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estherdedlock · 2 years

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Of course, now I can’t stop thinking about where the remains of our Greek class would be today.

The trouble with this exercise is that we’re not sure how old they’d be, because we don’t really know when the events of The Secret History take place. Donna Tartt does a good job of giving us almost no chronological milestones to ground the book in a particular year. Richard is narrating from nine years after Bunny’s death: since TSH was published in 1992, that would put the story’s setting in 1983. But references to certain things in the book would suggest a later time. Richard goes to see a Vietnam War movie starring Charlie Sheen with the fictitious name of Fields of Shame: its real-life counterpart, Platoon, was released in December 1986. Later in the novel, we find mentions of compact discs and laptop computers, which would place the story in the late 1980s or even the early 1990s (part of me thinks that these were editor’s suggestions to make the book feel more up-to-date).

Since Donna Tartt attended Bennington from 1982 to 1986, she would have started her junior year in 1984. Richard transfers to Hampden at the start of his junior year, so I’m going to use that as my benchmark and say that the action of TSH takes place between the fall of 1984 and the spring of 1985. Francis is 21, so he would now be 58. Richard and the Macaulays would be 57.

Francis is the easy one, because Donna Tartt herself told us what became of him. In The Goldfinch, he makes a brief appearance as one of Hobie’s wealthy New York friends/clients. There’s no mention of “Mr. Abernathy” having a wife or children, so we can assume that Priscilla has been out of the picture for quite some time. Francis appears to have a reasonably good life, even if, as Theo Decker says, he seems to have “some ill-articulated scandal or disgrace in his past.” (Such a tease, that Donna Tartt!) This is what Francis was up to in 2013, at least---unless he got very sick or started a relationship with someone, there isn’t any reason to believe that he’d be doing anything different by now.

Richard, I think, predicted his own future when he was speculating about Henry’s: “I had always pictured Henry teaching Greek, in some forlorn but excellent college out in the Midwest.”

(I’ll briefly pause so we can all recover from the terrifying prospect of having Henry Winter as a college professor.)

Whew, okay. Moving on...

I can’t imagine that Richard would have stayed in California, not when he hated it so much. And yet, I can’t see him returning to New England, or anywhere in the Northeast: too many memories. The Midwest would be a perfect place for Richard to have landed...and for some inexplicable reason, I’m specifically thinking Wisconsin. Of course he’s a professor: his education hasn’t really trained him for anything except academia. But not Greek---English literature. He’s rumpled and tweedy and still rather boyishly good-looking. At least a quarter of his class has a crush on him. He may have been married at some point, but no longer. He doesn’t have any children.

I’m probably getting too Sebastian Flyte-ish with Charles, but I’m sorry to say that I think he’d be dead by now. I think he may have committed suicide, or just let himself decline so far into alcoholism and eventual drug addiction that it was basically a slow suicide. Or it may have been the sort of accident that plagues troubled people: a car wreck, a house fire, a bad fall down the stairs. But then again, you never know. If Charles somehow managed to pull himself back from the brink, I think he’d only have been able to do it with the help of some kind of religion---not because of his substance abuse issues, but because of his guilty conscience. I don’t see him getting deep into Christianity, though, maybe something like Buddhism. Perhaps he’s up in the Himalayas, with a shaved head and orange robes. And there we’ll leave him.

Camilla is a novelist. She would have needed to make money somehow, but I don’t see her doing blue-collar work or embarking on a corporate career (for which she would have had to go back to school, anyway). When we last saw her in TSH, she seemed to have committed herself to taking care of her grandmother and eking out a living on whatever was left of the family money (so Southern Gothic!). That would have given her ample time to write.

Funny thing is, I see her being financially successful but not the sort of writer who’s a darling of the critics or a household name (she doesn’t write under her own name at all). Maybe she’s had a career like Andrew Neiderman, who’s been writing as “V.C. Andrews” since the real Andrews died more than 30 years ago. Or maybe she reliably churns out cozy mysteries and romances, the kind that you buy at the drugstore, read at the beach, and then leave for someone else at the laundromat. This is by choice: Camilla doesn’t want to be famous. She wants to be comfortable, and left alone. She still owns the family home in Virginia, which she’s beautifully restored, although she doesn’t spend much time there. Mostly, she lives at the beach, where her well-appointed bungalow is peak Coastal Grandmother aesthetic.

She’s not a grandmother, though, or a mother, and has never been anyone’s wife. She is as solitary in her habits as she ever was...no, more so. She takes long walks on the beach, alone. She goes to mass every Sunday and holy day, but never receives Communion. She reads Greek in the evenings, listening to the waves roll in.

She has never stopped loving Henry.

#the secret history #donna tartt #dark academia #francis abernathy #richard papen #charles macaulay #camilla macaulay #henry winter

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liminalpebble · 1 year

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Violet: Chapter 1, Providence

Masterlist Link

Summary: The solitary Reverend Ransome leaves the empty nest of his home in Essex, beginning his life as a professor in London. His expectation of a contemplative religious life as a pious widower is complicated by an odd and alluring foreign student, Violetta Vespero. How can the conflicted vicar keep his gaze and worship skyward with such delicious temptations before him on Earth?

Will Ransome (The Essex Serpent) x Original Female Character

CW: Sacrilege all over the place, slow Burn to smut, angst, multi-parter, probably pretty historically inaccurate

Chapter 1: Providence

Will reclined in his modest room in the spartan London seminary. He had trouble sleeping in the sea of noise that roiled in the city streets every night. It was a shock to him after the quiet countryside of Essex, but he couldn't stay in that home any longer. The emptiness of it after all the life it contained was too much to bear. Stella, his beautiful delicate blue star of the sea had returned to her maker. Cora had abandoned him for a life of chasing after her fossils; her Biblical monsters buried in the clay of creation, though Cora would never think of it that way.

And the children...his beloved precocious precious children were adults now, living adventurous lives of discovery, growing into the full forms of themselves. How he missed the weight of them in his arms as he read to them when they were small. It seemed like eons ago now, and he was beginning to feel like one of Cora's skeletal beasts, buried under the sands of time.

So it was that the reverend found himself nearing the age of fifty, walking the floorboards of an empty house which once held the footprints of so many. It felt as if everyone he loved had moved on to new places and adventures to fuel their curiosity except for him. He pondered, in his little dormitory room, how he ended up here, and why. What was it he really wanted?

It seemed like an act of providence when his friend from divinity school, Father Grant, visiting one rainy day, offered a position at a ladies' college in London.

“It shouldn't be difficult work for a clever mind like yours, Will,” said Father Grant. “They're looking for a well-educated man of good character to teach the classics, literature, humanities, divinity...perhaps also foreign languages.”

“I'm not Catholic, Paul.” Will said, his deep voice almost a croak from lack of use. Aside from his hour at the pulpit every Sunday, Will cloistered himself these days, giving up his walks to visit parishioners, in favor of solitary ones in the salt air to nurse his loneliness.

“It doesn't matter, Will. These damn Jesuits are in favor of scholarly advancement and a diversity of teachers, regardless of sect. They now welcome professors with open arms so long as they show fair enough morals and credentials,” Paul huffed as if it was all an annoyance to him, but Reverend Ransome smiled, knowing his friend to be progressive and enlightened at heart, just glad for a chance to grumble.

“You said it wouldn't be difficult. It sounds like their standards are quite high.”

“Well yes, but the students are all women. Docile delicate things, either preparing themselves to be entertaining trophies for rich husbands, or readying themselves for the convent and teaching brats in the Lord's service.”

“Paul,” Will said disapprovingly, “Shame on you for being so dismissive of women. The world is progressing past such notions. Watch out, lest it leave you behind.”

Father Grant gave a deep belly laugh. “Me, Will? I think you have to worry about that a good deal more than I do.”

Ransome tapped his teacup back down with defeat and realized, begrudgingly, that his old friend was very right. By the time Grant left, Will had shaken his hand and found himself preparing to enter a new life in the city.

Now, here he was, laying in his uncomfortable bunk, in his private room, kept awake by the city noise and nervous for his first day of teaching.

Taglist: @coldnique @muddyorbs @goblingirlsarah @acidcasualties @jennyggggrrr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @icytrickster17 @pati52 @marcotheflychair @ladyofthestayingpower @gigglingtigger @alexakeyloveloki @letsg00000honey @bitchyexpertprincess @lokisgoodgirl @sweetsigyn

#lusty vicarettes #will ransome #will ransome fic #the essex serpent #sas

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glowingbadger · 2 years

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could i get a seteth and afab gender neutral reader for caught masturbating?

where reader is the one caught? maybe they aren’t actually intimate yet so it’s kinda embarrassing but then it gets hot? (sorry if this is too specific!! no hard feelings if you wanna take the prompt in a different direction!)

Another person just requested this same character/kink combination and I've been thinking about it a lot too tbh, so we are bumping this one up the list lmao. I kinda ran with it in a unique direction, but we'll see how y'all like it.

Also this is barely related, but writing this reminded me of a professor I had in college who told us about the time he met a woman who, upon speaking with him for the first time over lunch, explained to him that she had seen and had sex with Jesus in her living room the prior night. I haven't thought of this in years, but thinking back, my main concern is that our Lord and Savior is such a callous lover that he couldn't be damned to at least bring her to the bedroom.

Seteth (FE3H) x AFAB Reader

Kink prompt list #35 - Caught masturbating

NSFW 18+ V

Truly, who could blame you for being curious once Seteth had told you the truth of who he was? And to be fair, you had asked for his consent before thoroughly reading up on Saint Cichol. Though, perhaps he hadn't expected you to pursue your studies down into the hidden library of Abyss. Here, you'd found some far more colorful portrayals of the Saints. Cichol was no exception; in fact, the infamous Tome of Comely Saints was only the beginning- you'd since discovered a veritable treasure trove of scandalous and downright erotic literature centering your now-favorite Saint.

Perhaps it's because you've been so tentative about expressing your own desires to Seteth, despite having mutually confessed your affections. You want more- you know you do- but with a man so rigid and so private, how would you even approach him about such things? Surely this is how you've found yourself tucked away in a darkened aisle of the underground library late at night, face flushed and nervous fingers rubbing guiltily across your sex as you envision the shockingly explicit scene detailed on the pages. Back resting against the shelves and the book held unsteady in your free hand, you fight to stifle your breath. Your thighs rub anxiously together, you bite at your bottom lip.

The veracity of this text aside, the way it teases your imagination is shameless. It details Saint Cichol as a figure of masculine beauty, of both strength and poise. It describes the finer points of his anatomy, the skill and passion with which he made love. Your eyes fall half-lidded over words like generous, powerful, insatiable- and before you even realize, your wandering hand has slid down the front of your clothes to touch yourself more directly. You're hardly thinking, your mind whirling with fantasies of your Saint.

That's when you notice the footsteps, not more than an aisle or two away. You freeze, your heart thrashes in your chest. Then, he rounds the shelves to where you stand. The book falls from your hand, pages splayed open on the floor.

"Ah, there you are, Y/N- you really oughtn't wander about such places on your..." Seteth's brow furrows as he takes in the sight of you at last, "...own."

"Seteth-!" you gasp out, nearly breathless in your shock and humiliation. Bright red in the face, you scramble to fix your clothing back into place, and meanwhile, Seteth notices the book at your feet. He picks it up, your stomach drops.

"Seteth, wait, I- I, uh-"

His eyebrows rise, his expression one of recognition, then surprise, and then... something else. The shame burns so hot across your skin that, for a moment, you think to flee. But Seteth nears you, his taller frame looming over you as a hand meets your chin, directing your eyes to him. He speaks your name with a low rumble in his chest, and you shiver at the sound.

"It would seem that I have been rather neglectful of your needs, my love."

Disbelief rings and vibrates in your head as his hand runs along your waist, trailing down to pause just briefly at the hem of your breeches. You whisper his name and gaze up at him with wide, expectant eyes. Then, his touch dips lower beneath your clothing until you feel it rub firm between your thighs. Your knees nearly buckle then and there, but you steady yourself with your hands on the shelves behind you. His fingers, larger and stronger than your own, massage the sensitive nerves around your clit, his movements slow but firm. Your eyes plead with him, your lips hang parted as you whimper his name between panting breaths.

"While I cannot condone your behavior here, I also feel it only right to take some measure of responsibility," Seteth says, the heat in his voice a stark contrast to the formality of the words, "from now on, I shall personally ensure that your needs are met."

You're about to respond, but then his fingertips rub directly across your stiff and swollen clit, sending a shock through your core and causing you to moan aloud for him. Seteth's eyes narrow, though the pulsing of his fingers between your folds never eases.

"Hush, love. We can't have anyone overhearing you." he says, and raises a hand to cover your mouth. Goddess, it's too much. The thrill of feeling the touch you've dreamed of for so long, the transgression of him pleasuring you in such a place, and now this- that he'd forcibly stifle your voice while driving you ever closer to your climax.

Your voice muffled in his palm, Seteth carefully eases his touch towards your soaking wet cunt. You whimper, your hips bucking against him as two fingers tease your entrance, slowly and gently opening you around him, careful not to hurt you. He drives steadily deeper, stimulating parts of you that you hadn't realized had been so lonely, and you clutch the shelf behind you tighter to keep steady. Then, those fingers curl, directly massaging the nerves behind your clit, and your eyes roll back with a desperate groan that, were it not for his hand over your mouth, you're certain would have echoed through the library.

You can't withstand this for long, and sure enough, his relentless touch rapidly drives you over the edge. Tingling warmth spreads from your gushing, clinging pussy up your center and through your entire body. You're panting into his hand, barely holding yourself upright as your lower muscles squeeze and coil around him- and perhaps you're imagining it, but you swear you finally see a red tinge across his face, the heat of lust in those bright green eyes. Goddess, you're still riding out the rush of your climax, and yet all you can think of is that you want more.

Evidently, Seteth is of the same mind. When he trusts you can remain quiet, he removes his hand from your mouth and slides the other out from your clothes. He leans close and kisses you deeply, and you gladly part your lips for his tongue, eager for him despite how your legs tremble beneath you. Then, he parts from you and softly says,

"Loathe as I am to make you wait even a moment longer, I feel it best that we retire to my quarters."

With your head still spinning and your eyes hazy with need, you manage to meet his gaze and nod, only able to offer a simple,

"Uh-huh."

#seteth #fire emblem #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem smut #seteth x reader #seteth fire emblem #fire emblem x reader #fe3h x reader #kink prompts #feh #not sfw

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holdmytesseract · 2 years

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Sweet Surprise

Professor!Tom Hiddleston x fem!Reader

Request: "How about tom and the reader are newly wed and reader founds out that she is pregnant and waits for tom to come home to reveal him with her big surprise

And it could be like fluff and care and when the reader finds out she is pregnant shes worried a bit on how he may react" - Requested by @lokisrighteye :)

Summary: A routine visit at the doctor's turned out to be a surprising pregnancy reveal. You don't know how to feel about it, because you're quite a bit afraid of Tom's reaction...

Warnings: pregnancy, angst, a few swear words and a large amount of fluff

Word Count: 1,8k

a/n: I enjoyed writing this! Thanks for requesting, @lokisrighteye ! :) I hope you like it, despite the angst! ^^

All mistakes are my own. I'm sorry if I got anything wrong. I am not an expert, I just asked Google. '^^

I sat behind the steering wheel of my car, staring aimlessly out of the front window. Sighing, I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge on my nose. This all was a big joke, right? It all couldn't be real, could it? My gaze travelled over to the passenger seat. Staring right back at me was an appointment card for next month and an opened envelope. A grey-ish, black ultrasound picture peeked out of it, mocking me and reminding me every second that this was, in fact, the reality. Everything had been fine this morning. I went to the doctor's without a second thought. All I wanted was a check-up, not a pregnancy reveal!

"Well, Mrs. Hiddleston..." The friendly female doctor with reddish hair began, as she sat down opposite me. "Everything seems to be perfectly fine." She skimmed through the papers in front of her. "Except for your HCG level. It's very high." I frowned, felt already how my heartbeat increased. This could mean nothing good, right? "W-What..." I cleared my throat. "What is HCG?" Mrs. White lifted her head to look at me. "Human chorionic gonadotropin. It's a hormone. A hormone that only women have." She kindly started to explain. "The reason for a high level of HCG is simple." Mrs. White started to smile softly. "A pregnancy. Congratulations." That was the moment my world seemed to stop turning and froze on the spot. My eyes went wide - probably the size of plates. "W-What? I-I... Excuse me?" Mrs. White's smile was still present. "You are pregnant, Mrs. Hiddleston." Nope... I didn't mishear her. "Are you sure about that?" She nodded. "Yes. I checked on it." Oh shit.

Well… And here I was now, seated in my car, with an ultrasound picture and the knowledge of being ten weeks pregnant. Another sigh left my mouth. This had never been planned…

Tom and I just got married barely two months ago; had moved to Cambridge only four months ago, because of his job as an English Literature Professor. We had never talked about kids and now I was suddenly pregnant. Great. How was I supposed to tell it Tom? How was he going to react? Would he be happy about it? Or angry? Shocked, perhaps? Gods, would he leave me? The thoughts raced through my mind at lightning speed. As fast as one thought came, as fast was it gone again. I couldn't think straight. Everything was a blur. I desperately needed some fresh air. So, I drove quickly home and went for a long walk to sort out my thoughts. An hour later, I was back home and sat on the sofa with a cup of tea, still trying to process the news. Fact was, it had happened now and I desperately needed to tell it my husband...

Tom came home later than usual that evening. He had texted me earlier, saying that he needed to stay a bit longer at the university, in order to read through his students schoolwork. I waited for him, of course, sat nervously on the sofa, chewing on my nails, leg bouncing. "Darling? I am home!" Tom's voice echoed down the hallway, making me flinch. I had been lost in my thoughts once again... "Living room, babe!" I called out and stood up. Tom's large frame appeared in the doorway seconds later. The sleeves of his dark blue shirt were rolled up. The first few buttons were undone; exposing the skin of his neck and chest. His black tie hung loosely around his neck, just like the black slacks around his hips. He looked absolutely stunning in the dimmed light of our living room. "Hi, darling." From now on, it was just about finding the right time to tell Tom the news and well... Finding the courage to do it. "Hey..." I stepped over to him with a smile on my face, tried to play it cool. I wrapped my arms loosely around his middle, hugging him. Tom smiled as well and dipped his head in order to catch my lips for a soft kiss. "How was your day, love?" He asked, tangling his arms around me as well. I swallowed, felt the nervosity kick in once again. "Exciting..." I shortly considered to tell it Tom now, right then and there - but as fast as the courage took over me, as fast was it gone again. "Yours?" "Good, but long. I think it's been a long time since I came home that late from work..." "I think so, too, but it's okay, babe. I know how much you love your job." Tom just smiled and kissed me once again. "I am going to cook us something now. Does my pretty wife have a special wish for dinner?" My heart fluttered at his words. "Hmm... Pasta?" Tom nodded. "Pasta it is then." With a last kiss, he let go of me. Tom was about to turn his back and walk away, when I stopped him by calling his name. "Tom?" "Yes?" He froze in his movements. His eyes landed on me; a soft smile settled on his lips. Do it, Y/N! I told myself. Do it now! My brain screamed at me to just say it – but of course, I didn't. "I love you." "I love you, too, darling." Tom gave me an even bigger smile, before he left the living room for real this time. As soon as he was out of sight, I released the breath I didn't know I held. "Shit..." Why was this so difficult? Two words... It was only two simple words. Ugh...

I joined Tom in the kitchen a little while later, after I tried to put my shit together - for the thousandth time this day. My husband stood at the kitchen counter, cutting a few cherry tomatoes. I walked past him to pour myself a glass of water, before I decided to help him cook. Tom's eyes followed me the whole time. He knew that something was off. I could tell. It was only a matter of time, until he would ask me. As soon as we were finished with cooking and everything was simmering on the stove, Tom stirred the sauce and then turned around to face me. He leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest, eyeing me closely. This was it. "Darling... Is everything alright? You've been... very quiet and withdrawn. You didn't talk much either and seemed quite on edge, always in thoughts..." He looked at me concerned; blue eyes filled with worry. I sighed and started to play nervously with the cord of my hoodie. "Yes, uh... I... Actually not, no. I-I am afraid we need to talk." Tom nodded understandably. "Okay... Would you like to talk now?" Now or never, I thought. "Yes, but... Can we take a seat? You might need the chair to keep you from tipping over." Tom swallowed hard, "Sure." and sat down opposite me at the dining table across the room. His blue eyes were settled on my face, radiating nothing but comfort and love. He waited patiently for me to speak, didn't urge me to do so. I took a deep breath. "You know that I was at the doctor's this morning?" Tom nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes. You told me yesterday everything." I recognised the concern in his voice. He was clearly worried. I didn't want him to worry, so I jumped straight into action. "I am okay, babe, please don't worry. It's just... Mrs. White found out that I, uh... That I..." I had to take another deep breath. "I'm pregnant, Tommy." It felt so good to finally jump over my shadow and get this off my chest - although I was still afraid of Tom's reaction. And Tom? Tom just looked at me, mouth agape. Was that a good or bad sign? I didn't know and I certainly couldn't tell. "T-Tommy?" I called his name softly, trying to get through to him. "Say something, please." He didn't, causing my brain to envision every possible worst-case scenario. I tried to hastily splatter out an apology. "I-I am so sorry, Tom. I-I know we never talked about this and now it happened and-" "You're pregnant?" He suddenly asked, interrupting me. "Y-Yes and I am so sor-" I cut off my own sentence, when I looked back at him. His ocean blue eyes were brimming with tears and he had the biggest, sweetest smile I had ever seen, on his face. He was... crying? He was... happy? I stared at him, blinking rapidly. "You're pregnant." Tom repeated, a tear rolling down his cheek. Before I could even catch up with what was happening, he was standing in front of me, pulling me off the chair and into his arms. He held onto me tightly; his head buried in my neck. I could feel his tears wetting the fabric of my hoodie. I needed a minute to grasp this all. To just get along and realise that Tom was, in fact, happy. I retreated from his hug to look him straight in the eyes, seeing that they were still clouded with tears. "You're happy about it?" I just had to ask. Tom snorted out a laugh, the tears falling again. "Of course, I am happy, darling! We're going to have a baby! A baby!" That was the moment, where my brain finally caught up. I joined his laughter, tears welling up in my eyes as well. We were going to have a baby! I couldn't help myself but to stand on my tiptoes and kiss him stormy. Tom hugged me again closer to his body and lifted me up off the ground, giving me the opportunity to wrap my legs around him.

We were both a crying and giggling mess when we parted again. "This..." Tom started and placed his hand on my belly. "This is going to be wonderful." I nodded, cupped his cheeks with my hands. "Yes." Tom pressed another fierce kiss on my lips, overwhelmed by his sheer happiness. We relished for another few moments the happiness we felt, until Tom suddenly jumped away from me. He literally rushed over to the stove. I frowned at first and followed him with my eyes. I started to giggle as he hurried to finish dinner like a scalded cat. "What are you doing, babe?" Tom set up the table at lightning speed, before he came quickly over to me and guided me back to my chair and sat me down. "You need to eat more, now that you are pregnant!" He filled my plate to the brim with Pasta. "Tommy!" I giggled. "And we need to make sure that you get all the vitamins and nutrients you need!" I shook my head, smiling and looked at him adoringly. What a sweetheart he was. One thing was certain... This man was going to be a wonderful dad. That much I knew.

#tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x pregnant reader

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lake-archive · 5 months

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Track 1

Fandom: Hypnosis Mic

Series: Secret Archives

Characters: Ann Wolff (OC), Gentaro Yumeno

AO3 Link

Track List - Track 2

Today was a day which was supposed to be rather exciting. In fact, Ann had almost been unable to sleep when just thinking about it. After all, one of the most renowned authors had decided to visit their university to hold a reading. It was last minute and one had to apply quickly or all the seats would have been taken right away. Then again, anyone studying the field of literature of any kind would not want to miss out on this, wanting to see and hear from one of the most respected authors of modern times. And they were no exception to this. No, they were more than eager, perhaps a little too eager for someone’s liking. And yet they had no reason to not be excited. After all, as an upcoming author themself, or rather wanting to work hard to achieve their dream of also publishing their very own book. After all, if a guy who is barely older than them can do it, they sure should be able to pull it off as well! Then again, they also had their studies in literature itself to focus on so the dream of becoming an author would be delayed by quite a bit. But if they land a job at a publishing house or company or… Whatever it was called again, they might have an easy entrance into the world of professional writers, or so they hoped. It was that path or you had to be from a privileged family to even have a chance to get your work published. That or you had to be a massive genius to be recognized by a publisher. Or a celebri— You get the point.

Either way, if it had been any of that Ann would probably look at this author in a different light. But they weren't. Instead they were actually impressed once having gotten around reading two books of this author. And the only author who had that effect on them was long dead and a British author. But any literary scholar would admire Shakespeare, that was nothing special really.

This one however, given how young he was, had an effect on anyone and they would be impressed. There is a reason that Gentaro Yumeno was a widespread name at this point. Yes, the Gentaro Yumeno, who even one of their professors called ‘a literary genius’. So young yet so well versed in the written word, that professor clearly admired him. And while they may not be as swoon as that old man, they were impressed all the same, that such a young man could pull off such a feat… And they were seeing where their professor had come from, the writing was excellent and the world always thought out. Not to mention all those wordplays, you can’t help but read until you have finished whatever story you start of his. Or was that too high praise? Regardless, it would be foolish to undermine his success. It had to be acknowledged after all.

But enough about that, their thoughts had wandered enough shortly before arriving at campus. In fact, there was still some time until the reading… A whole bunch of classes in fact. But Ann felt like going through them today. That reading after all, they could not miss it by any means! They wouldn’t, they made sure of it! So they nearly sprinted to the room their current class was supposed to take place in until suddenly—

“And thou art certain this is the place where they might store precious information?”

The voice was one which they could recognize easy, having heard it a few times. It had them startled and they suddenly hid themself, though it may have been mere reflex. Though why were they doing something like this? There was no need, nothing to hide. Then again, the fact that they would walk right past a person they knew was more than embarrassing. The mere chance of being talked to was something they could not handle, at all, especially if they were well known. Because by some weird coincidence they had almost crossed paths with… With… Guh, dare they even say? And yet it had left their lips, thinking out loud yet whispering all the same. No one was close by luckily so they should be fine and he had not heard either.

“Yumeno–Sensei? Isn’t he early?” If Ann remembered correctly, the reading would not start until late in the afternoon. It was late morning. Then again, maybe he had something to discuss with staff? A professor maybe? Uh… How does a reading even work when invited? They didn’t know to be honest… Actually there was nothing to worry about, maybe they should just walk past him. The two had no business together after all and he would not know the face of a literal no name. And yet, they stuck around, seconds later a word caught their interest…

“Ah, of course I have acknowledged thee information provided. Thou spoke of a ‘secret archive’, did thou not?” Yumeno continued speaking, one word making them grow stiff. Secret Archive? Why would a university have a secret archive? The precious resource material, especially if extremely old, would be stored safely in the eye of the experts, kept in a temperature where they would not fall apart so easily. Then why– Wait, unless…

“Of course I have read through everything. An archive sponsored by the Party Of Words Thy think there is information we seek… Very well, if thou are certain, I shall allow myself to take a closer look. Good day to you.”

This had them on edge. It was a short conversation and yet they were just shaking… A secret archive funded by the government? Why would he be interested in that!? Ugh, talk about some luck they had… Great, now they were hearing about this. And it involved the Chuohku.

CATZ had not started its operation just yet but… That would not stop them. What if this was a once in a lifetime chance? What then!? That could not be an opportunity wasted! And if it was fake then they may as well check it now instead of wasting Eli’s and Ole’s time later!

And just like that, on a whim, Ann decided for a change of plans. Not like these damned classes had attendance anyway so they will be fine, as long as they do their tasks to pass. And thus… Yeah, they may as well sniff around a little, why not? Maybe they were lucky. But that did not answer their question in their very own mind… What was Yumeno–Sensei’s deal with that secret archive? That was weird… Something’s not quite right here, is it?

Track List - Track 2

#Nimue's Lake #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic oc #gentaro yumeno #yumeno gentaro #hypmic gentaro #genderqueer oc #non binary oc

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 9 months

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"Why continue existing at all without the occasional amusements?"

Sebastian gestured at the group of women gathered in the doorway.

“And I think you will find these ladies very amusing, indeed.”

They were all gorgeous, and elegantly dressed.

“Consider them my gift to you, although they certainly appreciate tips.”

“Uh, Sebastian?” Pyro heard Madelyne pipe up. “What exactly are we to do with these….gifts?”

Pyro was a little relieved that he wasn’t the only one whose thoughts were drifting in that direction. He knew what the Hellfire Club was all about. They were probably rather high class escorts, but escorts all the same. And bloody Shaw couldn’t be bothered to bring at least one beefy dude in tight pants? The bastard.

“Oh, the possibilities are endless, but they all have their specialties,” Sebastian practically purred. “You can have your pick, but I believe I have predicted your preferences. And I get first choice, of course.”

“Sebastian,” Haven began. “I’m not sure that – “

“Please, no need to be modest, Ms. Dastoor. You all have performed exceptionally well lately. This is not generosity on my part, but a reward. And hopefully a motivation for certain members of the group to not lapse back into incompetence.”

It was true, the Marauders had been on fire lately. In a good way. And Sebastian had both promised and delivered a fancy party, with catered hors d’ouvres and expensive alcohol. But this was a bit much.

“But I’m being rude, let me make some introductions.” Sebastian gestured first at a tall Black woman in a shimmering gold dress. “Vanessa Young here is a National Master ranked Chess player. Claudine, I thought that might present an entertaining challenge for you. I have a 19th century Rosewood carved set on the table for you to use. You will, of course, owe me several thousand dollars if you spill a drink on it.”

Vanessa looked askance at Sebastian, appearing slightly alarmed at that last note. Looking around, Pyro could see everyone else appeared as nonplussed as he felt. Except Sebastian. And Claudine, who appeared to be calmly considering her options.

“That sounds like an enjoyable evening,” she said, stretching out a hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Vanessa. Would you like to play a few games?”

“Charmed!” Vanessa took her hand, smiling.

As Pyro watched, the rest of the Marauders were paired off.

For Shinobi, Amber McKinely, a public relations executive who would spend the evening organizing a plan to raise his online profile and help him shoot Tik Tok videos.

For Madelyne, Tiffany Roberts, a licensed and highly qualified masseuse who promised to pamper her into a state of deep relaxation.

For Haven, Professor of Philosophy Sofia Vasquez, who would engage her in conversation for the evening.

And for Pyro – Sebastian gestured to a slight woman in emerald green. “This is Ms. Song Chae-Yeong. Although you probably know her as Nora Hearth.”

Pyro’s jaw dropped in spite of himself. Nora Hearth, author of Winter’s Longing, Spring Blossom, Summer Heat, and several other romances that Pyro had read with much enjoyment. He’d never had a chance to meet her at a convention.

“Don’t gawp, Allerdyce, it’s rude. If you can summon some manners, perhaps the two of you would like to discuss….literature. Or what passes for it, in your profession.”

“Right, sorry,” Pryo abrupted grabbed Nora, or rather Chae-Yeong by the hand, and pulled her towards a nearby table. “Sorry he’s such a condescending bastard,” he muttered to her.

“He’s not the only man who ever talked down the genre,” she responded. “I’m used to it, and I imagine you are, too, St. John Allerdyce. I’ve read a few of your books. Including the ones you wrote as Evelyn Brighton.”

“I’ve read yours,” Pyro said, trying very hard to stamp down a sense of childish glee and nervousness. He is a professional and so is she. They are colleagues. But the question is hanging in the air – Did you like them? “Winter’s Longing was probably my favorite. Heart-wrenching, but it a good way. Your prose is beautiful.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“Mixed reviews on that one. People always want their happy endings in romance. You know how it is. I think Blackwood Manor was my favorite of yours. You’re good at working in supernatural elements without over-doing it. Very solid Gothic. I just wish Lord Blackwood had wound up with Miranda instead of Catherine.”

“Ugh, me too!” Pyro exlaimed. “The editor insisted. Miranda was too much of a villain to win, he said, and I wasn’t going to water her down.”

“Editors,” Chae-Yeong shook her head, grimacing.

“Say, Chae-Yeong – do you prefer Chae-Yeong?” She nodded, and Pyro continued. (He did’t have to ask why she chose a very Western-sounding pen-name. The industry still had it’s prejudices, and some publishing executives were absolute dinosaurs.) “Why are you doing this, exactly? I would have to assume Shaw is paying you well for your time, but is it not a bit degrading?”

Chae-Yeong shrugged. “No more degrading than the usual song and dance with publishers, really. And yes, Mr. Shaw is paying me very, very handsomely to chat with you about books for a few hours.”

“I don’t really mind,” Vanessa added from the table beside them. “Chess doesn’t exactly pay the bills. For a few hours work, I’ll have most of next semester’s tuition for my biochemistry degree. I mean, wouldn’t you do it, if you could?”

Actually, he would. Pyro had done dangerous, immoral, and illegal things for money. He’d spend an evening in conservation if the price was right. Hell, he’d been invited very fancy party once for the birthday of some multi-millionaire’s young trophy wife because she was a fan of his books, and he’d schmoozed it up with her and the guests like a medieval court jester, and hadn’t even been paid for his time. He’d just stuffed himself with expensive food and drink.

“Yeah, probably,” he conceded. (Definitely). “Well, as long as you ladies are happy with this.”

He was interrupted by the sound of loud, booming laughter, and glanced over. Sebastian was on the couch, with the last of the group – a white woman with short, wavy brunette hair, dressed in a brilliant red – standing in front of him. She paused as she noticed the attention coming their way, and Sebastian wiped the tears from his eyes.

“I can’t imagine you could appreciate this, Allerdyce. But Ms. Cheryl Anderson here is quite possibly the funniest comedian I have ever heard. Feel free to listen in if you like, but I expect you to chip in for the cost. This one is mine. Please, continue my dear.” He gestured at Cheryl.

Holding up a notecard, Cheryl began to read:

“The Top 10 Most Ridiculous Examples of Government Over-regulation,” and Sebastian’s laughter rang through the room.

OOC: This is all based on that one panel in New Mutants when Sebastian is trying to woo Sunspot’s father to the Hellfire Club, and brings in a bunch of sexy-dressed women for “entertainment,” and it’s obviously a sex thing, but I’m thinking, wouldn’t it be funny if these women are actually all highly trained musicians or really good stand-up comedians?

Someday I will actually read Miss Sinister’s appearances so that I can write Claudine properly. And I wasn’t sure what to give Maddie. I considered having a fellow pilot for her to chat with, but I thought that might be a painful reminder that most of her memories are false. I so I figured I’d just give her pampering spa treatment. Maddie deserves it.

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codes · 1 year

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hello matthew!! :D this ask isnt related to the little game u made unfortunately but id like to ask for some advice from someone who probably has to read a lot for school!!

i finished reading a classic of literature recently, jane austens persuasion. having repeated myself many times today, it was a very good thought provoking book. except that i didnt really realise that until i read the introduction of the book where they discuss her techniques and how she handles the themes!! argh.. in fact while i was readin the whole thing i didnt even really know what to feel! i knew about the instances of titular persuasion but i wasnt even really sure what they were saying with nuance...

since im so troubled by my lack of sensitivity and find no help elsewhere on the interwebs, as someone who i find can parse the complex muddled text of enstars with clarity, what should i do to become a more sensitive reader! or rather how do u read matthew?

hi lab! im a lil honored that u hold me in such high regard bc honestly, i dont always feel that my literary analysis skills are up to par! though i think thats an opinion shared by many but i often end up in the same position as you and even my professors say the same thing where they have to reread books before they start to really delve into analysis. its p normal, honestly. a lot of themes in literature are largely opinionated so some people pick up patterns faster than others and sometimes two readings can conflict with one another. it happens! one reading may be more clearly supported by evidence within the text but analyzing literature usually takes a lot of practice more than anything, but sometimes going back to the basics rlly helps and focusing on which critical theory may be applicable. could you maybe analyze the text through a character? perhaps the psychoanalytic theory may help! are gender roles present within the text? maybe looking at it through a feminist critical lens may give you a good ledge to start off. theres also formalism, post-colonialist, Marxist theory, eco-criticism, etc... the world is your oyster and having trouble with analyzing a text is normal! we're not all-knowing and sometimes it helps to look at what other people have to say will help you most of all.

also i asked my friend @cupidneos who is insanely smart for her advice since i bet that she would have something to say (also shes also a jane austen fan) and this is what she said:

i do wanna say that you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself since Persuasion is easily one of her hardest texts to really extend and make sense of so it’s no fault of your own … literature that uses free indirect discourse to hint towards our knowledge of character tends to be harder to understand bc of how limited that info can be! that being said, not being able to place our finger on something until it’s highlighted is completely okay! that’s what the introduction is there for; to help you out. there’s no set list of criteria to being a “more sensitive reader” since the phenomenon of reading itself is so mercurial. with practice i’m so certain that u will get a better sense of where to look for those literary themes. and don’t sell urself short in doing so either! if u find a passage important, pursue it!!! doesn’t matter what everyone else says abt it hehe

#ask #lab #i hope that helps lab!!!

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recreancyrpg · 2 years

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BASICS.

NAME. John Dawlish AGE. 22 ALUMNI HOUSE. Hufflepuff BLOOD STATUS. Half-blood FACECLAIM. John Boyega

HISTORY.

Nobody in John’s family expected him to be an Auror. The Dawlishes were solid, dependable, sensible middle-class wix. They lived solid, dependable, sensible lives. They weren’t flashy people who went around doing silly, reckless things like Curse Breaking or flying sport professionally or taming dragons... or joining the Auror Department. But John had always had a keen sense of right and wrong, and an urge to stop the latter. It had made him a good prefect in school, and to the surprise of everyone except perhaps Professor Sprout when he’d been looking over career literatures in his fifth year, he’d found himself irresistibly drawn to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Even that wouldn’t have been too bad by his family’s standards: a career in the Magical Law Enforcement Career wasn’t common for Dawlishes, but there had been a few M.L.E.P. wix over the years.

But that wasn’t what John wanted. He didn’t want to just keep the peace. He wanted to stop the bad guys. He wanted to be an Auror. It took a lot of hard work, but John had never been afraid of that. He put his head down, studied hard, and got to work. Maybe that was usually viewed as the Ravenclaw way, but John knew better. Ravenclaws were intelligent, but half of them were stuck with their heads in the clouds, envisioning pretty dreams and using their imaginations to be creative. Hufflepuff was where it was truly at if you wanted to get something done. When a Hufflepuff committed to something, then they were loyal. And John was loyal to his future - and to a world where justice prevailed.

He got accepted into the program and started his three years in training. He learned about the rules that Aurors had to follow, but John was never afraid of rules. He liked rules, in fact; good, fair, clearly defined rules were what a healthy society was built on. It was perhaps little wonder that he excelled at his training. As difficult as some of it was, it also made sense. There was a bright clear line from point A to point B, and all John had to do was buckle down and work hard and get there. Whenever he had a goal in mind and a clearly-defined set of parameters to work within, there wasn’t much that John Dawlish couldn’t do. The problems started after he’d finally earned that badge.

The Auror Department wasn’t as just as he’d expected. Some of the officials were corrupt - following orders in a Ministry full of people that were probably Death Eaters themselves. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was out of control and the Aurors, with their strict rules and guidelines, were hardly making any leeway. It was that vigilante group that was truly doing the fighting, John realized. But joining something so illegal was not in his plan. He spent the first half of his first year as an Auror mostly doing paperwork and being the office runaround boy to older, more experienced colleagues. He didn’t get much fieldwork as he witnessed the destruction that continued to happen every day. So he fell into the trap that was the Order of the Phoenix with Alastor Moody bringing him into the fold. He’s only been part of the Order for the last six months - one of the newest members - and in that amount of time, the purebloods have been returned, the Order flipped on it’s head. And, despite his training and experience, he’s considered a rookie to people here, too. People like Peter Pettigrew or even the young kid Edgar Bones. It’s maddening and John is determined to prove himself.

CONNECTIONS.

ALASTOR MOODY. Moody’s methods as an Auror aren’t exactly John’s favorite, but there’s no doubt that the wizard has experience. John looks up to him in a way, while being slightly afraid of him in other ways. Moody isn’t reckless, though, which is something John can appreciate. Alastor’s the one who got him involved in the Order, as well. That must mean something, even if they wouldn’t classify as friends. Maybe a mentor is the better word. FELICITY PEMBLETON. Felicity is the kind of person that John feels compelled to fight for. That justice that is always powering his motives. Because she’d been accepted - until she wasn’t. If there’s anything important to a Hufflepuff, it’s fairness, and how is what happened to her fair at all? All due to the discovery of her blood-status and she’d been shut out, just like that. John is proud to fight for someone like her. MARLENE MCKINNON. What happened to her was awful - of course it was! John hadn’t been there at the time, but he’d joined the Order before her return. And he’s sympathetic, but he still doesn’t approve of the way she’s throwing caution to the wind since her return. He remembers her from school - they were in the same year, same house! - and she’d never been so reckless before. He’s afraid she’s only making things worse for herself.

JOHN IS OPEN.

#harry potter rp #harry potter roleplay #harry potter rpg #marauders rp #marauders roleplay #john dawlish #john dawlish bio #character bio #open #hufflepuff #half blood

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axigailxo · 2 years

Text

— masterlist —

welcome to my masterlist! below you will find my series collection as well as my one shot collection. enjoy your stay luvs! <3 xx

Series:

m=mature

✏️= ongoing

Teacher’s Pet | JJK (M) ✏️

professor/dilf!jungkook x student!reader or jungkook x reader

forbidden relationship!au, sneaky links to lovers au, age gap

Hooking up every so often with your English Literature professor, what's the worst that can happen? Falling in love, perhaps. Embarking on a sexual-turned-serious relationship with your professor Jeon Jungkook a month before graduation, you are as happy as can be. You, Jungkook, and his 4-year-old daughter, Dahlia. Except there's just one teeny-tiny little detail Jungkook failed to mention... that detail being his ex-wife isn't so much of an ex after all.

Teacher’s Pet M.list

Pretty Like You | PJM (M) ✏️

feminine!jimin x female!reader or jimin x reader

enemies to lovers, feminine!jimin, self hatred au, slight identity crisis, self love journey, smut, sub!jimin, angst, fluff, heartfelt

where jimin is jealous of the beauty that is you, writes about it, and falls apart when you accidentally read it. struggling with the harsh barriers of gender rules, jimin struggles through his freshman year of college as he’s having trouble finding himself. what doesn’t help is that you’re there, in almost all of his classes, completely stunning him. channeling his frustration into his first ever thought journal, he’s almost at peace. that’s until you read it, unbeknownst to him, and everything falls apart. jimin adores you. jimin admires you. but most of all, jimin hates you.

Pretty Like You M.list

Cigarettes After Sex | MYG (M) *UPCOMING*

yandere!yoongi x shy!reader or yoongi x reader

yandere, dark thriller, high school au, classmates to lovers, fast burn, introvert!yoongi, broken!yoongi, shy/introvert!oc, smut, eventual fluff, heavy angst

A limited series in which a new friendship turns into something uncanny and killer. Min Yoongi, he keeps to himself and struggles with accepting or even finding love. Emancipated at a young age and held back twice due to too many absences, he’s now 19 and in his senior year of high school, living off of the money he gets from making and selling beats online. You, 18, are also in your senior year. And just like Yoongi, you have trouble finding love due to a lack of feeling loved. It’s been a week since you switched bio classes, and your new classmate has caught your eye. However, just like him, you talk to no one. Can the shy girl get the shy boy? And if so, will she be able to endure getting much more than anticipated…

Cigarettes After Sex M.list

More series are yet to come. . .

One Shots:

☆= smut ♡= fluff ☾= drabble

Each of the works down below are below 10k words !!

a/n: each of the works on the lists are listed from newest to oldest!! (however the order of the members is completely random)

—YOONGI.

All Night | KNJ ft. MYG ☆

In which listening to music during a smoke sesh with your best friends Namjoon and Yoongi in the studio turns into much more.

Midnight Musician | MYG ☆♡

Waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of your boyfriend playing piano, you follow the noise and end up getting more from him than just a sideshow.

Sunday's Sunset | MYG ☆♡

You and your boyfriend Yoongi spend a lazy late Sunday afternoon in bed, attempting to make soft and intimate love that inevitably turns rougher.

—NAMJOON.

All Night | KNJ ft. MYG ☆

In which listening to music during a smoke sesh with your best friends Namjoon and Yoongi in the studio turns into much more.

Friendship & Erotica ☆

Your best friend Namjoon gets turned on while reading an erotica in your shared hotel room and decides to accompany you in the bathroom as you prepare for a bath.

Dainty Distractions ☆

While your boyfriend Namjoon takes a business call in the kitchen, you decide to walk out in lingerie and touch yourself in front of him.

—JUNGKOOK.

in my eyes | JJK ♡

Jungkook is tired of the way you look at yourself and decides to draw out exactly how he sees you in his eyes, in the end making you second guess your self-image entirely and fall in love with him all over again.

accidental | JJK ☾☆

In which your boyfriend Jungkook accidentally turns you on right before bed.

All Mine | JJK ☆ *COMING SOON*

Showing up to the annual company banquet in a risque outfit, Jungkook can't stand the amount of eyes on you. Eager to channel his frustration, he takes you to his office.

—JIMIN.

sleepless | PJM ☾☆

Hundreds of miles away and unable to sleep, Jimin calls you from his hotel room to help with his loneliness and neediness.

Remind Me | PJM ☆♡

After a dinner where Jimin’s cousin was a little too infatuated with you, you assure Jimin that your heart is set on him and only him and he proves his love back to you in bed.

—TAEHYUNG.

(on hold)

—JIN.

(on hold)

—HOBI.

(on hold)

More one shots to come soon.

Do not translate or repost my work to other websites without my permission.

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alisnikola · 4 months

Text

The pages come alive as we're transported back, witnessing firsthand the struggles, aspirations, and fervor that marked this pivotal era in Philippine history.

The 2022 Philippine series "Maria Clara and Ibarra," produced by GMA Network, centers around Maria Clara "Klay" Infantes, a 21-year-old nursing student played by Barbie Forteza. Klay juggles her demanding job as a barista while striving to graduate amidst familial challenges – living with an abusive stepfather and a mother reluctant to leave him.

Despite her struggles, Klay feels disconnected from classical Filipino literature and fails to grasp its relevance to her nursing studies. Her professor, José R. Torres, insists on an essay about José Rizal's "Noli Me Tangere" for graduation. He gives her a special copy, promising an immersive experience. Unaware of its true significance, Klay falls asleep while reading the book. Upon waking up, she discovers herself mysteriously transported into the world of "Noli Me Tangere," marking the beginning of her journey through the past.

I started watching Maria Clara at Ibarra during summer vacation because I have longed for historical fiction ever since I started reading Binibing Mia’s works (her Wattpad user is UndeniablyGorgeous if you want to read her book which I recommend!). I still haven’t finished watching the teleserye because I was busy at school and I haven’t paid for my subscription to Netflix. LOL. But, I honestly could tell that it’s a really good TV series, even though we Filipinos are already familiar with the plot, there’s just something about the series that keeps you watching and not missing every detail of each episode.

The series' stunning cinematography stands out, creating a timeless essence that echoes the atmosphere of "Noli Me Tangere." Ibarra's narrative mirrors that of someone who ventures abroad only to find upon their return that much of what they held dear has disappeared, facing imminent dangers threatening what little remains. While it resonates with contemporary viewers, it's saddening that the origins of these themes trace back to an 1887 book and may go unnoticed by some.

I'll confess, despite experiencing numerous versions, remixes, and retellings of this story—perhaps a dozen or more—there's something uniquely captivating about this particular adaptation. It might be the transition to a cinematic format, considering my previous exposure was limited to reading historical fiction. Alternatively, it could be the exceptional cinematography of the series. Personally, I find immense joy in witnessing numerous extravagant house parties adorned with a plethora of fancy attire.

While I'm currently on a pause and haven't concluded watching "Maria Clara at Ibarra" yet, I wholeheartedly endorse it, particularly for teenagers. It serves as an excellent gateway for them to comprehend the intricate plot of "Noli Me Tangere." Moreover, beyond its historical context, it presents a compelling narrative that resonates with everyone, providing ample material for reflection. So far, I think Maria Clara at Ibarra has tried to tell us an important message about history. It is important to be always reminded that we cannot change the past, but we can learn from it. In doing so, we must not forget about all the horrors and tragedies that befell our country. No matter how dark and tragic the past is, there are a lot of lessons we can learn from it, which we must use to define the future that we want to see in our country.

Before I end this blog I wanted to say that, I'm determined to carve out dedicated time, eagerly looking forward to immersing myself further into the series, and exploring its themes and messages with enthusiasm and excitement!

See you guys in my next blog!

#maria clara at ibarra #historical #PhilippineTVSeries #my blog #blogspot #travel #travel blog #history

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grandhotelabyss · 8 months

Note

Any thoughts on Hesse?

Please hold that thought—I am going to read him very soon, within the month, Demian to be specific. I did read Siddhartha, or most of it, extracurricularly in ninth or tenth grade to impress a girl going through her teen Buddhist phase, but I don't remember much, except that it didn't inspire me to have a teen Buddhist phase (renounce desire? no thanks!). I want to read Hesse in general for one online-related parasocial reason: I've listened to the Art of Darkness podcast a lot this year, largely as a kind of moodboard for my novel-in-progress about a scandalous occultist writer, and I even went to their live event (they're semi-local) and met them, and those guys speak very highly of Hesse, and often. I have two IRL reasons for wanting to read Demian in particular among all his works: 1. it's the main novelistic inspiration for the controversial manga The Heart of Thomas, which I sometimes teach and am teaching again this semester; 2. I have a copy of it that was once owned and annotated by the renowned scholar Jack Zipes, a psychedelic paperback from 1968 with his name written on the inside cover.

(Our professor emeritus won't remember me, but I took his Transformations of the Fairy Tale course, the last class he taught at the University of Minnesota before he retired. Not only did we read classic and contemporary fairy tales, we also read Walter Ong's Orality and Literacy and Ismail Kadare's File on H. and watched a lot of interesting movies, from Svankmajer's Little Otik to Jordan's Company of Wolves to Freeway with Reese Witherspoon. I wrote a long final essay making some insanely over-the-top Marxist argument against Zipes's old friend Angela Carter—I fear I may have called her take on Bluebeard "imperialist" and attributed her baroque prose style to "neoliberalism" [what else?]—to which he generously responded in red pen that, while my paper was well-written, I should perhaps have taken Carter's irony more into account. Always good advice when some 25-year-old graduate student makes an insanely over-the-top Marxist argument against a work of imaginative literature! At the time, I'm sure, I would have dismissed irony as the all-too-common alibi of the capitalist running dog. I will be interested to see what Zipes wrote in Hesse's margins—he used a pencil, not a red pen, by the way, presumably because Hermann Hesse was not a graduate student.)

#herman hesse #jack zipes #german literature

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kindnessisstillhere · 1 year

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Professor's Assistant

Why should scientists get the fun?

If I'm gonna be a professors assistant,

Well I'm not repeating what others have done.

Except philosophers have students,

Whether helping a professor or not,

And literature professors don't need much,

Just someone to refill the teapot.

Programming could definitely use a helping hand,

But I doubt that's something I could stand.

There's always the arts, professors teaching them,

But beyond making examples

I'd soon be finished again.

Perhaps lab assistance do have it right,

Even tending experiments through the night.

#professors assistant #assistants #lab assistant #silly #poem #poetry

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tropicalrpg · 1 year

Text

13 just came back from the only creative writing class i'll probably ever take

i have an american friend to whom i've described redação class as essay-writing. that's not quite it; i didn't write an essay until, well, i wouldn't say i have. i was supposed to write an essay last year and one a couple weeks ago, but none of them are proper essays, like i'm writing now and would like to write more. (i tried to write an essay last year that i have yet to finish. i think it would be really interesting, even if i turned into an article.)

redações, especially in the enem model (and maybe i'm being a little bitch for writing about something like this in english, but consider this an introduction to the brazilian school system) (consider; you: consider this; you: my nonexistent reader, my guinea pig, my english-speaking pet), are anything but creative writing. here's the basic idea: you get a prompt upon which you have to build an argument. you get 30 handwritten lines. you have to reference another field of study, and in the last paragraph you have to propose a solution to the prompt's problem that fulfills a series of criteria (deed, agent, means, finality, details). you have to write this in up to a couple hours but ideally less than one, with no access to any type of resources to do research or base your argument on.

i hope it comes across, in the instructions given to write a redação enem, that it's just ridiculous. it does not build better students, better writers, or better citizens. you have to excell at writing redações enem in order to get into university, and that's basically all you need to know how to write them for; how do they make you better scholars? in what way do they prepare you for higher education? i study "letters", or what would be the equivalent to an english degree except it's not a portuguese degree but instead a languages, literature or linguistics degree; the second i got into uni, the only thing i would ever use a redação enem for would be to get a job. and that job is correcting redações enem; i have never, and know that i will never, have to write any sort of text anything like those ever again.

that class was not essay-writing. i described it as such because going over the details like i went here would have been wasted time, and it's a lot easier to work with approximations, like how american high schoolers have to write essays, we have to write redações. it's a similar exercise in practising textual skills, how to write, how to argue. it doesn't work the same, however, and perhaps the one thing i'd say the american education system has over ours (theoretically, not in practice) is the presence of essays from a young age.

essays are great. this creative writing class, which is not a creative writing class because that's not a thing teachers can offer as a class, but it is largely a class about producing each a singular essay (nonacademic, thank the lord; i've written academic essays already, but it's the still scholarly but truly creative pieces that i'm fascinated by) that has all the freedom in the world to be creative — this creative writing class is quite simply and quite literally a class on essays. reading and writing them. i have never read so many essays and learned so much, and i've never appreciated a literary genre more. this feels like true literature. the peak of nonfiction and fiction alike. i don't know; it's hard to find the words for it.

this is all to say that on monday, i think, my professor talked about writing with limitations. he asked if any of us had tried that (i could not allow myself to mentions things such as, i've written for fanzines that required certain lengths; required me to rewrite certain scenes; i've participates in ship week events that had me writing different stories of thousands of words day after day; i won nanowrimo in 2018, at fourteen fucking years old) and then mentioned how we are always writing with limitations, and, as an example, he cited writing tweets. i use twitter a lot, i always have and it might forever be my primary social medium, but i don't feel limited there. i feel more limited here, not only on this blog because i put a pressure on myself to write posts as long as i can make them but also because originally i wanted to write every day. i failed both ways.

i also failed if we look at my unnamed inspiration. they're so fucking poetic. to be frank, these days i hate their poetry, but their prose, good god. i hate their poetry and i hate their plot and i hate the characterisation they give to characters i love, but i adore their prose. and when they wrote every day for a couple months, they didn't push out blog posts that read like linear essays, not like i do. i start on a subject and get right to it, or even if not right to it i follow a line of thought. is that because i've grown up writing these disgusting, succint argumentative texts? i cannot say. but i can't suddenly write maybe two thousand words about swans in love. if i can get myself to be honest about my past and my present, i'm already doing more than i ever have. my writing has never been about me. maybe that's why i find essays so liberating.

2023.04.26

#essay #essaywriting #nonfiction #anonymous #personal essay #essay writing #creative writing

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ylimehuizenga · 1 year

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Finished the Roth bio!

Roth’s Life in Three Acts:

"On Saturday evenings the men would sometimes take their sons to the Russian shvitz bath on Mercer Street... The shvitz was a “haven,” then, from the orderly world of work and wives—a place to sit around amid a “concerto of farts” and tell bawdy jokes, all but oblivious to the variety of bellies and tuchases and balls hanging out. A generation before, Herman had gone with his father for the foremost purpose of cleanliness, since there was only an outhouse and no hot water at home, but nowadays it was all splendid animal indulgence—a steam bath, a good beating with oak leaves to get the blood running, a massage with wintergreen oil, a communal nap. One of the “boys” in Herman’s circle was a butcher who brought steaks and chops to be cooked in the bath’s kitchen and served with big platters of mashed potatoes and onions, all of it washed down with a gallon of Chianti. Around midnight, sated and braced for another hardworking week, the men dispersed.”

“Every Thursday Roth and Sproul would drive up from the city in Roth’s new LTD (a Portnoy purchase), stopping for dinner at the Skyline Restaurant, about a half hour from Woodstock, where Roth ordered the shrimp cocktail, medium-rare steak, baked potato with sour cream and chives, and a chocolate sundae (“heaven”). Each morning Sproul would adjourn to her own cabin on the other side of town and work until midafternoon, then return to Broadview where she could hear Roth typing and talking to himself in the upstairs guest room. Around four o‘clock they’d take a walk along the back roads of Byrdcliffe Mountain, and later, in the big living room with its majestic fireplace, Roth would often read aloud the page or two he’d written that day—not for comment, but to hear how it sounded.”

“Every day was pretty much the same. At ten o’clock he took a taxi to the St. Bart’s pool, where he’d go through his aqua-jogging routine. His trainer, Luye Lui, adored him and vice versa: she called him Nails because he showed up even when “he could barely drag his walker,” and he called her Slum Goddess of the Lower East Side (where she was born) after the Fugs song. Roth was home again for lunch, after which he’d strip down to his underwear and nap for an hour or so (“Take your clothes off and sleep in your underwear,” his father had advised him. “You’ll go to sleep much faster and have a deeper sleep”), then he’d resume poring over old files and writing little commentaries for his biographer—a task that kept him occupied until the end of 2013. Next he began examining hundreds of personal photographs with a magnifying glass and carefully labeling one after another—“an amazing trek backwards through all the many years of my life,” he said, delighted to be looking one more time “at the faces of people who meant the world to me and were the world to me.”

💥Bonus💥 Quotes I Liked:

“Perhaps the closest Roth and his friends came to sex were necking parties in Heyman’s finished basement—“the most beautiful word in the English language,” as Roth liked to say (he also insisted it was one word: “finishedbasement”).

“Saturdays in spring were given over to softball games between the poetry and prose writers.”

“Roth sat in the corner of the bedroom, calmly taking it in; a two-word phrase he sometimes liked to tell himself (“when confronted by great surprises of an unhappy nature”) seemed to apply: “This, too.”

(a former student on Roth as a literature professor) “Imagine taking physics from Einstein. But you want to be Mrs. Einstein.”

“Everything is the same, except more so,” Roth reported to her. “Alas.”

(Roth on budding trees in springtime) “It’s like living in the company of seven thousand eleven-year-old girls.”

“Besides, one of [Roth’s] fondest jeremiads over the years was about the inevitable decline of “people who read serious books seriously and consistently”—Roth readers, in short.”

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