espresso

another raph x casey and it's got angst what more could you want

Play the Fool, Pity the Fool. by SpectrumWriting

mikey angst, but tw for suicide attempt and self harm.

Not as Thick as Blood by thirdsday

mikey angst. (wow, i have a lot of mikey angst bookmarked)

The Arrangement by Ivelostcontrolofmylife

this is donnie x casey, and i haven't read it in a while, but it's really good.

Crash Course in Mistletoe by coolpointsetta

raph x casey. this is the first ever rasey fic i read that got me interested in the ship, so it's a good read. (this is the first in the series, the fic below is part two. there is a part 3, but i am yet to read it.)

the corner of the world we made ours by coolpointsetta

raph x casey, part 2 of the series.

(un)reality by SpectrumWriting

mikey angst fic that takes place during/after dimension x.

Notes pour trop tard by Anonymous

leo angst. tw for suicide (off screen) and suicide notes.

Breakfast for Sensei by rakuenoasis

mikey angst post dimension x. (wow i have a lot of dimension x fics bookmarked someone stop me)

How to deal with grief by ItzZaira

mikey angst at the farmhouse.

Atrophy by DerelictWreck

mikey angst. tw for very detailed and graphic suicide attempt and surgery, but it has a happy ending and mikey does not die. the brothers aren't the best but they're not abusive.

and the walls kept tumbling down by leones

leo angst. tw for eating disorders.

Temporal Differential by paranormal_worm

mikey angst post dimension x.

Into Dimension X by HolyKingWasteLand

mikey angst post dimension x.

we'll burn them down by dame_de_la_chance

mikey angst post dimension x. i have to say this one is one of my favorites of all the dimension x fics.

walk with open hands by taizi

you guys. this is so good. this is a fix it fic for the end of season 4 where mikey tries to save splinter's life.

Control by SceneNerd

mikey angst. tw for self harm.

Translate the Problem by Professor_Anxietree

mikey angst post dimension x. in my mind this is THE dimension x fic. it's the first one i ever read so it's really good. (the fic below is a continuation of this)

Mind and Matter by Professor_Anxietree

mikey angst when they're in space. (based on the episode journey to the center of mikey's mind).

to thine own self be true by inkandstone

mikey angst. this is a truth serum fic!!

and that's it!! i went through my entire bookmarked 2012 list and found each one of these. i have 261 tmnt 2012 fics bookmarked. it took over an hour to make this list and christ i am exhausted.

anyway i hope you guys read some of these! they're all amazing!!

#fic rec #tmnt 2012 #2012 tmnt #2012 leo #2012 raph #2012 donnie #2012 mikey #tmnt 2k12 #rasey #jonatello #caseynardo #pepperoni pucks #casey x raph #casey x donnie #casey x leo #casey x mikey #2012 tmnt fic rec #veritas posts #veritas fic rec

[transgenderer]

Elsewhere in Medieval Europe, the curse of Ham also became used as a justification for serfdom. Honorius Augustodunensis (c. 1100) was the first recorded to propose a caste system associating Ham with serfdom, writing that serfs were descended from Ham, nobles from Japheth, and free men from Shem. However, he also followed the interpretation of 1 Corinthians 7:21 by Ambrosiaster (late 4th century), which held that as servants in the temporal world, these "Hamites" were likely to receive a far greater reward in the next world than would the Japhetic nobility.[63][64]

The idea that serfs were the descendants of Ham soon became widely promoted in Europe. An example is Dame Juliana Berners (c. 1388), who, in a treatise on hawks, claimed that the "churlish" descendants of Ham had settled in Europe, those of the temperate Shem in Africa, and those of the noble Japheth in Asia (a departure from normal arrangements, which placed Shem in Asia, Japheth in Europe, and Ham in Africa), because she considered Europe to be the "country of churls", Asia of gentility, and Africa of temperance.[65] As serfdom waned in the late medieval era, the interpretation of serfs being descendants of Ham decreased as well.[66]

before people claimed black people were the descendants of ham (or actually canaan, the son who was cursed. ham had other sons idk why its always phrased as sons of ham. the other ones arent cursed!) as a justification for slavery, people claimed serfs were the descendants of ham!

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in August 2023. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #53 |  ko-fi | fic recs

—Louis/Harry—

🌴 De amore ex tempore by @persephoneflouwers

(M, 101k, historical) the Middle Ages AU where Harry is a philosopher, whose thoughts happen five centuries too soon and Louis is a painter, whose art happens five centuries too late. & Or: the Time Travel AU where alternate versions of themselves live simultaneously in different realities and their paths collide every time, until somehow, they converge into one.

🌴 Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me) by @lululawrence

(NR, 82k, age difference) Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost and Gemma is worried about him. To help both of them, Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again.

🌴 We Don't Need No Piece of Paper (From the City Clerk) by @2tiedships2

(M, 26k, a/b/o) In a matter of months, he would be bonded to an alpha his dad had chosen for him. Someone that Harry knew nothing about. Not even his name.

🌴 you give me feelings that i adore by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 7k, a/b/o) 5 times Louis scents Harry's things and the 1 time Harry returns the gesture.

🌴 A Social Construct by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 7k, established relationship) Five times Harry and Louis try to lose their virginity and one time they finally do. Part 4 of Swallow My Words

🌴 Rode Hard and Put Away Wet by @kingsofeverything

(E, 6k, Texas) Louis heard the same rumours in London, New York, and L.A., and he put them all to rest, but in Texas? Series Part 7 of Tiny Penis Fics

🌴 Trying to Find the Words (To Say For Ages) by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 6k, uni au) As best friends and roommates, it’s really not a big deal when their on-campus housing provides Harry and Louis with an unusual, intimate bathroom arrangement. 

🌴 Come All Ye by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 6k, historical) It's the summer of 1971, and Louis just wants to get out of town for a minute or a day. When his buddy Zayn says they should head down south and check out this radical new music festival, Louis is only too happy to agree.

🌴 Every Bit of Mine by skipper / @skipperxao3

(M, 3k, dark) Harry is an enigma. Louis still loves him.

🌴 every night with us (is like a dream) by moon_rose25 / @darkinfinity

(T, 2k, famous/not famous) A look into the life of a professional football player dating a physical therapist.

🌴 Everything Is Batter With You by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 2k, established relationship) Harry comes across a fun baking TikTok and convinces Louis to do it

🌴 No (Birth) Control by @haztobegood

(E, 2k, a/b/o) An unfortunate situation left Harry without contraceptives a day before his heat.

🌴 in my head we can love forever by @beardyboyzx

(E, 1k, girl direction) Harry might be a bit in love with her roommate.

🌴 Nights Like These, We'll Remember by @fallingdefenceless

(T, 1k, meet cute) Louis and Harry meet at a summer music festival and sparks fly.

—Rare Pairs—

🌴 The Light Out In The Madness (Hold Tight) by @lalalaartje

(E, 46k, Niall/Louis) When Louis ends up with Niall as a roommate after a messy break up with Harry, he considers it truly life saving. They become fast friends and while Louis is sceptical about Niall's idea to start fake dating to take revenge on Harry, it can't be that bad, can it?

🌴 Ask Him by LinksLipsSinkShips / @fxckingprincesspark

(T, 2k, Niall/Lewis Capaldi) When Lewis Capaldi gets pressed for information on who he's dating, he admits it... he's been seeing Niall Horan. The only problem? He jokes so much that no one believes him.

#28th appreciation #ficrec #1dficvillage #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam #hltracks #1dsource

[transmechanicus]

Mankind is incapable of sorcery. This is not a value judgement or an act of prideful gatekeeping, but a statement of fact. On levels genetic, morphologic, and cognitive mankind is constrained in ways that prevent their inherent biological application of magic. They lack crucial genes shielding them from the potent radiation of extradimensional forces. Their joints are too restrictive, their number of limbs too few. The spectrum of their senses is far too narrow, and rare is the human mind that can comprehend the complex underlying theorems required to do more than poorly imitate the might of sorcerers of other species. Many a human fool has sought to grasp at magic and has been twisted by bone breaking, gut wrenching gravitic forces as their flesh burns and bleeds from within.

The motions of witches and spellcasters are not entirely an act of control, but also rather the expression of self distorting and intractable forces being exerted in exchange for miracles manifested by complexity of one’s mind. This lesson was slow in taking for humans, but it was one they overcame with typical determination.

First was the creation of the psycho-frame, a device that could divert the locus of magical catalysis to an artificial point, allowing humans to cast magic through more resilient and adaptable proxy constructs. Following several centuries later was mankind’s first artificial witch, an AI synthesis of machine learning and simulated replicas of human brains.

This latter creation revolutionized human control of magic, allowing its use on a significantly expanded and coordinated scale, as well as its study and analysis by their symbiotic machine organisms for the first time. It was not long after that humans began utilizing magic as their primary means of FTL, being less resource intensive than the temporally compressed accelerators they used prior. Now every interstellar ship had a meadow of proxy sorcerers on its bow, exerting the will of a God Machine at the vessels heart, tearing open reality to carry mankind to vistas far and grand.

There upon those distant horizons they found such beauty, but in far greater frequency horrors beyond count. Beings evolved from their first fusing of cells in parts of the galaxy saturated by dimensional bleed and convinced of their cultural and biological supremacy as masters of witch physics. Cities arranged upon worlds for the conduction of sacrificial spells by entire planetary populations. Planetary bodies were torn asunder from systems away, and the flow of time upon stars and their orbits was twisted to send human populated worlds towards disaster at the will of alien cult magi. Moon sized inter-system super predators blasted lightning and neuron burning insanity at any human ship that dared enter their conception of territory, hunting mankind’s vessels like fish in a vast black sea.

There was no counter to such things, not that could be mustered quickly or reliably. Ship designs were altered from the colossal Void Arks carrying entire cities of military, governmental, and civilian crew, to stripped down Witness Frigates run only by a Demigod class AI and a brave few humans to accompany them in mankind’s efforts to chart the stars. Only when a system was thoroughly explored and catalogued directly would any further Arks be sent. So into the black were sent thousands of unblinking mechanical eyes and beating hearts.

What do you think they found?

#my stuff #writing

[thehistoriangirl]

If You Hadn't Left (Me) [Chapter 1]

I thought I would start posting in the first of February but oh well better now than never lol

I'm gonna post the other fic's masterlist tomorrow I think :3

Viktor x Fem! Reader-----2.9K----SFW*

// M A S T E R L I S T

Next ->

Synopsis:Viktor was never supposed to see you again, just like you had promised that evening when you both ended up heartbroken and bitter toward destiny and all its twisted ways. So twisted as to put you back into his life not only as a temporal working partner to cover Jayce’s absences, but also as the maid of honor in the wedding where he’ll be the best man. Hypothetically, it doesn’t have to be that difficult to find a way around the river of memories flowing between you both. Though, of course, hypotheses are flawed. Just like that part of him that still craves another ending to this story. 

Tags: Second Chance | Angst | Exes to Lovers | Denial of Feelings | Viktor's horny down memory lane* | Reader is pissed | My man is going thru the stages of grief | MelJay bc Jayce deserves to be happy | Eventual Smut | Eventual Happy Ending |

Taglist c: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @blissfulip

That goodbye became a broken promise, cracked over the sound of your voice ever since he heard it at the Council assembly.

Sure, you had spat out the words fueled by betrayal and hatred, but Viktor took them like an oath to put in peace his stormy mind.

First coated in a lie so fragile Viktor was surprised it hadn’t fragmented before, and now this—he was sure he shouldn’t take another glass of wine from the walking waiters zigzagging across the opulent hall—but he had avoided you all night, and he knew Jayce wouldn’t let him go before arranging the “formal meeting” between both of you.

If only he knew...

We congratulate Miss Favred for winning the design contest for the new hall construction inside the Museum of Sciences and Technologies. Graduated from Piltover’s Academy with honors, you're the proof that progress and art are held hand in hand in this city.

Almost the same speech Heimerdinger delivered during your graduation ceremony, only that this time you were all alone on the stage, Viktor's hand grabbing his cane to not feel the growing sensation of emptiness.

Part of him thought it was mere shock. After all, you haven't seen each other in almost ten years; and a petty part of him was surprised he even remembered you, how the image of you was locked in the depths of his subconsciousness that only needed the ring of your greeting to resurface.

But now? Hours after the reencounter? He was so, so weak…

With a sigh, Viktor finally admitted it: stealing glimpses of your purple dress flowing against the gentle breeze was a weakness, though if the excuse lay in masochist interest or avid curiosity, Viktor wasn’t ready to clear his mind. Why would he, anyway? It was a couple of wine glasses too late.

Funny how some things defied the City of Progress where everyone was eagerly grasping the tomorrow.

Viktor just felt stuck in the past, down a path he wasn’t so sure how to slip through.

Your hair was the same, richly stylized and decorated with a geometrical headpiece that looked like a crown from Viktor’s angle. Your time in Shurima had replaced the Piltovan style built by several layers of clothes like vests and corsets for simple, airy fabrics that played with transparencies. The deep shade of violet pooled in continuous drapes ironed in the long skirt falling freely around your hips and down your legs, a gold-threaded corset hugged your waist and framed your bosom, the fabric slowly fading into a lavender tone held like loose sleeves with golden bracelets.

You were covering your mouth while your eyes closed in amused crinkles for whatever the young merchant Mauriel Garfen was telling you as his expert hand twirled you around the ballroom. It didn’t matter much, as Viktor could paint it just fine: with the vivid dark pink adorning your lips, though he knew your favorite color was more of a burnt brown, or maybe even red—

"That's enough for today," Viktor mumbled, eyes looking intently at the crimson liquid as he swirled the stem around his fingers before settling it down against the nearby windowsill.

Suddenly, he heard your happy squeal as you went to hug another young woman dressed in a vivid teal, halter dress. Her curly black hair bounced as you two swayed. Viktor didn’t remember her vividly, but she had been one of your friends ever since your undergraduate years.

If only… Though he knew he didn’t have any right to be greeted as warmly. If even he had any right to be greeted at all. Only because you had returned. Because of course, you did.  Once you had told him that despite the high number of students inside the Academy, you'd find each other in one way or another.

“No, not like fate,” you have told him, voice groggy with slumber as you laid against his chest, hands pointing at his dorm's ceiling where she had stuck luminescence cut-outs of stars. "Entropy."

You were right, from all his perfectly calculated plans tumbling into a state of chaos, one he surprisingly wasn’t against.

Until he was.

Garfen twirled the both of you, giggles bubbling like the nearby tray of drinks a waiter was carrying toward the Councilors discussing on a corner of the hall.

You looked like that photograph he kept in the bottom drawer of his tattered closet, only that the sepia tones eating it away had been repaired with the tone of your skin, the void he left behind replaced with you looking like a fairy queen with your golden crown and dashing company.

Someone more fitting. But Viktor was now the co-creator of Hextech, wasn’t that enough?

His fingers tangled around the glass’ steam, barely feeling the hot sensation of the alcohol down his throat as he gulped it all.

You’re so pathetic, Viktor. Get over it. Why haven’t you done that already?

“Vik! There you are!” He almost dropped the glass with the impromptu voice of Jayce chiming in his roaming thoughts. “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

"You know I'm not… eh, akin to this kind of party," he said, only half a lie. He'd been hiding inside a balcony and then, when Jayce passed by, Viktor slipped between a corner and a column. Now, he'd been too distracted to notice. "I've been unwinding."

“For a moment I thought you were already gone!” He patted his shoulder. “I’ve wanted to introduce you to Miss Favred since morning, but I suppose you had duties to take care of after the meeting.” He had bolted out of there as soon as Councilor Medarda called the session off.

His jar tightened, just as the grasp on his formal cane, naked metal replaced by a coat of black marble and polished wood on its handle. “Jayce, I don’t think this idea about the Hextech Wing would be… good,” he started, pouring in all the thoughts that had flown inside his head ever since the morning meeting. “This isn’t what I imagined when you told me we would celebrate the first decade of Hextech’s creation.”

“Viktor—”

“No, listen to me,” he replied, almost through gritted teeth. How pitiless of him he couldn’t even manage his feelings in public. “We want to help people in need, not to gloat about a fancy exhibit at the Science and Technology Museum. This is just another excuse for the Council to gloat about their grandness. What would the exhibit do for the people who believe in us, hmm? For us as scientists, even? Are you listening to me?” His friend had shifted to his embarrassed posture, where his tall body was trying to shrink into a ball, with hands tightly grabbed against his stomach, gazing at the floor. "Jayce—?"

“We’ve arranged that part of the Museum’s entrance fee is going to be destined to fund upcoming Hextech projects. That way you won’t need as many sponsorships,” Mel interjected behind him. Viktor turned to look at the Councilor, frozen to see the figure tailing close behind. “I believe we talked about it in the past meeting.”

Surely. Not that he would admit he had been too distracted by the nervous movements of your hands gesturing away to explain your design to oblige his mind to follow the Councilor’s debate sprinkled in between.

“Perhaps what he’s referring to is about how much time will it take to seize a positive quantity to fund a project,” you said to save his embarrassing stunned silence, poking your head from behind Jayce’s wide back. Your eyebrows arched slightly, head tilted toward Viktor.

The movement is so familiar from when you helped him through the boring, long seminars with haughty professors and even mouthier classmates. A head tilt and a slow gaze once you had laid the counterargument, ready for him to lock the possibility of a reply with his conclusion.

“I… That wasn’t what I meant,” he said, surprised by his cold tone.

You blinked at him for a moment, a frown slightly forming between your beautiful eyes. He didn’t dare to back out from it, he didn’t have a reason why.

Jayce cleared his throat. “Um… well, Vik, this is Miss Favred, she’s going to be the designer of the Museum ampliation…” He said, and you stepped next to Jayce, lips in a neutral yet mocking smile, with the curves of your lips turned up.

“It’s been quite some time, Miss Favred,” Viktor mustered, a smile plastering on his mouth that was too wide and toothy to be considered polite.

“Likewise, Viktor,” you said, tone sweetly as you extended your hand toward him.

Viktor almost wanted to yank it away once he felt a surge of electricity tingling up his arm once your long and elegant fingers wrapped the reverse of his palm. You giggled, nails digging into his skin with discreet violence.

His lips pressed in a thin line that couldn’t be faked as a smile even as he continued shaking your hand for a minute too long, wanting your eyes to decode the hidden message in his. What are you doing here?

“Oh, do you know each other?” Mel said after calling your name, which made you yank your hand away from his grasp.

“We were acquaintances at the Academy,” you said, gesturing away.

Classmates, the word slipped with an acid aftertaste when Viktor tried to back you up. "Very close classmates." Because of course, this was the perfect time for his brain to break under pressure. Yes, so close you slept against his chest every other night, so, so close that he even burrowed inside of you—

Mel turned to you, with an almost accusatory air. “What a surprise!”

“That was many years ago.” Your gaze swept from Mel’s to his, if only for a second. “I had forgotten about it.”

Oh, so that’s how you wanted to play?

"Well, I'm glad you two can reconnect after so many years!" Jayce said a big grin on his face. The sweet oblivious Jayce. “It’ll be good for Vik to have another friend! It’s… slightly difficult for him to open up and get new ones.”

Viktor glared at him. “Why are you talking about me as if I weren’t here?” he replied, while you mumbled:

“I wonder why that is.”

His head turned toward you in a movement so quick that some of his pushed backward-styled hair fell over his forehead. "Pardon?"

You smiled at him. “I didn’t say anything.”

Oh, you—

"Why don't we leave you two to talk?" Mel said, ignoring the pleading look you sent her when Jayce nodded, saying that there must be a lot to tell between the both of you. “Councilor Talis, let’s go for another drink. There’s something I need to talk about with you.” Probably about the wedding. Not that Viktor was interested in the matter when he had you in front of him. 

From all the stolen glances, he had pieced you whole like a puzzle, filling in the missing pieces eaten away by time with the new image, though he knew some things wouldn't change. Like the way you smelled like hyacinth and mangoes, your favorite fruit. All that freckles and moles and scars dotted around your body like those two small ones peeking over the square neckline on the left of your collarbone, which he knew balanced out with the two tiny moles under your right breast.

Surely your skin was just as heavenly soft as back then despite the occasional roughness of your fingers from working so much. Your palms were always warm against his cold fingers during winter. 

“Viktor," you called him. And he frowned to conceal what he had been thinking all the damn night.

“What?”

 “Why don’t we strike a deal?” you said, arms crossed, disrupting what would have been his doom if he continued.

“Do I look like someone that would strike a deal with a devil, Miss Favred?” Viktor said, arching an eyebrow almost in a flirty way. Just amused enough to push you to the edge of your years-trained composure. You certainly played the part, with all the allure and the deep gaze of your eyes.

“I suppose this must be awkward for you, too.”

“It isn’t awkward for me,” he lied. “You should worry about your work instead.”

“So ready for me to leave?” You chuckled. “I think you should know that I applied to this contest because I need the spotless curriculum if I want to be the new Interior Design teacher at the Architecture Faculty.”

“You’re just trying to annoy me. You said you would leave and never return.” Better put, Viktor cornered you to say so, but he wasn’t going to let his mouth run free.

"And you said we were going to get married," you replied, and Viktor felt himself trip backward if it weren’t for the support of his cane. “So I guess we’re even.”

Viktor stood there, stunned golden eyes wide open. He started calling your name, but you had your hand raised.

“You’re right, my bad. That was unnecessary.” Your hand arranged a loose lock of hair poking your cheek. “Anyhow, I’m not going to mention anything about the… past. So you don’t have to worry about me running out my tongue—despite how close classmates we’ve been.”

“Now you’re just being…” improperly brash, dangerously cheeky. Almost as if you’d been pushing him over the edge of his decorum to see if he’d cornered you against a wall to seal your endless rebukes with a kiss. Or many. “…insufferable.”

"Don't worry." You waved away. "I'll finish my job as fast as humanely possible, and then we won't have to see each other again. Because I know you aren't fond of assisting the Progress Day's party."

He crossed his arms, letting the handle of his cane hook on the curve of his elbow. "I'm not sorry to disappoint you—but I'm very fond of Progress Days. I've changed," Viktor said, but it was only a half-truth. He wasn't sure how he could change a feeling that lay hidden deep inside, frozen in time instead of giving them a real burial. You only had to dig to start seeing the uneven silhouette of the memory boxes where nothing should be more than black earth.

“Anyway,” you replied, your tone bleeding with sarcasm. “That’s my peace treaty. I know Mel and Jayce will feel awkward if they ever discover that they’ve arranged old flames as partners, so let’s just forget it. I assure you it’s nothing that could endanger the quality of this project.”

Let’s just forget it. You were right, as you had always been, and yet…

I've already forgotten you, Viktor, you said inside his mind, a smile that once had left him breathless now hurting him in the unspoken truth that now you were better without him.

Of course, you were better without him.

Yet, Viktor couldn’t help but seek your left hand accommodating the deep V line of your dress for the poignant sight of a band on your finger.

“I’m not a passionate teenager, Miss Favred," he said, his tone devoid of any warmth. "I assure you I'm not interested in dwelling in the past. So rest assured, I won't embarrass you." It was totally unconscious that his voice dripped with contempt.

You curled your upper lip. “You’re such a fusspot, always the victim.”

Viktor inhaled sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you spat, taking your skirt with your fists as you were ready to stalk away.

The parallels made his heart squeeze in a painful grip. Was history about to repeat itself?

Before his brain could recollect the action, Viktor had called your name, hand extended open as if wanting to touch you. “Wait—” As if he had something to tell you.

You ignored him, stopping when Jayce approached you both from the complete opposite direction Mel and he had gone at first. Also, you couldn't point out if the dark marks of brown smeared on his face were just a plaything of the lightning or marks of kisses.

“Are you leaving so soon?” Jayce told you, hand over your shoulder.

“Yes,” you told him with a smile, completely ignoring Viktor. “My feet hurt and I’m afraid I haven’t recovered my sleep schedule since my return.”

"Well, maybe Viktor can walk you home?" he offered. "For what Mel told me, you live near his apartment." Not that he had moved a lot since you left, but seeing the surprise in your eyes felt like a little victory.

“No,” Viktor and you said at the same time.

“I mean—,” you started.

“I want to stay a little longer,” Viktor said. "As I should be open to enjoying these celebrations more. Hextech anniversary only arrives once a year!" He tried to laugh, but Jayce looked at him with such a concerned frown it was hard to keep his act. Your contained snort wasn't helping.

“Vik… I think you’ve had far too many drinks.”

He glared at Jayce for what felt like the thousandth time. "I'm fine, Jayce—”

"Well, goodbye!" you chirped, getting on your tippy toes to kiss Jayce's cheek, and then, forcefully, approach Viktor and give him a goodbye kiss, too. More like a rude smack, with how forceful you were.

"Tomorrow, eight sharp," Jayce told you, poking your side with his elbow. "Viktor doesn't like it when I arrive late."

“I can’t wait,” you beamed, eyes boring into Viktor’s. As if daring him to say something.

"Me either," Viktor lied.

If you wanna get into the taglist lemme a comment below! 🤗

#viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor fanfic #arcane fanfic #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #arcane x female reader

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Hello!

I've got a Gallifreyan friend living here on Earth. They've managed to fit in and get used to the planet, but they've been feeling homesick. So, my question is: what are some of the ways to make them feel like they are back on Gallifrey? I don't know anything about the culture, or their ways of living, or the food... I'm willing to learn and help out a friend!

Thank you in advance!

Helping your Gallifreyan friend feel a touch of home on Earth is a thoughtful and caring gesture. Here's how to sprinkle some Gallifreyan into their Earthly life.

🌌 Create a Cosy Gallifreyan Look

Gallifrey has some stunning vistas your friend may be missing. If you live together or otherwise have the opportunity, you could decorate their room or communal rooms to show that off - mimic the burnt orange skies and silver-leafed flora of Gallifrey by adorning a room with warm, orange hues, silver accents, and perhaps a mural of the iconic Citadel if you're feeling daring. LED lights, sunset lamps, and maybe even a DIY Kasterborous constellation on the ceiling could bring the Gallifreyan heavens right to your living room. You could also incorporate the elegant, circular Gallifreyan script into gifts, wall art, or even coasters.

📚 Literature and Art

Dive into Earth's science fiction and fantasy, finding parallels with Gallifreyan epics. Maybe host a "Gallifreyan Book Club," where each read is followed by a lively debate on temporal ethics.

🔠 Language

Learning Gallifreyan phrases is no small feat, but even mastering a "Good Morning" can demonstrate a real interest in your friend's culture and make them feel more homely.

🍲 A Taste of Gallifrey

Gallifreyan dishes might be elusive on Earth, but you can experiment. Create dishes inspired by the diverse tastes of the cosmos—maybe a dessert that's a visual tribute to the Untempered Schism, with swirling patterns and a touch of edible silver, or even just recipes with unique ingredients or cooking methods that are out of the ordinary.

🌿 Gallifrey in Bloom

If you have the space, create a small garden or indoor plant area silver-leaved plants (dusty miller or lamb's ear) and vibrant orange blooms (marigolds or California poppies). This can be a peaceful spot for your friend to feel connected to the landscapes of Gallifrey.

🌐 Stimulate the Gallifreyan Mind

Gallifreyans love a good puzzle. Why not organise a game night every week with logic puzzles and strategy games, or even just a book club focusing on topics like astrophysics, philosophy, or time travel.

🌟 Cosmic Connection

Arrange nights dedicated to observing the cosmos, maybe with a telescope borrowed from your local astronomy club. Discussing the stars, their histories, and mysteries is a great night for a Gallifreyan.

🔄 Earthly Traditions, Gallifrey Style

Merge Earth holidays with Gallifreyan customs. Too start with, Otherstide and Christmas are quite similar, it would be very easy to mix the two.

🤝 Telepathic Bonding (Metaphorically)

Living on a planet without a telepathic culture can make Gallifreyans feel quite cut off. While you can't establish a literal telepathic connection, deep conversations that allow for sharing thoughts can mimic this bond.

🏫 So...

Helping your friend alleviate their homesickness by incorporating elements of Gallifreyan culture into your shared experiences is a fab idea. It's the small gestures that will remind them that, while they might be far from Gallifrey, they're never truly alone. 🌍💫🌟

Hope that helped! 😃

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

》📫Got a question / submission? 》😆Jokes |🫀Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts 》📚Complete list of Q+A 》📜Masterpost If you like what GIL does, please consider buying a coffee or tipping below to help make future projects, including complete biology and language guides.

#doctor who #gil #gallifrey institute for learning #dr who #dw eu #gallifrey #gallifreyans #ask answered #whoniverse #dw meta

[lemonhemlock]

I think one of the most frustrating things about both the ASOIAF/HOTD fandom is the inability for people to discuss these characters or books without projecting their own personal/modern sensibilities. I've noticed this a lot with TB so targ nation in general, but they fundamentally hate the world building and lore of a feudal medieval monarchy. They hate tradition, they hate religion, they hate the concepts of honor and duty which is why they can't or won't understand Criston's character if their lives depended on it, they hate anything that can be deemed in anyway conservative, religious, traditional lol, they hate the inheritance laws preferring males, they hate that women have to stay chaste before marriage, they hate arranged marriages, they hate the fact that people care so much about bastards and that bastards cannot inherit, etc. I could go on. Yes, from a modern perspective a lot of these things are now deemed obsolete and uncool, but there were very good reasons for these things AT THE TIME. These people just hate the entire lore that this world is based on and instead of good faith engagement with the lore, they just call anyone who uses the world/lore to logically analyze the text a sexist, misogynist, tradcath, conservative, or whatever. It boggles my mind. Why interact with media, and not just interact with it, but have entire social media accounts dedicated to their hyper fixation and borderline parasocial relationship with these characters/books if they fundamentally hate the world and hate seeing their faves lose as a result of the rules in place. I'm begging these people to go read one of the thousands of fantasy books that isn't set in a rigid feudal monarchy.

This is such a spot-on, insightful comment into how a lot of people interact within this fandom. 👏👏👏 This typology of the late stage social justice internet warrior that fundamentally refuses to engage with the historicity of the story's spatio-temporal setting, i.e. a feudal medieval monarchy of European inspiration, that predates centralization and thus absolutism. Even though Westeros is so very obviously decentralized, many fans do not realize this for some reason and pretend it's an absolute monarchy a la Louis XIV.

Many people, like GRRM, who is a prolific science-fiction writer (!), are attracted to this setting regardless, because of the pageantry (look how obsessed he is with creating house sigils and mottos), the romantic flair + the fact that it's literally the setting of fairy-tales, which inspires in the reader a world of magical possibilities. Of course, the world of ASOIAF is an attempt to shore up the 'realism' of this imagological construct, but medieval fantasy is a genre in and of itself, like there are certain flavours of societal layering and organization that are inescapable, like the rigid social structures, the political rule as the purview of the elites, the importance of religion in everyday life etc.

This is not to say that those aspects are in any way aspirational for a modern person or that we should yearn to go back to those times, only that they are merely characteristics that developed hand-in-hand with the technological advancements and the economic progress of the period. If you have a civilisation whose economy is centered on land ownership as the main source of wealth acquisition, its society is going to look a certain way. Certainly, in Westeros there are some craftsmen and merchants, but there seem to only be a handful of towns throughout the entire continent and, off the top of my head, the mention of guilds and the middle classes are few and far between in the books, so there is no concrete way of determining how consolidated the bourgeoisie is. At the same time, this is absolutely just a story and not a 1:1 recreation of those times, so these gaps are completely understandable, as there only is so much worldbuilding one man can do.

Anyway, I often see analysis or commentary being circulated, which are obviously a projection of modern sensibilities, like how there should be no king at all or the Iron Throne is evil or how Westeros should revert to being separate kingdoms because somehow the concept of unifying regions with a common cultural and religious background is automatically bad, always and with no exception. To me these are rather perplexing, but they are so wide-spread that it's not even worth it to try and open up that particular can of worms. Some of these takes don't even make sense if you expand them to their natural implications. Someone has to be the king in a medieval society; it doesn't work like some people envision this - no one chooses to rule and that's that, problem solved? How is society going to be organized then? It's doubtful that the conclusion of the last book will be anarcho-socialism. The Iron Throne consistently cuts kings who are unworthy to sit on it - it's not a symbol that the author intended to be construed as malevolent. Sure, death of the author and all that, but it's not described as mystically quasi-sentient for nothing either. Fragmenting Westeros back into individual kingdoms while maintaining the feudal structure retains the inherent unfairness and inequality of said hierarchy; it's amazing to me how it could be considered progress etc.

To wrap this up, yes, I agree, some people would be much better served if they simply found other fantasy media based on a different time frame. Because it doesn't make sense to become so entrenched in this specific one if you hate the medieval period so much. Again, this is not to say that the Middle Ages cannot be criticised because that's just the way it was back then, they absolutely can, but a lot of criticism shared around is just done in bad faith and with no real desire to understand the historical phenomena at play.

For example, a few days ago, someone commented on one my bastardposts that "just because it was illegal doesn't make it fair", with the implied solution to that conundrum that Rhaenyra should simply be allowed by society to do whatever she pleased. No reflection on why that law/rule was in place to begin with, no consideration of how it would impact the wider community, no proposal as to how one could advance to a society in which all children are considered equal, regardless of their parents' marital status etc. The thought doesn't go beyond "feminism in its modern definition can magically crystallize in any historical period because it is completely divorced from the material conditions of a society".

#ask #anon #anti hotd fandom #bastardposting

[stormsthatrage]

In the Two Idiots and a Temporal Incident AU (where Ichigo and Grimmjow are both sent back in time to prevent the Winter War), Grimmjow ends up living in Ichigo's closet in the Shiba mansion.

("What, you'll let that midget do it but not me?!"

"Okay, first of all, don't call Rukia a midget--"

"You do that all the time--"

"Second of all, if anyone finds you, they will kill you--"

"What, am I not good enough to inhabit your closet, oh Great Shinigami Lord Shiba--"

"You know what, you can go eat sand--")

This living arrangement is quite the surprise to the assassin who tries to hide in Ichigo's room -- in his closet, specifically -- to off him for interfering in all of Aizen's plans.

("Why is there a corpse in my closet?! Oh god, don't tell me you dragged it back here, keep your creepy cat habits away from me--"

"Fuck you, I just saved your sorry ass--"

"People are not mice, Grimm--"

"I am trying to tell you that is literally not what happened, also, why are you so upset, you lived in the same house as Yoruichi--")

Yeah, it's a mess. As if it ever could have been anything else.

#two idiots and a temporal incident au #bleach #bleach au #time travel #time travel bleach style #kurosaki ichigo #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #ichigo kurosaki #grimmjow jaggerjack

[astrum-aetherium]

love this account so much 🩶 just me and my fellow anons and you sharing the most unhinged and horny thoughts ever <3

so this is more or less me searching for comfort but how is henry handling your period cramps/sickness? is he running baths, is he giving massages, what’s he up to! i feel like with all that he knows he’s probably got some life-altering remedies up his sleeve

thank you lots for your kindness and your sweet request! there is comfort to be found even in the depths of the most morally flawed characters, trust me. henry is no exception to that! we can mold him any way we prefer for our benefit ;)

he wouldn't need to be told when you're on your period, he'd simply know. the slight changes in your disposition and the emphasized tardiness would tell him all he'd need to know. sure, you could give him a confirmation, but he would always generally have a pretty good idea, especially from a temporal point of view — i am struck by the feeling that he would have an intricately good sense of time.

as for his support, it would definitely be expressed very matter-of-factly (yet sweetly in its own way). he would drop something randomly nerdy on you along the lines of, "the ancient greek believed a heated castor oil compress was marvelous at easing any kind of pain, specifically inflammations, although it does increase blood flow if i do recall correctly." out of nowhere, his overly factual proposition would humor you greatly. "and you have something as specific as castor oil at your disposal right now?" you'd retort, meaning it more as a joke than anything else. he, however, would remain unperturbed as he'd respond, "why, yes. i could arrange for a compress right now if you wanted me to, in fact." and yes, you'd be willing to try — only for it to be a little strange texture-wise, but his small words of reassurance and the fact it was something he proposed and did for you would be worth it.

when it comes to baths, he would be very nonchalant about doing all of that for you as well. the minute you would get home, he'd obviously greet you and ask about your well-being, but then mysteriously disappear into the bathroom for some time while you'd undress and start recovering from a day out and about while on your period. a few minutes later, seated in an armchair immersed in a book or something, he'd fleetingly mention, "by the way, i've drawn you a hot bath." and you'd just go, wow; that's sudden. of course you'd indulge, however. he might even consider joining you upon a request ;)

the best remedy for period pain, however, is... you know. an orgasm. or multiple. he would be aware of that, too — both from experience and his profound knowledge. because he would like to help, i think he would propose that, too — it wouldn't manifest in the form of actual penetrative intercourse, however. i think he would simply lay you down on the bed upon a towel and start out by caressing your lower stomach, then proceeding to gently tease your clit until you've come for him a few times and feel a little better. he would be turned to you closely and treat you very gently, maybe even trying to get your mind off the pain by lowly talking to you, "class was all right today, i assume? you weren't too bothered by the pain?" answering him in complete sentences would certainly pose a challenge, as he would be circling the most sensitive part of your body at the same time, but he'd accept any broken or breathy answers nevertheless. afterward, he'd wash his hands, wrap you up in a blanket, and light a cigarette — just to sit down at the desk in the bedroom in order to revisit his studies whilst telling you to get some sleep.

henry certainly wouldn't excel at being the most caring partner, but he would try, and it would be enough.

#henry winter imagine #henry winter smut #henry winter x reader #henry winter thirst #indulgent thoughts #astrum asks #i need him to be a little more caring than he would actually be #if you know what i'm saying #idc about the ooc boundaries rn #i need a kiss

[riraro489]

@heropartnerweek Day 7: Free Day | Previous Prompt -> AU

To put it simply, this is an antagonist swap AU and I'll talk more about it under the read more (+ there's an additional art piece!! Watch out because the explanation is very long and disorganized)

In this AU, Grovyle is swapped with Dusknoir while Cresselia has swapped with Darkrai. I came up with the idea of swapping Darkrai and Cresselia initially before deciding to combine it with my interpretation of a Grovyle and Dusknoir swap AU. Now, about Grovyle and Dusknoir. They wouldn't be too different from their main iterations; Grovyle becomes an instantaneous celebrity while Dusknoir tries to collect the Time Gears, hoping he'll find his friend Amber (now turned into a Chimchar) along the way. Because of this, I decided to make the partner a Treecko (named Oran) as I feel like being betrayed by Grovyle would hurt a lot more. Where this AU differs, however is Grovyle's motive. It's not that he wants to avoid disappearing; instead, he wants to prevent his friends (Dusknoir, Celebi, and Amber) from dying. Unfortunately, when Grovyle joined with Primal Dialga (who he calls Lord Dialga) his friends felt that he was a traitor and cut ties with him. Even so, he still continues to try and stop them from changing the future. This leads up to the events of Special Episode 5, where Grovyle essentially arranges for the Sableye to kidnap Celebi as he attempts to lead Dusknoir to the same spot. As Dusknoir and Grovyle venture together, Dusknoir begins to believe that Grovyle has given up on trying to change the past. However, once the two reach Icicle Forest, Grovyle reveals that he intended to have Spiritomb prevent Celebi and Dusknoir from leaving as one last ditch effort to prevent history from being changed. Grovyle finally admits that he was doing so so that Dusknoir and Celebi wouldn't disappear. Dusknoir and Celebi both speak with him and convince Grovyle to be on their side. Naturally, Grovyle agrees and has Spiritomb release the two. Unfortunately, Primal Dialga shows up to ruin the heartfelt moment and starts attacking Grovyle. Dusknoir immediately steps in with Fire Punch, screaming at Primal Dialga and calling them a monster. Just before Primal Dialga is able to retaliate, an aurora appears, showing that the future has been changed. Dusknoir, Grovyle, and Celebi all combat Primal Dialga at the peak of Vast Ice Mountain. They are victorious and Dusknoir holds his two lovers friends in his arms as they disappear. Just like in the original Special Episode 5, all the Pokémon are returned to the future and are able to live out the rest of their lives.

Moving on to Darkrai and Cresselia :]

Oh boy these two are vastly different from canon. Darkrai is highly optimistic and hopes to make many friends (hence the Friend Bow) despite the fact that he causes nightmares wherever he goes. Meanwhile, his delusional sister Cresselia constantly puts people to sleep, saying things along the lines of "Would it not be better if everyone slept forever?" Essentially, Darkrai is constantly trying to chase her down and stop her. In this AU, Cresselia is the one responsible for the collapse of Temporal Tower and she begins distorting space after that fails. Believing Team Sunset (Amber and Oran) are in the way of her plans, she attempts to pin the distortion of space on the two children. This ultimately fails as Darkrai manages to catch up to her and convinces Palkia that Cresselia is in fact the one distorting space. Cresselia then flees to Moonlit Mountain (a dungeon near Crystal Crossing, meant to be the opposite of Dark Crater) after she taunts Amber, Oran, and Darkrai into going there. Upon reaching the pinnacle, Cresselia informs Amber that she was the cause of Amber's memory loss. She also goes on to explain that she initiated the collapse of Temporal Tower as well. Cresselia proceeds to summon six other Pokémon to fight alongside her. Once she is defeated, Cresselia opens a Dimensional Hole and gloats about her victory instead of actually escaping. Because of this, Palkia is able to show up and stop her. Unexpectedly, Darkrai leaps in front of the attack, pushing Cresselia aside. The Dimensional Hole closes and Cresselia is utterly mortified as she cries out, questioning why Darkrai would even bother to save her. Darkrai reminds her that despite everything Cresselia has done, she is still his sister and that she has the capacity to be a good person. Cresselia finally remembers why she had done everything: Cresselia was trying to protect Darkrai. After all, Darkrai was constantly harrassed for simply being himself. Cresselia believed that if she put others to sleep, then they would stop berating Darkrai. Her desires eventually grew twisted as she derived satisfaction from harming those she deemed to be evil, leading her to become the Pokémon she is in this AU. To make up for her misdeeds, she uses Lunar Dance, healing Darkrai. Palkia leaves, convinced that Cresselia will not continue to distort space. Darkrai requests to join Team Sunset, which Amber and Oran happily accept. Cresselia on the other hand, decides that she needs time alone to reflect upon her actions, but, when she is ready, she will return to the peak of Moonlit Mountain for a fair battle should Team Sunset wish to recruit her.

That's my take on this AU! I'm not sure if anyone else has made this AU before I have. If someone has, I'd love to see their iteration of it!! Thank you for taking time to read this! I know it was really long, but I hope it was at least of some interest to you :] I might draw more of this AU, but I am (slowly) working on a different PMD 2 AU idea I had so I might not draw too much of this AU in the future :/

#HOUGH I FINALLY FINISHED HOORAY!!!!! #I am absolutely not normal about this AU please feel free to ask any questions about it!!! #chimchar #amber/chimchar #treecko #oran/treecko #dusknoir #dialga #grovyle #cresselia #darkrai #au #swap au #pmd #pmd2 #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd explorers #pmd eos #pokemon #heropartnerweek #heropartnerweek2023 #well since you're looking through these tags I'll give you a little treat: I'll tell about another AU I've thought of!! #the AU I'm writing a fic for is where Darkrai becomes the hero and ends up having to share a body with hero #hero can't use Darkrai's move and vice versa but they're still super strong #I'm going to be using my eos team for that and I might post it here once I've written at least 3 chapters but idk :] #anyway thank you so much for reading my rant!!!! ily /p and hope you have a wonderful day or night!!!!!!!!

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

.

"Are you awake?" she asks when she cracks open the door.

His room is dark, he is tangled in his own bedsheets, his face half-buried in a pillow when he replies, "Indubitably."

The door opens fully, then shuts again, and a few moments later Sotha Sil feels Almalexia crawling into his bed. He tries to remember when she started doing this, simply inviting herself into his space without permission, and he realises that she's been doing it since they were children, and it's far too late in their lives for him to reprimand her on the concept of personal space. He feels her arranging herself in his unwashed blankets, feels a strand of her Queenly hair fall over his pillow and hit the back of his neck. He waits patiently for her to make herself comfortable.

"How long have you been in bed?" she finally asks. "It reeks in here."

"Twenty-six hours and thirty-seven minutes," Sotha Sil replies. "Excluding brief excursions to attend to basic bodily functions."

"Why are you talking like an arcane manual?"

"Only those of insufficient intellect find my locution abstruse. Contemplate acquiring a thesaurus."

"Sil." And he feels her roll over to face him. "You're the one being abstruse."

"Incorrect utilisation of that lexeme."

"You're an incorrect utilisation of a lexeme."

"A clumsy attempt to flirt with me, if that's the purpose for which you've intercalated yourself within my location of slumber."

"Go outside," Almalexia complains. "See the sunlight. Interact with a woman. Or let me bring you something to read that's not a dictionary."

"I'm still practising my Dwemeris," Sotha Sil rebuts, though his voice has sunk down to a sleepy mumble again. "Perusing the dictionary is a credible use of my temporal imprisonment within the mortal sphere."

Mercifully for the both of them, Almalexia lets him lapse into silence.

And it's almost cozy, the two of them lying there, even though they do not touch.

And finally Almalexia asks, "Does staying in bed help you?"

"It's not meant to help," Sotha Sil replies.

"Would you like me to take you somewhere?"

"You'll carry me-- where, the council-room? I wouldn't be a welcome sight in a meeting, like this."

"There's no meetings, the council won't be in session for a few months yet. We have nothing to do."

"I'm content here, thank you."

And, funnily enough, she seems to be, too. She does not move, but she does not argue with him either. Though the bed is not large, they still do not touch.

"You're welcome to experiment," Sotha Sil finally says.

"Experiment."

"With lying here. See what the outcome might be."

"You said it doesn't help."

Finally, he finds a modicum of life somewhere in his tired dead limbs. Finally, he rolls over to face her. He's surprised to find that Almalexia has been lying very close to his back, her face is now only inches from his. As if skeptical of her existence he presses a thumb gently against her cheek, and finds it warm, and a little damp, and real.

She mistakes this investigation for an invitation; she draws him into an embrace, folds him into her chest. He feels her breath in his greasy hair, and her sharp fingernails somewhere behind his shoulder-blades. He settles his face into the space under her neck and feels very resigned.

"I'm going insane again," Almalexia confesses.

She admits this with terrible reluctance. Sotha Sil can only assume it's quite frustrating for a megalomaniac to be betrayed by her own mind, just as he, the artificer, is endlessly frustrated by the betrayals of his own body.

"I know," he says.

"I thought I'd lie here with you, until it… resolves itself."

"Insanity is not influenza." Sotha Sil mumbles into her chest. "I doubt the ailment may be rectified by a little rest. Start with a different hypothesis."

"I'm not expecting it to help... What would you say if I confessed that I'm scared of hurting someone?"

"I would be flattered that you chose me as acceptable collateral."

She doesn't even bother to reassure him as to his collateral status. "Just," she begins. Then she pauses. Then she says, "Please stop me if I do try to hurt someone."

"I don't care if you do," Sotha Sil replies.

"Seht."

"Hurt everyone in the world if you wish. The world allowed House Sotha… it doesn't matter to me who suffers, I am incapable of caring about that or anything else."

Almalexia lets out a sigh so heavy that he feels her body sag around him. She holds him a little more tightly, shoves her Queenly face into his unkempt head and inhales.

"That's why I came to you," she admits, miserable. "I knew you'd give me permission."

#fic #there's traumabonding and then there's whatever the tribunal have going on

[mixotrophics]

whale baleen moment! From a minke whale that had been beached ( :( ) and died ( :(((( ) (baleen collected by a marine mammologist, cleaned, and given to me) Very small baleen, only about 10cm or so. baleen can be Metres Long though and that is so weird and cool!

Some fun facts about baleen: 1) made of keratin like human hair and rhino horns 2) grows continuously in fairly solid “sheets” which gain the feathery bristles (shown better right below) by grinding against other sheets of baleen (much like rat teeth, this grinding makes sure the baleen doesn’t get too big for the whale’s mouth!)

3) as the baleen grows and wears down continuously, a piece of baleen will have a temporal arrangement of molecules, in terms of when the whale consumed the molecule (and assimilated it into baleen growth) that means a piece of baleen can be analysed to reveal the whale’s diet and where it has been living (though the assimilation rates of isotopes into the whale needs to be considered here) -- there have been studies into using this to get a better idea of how much pollution a whale has been exposed to so we can keep better track of their health!

ah... remember how I said this was small baleen? Well, the size of baleen can help you figure out how a whale feeds. there are three main types of feeding in baleen whales: lunge, skim, and sediment. Lunge feeding is when the whale rockets forward, opens its mouth, and takes a big gulp of water. Skim feeding is when the whale swims with its mouth open. Sediment/bottom feeding is when the baleen is used to comb thru the sea floor for critters. Long baleen with a high surface area is useful for skim feeding since it means you can have your mouth nice and wide to catch more things... but long baleen wouldn’t be great for digging around in the mud, so sediment feeders have short and robust baleen. And this size difference can be HUGE! for context, here’s my stylishly-censored hand next to a skim feeder’s baleen. The little one next to it is closer to the minke whale baleen in the first and second image (though a bit bigger)... that’s a sediment feeder’s baleen !

more about baleen whale feeding types here, because lunge feeding is fcked up lmao

#whale #baleen whale #cetaceans #marine mammals #marine biology #zoology #mammals #vertebrates #science #biology #sciblr #bioblr #baleen #miaow

[rotworld]

11: Slither

(previous)

something strange is going on at the university.

->briefly suggestive. contains gore, drugging, mentions of child neglect.

.

.

.

You can still smell it.

Death. Blood and snow. Stiff corpses left in purposeful poses, waiting for you to open your eyes. Bits of brain on the pillow next to yours. Heads like roadkill. You barely eat all day, too sick to your stomach. 

He was in your room. He stood at your bedside, watching you sleep. One by one, he dragged their bodies inside and arranged them like old friends sleeping off a party, close and intimate. And then he just left. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Rushing from place to place, fleeing the snow? Can you go anywhere? Can you stay with anyone? How many chances do you get before he finishes the job? You wish you’d asked more questions. But if anyone knows anything, you’ll find them at the University. 

You’ve driven for hours without stopping, afraid of the weather changing. You adjust your route, taking the road east. The scenery becomes strange as the sun goes down. A clock tower looms just off the shoulder of the road, red brick and Verlinda-touched by strangling vines. An oak tree grows clumps of green-tinged parking tickets instead of leaves. A patch of wildflowers grows in the shape and colors of a University sweatshirt. This is a good sign; it means you’re close.

Macbride University used to be located in Bevin, a small town torn to shreds by a particularly vicious shift in a time before anchorware. Those disparate pieces still exist throughout the Drift. Several of its hiking trails landed in the Stillwoods back when it was Green Valley, albeit with noticeable spatial and temporal distortion, and the art museum was excavated in the south end of Primsville. None are more remarkable than the University which emerged along the highway, fully intact, still containing a bewildered student body and faculty who were oblivious to the sudden relocation. 

Today, it’s a city of its own. A costly, meticulously maintained perimeter of anchorware has given it an unusual amount of stability—you can almost always find it towards the east of the Drift. Still, the shift that ripped it from its foundations from Bevin left a mark on the fabric of reality and the University has a tendency of shedding like a thick-coated dog, each relocation lodging bits and pieces of town into the surrounding highway. They make for useful landmarks, and you’ve never been quite so relieved to see them as you are now.

Soon, you’re passing beneath streetlights and blending into campus traffic, flanked by stately lecture halls with stone columns and arching doorways. “WELCOME,” the artsy metal sign on the overpass says, “TO MACBRIDE UNIVERSITY.”

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: PAPAOUTAI BY STROMAE]

You’re familiar with the University. It’s one of your preferred destinations to make deliveries. Navigation is simple. Every building is named and labeled by black stone plaques, every district easily found by following a network of blue road signs. Every section of the city, from the tidy bureaucratic buildings of the Administration District to the picturesque Tudor manors of the Residential District, have reserved courier parking spaces and dedicated exchange offices.

The campus is beautiful. Blushing autumn trees line the cobblestone paths. Cloister gardens are tucked inside the labyrinthine sprawl of college buildings and canopied walkways, quiet corners flush with greenery. You can smell the cloying earthy sweetness of the egg gardens. The College of Medicine stretches across a hilltop overlooking the rest of the campus. You pull into your designated spot outside one of the libraries and pull your deliveries out of the trunk.

The box from Compass Hill is slim but heavy with anchorware, wooden lit stamped with the old textile factory logo. The Stag gave you something the shape of a small glass jar but wrapped in layer after layer of protective coverings; newsprint, bandage wrappings, some kind of thick, glossy leaves.

The library is modern but cozy, earthy colors, tall arch windows and wooden furniture. Students flit through the shelves and crack open thick, dusty tomes beneath warm table lamps. The woman at the reference desk calls Dr. Loyola down to take your delivery. You’re invited to help yourself to tea, coffee, or any of the books while you wait. Most of what’s on the shelves is too dense and dry for you, seventh edition treatises on acute shift sickness and investigations into anomalous anchorware radiation. You sit down with a drink and your map, considering where you’ll go next. You scratch out the motel with a giant X.

“Is that painsilk, by any chance?” 

You look up and find someone leaning over your table, resting one hand on the lid of the wooden box. He—or she, perhaps, beautiful and androgynous in a loose knit sweater and black jeans, wavy brown hair just long enough to tie into a low ponytail with a red ribbon—is young but not as young as some of the others milling about the library. A graduate student, maybe, or a new professor. 

“You can stop guessing. I’m not a man or a woman, and would rather not be referred to as such.” You quickly apologize but they seem unbothered, waving off your tension. “You didn’t know. Now you do.” They pull out the chair across from you and sit casually, an elbow resting on the table, chin set against their hand. “Ah, I haven’t gotten to ask this in a little while. Where are you from? And where will you go after this?”

You hadn’t expected to meet a child of the road here, but there’s no reason why you wouldn’t. People come to the University from all across the Drift. “I’m from somewhere to the northwest. Not sure where I’m headed next, depends what I get to deliver.” 

“Oooh, cryptic,” they say with a grin. “I like that. Mind if I see your map?” You pass it across the table and they flip it around, dragging their finger over your hasty scribbles. “You’re not from any of these, then? Compass Hill? Rivermouth?” You shake your head. They hum thoughtfully. “Have you not marked your ‘home’ due to physical constraints, such as the size of the paper, or is it simply irrelevant information?” 

You don’t like the flippant way they say “home,” like it’s nothing but a mirage. “Does it matter?” you ask. 

They seem surprised by your hostility. “Ah, my turn to apologize,” they say, hands raised in a placating gesture. They slide the map back to you. “I’m asking from a place of genuine curiosity. I’m studying children of the road for a research project. For all the hearsay and rumor, there’s not much reliable information about people like you and I. My current hypothesis draws on the fundamental mechanics of micro-metaspatial alignment, so I’ve been trying to get better geographical distribution data. Physical birthplace versus metaphysical point of origin, the birthplace of parents if applicable…”

“What about you?” you ask. “Where are you from?” 

“Hm? I have no idea.” 

You pause, waiting for elaboration. They offer none. “Okay, but where is it?” you press.

“Now who’s being belligerent?” they say, but they’re grinning as if they’re enjoying the banter. “I just told you, I have no idea. I have no inner compass, no little tugging sensation in my chest. I don’t dream about it.” They shrug, as though they didn’t just tell you the most horrifying thing you’ve ever heard. “Anyway. This is painsilk, right? The Department of Paraphysics is expanding and we need a few specialty construction materials. I don’t suppose I could ask you for a ride that way? The last bus ran an hour ago.” 

“I don’t mind,” you say. “But I can’t leave yet. I’m waiting for someone to pick something up.” 

“I’ll wait with you, then, if you aren’t sick of me yet. I’m Jamie, by the way.” 

After your rocky introduction to one another, you reassess Jamie as blunt but friendly. They introduce themselves in a rapid bullet point list: paraphysicist, avid science fiction reader, tea snob. Their graduate thesis was about the reproductive behaviors and cycles of a coffin shroudweed colony in the Stillwoods. 

“I actually lived with the colony for two years. They were incredibly open with me. Gave a few…hands-on demonstrations,” they add with a wink. “But in all seriousness, I was there in the first place to settle a dispute. The Stillwoods municipal government had come up with this frankly abhorrent development plan for new luxury housing where the shroudweed live. It was fine to bulldoze everything and douse it in pesticides, they said, because shroudweed are aggressive, mindless and invasive.” They scoff. “Aggressive? Not in the least, unless you disturb the mycelial creche where their young grow. Definitely not mindless, either. Communication was difficult but completely possible, we worked out a system of shared symbols. Invasive, then…” They laugh bitterly. “What a useless word in the Drift. You and I are invasive, by that logic. They won’t say it out loud, but they will say it in all sorts of quiet ways.” 

Dr. Loyola is still wearing his University staff lanyard when he arrives, photo ID dangling from his neck. You hand him the jar and tell him it’s from the Stag. He looks understandably alarmed and rushes off with the strange thing cradled in both hands, careful not to shake it. You decide you don’t want to know.

Jamie follows you out to your car, sliding into the passenger seat when you move the egg box on the floor behind you. You notice them looking around with interest, studying the interior, the food you have stashed away, opening your glove box to glance inside, but they don’t disturb anything. “I envy couriers,” they say. “The grass is always greener, I’m sure, but still. Perhaps I do still have some trace of that wanderlust instinct we’re all supposed to have.”

You shrug. “It’s different for everyone. I’ve met children of the road who can’t imagine ever leaving home again, wherever they find it. For those of us who keep moving, it’s the same. I can’t imagine sitting still.”

“Do you remember your parents?” 

The sudden shift in topic makes you pause. “No,” you say. “I might’ve been abandoned. Or maybe they’re the ones who left me in Compass Hill.”

Their gaze softens. “I see. Rejection is unfortunately common. The lucky ones will find new families, but I know that’s not the norm.” 

“Is that why you’re not a courier?” you ask. “You’re one of the lucky ones?” 

Jamie gets quiet. You glance over and their smile has turned stiff, not quite meeting their eyes. “Oh, yes,” they say. “I was very lucky.”

You take a winding path back down the hill, following the signs guiding you to the Paraphysics Department. This isn’t a part of campus you’re familiar with. These buildings are much newer, designed with an unpleasant mix of hard Gothic angles and bizarre alien curves. Cathedral towers curve and twist. Windows are misshapen, squished ovals as though melting in their frames. Halls are joined by spiraling aerial walkways. Jamie directs you to Lyman Hall, a building shaped like a frozen wave. A new section is affixed to one end, skeletal scaffolding that bends and twists in ways that don’t seem possible.

Jamie sets their hand on your shoulder as you take your keys out of the ignition. You’ve noticed in just a short time that they’re very physical, walking close, frequently touching your hand or back to get your attention. “I should warn you before we go in,” they say hesitantly. “A lot of my colleagues are…eccentric.”

You ask, “More than you?”

“A courier and a comedian? Come on.” 

You tuck the box under your arm and follow Jamie through the front doors. Lyman Hall is just as confusing on the inside. You feel like you’ve somehow found yourself in the old, majestic building of another department with grand, ornately framed church-like windows and antique decor, but everything is just ever so slightly off. The angles are strange. The hallway looks lopsided and half-sinking. A spiral staircase rises into nothing, abruptly ending just short of the rounded ceiling.

“They used to run artificial shifts here to study their effects,” Jamie explains. “It’s done some odd things to the architecture.” They gesture for you to follow, leading you down a hallway that’s much longer than it looks. “Do you know much about shifts? What happens during one, and why?” 

“Not really,” you admit. 

Their eyes light up. You get the feeling this is something they don’t get to explain often. “Think of it like this: this is us.” They lift their hand, bent at a ninety-degree angle with their palm facing the floor. “This is our home and all the rules that hold it together. We’re so small and so deep inside that it’s all we know. It’s hard to even imagine that there could be more. But there is.” They raise their other hand parallel. “This is another plane. It might be like ours with similar rules, or it might be completely incomprehensible to us. Now, different planes normally exist at different frequencies. They’re like ghosts to one another, invisible. They would pass right through each other without any interaction, any knowledge of one another whatsoever. But, rarely, those frequencies might change. They might start to harmonize, you could say. And when they do…”

Jamie brings their hands closer, fingers lacing together. 

“They run into each other?” you guess.

“That’s one type of shift, yes. But it’s not always a collision. Sometimes it’s more like a merging. The technical term is a ‘superposition event.’ Two or more cosmic planes occupying the same location, existing at the same frequency, at the same time. In most of the world, this phenomenon is incredibly rare and incredibly brief. Thirty-four have been recorded throughout all of human history, most lasting between one to six seconds.”

“That can’t be right,” you say. “We have one at least once a week. They last hours.” 

“Those numbers only apply outside the Drift. This place has always been especially prone to them. We’re not sure why.” 

You’ve heard that the world outside the Drift is “much more stable” but never truly understood what that meant. Thirty-four, for the whole world, for as long as humans have been writing things down? Does anything change out there? Is it all the same for centuries, for millennia at a time? How do they plan trips if everything is always the same distance away and never any closer? What grows on their trees if not eggs?

Jamie turns suddenly into an open doorway and leads you into what looks like an old laboratory. The floor is scuffed, stained wood, tables and workstations wooden with polished stone counters. A diagram of a fringed, worm-like creature has been partially erased on a blackboard.  Chemicals and labeled specimens in glass jars line the shelves along the walls. Jamie flicks the lightswitch by the door and you realize there are several people huddled around one of the tables near the back of the room, heads lowered, muttering to each other, apparently standing around in the dark prior to your arrival. 

They all look up at the same time, still as statues and staring right at you. A moment passes in tense, terrifying silence, and then they all relax. 

“Silk’s here,” Jamie calls.

“Ah, excellent!” one says. It’s a woman in a lab coat and small, oval glasses, her dark hair cropped short. She regards you with a smile, coming over to take the box. “Oh, you have no idea how much we appreciate this. Superposition-affected structures aren’t easy to repair, or remodel, or really do anything with. This should do just the trick. Ah, where are my manners?” She offers a handshake. “I’m Olivia Higgs.”

You blink. “Higgs? As in…?” 

“Pioneer of modern paraphysics and paraphysical biology? Yeah, that Dr. Higgs,” Jamie says wryly. 

Dr. Higgs is a household name. Your current understanding of the Drift is almost entirely thanks to her. Her approachable, layman-friendly books on shift safety and Drift wildlife are required reading for couriers who want to survive their job. You have an old, dog-eared and partially rain-soaked copy of Drift Eggs and You: A Beginner Forager's Guide in your car. 

“Oh,” is all you can think to say. 

“And I see you’ve already met my…” Dr. Higgs pauses for an uncomfortably long time, her enthusiasm wavering. “My, ah. My child. Jamie.” She tilts her head slightly as though listening to something, her gaze vacant. “My…Jamie? Jamie?” 

Jamie wraps their arm around you quickly, tugging you back a step, closer to the door. “Well, I’ll get them all settled in.” 

“Wh—settled in?” you ask.

They turn their arm, checking their watch. You see three needles moving at three different tempos across the clock’s face, none of which seem to be measuring conventional time. “The next shift hits in a couple hours. You can stay at my place tonight, I have a spare bedroom.” 

Dr. Higgs shiver. “Jamie? What’s—? Oh my god. Oh my god!” She starts to scream. Jamie’s hand tightens on your shoulder and they draw you back another step, urging you to leave the room. Dr. Higgs claws at her own face, nails raking over her eyes and nose, leaving long, bloodied scratch marks all the way to her chin. She shrieks in thoughtless terror, throwing herself to the ground and curling up into a ball. The other researchers rush to her side, keeping her hands pinned far away from her face, but you see a gushing wound where she tore her forehead open, a rough, circular hole she gouged into herself in desperation.

“GET IT OUT!” she screams. “GET IT OUT GET IT OUT GET IT OUT GET IT OUT—”

Jamie slams the door to the lab shut, leans back against it, and lets out a long sigh. You can still hear Dr. Higgs shrieking. “I didn’t want you to see that,” they mutter. 

You nod numbly. You have no idea what to ask, if you should even ask anything. There’s a loud thud, the sound of chairs scraping, sprinting footsteps up to the door and something pounding against it. 

“Open the door, Jamie!” she shrieks. “Open this door right fucking now and HELP ME!”

Jamie stays where they are as the door jolts and rattles against their back. They close their eyes and take another deep breath, letting out slowly. The banging stops and you hear dragging, Dr. Higgs still screaming, still calling Jamie’s name, sobbing and cursing, as she’s pulled away. “My mother has…fits,” Jamie says. You can’t help but notice they say “mother” not unlike the way they said “home” earlier. “It’s some kind of paranoia. She’s amassed a broad body of work over the course of her career, but her specialty is actually Drift parasites.” 

“So she thinks she’s…infected with something?” you say. 

“Something like that.” 

You stand there in silence for a while. The weeping in the lab gradually tapers off. You hear movement. A gentle knock at the door. “Jamie? I’m so sorry. I’m fine now,” Dr. Higgs says. “Is the courier still there? Did you tell them—”

“Yep,” Jamie says. “We’re going to go now. Don’t stay up too late tonight.” 

“Alright. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Mom.” Jamie smiles at you, as if there’s nothing to worry about. When you don’t move, they clear their throat and step away from the door, gesturing back the way you came. “Why don’t we head home? It’s late, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired.” They start moving and all but drag you with them, a hand on your back to keep you heading for the exit. 

“Is she okay? Are you okay?” you ask. “Are you sure she’s not—?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” they say, their smile strained. They make you walk a little faster.

Jamie lives in a small cottage in the Residential District. There’s a fence at the front with a latching gate and flowering shrubs growing beneath the windows. The interior is cluttered but cozy. Papers with handwritten margin notes are strewn across the kitchen counter. An unfinished jigsaw puzzle is scattered across the living room table. All the pillows on the couch are pushed into one corner, a tasseled blanket hanging across the back. They make you tea, fragrant and slightly sweet, and some eggs to go with it.

“It’s really good,” you say.

“Rosemary peppermint,” they say proudly, sipping their own generous helping from a University mug. “There’s just a pinch of salt and honey in there, a little bit of milk. I’ve always wanted to show it off to someone, but, ah. I never have company.” They glance at you a few times, tapping their fingers on the counter. 

You’re escorted to a guest room upstairs that looks significantly less lived in, the bed neatly made, the decor sparse save for a house plant on the window sill. Jamie lingers in the doorway while you settle in, going through your backpack. “Would you…” They trail off, not looking you in the eye. “Would you be willing to take me with you in the morning, when you leave?” 

You look up in surprise. “I could,” you say cautiously. “If you’re sure. Where would you wanna go?” 

Jamie leans against the doorframe, smiling bitterly. “Ah, of course. This looks bad, doesn’t it? Like I’m abandoning my mother when she needs me. It’s not like that, I promise. I’ve been planning to do some field research for a while now.” They cross the room quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you. Their hand finds yours, settling on top of it. “Maybe I can explain it better in the morning,” they offer, shifting closer. “I just…don’t want to think right now.”

The kiss takes you by surprise. They’re gentle at first, almost shy. Their lips are soft and their hands are wandering restlessly, one cupping your cheek, the other smoothing down your chest. They swallow your quiet, startled gasp and it seems to embolden them. Quick, fleeting kisses grow longer and hungrier, more forceful. They’re pushing against you, a hand on your shoulder easing you down onto the bed. 

“Jamie?” You barely manage to get the word out with their mouth moving against yours. “Hey, wait—”

You push against their chest and they pull back with obvious reluctance. Their hand lingers under the bottom of your shirt, fingertips ghosting over your bare stomach. “You don’t want to?” 

“That’s not…” You trail off. Suddenly, you don’t feel good. You feel yourself breaking out in a cold sweat. The room is spinning. The room is spinning. You try to sit up but Jamie pushes you back down easily. 

“You’re alright,” they murmur. “Shhhh, you’re alright. Close your eyes. You’re going to sleep really, really well tonight, I promise.” They lean in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and then their weight lifts from the bed. The lights flick off. You hear gentle humming. The door, gently pulled shut. You fight to stay awake but it’s a losing battle, your limbs too heavy to lift. Jamie’s footsteps go back down the stairs and the noise is distorted as you drift in and out of consciousness, too loud, muddled like you’re hearing them underwater. 

You think you can hear them talking to someone in hushed, excited whispers.

(next)

#rotpeach writes #goretober #the drift