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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 months

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twst food culture compilation

Please note: this post does NOT include all food-related lore in TWST (for example, you won’t find a lot of information about individual characters’ food preferences or personal experiences with food here). This post ONLY talks about the food culture, notable locations, cultural dishes, and unique foods of the Twisted Wonderland world at large (ie countries, specific towns and cities, etc).

I did my best to scour for info, but I’ll update if I find anything new or details I missed the first time around.

General and/or Unspecified Location

Icicle mushrooms are one of Twisted Wonderland’s three greatest delicacies. They are extremely rare and expensive.

There is a seasoning called “pure azure salt”, which is said to be rare, even in the Coral Sea.

Twisted Wonderland has a fruit called ruby berries (which taste “like freshly picked strawberries”).

There is frozen mint with a “refreshing profile” that grows in icy mountainous areas.

There exists Walrus-brand oyster sauce. Trey uses this to cook hamburger steak for his younger siblings. He says the oyster sauce provides a "nice savory flavor" with considerable depth. Trey also jokes about adding it to chestnut tarts in book 1.

There are mentions of irl Japanese foods such as konjac and takoyaki, but so far no place of origin in Twisted Wonderland has been sited.

Like in the real world, celebrities like Vil and Neige are used to promote products (including food and drink) in commercials, on social media platforms, etc. For example, in book 5, we see Neige advertising Red Apple Soda and Vil using his Magicam account to promote the apple juice made by Epel's family.

There's a popular dish called "pumpkin carriage stew". The insides of a pumpkin are scooped out and the shell is filled with a creamy stew, which made it difficult to carry over to tables. It would sell out every day at the cafe Ruggie used to work at.

Some restaurants call their spaghetti with meatballs "starry night spaghetti", named after the tale of two dogs who shared a spaghetti kiss under a starry sky. It is said that sharing spaghetti with meatballs with someone outside would lead to true love.

Hunting is sport as well as something done for food.

Crowley goes on vacation “to the South” and reports to enjoy mango and mango-flavored products from there. He also brings back manga tea as a souvenir.

Briar Valley

General

Cotton candy is a classic snack food sold at Briar Valley food stalls. The way it is prepared resembles spinning threads, which is considered a blessed occupation (as there was a period in Briar Valley's history when no one was able to spin thread, so some clever individual tinkered around and made cotton candy instead).

In the battlefield (~400 years ago, during the human-fae war), soldiers would roast rats and lizards to eat if they didn't have rations or other ingredients.

There is little in the way of modern technology and electricity; typically, one would prepare dishes and/or collect ingredients by hand (such as via fishing) or by using magic.

Magic is used to light fires for cooking. There is little risk for fire accidents since magical fires automatically go out when you go to sleep.

Because Briar Valley is located to the north, it can get very chilly. When the snow melts, it turns into very cold freshwater.

According to Lilia, “berries are a must-have, especially at birthdays parties” in Briar Valley. They are famous for its berry juice.

The forest where Silver and Lilia live has strawberries. Silver picks them with his animal companions.

Coral Sea

General

According to Jade, there are no fires in the Coral Sea. Therefore, most of the food consumed is raw.

A month-long land boot camp first established by a mermaid princess that married a human prince teaches merpeople fire safety and how to eat food as part of its curriculum.

It's rare for merfolk to eat anything sweet, as those kinds of foods aren't readily avaliable in the sea.

The Atlantica Memorial Museum has the mermaid princess's "silver hair comb" on display. This, of course, refers to the "dinglehopper"--a common fork. This implies that merpeople (such as the mermaid princess referenced in many stories) fused to be unaware of the eating utensils on land.

Azul's mother owns the "hottest restaurant" in the Coral Sea. It started off as a small place, but has since expanded to have a large staff.

Couples from the Coral Sea frequently request rainbow dessert soup with trident cookies for their weddings. To eat it, you use the trident cookie to stir the sweet sky-blue soup, which then turns the soup into seven colors of the rainbow. This is a dish that is only served for special occasions in the Coral Sea, and it is typically served warm.

Jade says that he was surprised to see that many land dwellers eat their fruit without the peel; this would imply that those from the Coral Sea typically eat their foods with the skin/peel left on, or as-is.

Playful Land Amusement Park

All food and drink are handed out for free.

They serve food in large quantities, such as tuna, entire tart cherry pies (with cinnamon, clove, and crushed nuts in the filling) and a whole peppery roasted chicken. The park encourages consuming in excess.

Other food items being offered include fried tuna fish and sparkling apple juice. The juice comes with an umbrella stuck in the opening to prevent bugs from getting in. You remove it before drinking.

They have ice-cream in many flavors! We see strawberry milk in the related event.

The park had candy and popcorn in “apple core” flavor. Supposedly, this is a taste inspired by the story of the Generous Fox giving a Puppet Boy an apple core instead of a whole apple because “the puppet wished to have a core”.

There is a “Candy Road”, a street lined with shops that have caramel lollipops, chewy candy, marshmallows, cookies, chocolate crunch, and lots of other sugary treats!

Their chocolate crunch has 12 different charms thrown in.

The third most popular souvenir are pasta snacks in the shape of the Friendly Fox and Gentle Cat. The second most popular is a tin of plain cookies in the shape of the Friendly Fox and cocoa cookies in the shape of the Gentle Cat. Finally, the most popular are apple core flavored candies!

Sage's Island

Night Raven College

Pomefiore holds a welcome party for the freshmen, which includes a fancy dinner. Savanaclaw does not hold a welcome party.

Scarabia regularly holds banquets, typically at Kalim's request.

Heartslabyul holds "unbirthday parties" whenever it is a day that does NOT fall on a Heartslabyul student's birthday. Sweets are mandatory at unbirthday parties.

The dorm members of Scarabia and Heartslabyul pitch in to prepare for banquets and unbirthday parties.

Mr. S's Mystery Shop stocks food items, such as candies (which Floyd often buys), tuna cans, and ingredients for baking (this is where Deuce and Yuu pick up things for the chestnut tart in book 1). Sam also sells food items that he seems to have made himself, like the Mystery Drink (which Octavinelle eventually buys the rights to).

The school cafeteria is said to have delicious breads.

Once a month, a famous bakery from out of town serves their goods at NRC. Their stock includes items such as chocolate croissants, egg sandwiches, yakisoba bread and cream bread ("cronuts and bear claws"), roast beef sandwiches, red bean buns ("hot dog buns"), and deluxe minced cutlet sandwiches ("deluxe ham and cheese"/"grilled cheese" in the localization). They sell out fast!

The cafeteria at NRC serves food buffet style; the cafeteria is kept warm with magic from fire fairies which are supplied with dry firewood every day. There is also a rotating daily menu.

Master Chef ("Culinary Crucible") is an elective course at NRC that teaches students how to cook. It is meant to curb the expenses related to eating out and to help the boys maintain balanced diets and learn how to take care of themselves. Judges for this course are randomly selected from the students and staff (prior to this methodology, people would bribe the judges for extra credit).

While taking Master Chef, students help with preparing meals in the cafeteria in exchange for part-time pay.

The instructors for Master Chef are ghosts who were professional chefs at five-star restaurants when they were alive. These same ghosts also serve as cafeterias staff. Crowley says it was difficult but worthwhile to recruit them.

There are various locations on campus where the students go to fetch ingredients for Master Chef. This includes an on-campus farm, ranch, windmill... and even the dormitories themselves!

The woods behind the campus have chestnuts, which the main crew collect for an apology tart to Riddle.

The Botanical Garden has some edible plants growing there. These include strawberries, which the Science Club cultivates.

NRC opens its school gates to the local townspeople for a period leading up to Halloween; during this time, they distribute candy and other sweets (such as Sam's waffles, served with jam made from NRC's apples) to guests. There's also a party on Halloween night where lots of food is served.

Mostro Lounge

Octainvelle has the Mostro Lounge, described by Jade as "a meeting place for gentlemen" where fighting between dorms is prohibited. While dining there, students are expected to abide by Octavinelle's rules. It is run by the manager and founder, Azul, who made a deal with the headmaster to get the rights to open the establishment. NRC gets 10% of the revenue the Mostro Lounge makes.

Jade and Floyd partake in some cooking, but Azul does very little cooking. He tends to investigate the competition and market.

Jade uses the weeds and plants he collects from mountain hikes to brew experimental new teas. Sometimes Azul adds these drinks to the menu.

Floyd likes to experiment with making sauces. These, too, are featured in the lounge.

The lounge offers cakes with coral decorations. You can order one for your special occasions.

The Mostro Lounge is particular about its quality name-brand dishware. Azul believes that this will boost the experience customers have in the lounge.

The Octatrio bought the rights to the Mystery Drink from Sam and raised its price from 600 madol/6 thaumarks to 1500 madol/15 thaumarks.

The Mostro Lounge has a one-drink purchase minimum.

Menu items range from roughly 600 madol to 1500 madol (6 thaumarks to 15 thaumarks). The menu rotates on a seasonal basis; this helps to cut down on costs since they can focus on cheaper in-season ingredients.

The Mostro Lounge also operates food stalls and/or sells food at many school events, such as the cultural festival in book 5 and the interdorm magical shift/spelldrive tournament in book 2.

It is mostly Octavinelle students who staff the Mostro Lounge, but there are occasions when outside students are brought in as extra help. Ruggie has worked there part-time, as well as Jack, Ace, Deuce, and tons of other students.

Unbirthday Party Rules (related to food)

Rule 25: There must be a tea party on the 5th of every month.

Rule 29: You must not eat the Queen's tarts without her permission.

Rule 153: The only tea you may drink in the evenings is herbal tea.

Rule 186: Do not eat hamburger steak on Tuesdays.

Rule 256: You must not drink lemonade with honey past 8 pm.

Rule 271: You must get up from the table within 15 minutes after eating lunch.

Rule 339: Your post-meal tea must be lemon tea with 2 sugar cubes.

Rule 529: If you eat steak on the night of a full moon, a cat must play the violin afterwards.

Rule 562: Do not bring chestnut tarts to an unbirthday party.

Rule 648: You must brush your teeth 2 times on nights when you eat turkey.

Rule 703: Whoever comes in 2nd place in a croquet match must serve tea to the Queen (dorm leader) the next day.

If the dormouse wakes up at an unbirthday party, you are to paint its nose with jam.

Coffee is forbidden; tea must be served at all occasions except for birthdays.

According to Cater, sweets are mandatory at unbirthday parties.

Dwarves' Mine & Silent Woods

There is an abundance of wildlife in these areas; Jade often goes hiking and foraging, making note of what he finds. He uses the plants to make his own tea blends (which are sometimes added to the Mostro Lounge's menu) and the herbs, plants, and mushrooms to experiment with in cooking.

There are fish to be found at the lake, including massive catfish.

The Foothill Town

There is a port for mainly cargo ships located at the southwest part of town. It's called Crane Port! The east side has a port as well, but that one is moreso for passengers. Crane Port has been getting fewer and fewer people passing through lately (until Port Breeze Fest, in which the NRC boys run food stalls and help to revive business in the area). Group A makes churros, Group B makes waffles, Group C makes salads, Group D makes cotton candy, and Group E makes clam chowder.

A popular restaurant in the Crane Port area serves foods like french fries and burgers. Their signature menu item is a donut made from potatoes. Actually, this restaurant specializes in potato dishes!

There is a chain restaurant on the island that also has locations elsewhere, including in Ace's hometown. He mentions that there are slightly different flavors to the sauces depending on which location you go to. This chain is also described as affordable for students and gives free refills. There is a location of this chain a car ride away from Harveston.

The town also has other eateries that are more geared towards students, seeing as it exists on an island with two notable magic schools to the north and the south. Cater often mentions going into town to take pictures at cafes.

There is a famous patisserie there. You have to line up early in the morning before opening time to get your hands on one of their strawberry tarts (or anything, really!).

Scalding Sands

General

The Scalding Sands seems to borrow heavily from Middle Eastern cultures. For example, some of the Scalding Sands’ traditional dishes include, but are not limited to: roasted lamb, moussaka, döner kebabs, shawarma, flatbreads, potato and bean spreads, and seafood sautés.

Tea is a popular beverage; it is had at every meal and break. People can drink up to 10 cups of tea a day!

The Scalding Sands specializes in black tea. For entertaining guests, special tea leaves are used.

In the Scalding Sands, they brew their tea leaves loose and without an infuser. This makes the tea very strong and bitter. To counteract the powerful flavor, people add lots of sugar to their tea and drink it with sweets.

“Luxurious” tea is very sweet, since sugar was once very expensive (due to a shortage of it, according to the localization) and considered a luxury.

Due to the hot weather, people often toss herbs into their tea to make it more refreshing to drink.

Coffee is also popular; there are many cafes that serve coffee and tea. The Scalding Sands is known in particular for their spiced coffee, which has a very distinctive flavor. This coffee is brewed without a filter, and some cafes do “coffee divinations” (reading the shapes and patterns of the grounds and the water droplets that remain after drinking to tell the fortunes of customers).

There are a lot of unique spices in their dishes. This is especially true of banquet dishes. However, a variety of dishes are still served at these occasions.

Kalim describes the Scalding Sands as being “big on stewed stuff” like curries.

In Kalim’s hometown, people love to gather around the table and talk over a meal.

Halloween in the Scalding Sands is celebrated by feasting on a variety of dishes. The idea is that the food must be abundant so that the ghosts that return to the world of the living for the night may also have their fill.

It used to be difficult for the people of the Scalding Sands to obtain water due to the lack of rainfall, hot climate, and expansive desserts. However, Kalim’s ancestors utilized the country’s rivers to reach other countries and to trade their textiles, spices, tea leaves, and other local goods with foreign lands. It was particularly impressive at the time, as they were the first traders from the Scalding Sands to sail (back then, accurate nautical maps were not a thing). This maritime pioneering is what would make the Asim family their massive fortune.

The Asims and other merchants heavily invested in technologies and innovations to make the area more sustainable and potable water more accessible.

The waterways of the country eventually developed into canals and communities formed around them as trade hubs. The canals are also used to host ferryboats for locals and tourists to sightsee, boosting the tourism industry. This also made access to water much easier for the residents, and the water helps to cool the temperature.

Silk City

The bazaars in Silk City are where locals do their shopping for various goods and staple foods like vegetables and fish. There are also stalls with gourmet food that cater to tourists.

Camel Bazaar is named after camels, which were used to transport people, goods, and luggage before Silk City’s canals and roads came to be. There also used to be an oasis where the camels would rest and drink after long treks; this oasis became a center for commerce and eventually evolved into a marketplace. To this day, the name “Camel” has stuck, even if people use trucks, ships, and cars more than camels.

There is also Zahab (”Gold”) Market, which is popular with tourists for shopping (especially for souvenirs!) but also has swindlers and pickpockets mixed in with regular customers.

Many snacks are sold! There’s camel milk chocolate, cookies drizzled in syrup, sunflower seeds, pistachios, chickpeas, all kinds of nuts, dried fruits (including dates), jams, jellies, syrups, starfruit, dragonfruit, etc.

(Lamb) shawarma is described as meat roasted on a spit and served on baguettes or pita bread. Because grease drips off while it cooks, it is “surprisingly healthier” than one expects it to be. Shawarma is also customarily served with vegetables (tomatoes, onions, olives, jalapenos, etc.) and sauces (yogurt, garlic, chili, hummus (a paste of garlic and chickpeas), mayo basil, etc).

There is a vendor that can supply large quantities of sweet and refreshing coconut water; this is because they’re used to providing for Kalim’s extravagant and excessive tastes. They create a hole in the top and provide straws to poke in and use to drink the water. The coconut flesh inside is also edible.

There are a lot of bread stalls; bread is also another staple food, and it comes in many sizes, shapes, and textures. Small roadside bakeries have wood-fired ovens which allow them to serve bread fresh to customers.

One stand sells baguettes that are taller than many children; these “tower baguettes” are a famous Fireworks Festival treat. People say that if you eat a big one, you’ll never go hungry again! The saying comes from a story of a young man that shared bread with hungry children. It’s because of that story that baguettes are considered a good luck food that many vendors sell on holidays.

The Camel Bazaar sells an elastic ice-cream (based on a similar irl frozen Turkish confection). It is kneaded on a pole and stretched out; customers are meant to “catch” it in their cups and cones. It’s food performance art! All the stretching makes the texture very unique.

There’s a fruit stand that is only open on festival days which sells a Silk Melon sundae; the fruit is hollowed out to host ice-cream (of the same melon flavor!) and toppings which make it very photogenic.

Starfruit is usually put in salads, according to Trey.

The dragonfruit sold is recommended to be eaten with honey. You drizzle it on top of a slice and eat!

Silk City’s signature fruit is the Silk Melon. It is called that because of its silky texture and sophisticated sweetness. It can’t be found in many other countries. The man of legend that shared his bread with a starving child is said to split a melon with his friend, even though he did not have much money to spare. It’s because of this tale that people started saying if you share Silk Melon with someone, it would make your friendship or romance last forever. Now the fruit is a festival staple and considered a symbol of good fortune.

In the past, water was only used for irrigation due to its scarcity. Some gave up on farming after years of trying to produce crops and failing—but others refused to give up and cultivated the land to made it fertile, something which future generations would reap the benefits of.

The fruits and veggies sold Camel Bazaar are freshly picked and grown locally. Jamil says this is possible because the arid climate actually helps with growing crops of high quality. Produce raised with less water concentrates flavor since the final fruit will have a higher sugar content. Because of this, Silk City’s produce is prized by chefs all over Twisted Wonderland. Of course, you can get them at an affordable prize in Camel Bazaar!

Shaftlands

General

The Shaftlands are famous for its jeweled pineapples.

The Shaftlands spans a large area of land and has drastically different climates depending on the part of it you're looking at. Therefore, we can deduce that foods and customs surrounding food are very different as well.

City of Flowers/Fleur City

The city’s food culture seems to be inspired by real world Paris, or at the very least, France.

Bread is a local specialty, particularly very buttery kinds. As you walk down the streets, you can smell bread baking. The City of Flowers has 10x (or more) the variety of bread that Sage's Island offers, and has an abundance of bakeries too.

Bread-making is popular in the City of Flowers. The windmills at the edges of the city grind grains to produce fresh flour. There are also watermills powered by the Soleil River to assist with making flour.

Because wheat is plentiful in this area, some of it is also used for desserts. One such confection is financier, which is made from a combination of wheat flour, almond flour, and butter. It resembles a gold bar, so eating one is said to bring financial prosperity.

Lately, gluten-free desserts have been trendy.

A dessert that does not use wheat flour is macarons. In the City of Flowers, they are yellow and shaped like bells to honor the Bell of Salvation which oversees the community and provides magic that helps rare plants grow in the area. The filling is a ganache with dried bits of grapes and apples.

Grape juice is popular in the City of Flowers, as the fruit is another specialty. You can buy the grapes raw and eat them as is, or ask a vendor to crush it (skin still on!) into juice for you. Some buy the grapes to give as gifts!

The grapes are grown in vineyards right outside of the city, and the farmers are constantly experimenting to improve their breeds. They taste very rich, tangy, and sweet.

The City of Flowers is also known for its many specialty cheese shops. Together, bread and cheese are called the staple foods of the city, and are sometimes eaten together. One specialty cheese shop the boys visit sells baguettes topped with ham and rich melted cheese.

The city considers goats a symbol of good luck, so they are treated with care. There are many community goats (which are just as common as domesticated cats or dogs) allowed to roam freely in the city. It is said that if you treat the community goats with kindness, they will come rescue you in your time of need.

Goat milk is used in some of the specialty cheeses produced by the city. The grapes mentioned earlier are also made into fruit compotes to go with the cheeses.

Harveston

This village has many dishes that borrow from a mixture of irl Nordic cultures. There’s also an emphasis on having hometown pride and the community itself being very close.

Crows often damage the apples Harveston grows. The community comes together to put up nets and make noises to scare them off.

As expected, many of Harveston's dishes feature apples: apple pie, grilled and roasted apples, apple salad, apple pound cakes, etc.

Epel's family has an apple orchard that has been in the family for generations. They grow different kinds of apples throughout the year. Many of his neighbors are older people who also raise produce, and they help each other out when they're short on hands. The community is very tightly knit because of this, and treat each other like extended family.

Harvest season (autumn) is the busiest time of year; once that's over, everyone comes together to have a party. It's a potluck style celebration where everyone brings a homemade dish or homegrown food to share.

Harveston preserves its produce (such as apples and wild greens) by pickling them and serving them in salads. The bright colors are maintained by boiling the produce in a copper pot, which stabilizes the pigments. It's wisdom passed down from generation to generation.

There is also pickled herring, traditionally eaten on bread. Brining preserves the fish while it is still raw and doesn't dry it up. It's ready to eat right out of a jar, no cooking required.

The local stew is not very thick. It tastes sweet because of the added vegetables and savory because of the tender meat in it. There is also a salmon broth sprinkled with herbs which is described as "melty".

Fruits and vegetables can be packed in snow to keep them preserved. This method is called “snow aging” and prevents evaporation. In the old days, the villagers would build whole farms out of snow. In modern day, they just shovel the snow into a barn. This creates a natural fridge that will naturally thaw in the summers. Snow aging in this manner makes the produce sweeter and more nutritious.

The next town over is a three-hour bike ride. The roadside has many apple trees you can enjoy during the trip.

You can easily pick apples off the branch and eat them fresh! Farmers can snack on apples while picking.

Harveston is surrounded by tall mountains that are snow-capped all year, the most famous one being Mt. Moln. The greenery around Harveston is due to the spring water irrigation which runs down from Mt. Moln.

Most of Harveston’s land is used for orchards, and apples are their main produce. They also make many products using those apples like chips, rice crackers, and cookies.

Fall apples are sweeter, while winter ones are more sour. Winter apples are unique to Harveston.

Harveston also grows a lot of garlic.

Harveston farming is done the old fashioned way, as the predominantly older population distrusts chemical fertilizers and biotechnology.

Some villagers like the mayor and Marja (Epel’s grandma) adjust their accent to communicate with people from outside the village. Marja says she switches up when she’s selling goods in another town, since it can be tricky for non-Harveston locals to understand.

Hand washing before eating is a must! They take the act very seriously in Harveston. Stories say the miners of the past used to get very sick due to poor hygiene, but their health improved drastically once they started washing regularly with soap and water. It was difficult for them to get treatment because the town is so remote and far from hospitals or doctors, so the best thing is stressing prevention. This why the townspeople are sticklers about hand washing now.

To wash the Harveston way, you plunge your hands into ice cold water and make it all foamy with soap. You also scoop the water up and splash your face as well (as the miners from the past would also do this).

Apple Square is the main festival venue; it has many vendor stalls in an area called Kokko (which means “Bonfire”) Market. The Sledathon is the most lucrative time of year for the townsfolk.

Many of their products are made locally by the older folks in town. The goods aren’t trendy or very fancy, but they’re high-quality and made with Harveston pride.

The stalls give apple juice, apple tea (which has fruit pieces floating in it), and apple ginger tea for free. The apple juice is one of Harveston’s most popular products.

Giant five-meter apple pies are made for the Sledathon. They’re considered one of the main attractions, and you can get a slice from them free of charge.

There are other stalls that sell regular apple pie too. Every vendor has their own style, from the apples used to the crust and baking technique.

There are other kinds of fruit pies for sale, but apples are the most popular and “special” ones. The Beautiful Queen had a preference for apple pies, so the townspeople do too.

Harveston apple pies have such an entrancing flavor that the nearest city has stores that stock them. Critics say that Harveston apple pies make anyone drool and that the best way to convince someone to do you a favor is to gift one.

Harveston holds an apple competition to find the reddest apple. This is because the Beautiful Queen prized beautifully red apples. In the past, the townspeople would offer the reddest apple from the season’s harvest to the Beautiful Queen. Over time, it evolved into the apple competition.

Kokko Market makes pancake balls from a flour batter and top it with jam. It’s prepared in a pan and with methods similar to takoyaki, coming out crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside.

Pancakes also come in a square form. In Harveston, pancakes are baked in the oven instead of on the stove. Some people cook pancakes in the fireplace too; this makes them tender, thick, and pudding-like.

There are many grains used for bread: sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, oats, flax seeds, sesame seeds, rye, wheat...

Barbeque is served for large gatherings and celebrations.

Cooking tends to be done in the fireplace instead of on a stove, especially in the case for stews. It keeps the room warm in winter while the food cooks.

Harveston has a bean and fruit soup. Most other places serve it cold, but those in Harveston sometimes enjoy it warm. It’s a thick consistency and the fruit in it has been dried.

When setting the dining table, people in Harveston leave one extra plate out. This tradition comes from a story about a traveler visiting a family’s house and being surprised by the messy state of it. The traveler cleaned the house and cooked a nice meal for the family. From this story came the belief that as long as you leave a plate at your table, you’ll never want for food or go hungry.

Sandwich cakes are common party centerpieces. They are made with bread and vegetables, topped with shrimp, deviled eggs, olives, apples, and salmon slides arranged in a rose shape. The frosting on it is made from mayonnaise and sour cream, making sandwich cakes more salad than dessert.

They sell cherries and other berries by volume. Also sold are vegetables and juice, freshly squeezed.

Because Harveston is located in a mountainous region, there are rare varieties of mushrooms to be found. These can be served in a traditional mushroom soup, which can be finicky to prepare (so usually only experts make it). Mushrooms are also cooked in butter and served in sandwiches.

Mushrooms, herbs, and flowers are foraged from the nature (both public mountains and private woods). Locals usually don’t buy plants that are wild when they can pick it themselves. Instead, they’re sold to tourists.

Good foraging spots on Moln Mountain are kept secret so people don’t overharvest. The mountains are dangerous in winter, so foraging has to be done in spring or summer.

Harveston brines raw fish like salmon in a mixture of salt, sugar, pepper, and fill. In the old days, brined salmon was buried in sand to let it ferment.

Fish is dried to preserve it and to enhance the flavor. Before there were proper roads, it was hard to bring in food for the winter, so Harveston relied on foods preserved in the spring. They last for a long time and have many uses (such as in soup stock or to eat straight up). To this day, preserved meats and vegetables are a local specialty and new methods such as roasting have been developed for preservation.

Sunset Savanna

General

The food here appears to be inspired by African cultures of the real world.

There is floral cacao in the Sunset Savanna. It bears fruit only once every 10 years.

Gummy bugs are popular and a Halloween staple.

The people of the Sunset Savanna value living in harmony with nature and will go out of their way to adapt to the land (due to the high population of beastmen, who have animal ancestors). Because of this, they oppose change that could damage the environment. There are some parts of this arid country that still rely on wells for their drinking water needs. They also hold the Tamashina-Mina festival every year to pray for rain.

Sautéed mutton is a common meal in this country. Leona brags that the Sunset Savanna is top notch when it comes to cooking meats.

The bananas of the Sunset Savanna are starchy and resemble potatoes (similar to plantains). They are steamed and served as a staple food. They’re faintly sweet and are actually very light and easy to digest.

It’s easier to grow fruit instead of wheat and rice in their climate.

Rice crepes, another staple, are served with a stew that you pour over it. The stew comes in variants such as a white fish stew simmered in tomato sauce, spinach and potato stew, beef stew, etc. There are also many side dishes you can enjoy with the crepes. The crepes aren’t meant to be eaten alone, as they taste too sour solo.

The phrase “that’s the Circle of Life” is a proverb that has been around for ages. The strong eat the weak, then when the strong die, their bodies become nutrients for the grass which feeds the next generation of prey animals. Life comes “full circle”, and the proverb indicates this delicate balance.

The Sunset Savanna is famous for its coffee. It tastes spicy, not bitter, because the custom is to add spices to the drink.

Food prep performances seem to be common for the wealthy; Leona mentions seeing big fish filleted before being served.

Yogurt is considered a “healthy dairy” and is typically served for breakfast.

Elephant Graveyard

The Elephant Graveyard, once considered a scary and lawless place (the “shadow lands” which were not a part of the original kingdom), has become a tourist destination.

They are known for selling vanilla cookies shaped like bones.

The hot springs at the Elephant Graveyard have kettles hidden by the steam. The hot water vapor cooks onsen tamago (a traditionally Japanese irl dish) and puddings. It imparts a slightly salty and sulfurous flavor and smell to the foods.

Sunrise City

The Raintree Market is a bazaar that features many foods and drinks.

Many snacks sold in the marketplaces are local specialties, so they’re popular as souvenirs.

Wild and cultivated hibiscus flowers are boiled with sugar to produce a red juice. There is also a white juice, which is made using wild baobab (which is full of nutrients; people call it a beauty elixir you can drink). A legends says that, long ago, members of the royal family would have their foreheads painted with baobab juice when they were born. That’s how the fruit became a local specialty.

In the original tale, the juice for marking foreheads was red. It seems that, over time, the color was changed to white by word of mouth, with the latter description fitting more with the white fruit of the baobab. Because of this change, more and more stalls have been selling a mixture of hibiscus juice and baobab juice.

The baobab fruit is also used to make a particular sour candy. The candy is dyed with res food coloring and is then dusted with sugar and chili powder. It’s described as having a “mature” flavor.

Mangoes are a local specialty! Vendors will happily cut open the fruit for you to enjoy on the spot.

Other notable fruits for sale are tart passionfruit and creamy but smelly jackfruit. The latter is considered the largest fruit in Twisted Wonderland and grows on its tree’s trunks.

The Sunset Villa is a luxurious hotel that hosts VIPs and important guests of the state. They offer a large selection of drinks (fruit juice, black tea, coffee…) and serve whole slabs of steak in front of you before serving at luxurious barbecues. After dinners, they have dance performances.

There is an enormous sausage that’s wrapped up in a coil. If unwound, it’s a meter long. It’s meant to be cut with scissors before eating. The sausage’s herbs make it taste refreshing, and its meat is finely grounded to allow its flavors to come through.

Seafood is fresh and cheap, provided you live by the sea or in a coastal region like Dawn City. In more inland areas, seafood is considered a luxury.

Their seafood tends to be cooked with strong spices.

Ruggie’s yet-to-be-named hometown

Because the residents are poor, their food is usually made from collected scraps (such as pumpkin pie made predominantly from the pulpy parts) or prepared with substitutions and without extra flourishes. For example, Ruggie’s grandma prepares homemade donuts for his birthday but they couldn't afford fancy toppings (until Ruggie started working to bring in extra income).

It’s implied that there were instances when Ruggie (and presumably others from his hometown) had to eat rotten food or out of trash cans to get by.

Queendom of Roses

General

There is reference to some irl UK foods in this region, such as the jacket potato.

The Queendom of Roses is famous for its rose jelly rolls. Roses are the flower the country is best known for, of course, but they also have lavender, rosemary, sweet violet, foxglove, bluebells, and many berries.

People from this country eat flowers (which are specifically grown for eating). Flowers are also used for dried flower bookmarks? potpourri, etc.

The Queendom has a good selection of breads.

Apparently, the Queendom also has a strong “tea culture”.

People in the Queendom of Roses eat a lot of different pastries (pies, tarts, quiches, croissants, etc). Croissant donuts (cronuts) in particular have been pretty trendy lately. They’re donuts made with croissant batter, so they come out super flaky. They are sometimes sold with iced tea as a combo.

Potatoes are a staple food.

Jacket potatoes are common at festivals; they are potatoes baked with the skin (ie “jacket”) still on. The standard topping for them is baked beans, but you can also have tuna mayo corn, bean chili, sour cream, avocado, and other things.

Anyone that grew up in the Queendom of Roses has probably done the “cookie smash” at least once as a kid. (More info on this under the “Clock Town” section!)

The Queendom is known for lavender, berries, and rosemary.

Riddle and Trey's yet-to-be-named hometown

Trey's family owns a bakery (called "Patisserie Clover" according to the TWST manga). It seems to be a small "mom and pops" shop with no particular notoriety. However, the manga implies that it was the Clover bakery where Riddle saw the strawberry tarts and became entranced by them. This is also where Riddle would later try his first strawberry tart.

In Riddle and Trey's hometown, people enjoy apple bobbing during the Halloween season.

Before interview: Riddle was worried whether they can start on time and was relieved when Vil showed up and Vil was pretty smug about it lmao

There is a farm not too far from where Riddle lives; it is famous for its ice-cream buns. There is also a cafe located on the farm! It opened shortly after Riddle entered NRC and is so popular that it’s spoken about in magazines and tourists go there just to sample their sweets.

Clock Town

The people of Clock Town value time and punctuality due to the town's connection to the White Rabbit, who was always in a hurry. Many of the foods sold at stalls are things that are easy to hold and eat while walking, such as sliced sandwiches.

The Clock Town Folk Museum mentions a girl that appears in the story of the White Rabbit. She ate cookies that made her grow large; the museum recreates this experiment by projecting a large image of guests that eat cookies they have set out.

The Clock Town Folk Museum also runs a bugle-playing contest. The participation prize is a carrot cookie.

Clock Town sells a brand of potato chips with the White Rabbit logo on them.

The town also sells cookies iced to look like a pocket watch. The icing is made from a mixture of sugar and egg whites (“royal icing”) which hardens considerably. You’re meant to crush the cookie with a hammer to make it into smaller pieces, making it easier to eat. It’s based on the story of the White Rabbit breaking his pocket watch. Others tried to help him fix it by hitting it with a hammer, but it didn’t help at all, only damaged it more!

A lot of people enjoy growing plants, gardening, and horticulture, including stuff that can be eaten like herbs.

Sausage rolls are served in pairs to resemble bunny ears; the container they come in resembles the White Rabbit. They’re sausages wrapped in a pie crust/puff pastry dough, and come in cheese (with a shortcrust pastry similar to what is used for tarts to help hold its shape) and a spicy sausage (with a puff pastry that makes it flaky) variant for the White Rabbit Festival.

There are large mushrooms that grow in Clock Town; eating one side will turn you large, eating the other side will turn you small. The girl in the story of the White Rabbit has eaten these strange mushrooms before. These mushrooms are said to be enchanted and only work in a particular area; its effects last for ~1 minute after eating.

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sailorgoon13 · 1 month

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Mattheo Riddle

Basics:

Full Name: Mattheo Riddle

Nickname: Matt, Matty

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 31 December, 1979

Heritage: English

Blood Status: Half- Blood

Wand: Yew, Dragon Heartstring, 13", Flexible

Appearance:

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Dark brown, almost black in some lighting

Skin Tone: Fair. Porcelain like

Height: 6'2"

Body Type: Lean, Athletic

Style: Mix of sophisticated and modern comfort. Tailored joggers, designer hoodies, and sleek leather jackets for a look that's both stylish and comfortable. His wardrobe is filled with premium basics like fitted T-shirts, cashmere sweaters, and designer sneakers.

Features: Intense gaze, Chiseled Jawline, Athletic build, Confident demeanor, Dark Aura, Magnetic Charm, Style, Always smoking a cigarette

Personality:

Traits: Ambitious, Intelligence, Charisma, Protective, Independant

Likes: Reading, Hanging out with friends, Causing Mischief,

Dislikes: Incompetence, Weakness, Conformity, Modesty

Hobbies: Quidditch, Dueling, Learning thing outside of the school curriculum, drawing

Fears: His father, Failure, Loss of control, Betrayal

Family and Friends:

Father: Tom Riddle Jr.

Known as Voldemort/ Dark Lord

Imprisoned on maximum security in Azkaban

Mother: Unknown

Was a follower of the Dark Lords

Died in childbirth

Friends: Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Enzo Berkshire

Magic:

Special Abilities: Natural aptitude to the Dark Arts, Parseltongue

Boggart: A dark version of himself

Patronus: Raven

Polyjuice: It might appear as a deep shade of burgundy or midnight blue. It would have a complex taste of rich spices like cinnamon and clove with a bitterness of black coffee

Amortentia: Old books, fresh pine and smoke

Backstory:

Mattheo Riddle was born on a cold winter's night in December 1979, the only child of Tom Riddle Jr., better known as the infamous Dark Lord Voldemort, and an unnamed witch who was a devoted follower of the Dark Arts. Mattheo's mother died in childbirth, leaving him orphaned from the moment he drew his first breath. Raised by other followers of his father, Mattheo grew up surrounded by darkness and secrecy, his childhood steeped in the shadows of his family's dark legacy.

From a young age, Mattheo exhibited a keen intellect and a thirst for knowledge that surpassed his years. Despite his upbringing among dark wizards and witches, he was drawn to the complexities of magic and the mysteries of the wizarding world. He devoured books on ancient spells, studied the intricacies of potion-making, and honed his magical skills with a diligence and determination that belied his tender age.

As Mattheo grew older, he began to chafe against the constraints of his family's legacy, yearning to carve out his own path in the world beyond the shadows of his father's name. When he received his letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the age of eleven, it was both a moment of triumph and trepidation. He knew that Hogwarts would be his chance to escape the dark influences that had surrounded him since birth, but he also feared the expectations that would follow him wherever he went.

At Hogwarts, Mattheo quickly distinguished himself as a student of exceptional talent and ambition. He excelled in his studies, earning top marks in every subject and mastering spells that left even his professors in awe. He became known for his sharp wit, his confident demeanor, and his ability to effortlessly navigate the complexities of wizarding society. Despite his aloof exterior, he formed close bonds with a select group of friends, including Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Enzo Berkshire, forming a tight-knit circle that would become the envy of the school.

Outside of the classroom, Mattheo's reputation as a Quidditch prodigy preceded him. He was a natural on the broomstick, with a skill and agility that made him a formidable opponent on the Quidditch pitch. He led the Slytherin Quidditch team to victory after victory, earning accolades and admiration from his peers and cementing his status as one of Hogwarts' most celebrated athletes.

Despite his success and popularity, Mattheo struggled with the weight of his family's legacy and the expectations that came with bearing the name of Voldemort. He grappled with questions of identity and morality, torn between the darkness of his heritage and the light that flickered within him. He yearned to break free from the shadows that had haunted him since birth, but he knew that the legacy of his father would always loom large over his life.

As he approached his final year at Hogwarts, Mattheo stood at a crossroads, torn between the past that defined him and the future that beckoned with promise. With graduation looming on the horizon, he knew that he would soon have to make a choice that would shape the course of his destiny. But for now, he would continue to walk the fine line between light and darkness, navigating the complexities of his heritage with courage and conviction, determined to forge his own path in a world that sought to define him by the sins of his father.

Academics:

Best Subject: DADA

Favorite Subject: Potions

Favorite Professor: Snape

Worst Subject: Muggle Studies

Least Favorite Subject: History of Magic

Least Favorite Professor: Binns

Student Life:

A mix of academic excellence, social prominence, and a constant struggle to define his own identity in the shadow of his father

Stood out as one of the brightest students, excelling and mastering more than just the curriculum

Popular, despite his challenges.

Is at every Slytherin event

Slytherin beater on the Quidditch team

Walks a fine line of light and dark, wrestling with his demons from his past

Is really just a puppy-eyed boy behind his tough exterior

BEYOND THE MASK// MATTHEO RIDDLE

#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #slytherin #hogwarts houses #hogwarts oc #hogwarts #mattheo smut #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys x reader #voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle

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tavina-writes · 7 months

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MDZS Society! aka: there's a lot less killing than you'd expect

This follows from this post and also the recent translations of MXTX’s most recent interview (which I can now no longer bother to find bc this has been sitting in drafts for like, siiiix months? More? Oh god anyway.) which reminded me about my feelings regarding MDZS society and how different it is from the martial societies we see depicted in typical modern wuxia. (Small disclaimer, I am a wuxia genre fiend and I love like, thinking about fictional societies so this is like, “AHA! You’ve unlocked my trap card!”)

For the purposes of this, I’m going to be looking at MDZS/CQL’s depiction of the jianghu (which I think is fairly similar! I don’t actually think the show writers made CQL’s jianghu/martial society more genre typical than it was in the book) and comparing that with modern classic wuxia (mostly Jin Yong and Gu Long works.) For this comparison, I’ll be looking at a Jin Yong book — Legend of the Condor Heroes (which is widely considered the starting point of modern wuxia as a genre) — and one Gu Long book — Dagger Li/Sentimental Swordsman, Ruthless Sword (widely considered his most popular work) — and seeing how their societies differ from MDZS society.

This will likely come in two parts because this one was already getting long, and I don’t think we can fit “how often does nobility exist in a typical jianghu and what do bloodline sects look like normally versus what they look like in MDZS” in this post along with the main topic of “is MDZS society a particularly physically violent place?”

This post discusses how often cultivators are socially expected to kill people. Like, actual living human beings instead of, say, monsters or ghosts which have been categorized differently than like, human beings.

EDIT: I forgot to talk about Dagger Li but this was already much too long sorry. Feel free to hmu for more thoughts though.

Now, it might be easy to think that cultivators killing actual people is a really common thing in MDZS/CQL universe! After all, they do have martial arts training and one of the prominent things about the first life is just how many people die both in the Sunshot Campaign and the fallout afterwards. However, I would argue that a lot of the traumas and related issues and reactions that happen in MDZS happen because cultivators are, by training and education, not actually prepared for killing actual living breathing human beings! (And also that the morality of this world prevents it for the most part)

Now, we do actually get a pretty good window into what the typical training is like for young cultivators in MDZS, because we get a fairly well defined schoolhouse scene where LQR is asking them questions about "how do you tell the difference between various different problems we have to solve?" and "how do you go about fixing this problem?" and none of those include the moral quandary of "if I, a young cultivator out in the Jianghu, see a guy who is doing something I morally disagree with, under what circumstances do I beat him up and/or kill him." This does not appear to enter the curriculum at any point, leading me to believe that the morally correct number of people not like, ghosts or ghouls or fierce corpses, a regular average MDZS cultivator is supposed to have killed is approximately 0.

Which. Is a thing you get in a normal martial arts wuxia jianghu. There is generally the threat of "oh yeah this that or the other faction will be doing shitty things and thereby try to murder you." Instead, in MDZS/CQL most of the heirs of sects are...attending school together. Doing teenage things like partying and gossiping and attending classes.

And sure yes, there was a case of WWX and JZX trying to beat each other up. But the sects did sure let their kids stay at Lan summer camp for months on end (sometimes repeatedly, see NHS) without fearing for their lives or that anyone would steal another sect's techniques or otherwise causing real havoc or intersect warfare etc.

Which is infeasible in any other sort of Jianghu situation. For example, contrast this scenario with this scene from LOCH where Guo Jing's shifus are giving him advice since he is newly 17 and about to set out by himself into the great big world:

Guo Jing therefore bid farewell to his teachers. They had witnessed his battle against the Four Demons of the Yellow River, and were not too greatly worried. The young man had proved that he knew how to use the skills that they taught him. Therefore they let him leave alone. On one hand, the meeting of outlaws in Yanjing worried them greatly, so that they could not ignore it; and on the other hand, a youngster always had to travel the jianghu alone, in order to learn lessons that no teacher could pass on. At the moment of parting, each made their last recommendations. As usual when the Six spoke after one another, Nan Xiren was the last one to express himself. "If you cannot defeat the enemy," he said. "Flee!" He knew that given Guo Jing's dogged character, he would prefer to die rather than to surrender, if he met a master, he would certainly fight to the bitter end, even at the risk of death. That was the reason Nan Xiren gave him this common sense warning. " Martial arts have no limits," added Zhu Cong. " As the proverb says, 'For every peak there is one yet higher', so for every man there is one stronger. Whatever your power, you will always one day meet a foe stronger than you. A true man knows to retreat when necessary, when facing grave danger, it is necessary to contain one's impatience and anger. This what is meant by the adage, « If one preserves the earth and its forests, one does not fear to lack firewood ». It is not therefore not cowardly to take good advice! When the enemy is too numerous and that you cannot face them there, it is especially necessary to avoid being too reckless. Keep in mind Fourth Shifu's advice!"

Does this seem like the sort of advice that any Young MDZS Cultivator would get? "You're a good kid, but when you go out into the world, there will be people who straight up want you dead even though they met you 15 minutes ago, you cannot persist in fighting with these people because they will want you dead and you are a baby cultivator who needs to learn to run away when shit gets rough or you will be dead."

And again I come back to how MDZS cultivators are more like occupational ghostbusters because this really does inform how their society functions and runs and how everyone reacts so badly to the Sunshot Campaign beginning and its aftermaths and possibly explains how JGS could get his way after Sunshot.

Because what happens when you get a society that does train heavily in martial arts and have Able To Kill Real People Weapons who spends most of their time solving very black and white situations of "okay is this ghost whose eating people's livers good or bad? y/n?" and a clear hierarchy of "how do we get rid of the ghost eating people's livers in town x" instead of say "is it morally correct to kill this group of bandits who's been threatening the town" or "is it morally correct to kill this shitty businessman who's been holding people hostage and threatening to hack off their limbs" you have a reduced level of philosophical musing on like, "what is the purpose of martial arts, which is designed to kill people and what do I use martial arts for?" and "under what circumstances and situations would I personally find it morally correct to kill a man?" Which are all questions that Wuxia coming of age stories typically have, and I think MDZS does have, but expressed differently.

Again, it appears that the number of Real Live Human Beings that it is morally acceptable to have stabbed in your life is approximately 0 in this universe, and the expectation that you, personally, might have to fend off people trying to stab you over brunch is also approximately 0.

This also leads to a situation where like, questions of vengeance have very difficult escape hatches! If your parents are murdered on the job by an evil rampaging ghost, this is very sad and tragic and now you're an orphan and of course that's not good, but this is a occupational job hazard, not like, "Yeah Joe Bob from the sect down the street murdered my dad because #Reasons~, and now it's my legacy to grow up to murder Job Bob from the sect down the street to avenge my dad."

(I have a whole essay about how this pertains to both of the Nie Brothers, and how it pertains to JGY and also Jin Ling, and how this seems to routinely fuck people up in MDZS in a very specific way we don't typically see in other wuxias, but this is getting SO long as it is).

But yeah "the socially acceptable number of real living people (instead of ghosts or demons or fierce corpses or whatever) to have killed in your lifetime as a cultivator is approximately 0" means that the Sunshot Generation gets really really fucked up by all of this "killing real people" they did.

Which! might be why JFM was so slow to move on "yeah the Wen are threatening to kill your heirs." <- socially inconceivable behavior. Why society in general is so shocked by Xue Yang and the murder of the Chang <- which would be bad normally but not quite like this. And why no one did anything specific about JGS even if they felt he wasn't entirely correct. What are they going to threaten him with? Death???? A trial of his peers? Social Shunning??? Public shame???

"But Tav how does this relate to CQL!Su She's morality?" I hear you ask. Well you see, the question of "he should've been ready to die for his sect!" is utterly baffling in a society where nobody is expected to be ready to die for their sect on a regular basis because the idea that you should be ready for someone trying to stab you before brunch is utterly nonsensical in a world where most people expect that the baseline number of murders a cultivator does in their lifetimes is 0. That's the world he lives in.

On this regard CQL!Su She is utterly blameless. Nobody handed him a rulebook or expectations sheet for "the sect down the street will try to kill you" nor SHOULD they expect he'd be ready to die at a drop of a hat when no part of the education or social expectations include "ready to die for your sect because it's routine for people to try to kill you."

If you don't even expect to be stabbed and possibly die at a discussion conference where there are lots of cultivators from many sects why on EARTH would you expect to be facing down death in your own home when there's. cultivators here to kill you, this situation is so out of left field?

#modao zushi #mdzs #meta #my meta #su she #this is not a society *without* violence to be clear #but it's not the sort of place where it'll have been acceptable to murder and maim before breakfast #and that's why traumas happen as they do #I've been sitting on this for ages #please don't discourse in my notes about if 'murder' is a good thing or a bad thing #this is just an observation on like #'is it societally common for cultivators to run around killing people?'#the answer to this question is no

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 3 months

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Sorry if that's already been asked but what do you think about the "King's word is the law" in hotd/dance discourse? I'm not sure where that even came from and for me there is 0 evidence that suggests it's true

Hi anon, excellent question! Sorry it took me so long to reply, this got a bit long! This is actually something that comes up a lot when I teach feudalism to my high school students. I've found that most people in general do not know the difference between feudalism and absolutism, and conceive of all kingship as a form of tyranny. And compared to most modern systems of government, of course feudalism and absolutism are both oppressive and restrictive, so the difference can feel a bit like splitting hairs. Neither system gives the the common people any real voice, but the difference is that feudalism is a system with a relatively weak monarchy that has to, both directly and indirectly, answer to both the church and to his vassals. But Westeros, even under the Targaryens, even with the dragons, is not, strictly peaking, an absolute monarchy but rather a feudal monarchy.

Broadly speaking, in a feudal system "the king's word is law" is only true insofar as the king can enforce that law, and to enforce his laws he needs the support of his vassals, the landholders who supply him with his armies and revenues. The feudal relationship between the king and his vassals looks roughly like this (this is the actual diagram we use in my world history curriculum):

Notice how the relationships are all reciprocal? The king might technically own all the land in the realm, but he has no standing army of his own. Knights pledge their service to the lords, rather than the king (he will have some knights in his personal service too, but not nearly enough to make war). It is in the king's best interest to keep his vassals happy. He needs them! They help him keep other unruly vassals in check, help defend against foreign invasion, and help him wage his own wars of expansion. They also provide the crown with revenue in the form of taxes, and their farmlands are what provide food for the people of the realm. In Westeros in particular, the royal family does not hold much land of its own (the land held by the royal family is called the royal demesne and the Targaryen royal demesne is very small compared to that of irl kings), so it's particularly dependent on the support of the vassalage. This makes it a relatively weak feudal monarchy, all things considered.

(also, notice the bishop up there with the lords? Usually, he would usually be appointed by the king with the approval of the pope, but the question of whether or not church officials were subjects of the king and subject to the king's laws was a huge point of contention hat caused many power struggles in medieval monarchies, and there was a whole separate court system, the ecclesiastical court, to deal with the crimes of court officials)

Anyway, a feudal king who just does whatever he wants without regard for his vassals will quickly find himself being named a tyrant, and the accusation of tyranny is a serious one in a feudal system, because vassals will rebel rather than serve a tyrant. Rebellions were not usually done with the goal of overthrowing the king completely, they were done in order to pressure the king into listening to their demands. We saw this happen with King John, whose barons were unhappy for a number of reasons including what they saw as avaricious economic policies, costly wars with France, increased royal interference in local administration of justice, and conflicts between the king and the church. Eventually, John's barons pressured him into signing the Magna Carta, a document that specifically limited the power of the king and stated outright that the king was not above the law and that the king could not impose new laws without the consent of the lords. John later repudiated this document, which led to further rebellions, and his son and heir Henry III had to reaffirm it after his death (and a series of rebellions still plagued Henry III). Eventually, this leads to a formalization of the idea that the king must not act without the consent of his lords and the creation of parliament.

Now, we never see a Westerosi Magna Carta or the creation of a set parliament, there is the small council and the occasional great council, and lords can and do object to the king's laws, force concessions, and remove kings. Notably, Robert's rebellion in the main series is an example of vassals losing faith in their king and eventually removing him. Aegon V cannot push his reforms through because he lacks the support of the lords, and in his desperation tries to bring back the dragons. But if we look back, even dragonriding Targaryens could not simply impose their will without the cooperation of the realm's lords. Aenys was considered weak and his rule was beset by rebellions, eventually coming to a head when he arranged an incestuous marriage for his heir, this after the Faith was already displeased with his brother's polygamous marriage. This led to Aenys being known as known as King Abomination and the Faith Militant uprising forced him to flee to Dragonstone. Maegor, who followed him, is ousted (and killed) as a tyrant for going further than that, suppressing the faith and committing kinslaying against his nephew. What makes Jaehaerys' rule notable and successful is that he's very good at appeasing the lords and when he is going to do something controversial, like the Doctrine of Exceptionalism or changing the succession, he campaigns and politicks for their support (I maintain that he knew Viserys being picked at the council was a forgone conclusion, but he did not want to unilaterally go against Andal custom without consulting his lords, it's a CYA move). This is something Viserys completely fails to do, not only failing to drum up support for his unconventional choice of heir, but actively alienating potential supporters.

It's worth keeping in mind that "law" means something different in this context than what many of us are used to today. Medieval law, and Westerosi law, was a hodgepodge of custom, statute, and precedent. Westeros, like England, operates on "common law." Successions are disputed all the time because competing claims exist. If Viserys named Mushroom heir, is his word law? What if he names Helaena? Jace? And in a normal situation, if it wasn't the succession of the throne in question the rival claimants would present their petitions, citing evidence and precedent, and the master of law, magistrate, or the king would make a ruling. The will of the lords is especially required to enforce an unconventional royal succession because succession takes place after the king is dead, and so if the succession is disputed, the claimants and the lords of the realm have to settle the dispute, nonviolently if possible, or else civil war will follow.

And you can get the lords behind an unconventional succession, but you have to have a good reason. "She's my favorite child from my favorite wife" is not actually good enough. For instance, when Robb chooses to legitimize Jon and disinherit Sansa in order to keep Winterfell out of Lannister hands, this is widely accepted among his vassals and allies because the reasoning is sound. Jon may be a bastard, but it would be worse for everyone to have Winterfell pass to a Lannister, even if it's shitty for Sansa. By the same logic, initially, Rhaenyra is accepted as heir because the lords do not want Daemon on the throne (the man she is now married to!). But after Aegon is born most assumed he would naturally become his father's heir. And remember, there's no reason for Alicent to marry Viserys if he cannot even ensure he inheritance of his own firstborn son. And Viserys never builds a case for Rhaenyra while he is alive, never tries to present Aegon as unworthy, he never has the lords come reaffirm their oaths, never writes a decree to formalize Westerosi succession. He doesn't take action because he knows he would not achieve anything near consensus (despite certain houses choosing Rhaenyra when it comes to war, it's doubtful they would have made the same choice if it had been a great council), so instead of dealing with the problem, he passes it on to his children.

I think it's fair to view the challenge to Rhaenyra's succession as an objection to what some see as tyranny on the part of the king. Viserys and Rhaenyra set themselves above the law in multiple ways-- not just jumping ahead of a son in the line of succession, but the way she has destabilized her own rule by placing bastards in her line of succession. What they are doing defies all precedent, and in a world where law is built in large part from precedent, this is not something the lords of the realm are obligated to accept.

#asks #the king's word is law #or is it #feudalism #anti team black #team green #anti viserys i targaryen

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looneyleyle · 1 month

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the self-destructive habits of a hopeless romantic ~ j. hughes

synopsis: monetizing one's self-sabotaging habits, surprisingly, has its downfalls. one of them being leaving that one attractive hockey player that is an absolute gentleman who loves you with his whole entire heart.

warnings: self-sabotage, self-deprecation, angsty (but with happy ending)

word count: 3425 words

note: once again unedited but i wanted to get this one out there

???'s pov

time and time again, the world has seen the self destructive habits of humans. well, that makes it seem serious. the world has seen the countless missed opportunities due to a fear of another's reaction. the world has seen the blunders due to saving face. the world has seen the heartbreaks due to miscommunication. time and time again, the world has seen how people sabotage their own lives for the dumbest reasons.

esther graham was no different.

in fact, she capitalized on her ability to put herself into the worst emotional distress possible. every heartbreak produced a great work of literature that would nearly sell out in bookstores all over the northeast. she wasn't a new york times best seller by any means, but she was a small town writer from mont vernon, new hampshire. she made a name for herself during her time at hamilton college in their creative writing program. in her junior year of college, she published her first book, woes of a teenage failure, a novel following what could have been for a young college drop out named sophia. the book was a hit amongst her peers and professors, and by word of mouth, ended up selling 200 copies. the book, as ms. graham remarked, was her own "what-if" story, as she almost dropped out of college the beginning of her sophomore year.

and how do i know so much about ms. graham?

well, because i am ms. esther graham.

and i'm here to tell you all about the biggest blunder of my life.

after my first book, i hit major writing block. i would stare at my computer screen for hours just to delete the only three words that i could come up with. i would sit in coffee shops, pen in hand, ready for inspiration to strike, and yet, nothing. i was nearing the end of my college career, riding on the coattails of my first and only book's success, and couldn't figure out how to continue. my professors taught me plenty of ways to try and combat writer's block, but nothing worked.

until i met ryan. a devilishly handsome man all the way from the cheese state of wisconsin, who was meeting up with some college friends for the annual boston beanpot. we had our meet cute at a nearby pizza joint, in which i sat down and started chatting with him, thinking he was a publisher that i was supposed to meet with. after realizing my blunder when he had absolutely no idea what an anthology was, he asked if i wanted to join him and his friends at the beanpot, as one of their friends had cancelled, leaving them with an extra ticket.

ryan and i dated for four months. we would take turns traveling between my college in new york and his in wisconsin until eventually it became too much, or should i say, too little for him, and he broke it off. in my rage and complete depression from the breakup, i wrote my next hit, until the sun sets, a 142-page anthology of gut-wrenching poems, which was eventually integrated into hamilton college's curriculum for their young adult modern literature class. i was quite proud of that.

after that, i found myself yet again staring at blanks screens and empty notepads.

that is, until chloe. a beautiful new york native whom i had actually met while dating ryan. she was a hostess at a restaurant ryan and i would always go to. she was pursuing her masters in psychology, which gave me fascinating insights and tactics to use in my books. we were never officially together, but we had something for almost three months before she was whisked off by some californian named ella. i never saw her again, which prompted my next book, the ninth floor, a murder mystery following a closeted lesbian couple in 1940's hollywood (it was one of the girlfriends the whole time).

at this point, when i hit a creative block for the third time, i realized that i needed my heart or brain to be in absolute shambles in order to produce my best work. i needed to be at some sort of life crisis, and the easiest way to do so was to love another and let that love be ripped out of your life.

so, i began dating for the sake of my career. it was like i sought out the most manipulative, scummy people in the world who were able to get away with it just because they were attractive. over the course of a year, my first year out of college, i dated a total of three men and one woman, and poured my emotions out into a collection of short stories titled lavender.

and that was when i met jack.

i was in new jersey for a book signing at this little bookstore which, as it turns out, was right by the prudential center. as i left the bookstore, i was nearly run over by an overly excited man-child with a giant bag slung upon his shoulder.

"luke, watch out, you nearly killed that woman!" a voice yelled from where the man came from.

"i'm so sorry about that miss, my brother can get a bit overexcited sometimes." looking at the person talking to me, i found a young, very attractive brunet with the most adorable smile. i straightened myself up instinctively, wanting to appear presentable.

"no worries. if you don't mind me asking, what got him so riled up that he almost trampled me?" the man let out a laugh at my statement.

"of course, we owe you at least that much for your near-death experience. he just got nominated for the calder trophy." he explained, as if those words meant anything to me. seeing my blank stare, he clarified. "a rookie of the year award. we play for the new jersey devils." the boy in question came up and joined us, grinning ear to ear.

"ahhh, i see. i'm not a big hockey watcher, which i know is absolute blasphemy for someone who grew up in new hampshire." his jaw nearly dropped.

"you're from up here and don't like hockey? we have to change that." he exclaimed. in my peripheral vision, i could see his brother trying to hide his laughter at his brother's forwardness.

"ill have to come and watch a game sometime." i mused.

"we have a game coming up next week against the blue jackets. i could maybe snatch you a seat in exchange for your number." he proposed. his brother snorted at that, having to turn around to hide his obvious laughter. the man paid his brother no mind, just looking at me with a big smile on his face.

"trying to bribe me mister?"

"is it working?" i put my hand out and he immediately put his phone in my hand, adding my information into his contacts.

"esther? that's nice, you look like a esther." i quirked an eyebrow at him, but continued on anyways.

"and you? what should i call you?"

"call me yours. or jack, either works." the brother was doubled over on the floor at this point, jack finally acknowledging him by kicking him slightly, making him fall over.

"anyways, ms. esther, we have to get going, but ill see you next week at our game." he put out his hand for me to shake.

"you've got yourself a deal jack."

and just like that, jack and i started talking. his eagerness was cute, he texted me no more than ten minutes after meeting me. we talked every day, mainly on calls, asking each other questions and such to get to know each other.

and sure enough, the next week, i found myself back in new jersey watching the brothers play. i assumed jack was going to be some sort of benchwarmer or something, but that didn't seem to be the case. despite my lack of hockey knowledge, i could tell the boy was good, and he had quite a fan base if the amount of women wearing his jersey meant anything. and i felt severely out of place, simply wearing a grey sweater and jeans, unlike everyone else in the stands, decked out in red.

after that, i found myself going to a couple more hockey games, for no particular reason. jack would try to explain the game over video calls and our occasional coffee meet ups, but i couldn't for the life of me wrap my head around it. why do they all get off the ice every five seconds? and what the hell is offsides?? jack always laughed at my confusion, telling me that i'd get it one day.

we spent a couple months thriving off of video chats and once-in-a-blue-moon hangouts, until i got a job as an editor for a local paper. i was good at editing, always having good grammar and an eye for design, but it wasn't my dream. despite it not being my dream, i needed a stable income, and fast. my mind was devoid of ideas, and it didn't seem like that would change any time soon.

plus, it helped that this stable income happened to be in new york city, putting me a lot closer to a certain someone. and, with me being closer, that certain someone would pop on by a lot more than before. and eventually, chinese takeout dinners turned into staying the night, which turned into coming up for the weekend, which turned into the line of friendship being crossed into something more.

and then, i made the dumbest mistake of my life.

i let him go.

now, i know what you must be thinking. he must have done something wrong, he must have cheated or neglected me or done something so completely unforgivable that i would just throw away the most amazing thing in my life. and i wish i was here to tell you that was the truth.

but it wasn't.

jack was nothing but a gentleman, and i was just a broken girl doing the only thing i knew how to do: leave. i like to tell myself that it was for my career, that i needed to write another book, that i wasn't fulfilled in my job and that i was putting myself first by doing this, but i was perfectly content with my life. i was an editor for a major publishing company, i started writing little happy poems about my mundane life with jack, and wanted nothing more. i had no reason to run away. i just woke up in his bed one day and realized that i wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, and i couldn't accept that. i had gotten so used to leaving people that i assumed that they would leave me if i hadn't done so first, and i couldn't lose the one real thing i ever had.

so naturally, my self-destructive, self-sabotaging self let him go, the exact opposite of what i wanted.

and when i got back to my apartment after writing jack a confusing and half-assed letter, i cried. i cried and cried and cried, and i always wrote about characters crying until they couldn't anymore, but that day, i couldn't find the end to my tears. for hours tears would either slowly leak or violently pour from my eyes, and they never did end, not even when i passed out on my couch from exhaustion.

and after a week, i was expecting to pick myself up and start writing my next best seller, coping with my writing. but i sat there, and my florescent computer screen simply sat there, staring back at me. and when i left my apartment for a change of scenery, the blank pages of my notebook mocked me. i flipped through past works, all of them being little poems about jack, and the waterworks continued, right in the middle of a starbucks.

after a week and four days, i couldn't take it. i had to make things right, i had to at least see him. it always worked in the books, right? someone makes a huge mistake, they break up, they see each other again and realize they're both miserable without each other and then get back together and live happily ever after.

when i knocked on the door to jack's apartment, i was met with an unimpressed looking luke. at the sight of him, the waterworks started up again.

"you're an idiot, you know that?" i nodded furiously at this, sobs wrecking through my body. i couldn't see through the tears in my eyes, but i could tell the luke hadn't moved a muscle.

"he deserved better and you know that." i felt my soul being crushed. "i mean, a letter? seriously esther? and a half-assed one at that. i know damn well you don't have a degree in creative writing for that bullshit."

i opened my mouth to explain, but nothing came up. what would i say, that i was a broken person? cop out. that i did it to everyone? not much better. that i got scared? fucking coward.

"if you think that you deserve to see my brother, then i'll let you in." he told me, moving out of the way, door open wide. i just stood there, staring at him through teary eyes. my brain cheered, finally able to go in, but my feet wouldn't move.

my heart still clenched and ached, and with every thought of moving forward, into that apartment, it hurt more. jack didn't deserve this. after all the nights of him reading my poems about him and praising my work, after all the sweet things he'd say when i was down, after all the little acts of kindness he showed me, after all the love he poured into us, he didn't deserve to be broken by me. hurt people hurt people, the scholars had that right. he didn't deserve to be broken.

and so, i got ready to leave, again.

"i'm sorry." was all i said, turning around with heavy legs and a heavy heart. i heard luke let out a sigh as i walked away, closing the door behind him.

a couple of days went by and i found myself back at their apartment. i knew they wouldn't be there, they had an away game in anaheim the night before, and i knew from my time with jack that they would always spend the night in the city before coming back, especially after a win, a 5-0 win no less.

i stood there in front of their door, a small box in my hands, contemplating. jack didn't deserve this, but a selfish part of me needed this. i placed the box gingerly outside of their door and left the building. if the box was taken by some nosy neighbor, or thrown in the trash by some janitor, then it would be fate. it would be a sign to move on. but, there was a chance that jack and luke would come back to their apartment, and would pick up the box, and jack would recognize my handwriting. and, instead of throwing the box in the trash like any normal self-respecting person receiving a box from their shitty ex, he would take it to his room, and open it up to see my notebook, with a bookmark starting at the pages when i first started seeing him. and he would read the poems and maybe, just maybe, he'd see the note written on the bookmark to meet me at the park near his apartment, and maybe, just maybe, he'd be willing to hear me out.

i went to that park every single day for exactly one month and six days, always arriving by 1 pm, never late. and i would stay there until 4 pm, waiting.

on the 37th day, i was sitting there, editing, funnily enough, a sports column about the recent devils and islanders game. i watched it, absolutely terrible game it was, the islanders beating the devils for the first time in the season. our sports journalist, while passionate and very knowledgeable about seemingly every sport out there, had a knack for writing long, run-on sentences that reflected his rambling nature. as i sat there on the same park bench i had been sitting on for the previous 36 days, a figure stopped in front of me. i finished up the sentence i was working on before looking up.

and while i hate cliches, the wind was absolutely knocked out of my lungs.

"h-hey jack." i started, immediately putting away my work, giving him my full attention.

"hey esther." a shiver ran down my spine from him just saying my name. it had been so long, and while it lost its loving tone, i welcomed it with open arms. jack moved, taking the spot next to me, looking out at the trees in front of us. when it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything, i started the conversation.

"i see you read the notebook."

"i finished it three weeks ago." he replied, voice lacking its usual emotion. tears welled up in my eyes. three weeks.

"oh."

"i came here immediately after finishing it." i felt my eyes bulge out of their sockets at that. he continued, "i went to that bench over there and watched as you fidgeted in your spot, looking frantically at everyone who passed by. i watched the next day as you sat in the pouring rain with no umbrella. i sat over on that bench every day that i was here since reading your notebook."

a silence fell upon us, my mind reeling, trying to figure out what he was trying to say, from his emotionless face to the fact that he came.

"do you know how much it hurt? waking up to empty sheets and some half-assed note with the lamest excuses on earth?" i hadn't really paid mind to the tears rolling down my cheeks until he brought that up, sending me back to that morning, quickly scribbling out some gibberish before leaving the best part of my life behind.

"i was going to wait another month, y'know. to see if you were still gonna come here every day."

"so why didn't you?" i asked, sniffling intensely, trying to calm down my sobs.

"luke said i was absolutely miserable without you. coach told me i wasn't focused. my teammates pointed out that i barely left my apartment. the icing on the cake was when my mom started asking if you would be coming over to the lakehouse this summer. i realized, as pathetic as it seems, that i can't live without you."

my attempts at stopping my crying were thrown out the window at that. i could probably fill the hudson river with the amount of tears i had shed over the past two months.

"how can i make it up to you. please, please let me make it up to you." i begged, fully facing him, my hands angrily playing with the sleeves of my shirt because if i didn't, i would be reaching out to the man in front of me.

"never pull that shit again." he bargained, looking me dead in the eyes for the first time in months. and in that moment, i saw just how bad he was doing. sunken eyes with heavy bags, his skin dull, hair slightly unkempt under his hat.

"never again." i promised, putting out my pinky to him, something he would always do when he promised me to not get hurt in games. he let out a hoarse laugh, looking away from me, and when he looked back, i saw the tears brewing in his eyes. he took my pinky in his and held it there, between us.

"now, i'm not gonna just take you right back after all that. that was really shitty and i need some time to get over that. but, as i've found out, i can't really function without you. so maybe you could start with coming to my games again, and i could take you out for coffee next week."

"sounds perfect."

i accepted my life as an editor for the local newspaper, accepted that i probably wouldn't write another page-turning sell-out book, accepted that i was completely content with whatever happened to me, so long as jack was there with me.

and with that, my self-destructive, soul-crushing, heart-breaking tendencies reached their end.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x oc #new jersey devils #fanfic

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thatsonemorbidcorvid · 5 months

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“Forced marriage — in which one or both parties do not give full, free consent — is recognized globally as a form of modern slavery. My story is far from unique: Around the world, 22 million people were in a forced marriage as of 2021.

Yet, even though the United States acknowledges that forced marriage is a human rights abuse, few laws and policies are in place to prevent or punish it, and the nation has paid such scant attention to this issue that we do not even know how often forced marriage happens here.

What’s more, child marriage remains legal in most U.S. states, even though it is recognized as a form of forced marriage and a human rights abuse. Some 300,000 children were married in the U.S. between 2000 and 2018, mostly girls wed to adult men. At least 60,000 marriages occurred at an age or with a spousal age difference that should have been considered a sex crime.”

Note: The following essay contains descriptions of sexual assault and abuse.

They sent me off to be raped, with a party and a tube of K-Y Jelly.

The lubricant was to reduce the intense physical pain they explained I would endure while being penetrated by a stranger-turned-husband, without foreplay, without consent. Every month. Until death do us part.

The party — a low-budget wedding in 1995 at a Brooklyn venue aptly nicknamed Armpit Terrace — was to distract me from the horrific reality of my forced marriage to the stranger.

“Mazel tov!” they told me, beaming.

In the reclusive Orthodox Jewish community in New York City where I grew up, choices about whether, when and whom I would marry did not belong to me. At home and at the all-girls religious school I attended, where I learned to cook and sew and keep house, I was groomed from early childhood to expect a teen marriage to a stranger my family and a matchmaker would choose for me.

I was allowed to meet the stranger several times before my engagement, but I was not allowed to be alone with him nor to have any physical contact with him. I was a clueless 19-year-old who had never been allowed to “talk to a boy,” and suddenly I was given a matter of hours, over a period of a few weeks, to answer my family and his family and the matchmaker and everyone in the community standing there, tapping their feet, looking at their watches, waiting for me to tell them: You’ll marry this man we chose for you, right?

“No” was never really an option.

During my six-week engagement, I still was not allowed to be alone with the groom nor to have any physical contact with him, which left more time for me to begin experiencing the myriad other abuses that come with a forced marriage.

First, a virginity exam. The groom’s rabbi sent me to an Orthodox Jewish gynecologist, where I was instructed to disrobe, get on the examination table and put my feet in the stirrups. The doctor inserted her gloved fingers into my vagina and confirmed that my hymen was intact.

“Mazel tov!” she told me, beaming.

I attended one-on-one bridal classes, where the curriculum centered on the requirement that I have unprotected sex with my husband on my wedding night and on a monthly basis thereafter. A lifetime of rape.

Yes, the rapes probably would hurt, the bridal class teacher explained. Hence the K-Y Jelly.

“Mazel tov!” she told me, beaming.

My stranger-turned-husband turned out to be violent and abusive. I learned this exactly one week after our wedding, when he became enraged because he had woken up late, and he punched his fist through the wall — hard enough to leave a sizable hole.

His first threat to kill me came only days later. Soon these threats became more frequent, specific and gruesome. He was brimming with creative ideas for how he would end my life, and he took the time to describe them to me in vivid detail. A lifetime of fear.

Yet I was trapped.

My forced marital sex was carefully timed each month for when I was ovulating. The reason for this was obvious: My first child was born 11 months after my wedding, and soon I had a second child.

I love my daughters, but I did not consent to having them. A lifetime of forced parenthood.

This denial of sexual and reproductive rights was not the only shackle preventing me from leaving my marriage. My husband did not allow me to have my own bank account or credit card, and I was taught that, under Orthodox Jewish law, if my husband allowed me to work, any money I earned belonged to him. A lifetime of domestic servitude and financial dependence.

I had limited legal rights too. Under Orthodox Jewish law, only a man can grant a divorce. I, as a woman, did not have the legal right to end my own marriage. A lifetime of being locked in unwanted wedlock.

One escape route for me would have been to move back in with my family as an agunah, a “chained woman” who is bound to a husband who refuses her a divorce. The life of an agunah is brutal; she is shamed for her powerlessness, blamed for her failed marriage and treated as an outcast.

But even this dreadful escape route was closed to me, because my family refused to take me back in. A lifetime of betrayal.

So I remained trapped in my abusive forced marriage. In accordance with Orthodox Jewish law, I was considered “unclean” every time I menstruated. While I was “unclean,” I was prohibited from having physical contact with my husband, sleeping in the same bed as him, handing him anything or undressing or singing in front of him. A lifetime of shame.

Once my period ended, I needed to count seven “clean” days without any menstrual blood, during which time the rules against physical contact continued. To make sure I stayed “clean” for the full seven days, I was required to wear white panties and, twice a day, to insert a white cloth into my vagina, swish it around and inspect it in sunlight to make sure it did not have blood spots. If I found questionable marks on my panties and could not tell whether they were blood, the rabbi would inspect them and give his pronouncement.

And the rabbi would keep my panties. A lifetime of extreme patriarchy.

Each month, after the seven “clean” days, I was forced to strip naked in front of an attendant who watched me immerse in a mikvah, or a ritual bath of rainwater, which frequently left me with a yeast infection and always left me shaking uncontrollably. A lifetime of violation.

All I wanted, every time I left the mikvah, was to take a hot shower and scrub the violation off me. That was prohibited. Instead I was required to go home and have nonconsensual sex with the man who had spent the day describing to me in graphic detail how he was going to murder me. The man who would not let me close the door when I used the bathroom, because “what was I hiding from him in there?”

No matter. I had to get on the bed and spread my legs and forget what had happened to me at the mikvah and ignore the pain while I waited for him to finish, and I had to remind myself how lucky I was that he usually was done after only three or four thrusts. A lifetime straight out of Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale.”

Forced marriage — in which one or both parties do not give full, free consent — is recognized globally as a form of modern slavery. My story is far from unique: Around the world, 22 million people were in a forced marriage as of 2021.

My husband would regularly search through my personal belongings in front of me, including in the pockets of the clothing in my closet and in my bag of tampons under the bathroom sink. A lifetime of subjugation. When I finally realized at age 27 that I was the only person who would help me leave my abusive forced marriage alive and I decided I would secretly save up cash for my escape, I found the only safe hiding place in the house: a box of Whole Grain Total in the pantry.

I saved more than $40,000 in that cereal box over the next five years.

During those years I also defied my community and did something no one in my family had ever done: I became a college student. My husband forbade me from attending classes. I informed him, calmly, that nothing he did to me would stop me from getting my education.

And I did something no one I knew had ever done: I threw out the limp, ugly wig I was required to wear as a married woman to cover my own thick, healthy hair. I walked outside with my uncovered head held high — the equivalent, in that community, of walking outside naked.

My family retaliated immediately by shunning me. One of my sisters notified me that my family was planning to sit shiva — or observe the Jewish mourning ritual for me — as if I had literally died. I have had almost no contact with my family since that day. A lifetime of being dead.

But I graduated from Rutgers University (as commencement speaker, the equivalent of valedictorian) at age 32, and I escaped my abusive forced marriage on my own, with my daughters and my box of Total. I fled the Orthodox Jewish community too, and I rebuilt my life.

In 2011 I founded a nonprofit organization, Unchained At Last, to combat forced and child marriage in the U.S. through direct services and systems change.

The U.S. is one of 193 countries that agree forced and child marriage are harmful practices, particularly for women and girls, and have promised to eliminate these abuses by year 2030 to help achieve gender equality, under the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals. Yet the U.S. is not on track to keep its promise.

I refuse to accept this. Not after I escaped my lifetime of oppression.

We at Unchained are fighting back by providing crucial wraparound services to a long-ignored population: those who are fleeing an existing or impending forced marriage in the U.S. To date we have provided legal and social services, always for free, to nearly 1,000 individuals, to help give them a lifetime of dignity, safety and hope.

We also started a national movement to end child marriage. In the last few years, our groundbreaking research and relentless advocacy have allowed us to help change the law in 10 U.S. states to ban child marriage — a stunning victory for the 7.5 million girls who live in those 10 states — and we are working on the other 40.

A lifetime of preventing other lifetimes of rape.

“Mazel tov!” I now tell myself, beaming, with each triumphant step closer to ending forced and child marriage in the U.S.

Fraidy Reiss is a forced marriage survivor turned activist. She is the founder and executive director of Unchained At Last, a survivor-led nonprofit organization working to end forced and child marriage in the U.S. through direct services and systems change. Fraidy’s research and writing on forced and child marriage have been published extensively, making her one of the nation’s foremost experts on these abuses. She has been featured in books (including as one of the titular women in Hillary and Chelsea Clinton’s “The Book of Gutsy Women”), films and countless television, radio and print news stories.

Need help? Visit RAINN’s National Sexual Assault Online Hotline or the National Sexual Violence Resource Center’s website.

Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch.

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ifindus · 20 hours

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since you seem to know a lot of history, I was wondering if you could tell us a little more about norway and his role during ww2, I feel like not a lot of people talk about his importance as an ally.

Let's pretend this wasn't sent back in November! Of course I can!!And "a little" turned into a decent amount 😳

Norway declared itself neutral when the war started in 1939, but became occupied by Germany in April 1940. Throughout the war Norway played an important role helping the allies win. Note that there is also a lot to be said about Norwegian collaboration with the occupiers during these years as well, but that is not the topic of this post.

During the war Norway had both a military and a civil resistance movement. The civil movement was directed towards NS (Nasjonal Samling, the Norwegian nazi party and the only party allowed during these years) attempts at converting people to nazism, while the military resistance were building an underground army who were prepared to step in for the liberation and who also organized sabotages during the last year.

Norway’s government went into exile in London, and was in large responsible for Norway’s war effort and resistance. They took control of the Norwegian merchant ships and put it at the allies disposal, probably Norway’s most important asset and contribution to the war effort. The Norwegian marine and air-force also partook in operations along the Allies, and a Norwegian brigade was organized in Scotland, who were to partake in the final liberation of Norway.

The exiled government had an extensive running contact with the growing resistance back home in Norway, and could gradually provide the resistance with supplies and other support. Soldiers from the Scottish base were sent on missions to aid the resistance in Norway and conduct sabotages.

There as also a base for Norwegian resistance established in Stockholm, who were eventually allowed by the Swedish government to form a military force of 14 500 people under disguise of being police. About 50 000 Norwegians fled to Sweden during the war, and many Norwegians in the border areas aided them as guides over the mountains through difficult and secret passages – they also smuggled goods and supplies through the same routes.

The civil resistance was not exclusively organized, but included everyone who was not a nazi and could be as simple as civil disobedience. Teachers, parents, and priests opposed the effort to convert the youth to nazism by the NS through forced nazi curriculums in schools and obligatory youth service. Other examples of civil resistance were Norwegian workers sabotaging or not even doing the bare minimum at the jobs in factories for the Germans, and the publishing of illegal news-papers which were spread by people handing them to the next person. The most famous illegal news-paper was London-Nytt (London News), and were just Norwegian translations of BBC broadcasts transcribed directly from illegal radios.

The military resistance was known as MILORG, and this secret group had its peak in the last year of the war. This was when they began receiving guns, military equipment and professionals. During the last year they carried out assassinations and sabotages to a much more effective and extensive degree. MILORG was taking orders from the Norwegian military in London and coordinating with them, passing vital information back and forth.

When the Second World War began, Norway was the world’s fourth largest shipping nation, after Great Britain, USA, and Japan, with the Norwegian fleet being the most modern. When Norway was occupied and the Germans demanded Norwegian ships return to Norwegian ports, all of the around 1 000 ships set sail for Allied ports. The Norwegian government in exile commanded all Norwegian ships sail for securing supplies for Norway and the Allies. The ships supplied Great Britain with invaluable wares such as food and oil, and kept up the transatlantic trade during the war. The Norwegian sailors were also present at evacuations and invasions of occupied France and fascist Italy, North-Africa, and Normandy in 1944. The Norwegian ships were under constant attack from the German fleet and many sailors lost their lives transporting for the Allies, most of them working continuously for the five years Norway was at war. Almost half of Norway’s fallen during the war were sailors killed at sea.

#hetalia #aph norway #hws norway #historical hetalia #hetalia wwii #wwii #thanks for the wonderful historical ask and so sorry for the delay!! 💖💖🥺🙏#wanted to do some proper research for this one and it turned into a lot #I think these are the most important and main points of Norwegian resistance in wwii #hopefully this all makes sense #my sources are Norwegian and that might have influenced my translation or wording at certain points #ofc Norway needs the red knitted hat - symbol of the Norwegian identity and resistance during the war #did I spend my whole afternoon/eveing writing this text and drawing this pic? Yes.#would I do it again? Probably.

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ficsbyuzi · 14 days

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All the ways lead to you - part 1

Characters: Aemond Targaryen, Inara Maegyr (Original female character) in a Modern HOTD AU

Warnings : FICTIONAL PLOTLINE. Established relationship. Me swooning over Aemond Targaryen and writing this🤭 Inara being a sweet and awesome girl.

Note: This post and that a mutual of mine (@/elegantsplendour) remarked that this fic series has 'Succession' vibes. I wasn't aware of the show when I wrote this last year, and I still haven't watched it. Any resemblance to its plot is purely coincidental. Everything that is going to be re-posted here, comes from my delulu mind.

Inara's thoughts and a little background about her are in italics.

Word count - 1.2k

"You know me, mom, I can't just start working in some random hospital as a junior doctor," Inara spoke to her mother on phone, cradling it between her ear and shoulder as she watered her kitchen plants on a Saturday afternoon, “I am trying to find a job where I can practice both medicine and my art.”

"Where on earth will you find such a job, Inara?" Her mom questioned disapprovingly. "You will soon be a licensed doctor and able to practice medicine. You should start with a clinician job and save up for your MD tuition."

"Let me at least try, Mum. Maybe I can join some makeup manufacturing labs or intern with those big-shot skincare providers."

Inara heard her mom sigh and tut in response to her plans, a reaction she was quite used to by now. Yet, the conviction in her voice didn't falter as she continued, "I will definitely enroll in an MD program. Don't worry.”

As long as Inara could remember, she had always loved makeup. Even as a child, she would rummage through her mom's makeup kits and spend hours in front of the mirror, painting her own face and sometimes her mother's.

Her parents always wished to see her in the white coat of a doctor - a dream she shared with them. Cracking the medical entrance exams straight out of high school was a cakewalk, her sharp intellect paving the way for her.

Despite plenty of medical schools in Essos, the allure of studying abroad was too strong and liberating. The prestige of the renowned Citadel Medical School in Westeros had captured her attention long ago, and securing a seat there felt like destiny fulfilled.

While medical school required her to focus entirely on classes and books, her creative side yearned for exploration. Her love for makeup never faded, and after dedicating half her life to studying, she decided to follow her heart. A heart that always danced between two worlds, two passions, yearning to embrace both simultaneously.

As soon as she adjusted to her new life on a foreign land, she enrolled into a weekend certification course near her medical school. And, thus began her journey towards becoming a rare combination of a licensed medical practitioner and a trained makeup artist.

Days blurred into nights as she balanced the demands of medical studies with the pursuit of her passion.

Six years flew by in a whirlwind of learning and she was now nearing the end of her curriculum. After the sixth and last month of her hospital training and formal graduation, she would be a licensed medical practitioner. Thanks to her dedication to both medicine and makeup, she now stood as a certified makeup artist, with an expertise in skin care and prosthetics.

After freelancing a bridal makeup assignment a couple of months ago, she decided to take a detour from a predictable route towards advanced degrees or clinical positions straight after college. She planned to give herself a year of exploration into other career options before enrolling into an MD in Dermatology. And so she made up her mind on freelancing or finding a job that could extend her stay in Westeros, thereby allowing her to save up for her MD.

"Anyway, you've been so busy with everything else, you haven't even thought about finding someone. You're not getting any younger!" Her mom steered the course of the conversation to the topic she dreaded the most.

Oh boy, here it comes!

The inevitable discussion about her biological clock and society's expectations for single women was about to begin.

"Mom, please, I'm twenty four, not forty four!"

"Yes, and about time you started thinking of settling down!"

Rolling her eyes, Inara let out a sharp sigh.

"I have chores to do, mum. I gotta go," she cut the conversation short, trying her best to hide her rising impatience, “Bye! Love you!”

"Fine, But please think about what I said. Love you. ”

After ending the call, Inara continued staring at her phone's home screen. Smiling faces of her family stared back.

Her mom’s words still lingered in her mind, as she made herself a cup of chamomile tea and settled herself infront of her laptop.

She sipped her tea, smiling and recalling her mom's statement about doing tons of different things at a time. She had always loved to hustle. And, she loved how chimeric her career goals were. It wasn't an easy road, but she was determined to make it work somehow. Career satisfaction had always been her first priority; finding someone to date or marry, wasn't.

Inara's attention snapped back to her laptop screen, her eyes widening as she noticed the fourth and fifth unread emails from the top. Both arrived around the same time from the job search website she had signed up for.

The subject of the first email read:

Requirement of an assistant make-up artist on an upcoming TV Show.

The second one read:

Requirement of a physician / medical officer(s) on a TV production.

Universe works in the strangest of ways. All you have to do is ask.

She quickly opened both emails in separate tabs. They were from the human resources department of a television production house in King’s Landing. A period drama based on mythological history was in pre-production, and the HR team was hiring people on contract basis.

As someone who rarely watched television,or movies, she chuckled at the thought of working on a TV production house. Nevertheless, she decided to give it a try. With a few quick clicks, she accessed the links for both the positions and uploaded her resume. As she crafted cover letters for each position, wishful thoughts surfaced again. She let out another exhilarating chuckle, as a wave of nervous excitement crawled down her spine.

How fun and cool it would be, if I could somehow do both the jobs simultaneously.

A week later, as Inara was on her way home from the hospital where she interned, her phone rang. Seeing a number with the King’s Landing code, she gasped.

With her heart alight with anticipation, she answered the call. Clearing her throat, she adopted her sweetest and most professional tone before greeting the caller.

"Hi, Dr. Maegyr, this is Stannis calling from the HR department at Red Keep Productions. We've shortlisted your resume for the opening we posted about. Will you be available for an interview next week?"

"Hello, Mr. Stannis. Sure, I...I will be available!" She tried her best to mask the excitement in her voice. "Uh, I applied for two positions. May I know which one I have been shortlisted for?"

"Dr. Maegyr, your profile is one of the most interesting we've received so far. You have been called to interview for both positions. I can't say with certainty right now if you'll be hired for one or both roles as that will be decided based on your performance in the interviews." She could sense his smile through the phone.

"Thank you," she mouthed, looking up, her amber eyes sparkling with gratitude.

---x----

Part 2

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layla-carstairs · 6 months

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I was bored & got thinking and developed a theory for twp; that the academy is going to stop being "Shadowhunter" academy. like one of the greater themes in the modern timeline especially is blurring and eventually removing the line between Shadowhunters & the Downworld - something that really kinda starts in City of Glass with Luke convincing the Clave to allow Downworlder representatives on the Council. and now Luke's the Headmaster of the Academy in Exile so I just feel like it's the next logically step?

the Academy has always had a problem when is comes to anti-Downworlder sediment; we see it in 1899 with James & the 80s with the Circle & in 2008 with Simon. It's basically a breeding ground for it. part of fixing the problem could be opening the doors to Downworlders & put them on an equal playing field for once (I mean, look at the impact Simon had). Obviously curriculum would have to be specialised for different species but things like history wouldnt be.

like the only current Downworld equivalent is the Praetor Lupus, which was completely destroyed by Sebastian. yeah Maia's rebuilding but it's not her only responsibility, since she's also the leader of the Manhattan pack & the representative of the Council - also it would take decades to get the Praetor to what it once was. so what if Maia & Luke decide to combine them, since the missions of both are quite similar.

so like, any young (or recently turned) shadowhunter or downworlder can attend & learn about their world & their powers. how fitting would it be if Max could attend as a student & even do training if he wanted to but not be the only downworlder there. also I feel like a school would be really useful for warlocks in particular lmao. they're the most unorganised of the Downworld & their current system is "hope your parents are good and figure it out from there" (has famously not worked)

#also since we know the academy will play a role in twp it just makes sense 🫶#this is so badly written 😭 it's 12am forgive me #I feel like of you put Luke in charge of something it's a given it'll be reformed lol #bella talks #the wicked powers #twp #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #luke garroway #maia roberts #twp theory

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bedofthistles · 3 days

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For @incorrect-quotes-of-moonacre with Deep love and appreciation for all you've done and continue to do for the fandom

Fairytales are some of the most important works of fiction known to man. While commonly disregarded, overly saturated, and disney-fied, Fairy tales provide the basis for understanding human history. The examination of politics, religions, culture, and a singular thread that pulls nations together. For if one fairy tale was told in Europe, rest assured that many other cultures would have shared similar fables, even if they had never told their stories to the other. Warnings for children, for emperors and kings, the very basis for literature itself, the fairy tale is not something easily overlooked, but is the base of modern community. After all, what brings humanity closer together than rooting for the common goal? Of good rising above evil, true love, and a bit of magic to pull it all together.

Maria wove between the rows, holding a red apple in her hand. Perhaps a bit over dramatic, but she wanted it to serve her point. “We have many reasons to thank fairytales, for the symbolism they offer, the lessons. For this reason-” Maria paused before her desk, tossing the apple into the air before catching it. “I would like you to write your own fairy tale.” Que groans. Maria smiled. “I want this to include several things, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves and write everything. Some stories offer political critique, others warnings; I want something unique. You may borrow ideas, such as sleep curses, but please do your absolute best to be original. Grades will be based on creativity, the substances of the story itself, hidden themes, and of course grammar and other such English nonsense.”

There was a spatter of laughter from some of her favourite students.

“The assignment is due Friday and your time starts-” Maria shook her wrist until her watch faced up. “Now.”

There was the flutter of paper and hushed voices as ideas were spread around, or quiet worry at the idea of having to write something for English. The horror.

Maria tossed the apple one last time before rounding her desk and taking a seat.

At three on the dot, Maria opened the door to her class, unleashing her students upon the world, watching them run free as the school day came to an end. At the same time, across the hall, Mr. De Noir’s classroom door flung open, and his students made hers appear as well mannered and polite little angels.

Mr. De Noir leaned in the doorway, his arms crossed as he sent a smirk her way. “Miss Merryweather.”

Maria lifted a brow. Why her uncle had even hired him on the staff she would never understand. He was hardly a respectable teacher, half the time she had to send a student across the hall to tell his to settle down, and he was never dressed up to code.

Kitten heels, a pencil skirt that hit right above her knees, and a blouse, Maria at least appeared professional. She couldn’t remember the last time she had thought ‘oh yes, let me don jeans to go to work, that’s appropriate,’ and yet there he was. Rumpled denims, a wrinkled button up that wasn’t tucked in, even his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows.

The students adored him, and yes he had amazing recommendations, and credentials, but that did not mean he was Moonacre material. She just knew the old headmistress, Jane Heliotrope, would never have put up with his misconduct.

“Did you start them on their assignment today?” Maria asked cordially, because someone had to be looking out for the students.

“What? The fairy tale stuff?” He nearly scoffed. “Yeah, we’re saving that as a free write on Friday.”

Maria’s jaw dropped, “Wha- what do you mean by that? You’re completely disregarding the curriculum?”

He gave her a laugh, “Oh, c’mon, you know that’s a guide more than anything.”

“Right.” Maria crossed her arms, “And I bet you aren’t having any kind of lesson gearing up to Friday? About the cultural and historic importance fairytales have on society and literature?”

His smirk deepened, “Nope.”

“So what on earth did you teach them on? If you were able to teach them anything?” Maria asked.

“The importance of communal and oral traditions. Then we discussed.”

Maria rolled her eyes, because ‘discuss’ was just his excuse to let the class go wild. “That sounds more like a history lesson.”

He shrugged, “History and literature, unfortunately, overlap.”

Maria bit her tongue and glared, “Right. And you refused to teach on fairy tales because…?”

“Because, Princess, fairy tales have a different kind of connotation nowadays.”

Maria bristled at the nickname. It had started when he had learned the headmaster was her Uncle…

Well, it wasn’t particularly hard to guess that they were related, due to their last names being the same, but he assumed that she had been a legacy hire when that couldn’t be farther from the truth! In fact, she had been hired by Ms. Heliotrope a year before her retirement and Benjamin’s promotion.

“But that is the exact reason we're supposed to be teaching on them! To disrupt their previous notions!” Maria flung her arms out to further make her point, but she knew she was just getting more and more frustrated, while he kept smirking at her.

“And that’s why we slowly work up to calling them fairy tales, so by the end of the week, they have a full grasp and understanding of what a fairytale is beyond the Disneyfication.” He clapped his hands together, “Right, I have a long week ahead, and you, I’m guessing have some studying to do? Since you’re not doing any work to mould the curriculum to your class so they can reap the most of it.”

He turned, the door to his class shut before she could get another jab in. But she stood in the hall, slightly impressed, but mostly irritated. Her thoughts wandered to her Uncle, but telling on a fellow teacher was childish, and she could handle him herself.

“But I knew it was him! His thoughts and ideas getting into their heads.” Maria complained, her eyes narrowed and arms crossed, she hunched over herself on the garden bench sitting outside her Uncle’s home.

Benjamin had never bothered with the upkeep of his garden, he had simply just let it grow wild over the years, but that summer, he had taken an odd interest in it. Removing all the weeds and ploughing the dirt, he replanted the areas that had once been overgrown grass with growing thyme, and the garden beds with geraniums, of all colours, but primarily salmon pink.

It was better than his other hobbies: sulking or drinking.

“That’s not appropriate,” Benjamin said, removing a dirtied glove from his hand.

“No, it’s annoying.” Maria rolled her eyes. “And I have no idea when he did it! I mean, we were barely speaking yesterday about the curriculum, and today I hear my students talking about how the ideas of fairy tales have been corrupted by modern understanding and Disneyfied! Those are the exact words he used! Can you believe it? I mean, opening his office hours to my students in some lame attempt to contradict what I’ve already taught them.”

“Well, I can’t let him scalp your students.”

Maria rolled her eyes, “It doesn’t matter, I’ll tell him off tomorrow morning and we’ll just have to go from there.” Maria reached over and picked a globe of geraniums before tucking it behind her Uncle’s ear. “So pretty.”

He gave her a glare, but over the years it had lost any ferocity it once held.

Maria stood in front of the kettle, waiting for it to go off, her cup all but ready with her tea bag, when a dark presence slid next to her.

“I knew you just couldn’t resist.”

Maria breathed out deeply, calmly, as in the corner of her eye Mr. De Noir leaned against the counter next to her. “Resist what?”

“Using your nepo baby powers to get me in trouble, are you disappointed I didn’t get sacked?”

Maria sighed, lifting the kettle as the light went from green to red, and poured her steaming water into her cup. “Mr. De Noir, I have no idea-”

“My office hours got taken from me.”

Maria paused, but finished pouring and refilled the kettle. She stuck a fist on her hip and turned to look at him. “What? But I didn’t-”

“And I’ve been placed over the after school detention for the next two weeks-”

“But I didn’t-!”

“And Saturday!” He didn’t glare at her, no he would never, but where he was usually teasing and lighthearted, he seemed genuinely upset with her.

And then it hit her.

It was her fault.

She placed a hand over her mouth.

Benjamin.

“Oh, now she remembers.” He looked away from her, discontentedly, into the empty teacher’s lounge. “Y’know, my students make good use of those hours, and unlike you, I have plans on the weekends.”

“You don’t know what I do after school.” She muttered, her first reaction to defend herself. “Mr. De Noir, I- I didn’t- I’ll fix this, I promise, and until then, tell your students they may come to me during my office hours.”

Mr. De Noir gave her an odd look as he examined her face.

“What?”

“I- you seem genuinely concerned.” He said.

Maria rolled her eyes, “Yes, well when I was complaining to my Uncle I thought I was complaining to my Uncle, not Headmaster Merryweather.” She glared, crossing her arms. Goodness, how would she even broach this? She supposed she’d have to schedule a meeting, and go from there-

“Merryweather? Don’t go catatonic on me.”

Maria broke out of her thoughts and gazed up at Mr. De Noir, she reached out to touch his shoulder, and in all sincerity said, “I will fix this.”

He cracked a grin, “Don’t need to get all noble on me, Merryweather, it’s just two weeks. And technically I deserve it.”

“It isn’t bad for students to get multiple perspectives… sometimes.”

He shrugged, and Maria realised she still had her hand on her arm. She snatched it away, her cheeks suddenly feeling warm, before Mr. De Noir reached out and handed her cup to her.

“From my understanding, Merryweather’s are pretty stubborn, so good luck getting him to change his mind.” Then, he turned and left her alone in the teacher’s lounge, with a swiftly cooling cup of tea.

She added some sugar cubes, and sped walked her way to her Uncle’s secretary, demanding to speak with him during her open hour.

After an hour, Maria closed her office.

A few of her students, and a few of Mr. De Noir’s students, had come to speak briefly with her, but beyond a few simple questions about tropes and symbolism, there were no deep inquiries. She had on her coat, and her briefcase in her hand, but when she looked across the way into Mr. De Noir’s dark classroom, a twinge of remorse pinged in her heart.

With a singular and sudden determination, Maria made her way to the detention hall, which was actually just the meal hall, but was used for detention at set times.

When she walked in the hall, a bit too proudly, the door swung out and banged against the wall, the sound of it echoing across the empty room and eight heads turned her way. Even Mr. De Noir, who had been sitting on top of one of the tables, slouching as much as he could while not lying on it, popped up at her entrance.

Maria did her best not to let embarrassment wash over and kept her confidence as she came in, set her bag down on the floor, removed her coat, and joined Mr. De Noir on the table.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, looking up at her with a strange mix of reverence and bafflement.

Maria shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t convince my Uncle to let you go.”

He huffed a laugh. “Told you.”

Maria nudged his knee with hers.

“Okay, so message received?”

“It’s a bit boring, isn’t it?”

Robin scoffed, finally pulling himself up off the table and leaning onto his knees. “Yes, for me, who's trapped here, but not for you.”

Maria checked her watch, “Only forty-five minutes left?”

He grabbed her elbow and pulled her arm towards his face. “Just about.”

“Well, I’d like to discuss our- differing takes on the curriculum with you.” She cleared her throat. “To give our students the best chance they have with their learning opportunities.”

He quirked a brow.

“Well, for example, you say Disneyfied like it's a bad thing.”

“Because it is.”

Maria shook her head, “But would you not agree that all fairytales and myths evolved with the times, the elements changing with what was needed?”

A slow smile breached his features. “One could say that.”

“And, well, perhaps what the children of our time need is something a bit more hopeful than what original fairy tales tend to offer?”

“Or, we need to stop babying children, and let them watch things that will actually be beneficial to their mental development.”

They continued on that way for a time, the argument never actually turning to be about their lesson plans, and even after Mr. De Noir dismissed the students, they continued on until they reached the parking lot.

“I’m sorry again,” Maria said, knowing it was time to part but not really wanting to. “About the whole detention business, I never intended that.”

Mr. De Noir shrugged nonchalance, “It’s alright, I’ll just get you back.”

Maria twisted her lips to avoid smiling. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be the one across the hall.”

There was very little one could do about rumours, and once they did get started, there was not much one could do beyond fan the flames.

It was rather unfortunate for both Miss Merryweather and Mr. De Noir that one of the students in detention was a girl who had a friend in Ms. Merryweather’s class, who had often made the very keen observation that there was a certain chemistry underlying their quips and hallway fights.

So of course, as soon as Ms. Merryweather stormed detention, and stayed by Mr. De Noir’s side for the duration, it was only her right to text her friend the developing story.

The next morning, before class had even begun, all of Ms. Merryweather’s waiting class knew about the circumstances, and even without speaking a word, seemed to be in unilateral agreement.

“Mr. De Noir!”

Robin paused his instruction at the whiteboard, turning back to see one of Ms. Merryweather’s students hanging in the door.

“Yeah, do you need something?”

“Um-” The girl squeaked, “Ms. Merryweather needed your help in the supplies room. She said something about heavy boxes?”

Robin played with the marker in his hand. That wasn’t the Merryweather he knew. That woman would break her back before asking for his, or anyone’s, help. He put the cap on. “Lex, you’re in charge.”

There was some grumbling about that decision, but he ignored it as he came to the door, holding it open for the student before shutting it behind him. He watched, rather suspiciously, as she stood by Merryweather’s class but didn’t go inside. When she looked back over her shoulder, he lifted his brows, and she squeaked before ducking into class. Then, when he peered into the windows, each and every head, which had been turned to watch him, snapped back to the front.

Robin smirked, he could smell a plot a mile away, but who was he to foil their brilliant schemes?

He wasn’t too surprised to hear the door opening again once he reached the end of the hall, and he was careful not to look back at the sound. It almost made him giddy, and he wondered if this was just the distraction, to get him out of class so something could be done in the ten minutes he’d be gone? Or, if he was walking into the trap.

Ms. Merryweather, he had no doubt, hadn’t played any part of it, as she would never encourage this kind of behaviour.

As Robin walked into the supply room, he saw no sign of Merryweather, but then there was a sound of surprise, a fluttering sound like a flock of frightened pigeons taking flight, and a louder smacking that came from the paper closet. Robin turned, just in time to see Merryweather being clouded in stacks of paper as they fell to the ground.

“Mr. De Noir!” She choked.

He chuckled, moving in on her and kneeling to start collecting the papers on the ground.

“You don’t have to-”

“No, don’t worry, I know it was my fault-”

“No! No, I was being-”

And then the door slammed shut.

“Oh my god, what did you do?” Merryweahter asked, immediately turning on him to accuse him. “I had the door propped-”

“I didn’t do anything! It-” Then, Robin sighed. “It’s the students.” Robin stuck his hand in his pocket to pull his phone out, but his pocket was empty, in fact all of his pockets were empty, he would learn, as he uselessly patted at them. “Do you have your phone?”

“Um-” Merryweather made a vague gesture to the little table outside, where he had passed her keys and yes, now that he thought about it, her phone had been there as well.

“So we’re stuck.”

“Well- I-” Merryweather looked down at him. “Yes, I guess we are. Fuck.”

“Language, we’re at school.” Robin mocked as he went back to stacking the papers.

“Right, sorry.”Maria shook her head and knelt down next to him, gathering papers and replacing them in the box she had tipped over.

“You ever learn how to take a joke?”

Merryweather pursed her lips. “I can take a joke, when it's made between friends.”

“Oh, that smarts.”

Merryweather looked at him and scoffed.

“What?”

“Are you implying we’re friends?”

“Of course not, I’m your mortal enemy.”

Merryweather cocked a brow, “My mortal enemy? And I’m not yours?”

Robin smirked. “You don’t get under my skin the way I get under yours.”

“What am I then? If not your mortal enemy?” She said, with a slight challenging glare.

Robin pretended to give it great thought. “Academic rival?”

“Oh good, I didn’t think I’d be held in such high regard to be considered a rival.”

He snorted.

She smiled.

“So, when do you think they’ll let us out?” Robin whispered, after the papers were tidied, and they had taken to sitting on opposite sides of the closet, her legs stretched out before her, ankles crossed neatly.

“Who?” Merryweather asked, leaning forward as she whispered back. Her plan had been sending out a sheet of paper with a note written on it under the door, their only hope being another teacher would pass through and free them.

“Our students.” Robin cuffed his hand over his mouth. “They’re up to something.”

She stared at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

“One of your students came to my class saying you needed help.”

Merryweather scoffed, “Surely you knew that was a lie.”

Robin nodded, “Of course, as soon as she said you wanted my help.”

Merryweather fought a smile, crossing her arms as she looked out to the door. “So why did you come?”

“I encourage mischief every once in a while, besides I figured they had sent me away to do something to the classroom, not lock me in a closet with my academic rival.” He nudged his knee against her foot.

“You should give them all detention, they basically got a free period out of us.”

Robin shrugged, leaning his head back against the shelves. “Who knows? That might be a good thing.”

It wasn’t until a few minutes before the bell rang that good old Henry came to let them out, an odd and slightly suspicious look on his face.

“Now, I’m not mad, just disappointed.” Maria said, more or less quoting her Uncle.

She had only been lightly reprimanded for being locked in the closet and abandoning her students, but Robin seemed to, once again, take the full brunt of the punishment, as Benjamin assigned him another week of detention watch.

“However, as punishment, Mr. De Noir and I have decided to extend your projects.” Maria beamed as her students groaned, she knew just across the hall, Robin was giving the same speech, something they had planned together after Maria closed her office hours, and came to him with a proposition in detention. “We will no longer be only asking you for an original fairy tale, but would instead ask you to perform it in the amphitheatre before both classes.”

There was a devilish look on her face as her class got uproarious, and she let them settle before she spoke again. “The deadline is now extended to next Friday, however tomorrow I would like a first draft turned in. You may form groups of two to five, choose one fairy tale, and work out the logistics.”

“The fairy tale we wrote, or any fairy tale?”

“Your fairy tale, Marissa.” Maria smiled. “And since yesterday you all had a free period, today will be a lecture day-” More moaning, “-Please pull out your notebooks, and we’ll begin.”

Saturday, the parking lot was nearly empty save his car.

Maria parked not next to him, but close, as she popped out, her scarf wrapped warmly around her throat. This new plan was risky, but she felt she owed it to him.

He would protest of course, and he would tell her to go away, but it didn’t sit right in her heart. So of course, when she marched into the detention hall, Robin looked up and rolled his eyes. He slid off the table, leaving his book behind and met her half way.

“Here to plot against our students again?”

“Nope.” Maria said, removing her scarf and wrapping it around her hands, “I’m here to free you.”

Robin’s smirk softened, “You know I’m on the clock for this and you’re not?”

“I’m working on grading this morning.” Maria held up her briefcase. “It's just a change of location.”

Robin rolled his eyes, “You would work on a Saturday.”

“Yes, and you said you had plans, so go on, go.” Maria attempted to walk him around before he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“What are you doing, Maria?”

She smiled, “Rescuing the damsel.”

“Dam- Now hold on there, Merryweather, if anyone’s the damsel it’s you.”

“Oh?” Maria popped her hip, “How so?”

Robin opened his mouth to list off the countless examples that would mark him as the daring hero, but he rather came up empty.

“You’re the one trapped in the tallest tower, not me.”

“I am not trapped here.”

“Precisely, go on, I’m rescuing you, go on, leave. I have dragons to slay.”

He scoffed. “I can’t, I’ll get in more trouble.”

Maria shrugged, “I won’t tell Headmaster if you don’t.”

Robin struggled not to smile. “I can’t.”

“You can and you will.”

“Y’know, usually it's the other way around, the handsome young hero saving the princess.”

Maria shrugged, “I rather like Cupid and Psyche.”

Then, there was something about the way his eyes lit up at her words that made her heart flutter, her stomach pitch, and her mouth run dry. Had that been a mistake? To imply that they were- that she was doing this out of-

“This isn’t fair.”

“It’s perfectly fair.” Maria argued, “I was in your debt, now I’m not.”

He shook his head, “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“I thought you liked mischief.”

Robin smiled, and before Maria could make another comment, he reached out and squeezed her arm. “I still feel like I owe you for this, but thank you.”

She almost thought he was going to lean down and kiss her, her cheek, ot temple, or her lips, but he turned and went back to get his book and jacket.

Maria watched him leave, the door shutting behind him, and then the empty air for a few seconds before she glanced at the students, who were doing their best to avoid her eye and trying to stifle grins.

She cleared her throat and got to work reading the fairy tales.

Monday morning, she attempted to speak with her Uncle again.

“Really, he doesn’t deserve any of it, and I know you said that you had to set standards, but this is ridiculous! Not even the students get this much detention!” She had started sitting down, but at some point she had gotten up to pace madly to and fro. “I mean it’s not just a detriment to him, but his students! Though not many of his students have taken me up on my offer, they may not feel comfortable with it! And beyond that, there’s usually a very fair rotation for the detention slots, and I think it’s been a while since it was my turn! And the closet thing wasn’t his fault! He only came in to help me, it’s not like he did it on purpose, that’s hardly worth another week of detention!”

“Maria-”

“I would understand if he had locked me in there, but he was trapped just as much as I was!”

“Maria-”

“And we both settled on how to discipline the students who, I already told you, were the real culprits!”

“Maria!”

Maria jumped, her hand on her heart the other grasping the back of the chair. “Yes?”

“If you would really like to, I can take over some of his detention-”

“Oh really? You will!” Maria raced around the desk, wrapping her arms around her Uncle’s head and neck. “Oh thank you! I felt so guilty about all of it!”

“Right.” Her Uncle muttered. “Guilt.”

Robin sat on his desk, laughing as one of the students shared a more or less irrelevant story with the class which kind of had to do with fairy tales, when Maria knocked on the door and came into class.

“Mr. De Noir, do you have a moment?” She asked, and some of the students had the audacity to laugh or gently ‘oooh!’ at his departure.

He followed Maria out into the hall, mindful to stand in front of her so his students couldn’t get a good look at her facial expressions through the window.

“I believe my debts are paid.” Maria beamed, “Mostly.”

Robin cocked his head to one said.

“I slayed the beast. Headmaster Merryweather said he would take over detention next week.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do- how did you-?” Robin cut himself off with a scoff, she was unbelievable. “Damn, I really was the damsel.”

“Language.” Maria’s eyes flashed to the window behind him, and when he took a look, the students ran away from the window and back to their seats.

“You didn’t- You really didn’t-” He clenched his hand at his side, tempted to touch her again, tempted to wrap her in his arms and pick her up off the floor and spin her around. Instead, he marvelled at her, his eyes wide, his mouth open like an idiot, and he couldn’t look away.

She blossomed under his gaze, her cheeks pinkening, her eyes glistening with pride.

“You’re amazing.”

Miss Merryweather kept Mr. De Noir company for the rest of his detention periods, the students noticed, and word spread very quickly. Some students, rather foolishly, got themselves in trouble so they would have to go to detention, so they could report back.

And it was very interesting how close they sat, and how often they gazed into each other's eyes without speaking, and how close they came to touching the other only to stop themselves before they got too close.

The reports from detention made their way around, from student to student, until even the teachers heard, and placed their bets.

“No, they’re both too stubborn,” Ms. Swann said, “Neither will admit to anything until it's unbearable.”

“Don’t underestimate Robin, he’s rather determined, and once he wants something that’s it.” Mr. Turner said.

“But Maria has much more class than that.” Mrs. Fitzwilliam said.

“That doesn’t mean she’ll deny herself the pleasure of a man’s company, especially one that looks like him.” Ms. Thomas suggested.

And, inevitably, word got back to Headmaster Merryweather who was not completely unsurprised by the developments, after all he saw too much of himself in his niece. Falling in love with a supposed enemy was practically a family trait.

Maria sat down in the amphitheatre, her students settled and the first group ready to go, her rubric out on her clipboard, while Robin leaned back on the bench behind them, his own rubric off to the side as her students went first. They had a box of props and costumes for the students to use, and yes the girls did fight over who got to wear the pearls, and there was a massive disagreement on who got the sword with each group that came up. Whether or not the story had anything to do with swords.

They watched each class file in, as they were instructed to come straight to the amphitheatre, and file out once they were done, though Robin and Maria hardly paid attention as they did.

There was many a giggling, many a stare, and a many whispering that made their way across the classes, but Maria didn’t particularly care to take notice.

She was too busy trying to ascertain if his knee pressed into her thigh was an accident or if he was doing it on purpose, and if his eyes were on her the whole day instead of any of the performances, and if he was arguing because he really disagreed with her or just for the sake of arguing. But when the final bell dismissed their last class, neither Robin nor Maria rose up to leave. They stayed, seated on the stone benches, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands as she stared up at him.

There was something so captivating about his eyes when he spoke, something pleasant when his mouth moved, something enigmatic about how he motioned with his hands.

“Tomorrow is your last day of detention.” Maria said, when an hour had passed and neither had moved.

“Yes, and you don’t have to storm the castle for me.” Robin looked up at her as she stood to gather her things. “Hermes doesn’t have to tell me all the work you’ve done to make up for it.”

She felt herself blush, because there it was again, this odd comparison. “Well, one could argue that my three dangerous tasks are complete.”

“Dangerous?” He grinned at the incredulous insinuation.

“Well, when one goes up against a man like my Uncle.” She twisted her face into one of horror and Robin laughed. “Though, I am afraid I will remain his servant forever.”

“Yes, I suppose going up against him is quite daunting.”

“Daunting indeed. But-” Maria bit her lip, turning away to look out at the amphitheatre. “Did I manage to fix the rift of my betrayal?”

Robin stood and took her hand, “There was never anything to fix.”

If any students had stayed behind, they would have seen Mr. De Noir lean down to kiss Ms. Merryweather, and if any teachers had walked by on their way to the parking lot, they would have seen the two running off hand in hand like teenagers, and if Headmaster Merryweather had looked out the window of his office, he would have seen Mr. De Noir press Ms. Merryweather against her car as he kissed her again and again, but no did, and no one saw them getting into their cars and following each other out of the parking lot, and on Saturday, despite his best attempts, Ms. Merryweather came again, but she did not come to rescue him a second time. Rather, she sat with him, and if the students noticed they were sitting too close to one another, or that they held hands under the table, they kept their thoughts to themselves.

Fairytales are some of the most important works of fiction known to man. They offer life lessons, human connection, magic, and some of our favourites: love.

Not every fairy tale has a happily ever after, not every fairy tale ends with true love’s kiss, but who could argue that the most captivating ones have just a touch of that special magic? Not fairy godmothers, trickster sprites, or devils, but a very human emotion, a lasting emotion, one that resonates and rings throughout the centuries.

@stabat-mater @theargopriestess @maybeamagpie @hotpotatoburn @lalla0019 @immergladsss

#woo!#moonacreweek2024 #robin de noir #maria merryweather #the secret of moonacre #tsom

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myloveforhergoeson · 16 days

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i really think one of the craziest parts of btrtv was their school situation like. yeah we never see them in school after the second season but in theory they were getting an education and i simply think the writers handled it in the only way they could. let me explain.

typically young people in the entertainment industry are schooled either through the company they work for or through their parents. obviously, since btrtv was aimed at a younger audience they couldn't just not have the boys go to school - what kind of example would that set for the viewers? moving to hollywood equals never having to learn again?

while i was thinking about this topic earlier i was trying to come up with some different ways the show could have gone about this but managed only a few examples:

jennifer could homeschool them. but when? she's barely at the apartment as is and would have to juggle two different curriculums, one for the boys and one for katie. we already know thanks to bt school of rocque she also isn't caught up on modern schooling practices. plus i feel like, though she is their mother in many ways, she'd have difficulty controlling those 5 for 4 straight hours. i feel like they'd always be able to convince her to run off on a tangent instead of actually teaching them anything. next!

the boys could have been enrolled in regular high school. in theory, this would work for maybe a few months. until their first tour at the very least but after that i believe it would likely be dangerous for them to leave the sanctity of the palm woods or rocque records and venture out into the real world. while this could open up plotlines like people only wanting to be friends with them for their fame, crazy fans finding out where they learn, the boys being in trouble for being a genuine safety risk to other students when the paps follow them to school... seemed like more trouble than it's worth! also pretty similar to the plot of jonas which was airing at the same time on disney channel. next!

school at rocque records... had potential i believe. if gustavo had put the proper amount of funding to a quality space and quality teachers, i think the boys would have (aside from generally hating school) been alright there. while not ideal, it could have served it's purpose for the whole four hours they'd have to spend in school. it's very similar to how most industry kids learn now. in addition, they could have worked hard to graduate early, as many industry kids do, but i also believe this would have been a hard plot point to achieve. overall, i'd rank this option pretty high for the guys - it could have had everything they needed, except for the socialization they so desperately craved. next!

online school? in the early 2000's? yeah right. next!

this brings us to what i see as the final option, being of course, school at the palm woods. while not ideal, it does serve all of the boys needs to the best of the writers abilities. i do, however, feel the need to speak on the quality of education they are being granted. no shade to miss collins, i know that poor woman is doing her best and juggling probably six or seven grades worth of curriculum in her classroom, but as someone who was in a split grade class (4/5 when i was in 4th grade, 5/6 when i was in 5th grade!) i can assure you she was not giving her full attention to any of the grade levels she was trying to teach. i'm so sorry they set you up for failure queen.

while this probably worked out in the end for the guys (logan can snatch all A's and look amazing on college/med school applications and his friends could just coast by on the grades they need to pass) i think the episode in which they come back from tour and earn their final grades speaks the most to the education they're afforded. no way they (logan really) did weeks worth of work in one afternoon and earned straight c's lol. hope the band lasts forever and ever and ever after btrtv ends because if not... yikes.

but at the same time... i think this was the best option for schooling both from a writers perspective and the band's needs! socialization, check! normal school events like dancing, check! adequate enough education (how much do they really learn in four hours anyway?), check! it always fits into their working schedules. and it's union-approved! while not ideal, at the very least it's something.

in all, good luck boys! hope miss collins offers some office hours if you ever have questions... maybe there's a reason we never got to see them graduate <3

#big time rush #james diamond #kendall knight #logan mitchell #carlos garcia #idk why i had to write an essay on this i've just been thinking about it and thought i'd share

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illfoandillfie · 11 months

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A Different Kind of Eduation: R Is For Role Play (Chapter 12)

ADKoE MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After being broken up with for not being kinky enough, Reader seeks out her professor to give her some private tutoring so she can win her boyfriend back.

Chapter Summary: Reader steps out of her comfort zone. Roger steps into the past.

Warnings: Modern AU, smut (18+), slow burn romance, dom/sub dynamics, dom!roger and sub!reader, professor x student sex, dialogue heavy, degradation (slut/whore/etc), role play, PIV sex, a littlespanking, restrained wrists

Words: 8,007

A/N: I really make you wait for these don’t i lmao. Originally this chapter had more stuff meant to be in it but while writing it I realised it would end up ridiculously long and tbh I would rather give you 2 short chapters than 1 long one. I can’t make any promises about when the next chapter will be up but it should also be on the shorter side so hopefully that makes it a bit easier to write.

As always *** indicates the smut scene.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming@queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave@scorpiogemini

@80s-roger @libsterslobsters @okilover02 @cjand10 @dealorgirl32 @youngpastafanmug @onceuponadetectivedemigod @zeida @demo-wise@yuillfandomqueen @tie-ur-mother-down @rogermyreligion

(idk how many of you are still interested in this fic so if you want your name taken off let me know, or if anyone wants to be added i can also do that)

Once again you found yourself outside Roger’s house, stomach in knots with nerves. Though not the usual nerves. You’d checked the curriculum before you left the house that morning, wanting to be prepared, and the one word that he’d used to describe that week’s lesson had been rolling over in your mind ever since. Roleplay. Somehow the idea of roleplay was more terrifying than all the bondage and spanking in the world could ever be. The arts had never been your forte, and the idea of acting and improvising and playing a character made you feel apprehensive and sweaty. But, you trusted Roger to not force you to do something you really hated the idea of, and so you let yourself in through the front door, as had become the usual custom. You were still providing drinks to accompany the dinners Roger made and, as soon as he saw you, he directed you to grab out a couple of wine glasses from the cupboard. You did so, trying to put your worries about the upcoming topic aside and just enjoy a nice meal with him. Briefly, you wondered if Roger could sense your uneasiness, his gaze settling on you like he was trying to read your thoughts, but then his eyes shifted back to the stove as he asked how your day had been and you gladly accepted the distraction.

It wasn’t until you were settled at the desk in his study that you felt nervous again. “Okay. Tell me what’s going on, Y/N.” Roger said calmly. You cringed a little that he’d picked up on your discomfort so easily but tried to keep your voice steady as you asked, “Are we looking at roleplay today?” “Yeah, that’s correct. You don’t like the idea?” “I’m doing a biology masters Roger, I’m not an actor. I don’t really want to pretend to get pulled over by a hot cop or whatever.” Roger chucked, “Fair enough. But I’d have thought this would be one you were looking forward to since it’s going to lead up into CNC and all of that.” “It is?” “Mmhmm. I mean, Consensual Non-Consent is just acting out a non-consensual experience. It’s a little more hardcore than the roleplay we’ll start off with, but it is related.” “Well, when you put it like that...” “A theory lesson can’t hurt, right?” “Depends. The last couple of theory lessons you’ve had me trying prac stuff. What exactly are we going to look at?” “Well, I was going to start off with something easy. We can talk about why people roleplay and go over some of the basic scenarios – the stereotypical stuff like cops and robbers or uh, teacher and student,” he looked mildly uncomfortable but moved passed it quickly, “nurse and patient, that sort of thing. And then we can get into some of the more niche things like petplay and ageplay and then in a couple of weeks, if you’re ready, we can get into CNC and free use and the more intense types of roleplay.” You hummed in thought, “That sounds okay. I am still a little nervous about the more practical side though.” “And what exactly is causing those nerves?” You shrugged, “I already said, I’m not an actor.” “Neither am I. What’s really the reason?” For a half a second you considered arguing that he did have a background in performing for crowds, just with music instead of drama, and so he shouldn’t be allowed to make light of your nerves. But in the end you decided that being stubborn about it would just make him push harder, “I don’t want to look stupid. And I can’t imagine not looking stupid while saying that ive been a naughty girl or whatever you’re going to want me to say.” You could feel your cheeks heat as you spoke and looked down to avoid Roger’s eye. Roger hummed in thought, “Well, that’s fair enough. No one likes feeling or looking stupid. But, counter point, you don’t have to say anything as cliché as that if you don’t want to. And even if you do say something cliché, I promise it will not feel as stupid in the moment as it would if you said it now.” “Yeah I suppose so, but still.” “Anyway, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s just focus on going over what roleplay is and how people use it in sexual situations. Okay?” You nodded your agreement, hoping that knowing more would help you feel less self-conscious.

“Right, well, let’s talk about humans for a moment. We’re a creative species. We’ve been telling stories since before writing was invented, it’s in our nature to imagine, to fantasise. So, of course, it’s only natural that those ideas can become sexual. Imagining something allows people to explore desires in a way that’s safe for them, especially if it’s a desire they wouldn’t normally admit to out loud. Its why romance novels are written. Its why people seek out pornography of specific fetishes. So roleplay is a way for people take those imagined situations to the next level, making it more real by actively participating in it. There are a few different forms that roleplay can take. At the most simple it could be wearing a costume associated with a particular role, like a nurse, or with a particular character, like Princess Leia’s slave outfit.” “You’re such a dork.” “That outfit is hot. And it was just an example.” He paused to make sure you weren’t about to interrupt again, “It may just be that wearing the clothes of someone else is enough to satisfy the fantasy, but often there will be a bit more to it. A scenario. You take on those characters and act out a scene. The nurse gives a patient a physical examination, Princess Leia is held captive and tries to bargain for her freedom. There’s some sort of a story involved that the participants act out. And then finally, as an extension of that, there are the taboo roleplays. Things like pet play and age play and CNC. Taboos make people curious, and it’s very natural to think about taboo situations or acts. Roleplaying something taboo gives people a safe way to explore it. And it doesn’t even have to be particularly sexual. Sometimes it’s not about that, it’s just about being someone else, about the feelings you get or the connection with your partner in that unusual situation.” “That makes sense I guess.” “One interesting thing to note is that a lot of the “standard” roleplay scenarios are based in power dynamics,” Roger dropped his hands from where he’d made quotation marks, “a cop has power over whoever they arrested, a nurse has power over a patient, a doctor has power over a nurse. Maid’s serve, kings and queens command, the list goes on. So, why do you think that is?” “Because...Because it’s an easy place to start if you’re interested in dom/sub dynamics?" “That's absolutely part of it. It’s a great way to dabble with kink, to test the waters so to speak. But I think there’s another bigger reason that people, even very vanilla people, might be interested in roleplay. Power dynamics are so prevalent throughout our society. Everyone has a boss; everyone has had an experience with an authority figure. And it is human nature to take something mundane and create a story where it’s more fantastical, more interesting, maybe even less scary. Or, to create a story that switches the power.” “Huh. That’s a really interesting way of thinking about it." “Of course, sometimes getting into a roleplay is how people discover kinks or fetishes and they can be steppingstones to other power based BDSM practices. But I think for most people, roleplay is just something fun that lets them explore something different in an accessible and safe environment. I will admit I did consider starting you off with some roleplay stuff when I was working out the curriculum. I thought that dressing up as someone else might help you feel more comfortable exploring new areas.” “What made you decide to start elsewhere?” Roger shrugged, “I knew that CNC and those areas we’re building to would tie into roleplay and I didn’t want to get too close to them too quickly. And I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be someone else to enjoy any of it." “I think you made the right call.”

Roger smiled for a moment and then seemed to remember he was teaching a lesson, “Okay, Y/N, I want to posit a theory and I want to know what you think about it.” “Okay,” you said a little taken aback but intrigued all the same. “I suggest that we’ve already experimented with roleplay.” For a moment all you could do was stare in confusion, “But we haven’t.” “What makes you so sure?” “Because we haven’t been playing pretend or dressing up as anything. What we’ve been doing is real.” Roger looked supremely pleased as if you’d fallen into a trap he’d set. “What if I said that roleplay isn’t playing pretend.” “That's literally what you just said it was. Costumes, pretending to be something you’re not.” “Well, okay yes, a lot of the time roleplay can be about that. And that’s why you can walk into any sex shop and find naughty nurse costumes or sexy school uniforms or, fuck, even a sexy Santa outfit. But that’s just a side effect of roleplay being a way to feel like something you're not. I could still pretend to be Santa with all the double entendres about presents and chimneys even without a set of suspenders and red knickers.” You giggled at the image he’d conjured but Roger mostly ignored you. “The costume just helps the suspension of disbelief.” “Okay, sure,” you said, still smiling at the thought of Roger dressed in holiday themed lingerie, “I don’t understand where you’re going with it though.” “Okay well, let’s look at these basic scenarios we’ve been discussing. They take something mundane or even a bit scary – medical check-ups, having a meeting with an authority figure – and turn them into something fun and sexy. And in the process the people involved can explore things that turn them on but that they might feel wary about doing in a non-roleplay situation. Things like being told what to do, or something a little further like handcuffs or punishment spankings. It allows people a chance to try being more dominant or more submissive or even more hyper-sexual than they let themself be in real life. Thus, it’s a way for them to achieve a different headspace or to feel something they wouldn’t ordinarily let themself feel. And isn’t that just what we’ve been doing too?" “No,” you knew you didn’t sound very certain, but you didn’t want to accept he’d been right too quickly. “Okay, let’s look at an example. Take Daisy and Jo and their slave/master dynamic. In real life, by law, you cannot legally own another person. They can call each other the right names, they can agree on who gets to make which decisions, they can put their names down on a slave registry, they could even get Daisy a barcode tattoo if they wanted to go that far. And yet, Daisy is still her own person, Jo doesn’t really own her. Daisy has a job, she has hobbies, she has a life outside of their relationship, and she has her own thoughts in her head, her own autonomy. And you heard how when that autonomy was taken from her in a previous relationship, it stopped being a kinky dynamic and turned into actual abuse. Daisy and Jo play around with things that make them feel psychologically as if one really is the other’s slave but, in reality, she’s not. So, in that case, roleplay is no less real than other parts of BDSM. Roleplay is just the closest approximation we can get to it being real before it crosses into abusive, illegal or dangerous territory.” “That’s a pretty extreme example though,” you counted, feeling as if you were in Roger’s regular classroom discussing the results of an experiment, “What about a stock standard bondage scene?” “I think it still fits. What a lot of people get out of a dom/sub dynamic is feeling control or lack-there-of, right? And isn’t the bondage just a vehicle for making the submissive person feel as if they have no autonomy or to feel as if they can’t escape? Or for making the dominant feel like they have total control over someone else?” “I suppose so,” “Obviously in a safe, sane, and consensual scene that can’t ever really be the case. The sub always has the right to stop things, to say no. There might even be a physical way for them to get out of the bondage if they need to. The ropes just make it feel less like they have the option to get out. Ergo, it’s a form of roleplay. And we can’t ignore spanking. That for most people spanking is intrinsically tied to discipline. That a lot of the ways spanking is portrayed or thought of, both inside and outside the kink community, is related to punishment. That probably the most common spanking scene imaginable is a schoolgirl being punished by her teacher. Dressing up in a short skirt and long socks and a white blouse and promising you’ll do anything for a better grade.” You swallowed thickly, very aware that you were sitting in front of your professor. Roger seemed almost as flustered as you felt as he paused. He plucked his glasses from his nose and began to clean them on his shirt hem, his voice a little quieter when he spoke again, “And you don’t even have to get that specific with it. Just the idea of spanking as punishment within a sexual scenario can be construed as roleplay. Chances are the person being spanked didn’t really do anything bad enough to warrant a physical beating.” He put his glasses back on and the tension from moments before disappeared, “And yet everyone involved pretends they did because they enjoy the act of spanking or being spanked and because it makes them feel secure in the dynamic they’ve built. The dom is in charge, the sub obeys, there are consequences for stepping out of those boundaries. They perform their roles, and it makes them feel good and sexually satisfied and bonds them.” “Fine, okay, maybe you’re right then. But if this was your attempt to make me feel less nervous about doing a roleplay scene in prac, it’s not worked. There is still a difference between the two...even if it’s not as clear as I thought it was.” “No, you’re right, I do think there is a distinction. But I don’t think that distinction is based on one being more real than the other. And really, it’s up to the individual to figure out where that distinction lies for them. But I also think that if we consider them essentially the same thing, or at least closer related than one initially presumes, it can help you remember one very important fact.” “Which is what?” “BDSM is a conscious choice. And to me, knowing it’s a choice offers so much more safety and security than considering it “real” does. Whether I’m acting as the dom or the sub, it's a reminder that everyone involved has actively chosen to be there and if that desire to be there changes, everyone has the option to say as much. Which ultimately makes things more enjoyable.” You’d already known that Roger cared about your safety and how much you enjoyed yourself, but you couldn’t help but be touched by his obvious enthusiasm for the topic and his sincere way of expressing it. It was something you hadn’t been able to properly appreciate when you first started your lessons, but the more time you spent with Roger, the more he voiced his thoughts on sex and BDSM relationships, the more you found yourself admiring him. It made you feel like you’d definitely picked the right person to learn from.

“We have two options now. Number 1, we can keep going with theory and look at some more specific areas of roleplay, maybe more taboo stuff like pet play and age play. Give you a sense of where roleplay can lead and how different dynamics like that work. Or, number 2, we can discuss some options for a possible prac scene and, if we can settle on something we both like the sound of, maybe we could try it out. I’m going to leave it up to you though. Whatever you're comfortable with. Although I will say, I would feel better about exploring CNC with you the coming weeks if we’d played with a simpler roleplay before then.” “So I have to roleplay then.” “It doesn’t have to be anything big and it doesn’t have to be tonight. But, yes, I would like it if we did.” “Did you have any scenarios in mind for us to do in prac?” “Nothing picked out but I can offer some suggestions you might like.” “Okay, hit me.” Roger hummed in thought, “I mean, basically anything can be a roleplay scenario. 1950s housewife and her husband, royalty and their servant, strangers meeting at a bar, a couple engaging in an adulterous relationship. Even fictional characters are possible. Are you into superheroes? I could be uhhh, I don’t know, Batman? Save you from some danger and you’re so gratefully horny about it.” You snorted, “Maybe something else.” “Do you want to go with something vastly different from our actual lives or something that’s a bit more familiar?” “Umm, maybe something more familiar would be easier to do without feeling like a complete wanker.” “In that case,” he made a clicking sound with his tongue as he considered your options, “you could be the babysitter I hired to look after my kids. Orrrr, I could be a repairman fixing something for you.” You didn’t hate the sound of either of them but also weren’t totally sure you wanted to do either and made an uncertain noise in response. “I suppose if you wanted we could do a teacher/student thing.” You shook your head, “That’s too much like real life, I think it’d make me feel weird.” “Okay, good,” Roger sounded relieved, “In that case...maybe something with a similar dynamic but less baggage... a boss and employee? You could be asking for a raise or something like that.” You shook your head again, though more out of amusement than disinterest. “There is always a doctor or nurse thing, we both know biology after all. Or, well okay, this one might be a bit weird but hear me out.” “Okay,” “I could be a rockstar and you could be my groupie.” “Oh,” “Is that a good oh or a bad oh?” “Neither I just wasn’t expecting it. But I kind of like it I think.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. I think I could be your groupie.” “Hanging off my every word,” Roger said suggestively, gesturing between you as if to say just like you are right now. “Willing to do whatever it takes to keep my attention.” “Something like that, yeah.” you laughed, “It seems doable.” “Alright, that’s settled then. So what sort of kinks would you want to include?” “Umm the usual stuff I guess, a little bit of degradation, maybe some spanking.” “Bondage?” “I don’t think I feel like that today. Not anything like ropes or cuffs, but I think I’d be okay with you physically holding my wrists or something.” Roger hummed in thought, “That all sounds very reasonable. Any thoughts to positions?” “Umm, not really. I’d be up for most things I think.” “I think I have some ideas then. Are you ready to get started now?” You were a little torn, the part of you that enjoyed having sex with Roger more than ready to go but the part of you that was apprehensive about acting was more in control, “Maybe a little more theory first. And maybe another drink.” “Okay,” Roger gave you a reassuring smile, “I’ll grab us a top up and then we can talk a bit about where we’re going with roleplay.”

When Roger handed you the glass of wine it was hard not to gulp it down in an effort to quell your anxiety. “You know if you get too drunk we won’t be able to do any prac and we’ll have to come back to it another night. And I’d have to insist on full sobriety that time.” You narrowed your eyes at Roger and took a smaller sip before putting the glass down, “So what else have you got to teach me about roleplay?” “We might as well start talking about the more taboo forms. I mentioned age play before but I don’t get the sense Dylan is particularly interested in it, so I wasn’t intending on going into detail. All you really need to know is that it’s a form of roleplay that involves someone acting a different age than they are, typically younger.” You’d never seen Dylan look at anything like that before and he’d never mentioned it so you felt confident saying, “Yeah, I don’t think Dylan would be into that.” “Okay, good to know. The other one I mentioned was, of course, CNC. But I don’t want to start on that until we can dedicate a whole lesson to it because it’s complicated and I want to make sure we cover everything. Which leaves just one other example I gave, pet play. How much do you know about it?” “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t really understand it.” “At its most basic, pet play is a kink in which one or more participants role play as an animal.” You dutifully noted down the definition, the familiar act putting you more at ease. “Technically it comes under a wider umbrella of animal play, but I think pet play would be the more familiar term to most. There are those that engage in animal play as foxes or wolves or even mythical creatures like unicorns and dragons. But pet play as a specific subsection of animal play revolves around acting as more common animals like dogs and cats and horses.” “So, if it’s taboo and about animals, is it like roleplaying bestiality?” “No. Typically engaging in pet play is, like a lot of role play in general, more about exploring different behaviours and desires, than actually being an animal. Someone who explores pet play as a puppy might be attracted to it because it gives them a space to be playful and bouncy and loose. Or it might be because they really like the dynamics involved in being trained to do something. Whereas a someone roleplaying as a kitten might be interested less in the training and more in physical affection while still being able to play and scratch and bite.” “Uh huh,” you weren’t totally sure you understood it, but it did make pretending to be a groupie sound less daunting. “The other thing with pet play is it’s not always about sex. It’s a fun way to show and receive affection – being petted or groomed, curling up on their partner’s lap, playing silly games, just being looked after.” “That does sound kind of nice.” Roger smiled, “Yeah, it can be. But we can get more into that another time. For now, let’s just stick to human role play.” Roger frowned at his phrasing for a second and you couldn’t help but snort and roll your eyes. “There’ll be none of that when you’re my groupie,” he playfully scolded, giving you a little wink, “Are you ready?” You took a nervous breath, “as I’ll ever be I think.” Roger gave you an affectionate look, "Give me a couple minutes to get a few things ready and then meet me in my music room.”

*****

As soon as Roger left you reached for your glass again, downing the wine quickly. You poured yourself another half glass and drank as you thought. Groupies. You understood the basic premise and you could see the appeal in sleeping with band members, in an abstract sense. But you weren’t sure how much of what you knew was even close to accurate. You were mostly going off depictions you’d seen in fiction. Roger definitely knew more about it than you did, even if his band had only lasted a short while. So what would he be expecting you to say? How would he expect you to act? It made your stomach twist uncomfortably and you put the glass of wine down. You didn’t feel much like a groupie. Glancing down at your outfit you thought you probably didn’t look much like a groupie either. But maybe you could fix that, at least a little. Roger had mentioned costumes and outfits as a way to help feel more comfortable in a role play scene so, grabbing your bag, you ducked into the nearest bathroom. There wasn’t a lot you could do with your clothes but thankfully you’d taken to wearing skirts whenever you had lessons. The one you’d chosen fell just above your knees, but you were able to fold the waistband over itself a couple of times to shorten it. The shirt was a little harder to alter since it wasn’t a button up. You experimented a bit with tying it up at the hem but didn’t really like the effect so instead settled for just taking your bra off underneath it. The material was thin enough that Roger would probably be able to see your nipples and that definitely sounded like something a groupie would do. You touched up your makeup and applied some lip gloss you found at the bottom of your bag, and then as a finishing touch you shook your hair out to make it seem a little messier. Looking at your reflection you decided that at least you'd been able to do something to alter your appearance. That was when you heard the drumbeat, Roger’s signal that he was ready for you.

He didn’t seem to be playing any specific song, at least not one you were familiar with, but the beat did make you feel a little more at ease as you headed toward the music room. Something about the background noise made it a little easier to believe your roles. And seeing Roger made it easier still. The door was ajar as you approached it, but you knocked all the same, pushing it open nervously. You noticed the flannel shirt immediately. It must have been one he’d had for a few years because it seemed worn and faded and a little tight around his upper arms. It was completely unbuttoned, his bare chest visible, and you were immediately reminded of the band photo that had been so popular on the university meme pages. Roger grinned when he saw you, not even attempting to hide the up and down look he gave you as he twirled his drumstick between his fingers. The movement immediately caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but be turned on, even though you still felt a little silly standing in his doorway. “Can I help you?” Roger asked when you didn’t say anything. “Oh, um,” you could feel your cheeks warming as you tried to think what to say, “I just wanted to tell you I loved the show.” You cringed a little at what you’d come up with, feeling it was a little cliche, but it must have been alright because Roger responded with a lazy smile. “Glad to hear it love. How’d you get backstage though?” You heart stopped for a moment as you internally panicked. Why had you spent so long on your appearance without spending a single moment preparing a backstory or anything useful to say. “Don’t over think it, you’re doing great,” Roger said, dropping the cocky rockstar act and nodding in encouragement. And then, as quick as it had gone, the rockstar was back as Roger relaxed into his seat again, spinning his sticks absentmindedly. “How’d you sneak in?” “No one stopped me,” you shrugged, unable to come up with anything better on the spot. “Well it’s a good thing. I love talking to fans.” His voice dripped with innuendo, and you found yourself swallowing hard in response. "I was hoping you’d want to...talk. I’m such a big fan.” Roger beckoned you towards him, “Close the door, love, I’d hate for our chat to be interrupted.” Your stomach did another flip, although a much pleasanter one, as you stepped further into the room. It helped that Roger seemed so at ease playing his role. You could easily imagine him playing for a crowd, flushed and sweaty as he banged out a beat. Even now with shorter hair and more of a dad bod, if he announced tomorrow that he was quitting teaching to go back on tour you would have no trouble believing him. He just looked right behind his drums. Not to mention hot as hell. “Do you want to touch it?” “Touch what?” you blurted, worried you’d missed something while you’d been distracted by the thought of a sweaty Roger pounding away at his drums. “My kit of course,” he laughed, grabbing your hand and bringing it to one of the cymbals, “You seemed pretty enamoured with it.” “Oh, yeah, it’s um bigger up close than I was expecting.” The cymbal felt cool under your hand but you had to assume that was partly from how warm you felt, embarrassed both at the cheesy line you’d just said and that he’d caught you daydreaming. “Not the first to tell me that,” he replied with a wink and an easy suggestiveness that made you feel somehow even more warm. “I could show you how to use it.” “I’d love that,” you gushed, not entirely pretending. The drums did seem like fun.

You let Roger lead you around to his side of the kit, his hands settling nicely on your hips as he guided you to sit on his lap. The whole situation made you feel giggly and for a moment you forgot it was role play, wondering at when you’d got so bold as to hit on a rockstar but glad that it seemed to be working. And it definitely seemed to be working if the semi pressing into your backside was anything to go off. You suspected you were not the only one who’d felt the need to get rid of underwear. Roger’s breath hitched softly as you wriggled against him and he quickly guided his leg between yours, putting you on his thigh rather than his lap. You didn’t mind so much though, especially when he shifted, and his thigh pressed up into your cunt. Roger’s hands meanwhile were also moving, rising up your sides, the light trail of his touch making you shiver and your stomach clench with anticipation as he neared your breasts. You nearly groaned in disappointment when he pulled them away too soon and heard Roger chuckle in your ear as he reached for you hands instead. He pressed the drumsticks against your palms and then wrapped his hands over yours, guiding your movements to bang out a simple beat. The drumming was fun but it was hard to focus when his hands felt so warm and large against yours, and his breath tickled the side of your neck. “You’re a natural,” You grinned, feeling quite pleased with yourself, until you gasped when Roger pressed his foot down on the kick drum pedal and you bounced on his thigh unexpectedly. “Too fast for ya?” he asked cockily. You turned your head to try to see him better, “No, I’m a quick learner.” “Well show me what you’ve got then.” His hands moved down to your hips again, pulling you snuggly against his chest. It was enough of a distraction that he had to prompt you again, leaving you flustered as you hurried to comply. “Harder than that, love,” He said when you produced a much quieter sound than he had, “Really pound it.” He emphasised the word with another stamp of his foot. Your second attempt was better but apparently not quite to Roger’s standards because he grabbed your chin to make you look at him again. “Do you need me to show you how?” Words completely failed you so you just nodded, your stomach in knots with anticipation, practically able to feel the wet patch growing against his thigh. Roger’s gaze flicked down to your lips as you both held the moment for a second longer, and then he was surging forward eagerly. His hand moved to your neck as he claimed you, his other still at your waist though his grip had tightened to keep you in place. The drumsticks clattered to the ground and you couldn’t help the little moan that slipped out into his mouth, finally having an outlet for all the tension that had been building since you entered the room. The sound just made Roger smile, his lips quirking cockily against yours as his hands began to roam, down your thighs, pushing your skirt higher, toying with your undies. “Don’t need these,” his tone making it clear you should have left them in your bag with your bra, as he pulled them down your thighs. You raised yourself a little to help him, feeling as if you had to make up for wearing them in the first place. Roger seemed pleased with your initiative, or at least pleased that he could easily access your pussy, his fingers slipping between your lips. “So wet already,” he half moaned, two fingertips toying with your entrance. You gasped again as he worked both digits into you, pausing a moment when he was around the first knuckle so you could adjust. But he didn’t wait long before he drew them back a little and then pushed them in deeper, and then again, clearly impatient to get you ready enough to take his cock. You were growing impatient too, your head still spinning from his kiss and from how good just his hand felt between your legs. “Rog please,” you whined, trying to sink down on his fingers, though the position made it difficult, “‘m ready.” “Yeah? Ready for my cock, huh love?” You nodded and groaned, desperate to convince him as he continued fingering you. Roger just chuckled, “Of course you are. It’s the whole reason you came here, isn’t it. To be fucked by a rockstar.” You nodded quickly, ready to agree to just about anything he said. “That’s what I thought,” he almost growled as he drew his zipper down and freed his cock. His hands came back to you then and you let him guide you to stand, shifting around so that when he pulled you back down, you were aligned with his cock rather than his thigh. You moaned as his tip breached you, his cock stretching you much more than his fingers had. But it was a very good stretch and one you were more or less used to by now. You didn’t even mind that he didn’t give you time to adjust, just kept pulling you onto his lap, making you take his whole shaft much quicker than he usually would.

When you were finally seated fully, legs between Rogers’, your skirt rucked up under his palms, and your pussy stretched around the base of his shaft, both of you moaned almost in unison. “Fuck, love,” he groaned against your ear, “taking me so well.” The praise made you squirm, and Roger moaned again as you tightened momentarily around him. “Jesus. Whores like you are my favourite part of this job.” He managed to get out through his heavy breaths. You whimpered, continuing to wriggle in place, Roger’s hands still grasping you making it unclear whether or not you were allowed to move. “You don’t need to tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had, I know I am.” Roger chuckled, the cocky rockstar act back in full force, “So why don’t you show me how grateful for my cock you are and ride me.” You didn’t need to be told twice, placing your palms against his legs to help steady yourself as you began moving as best you could. You never let too much of him escape your heat, raising up just enough and then dropping your arse back into his lap. As you found a good rhythm, his hands began to wander, squeezing your breasts through your shirt at first, though he quickly pushed the material up until your chest was exposed and he was free to grope you as much as he wanted. “That’s right, fuck yourself just like that,” he growled, “feel amazing on my cock, love.” The praise only made you moan more, especially since he said it like you were lucky to be pleasuring him at all. But you knew that, despite the attitude, he really meant what he said. He was breathing hard against your neck, making you shiver as he let out little moans each time you sank down on his shaft. And then there was the drum. Roger’s foot was still on the pedal and whenever you tightened around him enough or moved at just the right angle, he'd jolt like he wanted to spear up into you and a sudden stuttered bang would sound. You chased the sound of the drum almost as much as the sound of his moans, both making it seem like he was losing control, like you were cracking through his arrogant attitude.

But Roger wasn’t going to make it too easy for you. Whether because he was intent on finishing his lesson or he was just so lost in how fucking hot the groupie roleplay was, you couldn’t tell. It added up to the same thing though. He pulled your arms behind your back and gathered your wrists together in one hand. You whined and halted your movements but Roger tutted at you condescendingly. “Is my cock too much for you? Maybe one of the other girls could handle me better.” You shook your head, “No, I just-” “Shhh love, I don’t care. Just ride me.” You whimpered but that seemed to amuse Roger more than anything. “Already admitted you came here for my cock and believe me, love, you’re not the only one. So do what I say or I’ll find another slut who’s willing to do whatever I want.” The thought of him kicking you out before either of you finished was nearly as distressing as the thought of him replacing you with someone else. You quickly began moving again, trying to get back into a good rhythm. It was harder to ride him without the leverage your arms had given, relying on your leg muscles alone as you raised and lowered yourself. But the struggle just made it all the hotter. And Roger must have agreed because he groaned again, even though you couldn’t manage to move as much as before. “Such a hot cunt,” he moaned, “don’t stop.” You whined as you felt his grip on your wrists tighten but didn’t dare stop riding him even though the effort was making you pant and your thighs were beginning to burn. Roger’s breath hitched as you next sank down, “M-might have to keep y-ou around all t-tour.” He grunted. The thought made you moan and you found yourself hoping he meant it, hoping you could accompany him on the bus and share his hotel rooms. As if reading your thoughts Roger grunted, “Fuck you when-whenever I want. Y-ou’d like th-at.” It wasn’t a question but you answered anyway, a breathy, “yes,” falling from you as you desperately tried to keep fucking down on Roger’s cock. Thankfully your unexpected response had an effect on Roger. He let your wrists go suddenly, growling as he manhandled you off his lap. Pushing you to stand, you felt yourself bent forward over the drum kit as Roger took over fucking you. You braced yourself as much as you could, the drums rattling a little as you leaned on them. Mostly you were just glad your legs were getting a break, and thankful that your cunt was being stuffed at a faster pace. All you could do was moan at how good it felt, and brokenly plead with Roger not to stop. It was perhaps the loudest you’d ever been with anyone, not just Roger, but it wasn’t a conscious decision. They were not the sounds expected from a science major who was in the middle of a sexual awakening with her professor. They were the sounds of an eager groupie. Unashamed and unapologetic.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” As if to prove that he was in charge, Roger paused, holding your hips so tight you couldn’t even squirm on the cock filling you, "Fucking cockwhore, aren’t you love?” You whined but nodded. Roger just chuckled and then picked up where he’d left, one hand moving up your back to hold in you in place as he railed into you, one hand slipping down to rub your clit sloppily. The tension in your stomach nearly had you sobbing, so close to orgasm, and without worrying about how you sounded, you began begging Roger to make you cum. It nearly pulled him from the scene. He’d hoped you’d get into it, lose your inhibitions and enjoy playing pretend, but he’d not expected to hear anything so wanton from you. He miraculously kept the rhythm of his thrusts, but momentarily lost his voice, managing only a moan at your desperation and then a croaky, “You gonna cum?” It wasn’t nearly as commanding or demanding as he’d been moments before, but he cleared his throat and said it again as a statement rather than a question. You were too far gone to notice the slip, nodding in answer to both. Roger’s lapse passed and he lay a spank against your arse, “Words, whore.” “Y-yes, yes, ‘m gonna cum. Fuck, please.” He spanked you again, chuckling at your pussy’s response, before moving back to your clit, his fingers more deliberate this time. “Go o-n then love,” his breathing was heavier, strained from the effort of fucking you as well as his own approaching climax, “Cum on m-y cock and I-I’ll give it to you e-every night – of the tour.” It didn’t take much more than that and the pleasure crashed into you, Your legs trembling as Roger kept fucking you. He was swearing at how tight you felt, managing to get out half formed thoughts about how desperate for his cum you were and how jealous the rest of the band would be that you’d gone to him. To an observer it would have been unintelligible gibberish. So, it was probably good that you barely registered it, much more concerned with how it felt as Roger came too, his hips pressing against you, his cock pushed as deep as he could get it, filling you with his warm cum.

*****

You came back to yourself, still bent over the drum kit, still full of Roger’s cock, his heavy breaths hot on your skin as he gently stroked your arm. The embarrassment came quickly after that, your skin burning as you cringed at everything you remembered saying. Roger pressed his lips to the back of your neck, “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” You nodded, half wishing he’d stay put just so you could avoid looking at him for a bit longer. But he didn’t. He hissed a little as he eased himself from between your legs, apologising when you reacted similarly, and then turned you around, cupping your face in both palms as he kissed you properly, on the lips. You tried to push your embarrassment aside and enjoy the kiss but it was hard to do when you kept thinking about how ridiculous you must have sounded. In fact, you were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice the sound of Roger’s fly being done up or him gently pulling your underwear back up your legs. “Thanks,” you mumbled when you realised, his palms warms where he smoothed the fabric now on your hips, grateful that he’d thought of it before cum started dripping out of you. “Guess I should clean up.” Roger caught you around the waste and shook his head, retaking his seat as he guided you onto his lap again. Only this time you were facing him so he could kiss you more.

By the time he pulled away you were feeling marginally better, telling yourself if you’d been too much of an embarrassment, he wouldn’t want to make out so soon. “See, wasn’t that fun?” he asked, his knuckle brushing against your jaw. You made an evasive gesture, “I guess so, yeah.” “C’mon, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it when you got so into it.” “I really wasn’t expecting that. I must have sounded like an idiot.” “What? No.” Roger seemed perplexed by your statement, “Try insanely sexy.” “Really?” “Absolutely Y/N. You were perfect. I knew it was going to be fun the moment I saw you’d altered your outfit. Because that meant you were going to give it a proper try.” You smiled shyly, “It was fun.” “There we go, yeah it was!” “I assume it’s not always like that though.” “No,” he shook his head, “I mean, it depends. Sometimes you can be fully emersed in the scenario like tonight, and sometimes you know you’re both just saying lines. But that doesn’t make it less hot. Would you want to experiment more with role play?” You thought about it for a moment, “I guess I’d be open to it.” Knowing Roger, you were sure he’d ask for more details so hastened to add, “I am a little curious about how pet play works now.” Roger seemed surprised, “I was meaning like trying other scenarios – the nurse thing maybe, or... but yeah, if you want to know more about pet play I think I can teach it.” “Oh, I- fuck,” you buried your face in Roger’s neck, feeling likely to die from embarrassment if you opened your mouth again. But Roger just chuckled, rubbing your back softly, “It’s good that you told me, Y/N. I want to know what you’re curious about.” “I guess so,” you said managing to lift your head high enough for Roger to press his lips to your temple, “I'm just curious how it works because it sounds a bit weird. Especially after tonight, cause like, I imagine it’d be harder to feel fully immersed in the scenario when you’re pretending to be an animal. It’s so different from pretending to be a groupie.” “I love that you’re curious. I’ll have the kids from Thursday night until Sunday but, if you want to, we could do this again tomorrow or Wednesday to fit in a bonus lesson about pet play. Would that work?” You nodded, managing to meet his eye briefly but looking down again as you said, “Wednesday would work. And maybe, if I don’t want to try pet play we can do the nurse thing instead.” “That’s a great plan,” Roger smiled, gently tilting your head up so he could kiss you again. You melted into him, almost disappointed when he stopped. It might have just been a projection of your own feelings but you got the sense that Roger didn’t quite want to stop either. All the same, he did, his hands lingering. “I should let you go and clean up.” “Yeah,” you nodded, “I should probably be going soon.” It was at least another thirty seconds before his hands left you and you stood up.

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #a different kind of education #im also posting this at work with the dodgiest internet connection so i hope it works lmao

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