#cries in literature degree

[writing-bakugo]

I’ve been studying gothic literature in uni and basically to sum up gothic as quick as possible: 

The gothic embodies and explores what a culture fears, shames, or believes is a sin either from their past or present. 

GUYS 

Bakugo is an exploding guy... Japan has a history with explosions...

Bakugo is gothic not because we all jokingly see him wear black and be all negative and stuff all the time (how society sometimes defines gothic people)

Katsuki Bakugo is gothic because he embodies one of Japan’s greatest fears.

(according to literature)

[ak319]

Lovesick bubbly hubby x reader

(artist: ppanae100)

You sighed as another picture popped up on your phone, sent during his so-called "study session" with friends. You’d sent him to study, and this is what he was up to. Mentally, you made a note to confiscate his phone the next time he claimed to go to a "group-study."

So, Narin Gul was indeed your husband. This young, clingy, bratty, bimbo of a man—your husband. You, a college professor. No, not his college professor. You just happened to grow up in the same neighborhood, and the moment you helped him with an essay—something he was initially too shy to ask about but did on his parents' insistence—he fell hopelessly in love. Deeply. He wanted to be yours and you to be his only.

He still couldn’t quite understand how he’d fallen for a Chemistry professor, of all people, since he hated anything related to studying. His parents had to practically beg him to pursue a degree, just for his own good after he’d all but given up on academics. In the end, he chose English, thinking it might be easier—only to now cry over novels, not because of the stories, but because he absolutely despises studying! He just wanted to be whisked away. To stay at home all day and keep himself and the house pretty.

And you, you were everything he ever dreamt of. Like his own knight, a Princess Charming. Sure, you were a bit older, and that only made it all more romantic in his mind. He, a cute and eager English Literature student in his first year, and you, a sophisticated, cold, dashing, and incredibly intelligent Chemistry professor--just the thought of it made his heart flutter. After that first interaction, he practically melted onto the floor when he returned to his room, unable to believe that you were the same (Y/N) who used to play on the streets with your friends. He, a kid at the time, would watch from the sidelines, sometimes joining in, and then you had disappeared for years to get your degree. And now you were back--thank God, you were back--and more dreamy than ever.

From that day forward, he started paying more attention to his English studies. Well, at least trying. He’d read poetry or skim through the synopsis of novels he hadn’t actually touched, hoping to impress you with a few lines memorized just for you. His bimboy brain, of course, failed to process half of it, but that didn’t stop him. He had to prove that he was more than just a pretty face, that he was your good, studious boy—even if "studying" for him meant reciting two lines of poetry and hoping they stuck.

Narin knew, deep down, that you would never accept him as your anything because of the age gap. But despite his airheaded tendencies, he had a brain--one he didn’t use often, but when he did, he was clever. So, in a move that could only come from a desperate, lovesick boy, he concocted a scenario where his honour was on THE LINE!. And, of course, it was all because of you! His genius plan? Spread the rumour that you had asked him out on a date.

That single rumor was enough to send his parents into an absolute frenzy. Both families got involved, concerned about preserving reputations and traditions. Before you knew it, you were being dragged into marriage talks, and suddenly, you had a pretty boy in your lap with plump lips and an endless supply of cheeky grins. You couldn’t help but shake your head at the absurdity of it all. Tch.

🍭"Why do I have to study?!" Narin whined, flopping dramatically onto the couch like a toddler. "I want to be a househusband! I will be a househubby! I’m not going to college! Please, Coco!" His pleading eyes were wide and desperate as if hoping you’d magically let him off the hook.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the day’s frustration mounting. It had only been one day since the wedding--a wedding where he cried hysterically about leaving his parents’ house, despite orchestrating the entire thing himself. And now, this?

"You have to go because your parents paid for it! A degree is important. After that, you can sit in the house. Got it?"

"No, it’s not! There-" He froze, gulping as your stern gaze bore into him. His rebellious stance deflated with a huff, like a child who’d been caught sneaking cookies. "Fine..." he grumbled, crossing his arms but relenting nonetheless.

Sigh.

You were so frustrated with the way your life had turned upside down that, instead of taking time off after the wedding, you threw yourself straight back into work just to stay sane. Meanwhile, you had Narin take a few days off to stop his constant whining about everything. You needed the quiet, but what shocked you was coming home every day to a home-cooked meal that was, annoyingly, delicious. Turns out, he’s actually talented at something after all. Not to mention those adorable outfits he wears, like that Panda onesie. What an adorable little minx.

However, he’s perpetually pouty, glaring at you like a scorned child every time you leave for work. He always tries his best to make you late, his antics a cheeky mix of playful defiance and desperate need for your attention which you cave in sometimes. He hadn't stopped grumbling about not being taken on a honeymoon either, arms crossed and lips jutting out in a sulk. But he will wait, deep down, he knew you’d take him eventually. He just wouldn’t let you live in peace until you did.

His friends were apparently waiting for honeymoon pictures—how embarrassing would it be to tell them his wife was too much of a workaholic to go on one? So, of course, he told them you were saving up for something huge. Eventually, to quiet him and his friends, you took him on that honeymoon just to get it over with.

Narin always made sure to do his homework right beside you, his head often resting on the table, watching as you graded papers with that calm, focused look on your face. Did he forget to mention you looked so hot?! It was like he was in his OWN K-drama! He loved being in your presence--it was warm, comforting, and-

🍭"Narin? Narin! Stop dozing off. I want to see you writing."

He jolted upright. "Y-yes! Wait—why are you being so strict? I was just... taking a break." And there they were, those tears welling up in his eyes again. His go-to move. No, as a matter of fact he savoured your strictness. So, so much , like 'choke me already, ma'am'.

Sigh # 2

Despite his exaggerated bouts of emotion, Narin never forgot to remind everyone at college that he was a newlywed--with you as his wife, an established and respected professor. Oh, he made sure the world knew. That’s right. Go rot in jealousy, losers.

🍭"Your husband has, again...behaved very rudely in the class." Your friend, Payton who was a professor at his college called you from work. '"I mean, before that teacher went to the dean, I handled the situation.'

You glanced over at Narin, standing nearby with his arms folded, clearly shivering under your gaze. What the hell are you supposed to do with him?. You made him apologize to said teacher and now he was ranting on the way to the car.

"Not my fault! She wasn't letting me go to my hair appointment! And why weren't you picking up my phone?! Did you already find someone else?! More beautiful than ME?! ARE THEY YOUR STUDENT?!"

"You little-" You held back, controlling the urge to snap. Control, (Y/N), control. ''Get in the fucking car." You slammed the passenger door as he got in and once in, turned to him.

"You were expecting me to come and take you to a salon in the middle of my job?! And why the hell do you have an appointment in the middle of your classes in the first place?!" You knew perfectly well he made the appointment as an excuse to bunk.

"Well, forgive me, wife, for trying to look pretty for you," he muttered, looking away dramatically. Then, with a smirk, he added, "And by the way... have you got your friend spying on me here?" His cheeks flushed pink, and he giggled like a child. Possessive control freak, he thought to himself. God, that’s so blazing hot of you. Just when are you gonna collar me? That too a pretty diamond one? :(

Why is he smiling like that?

"Look, Narin, she is just doing her job—"

"Oh my God, staaahp," he interrupted with another giggle. "Just drive~. You don’t need to be so defensive about it. I know you love me so much." He pecked your cheek, likely leaving a glossy stain behind, then laughed, clearly enjoying his latest episode of theatrics.

Great, you thought. He’s at it again.

Sigh #3

Well, after that, you had to keep a close watch on him to ensure he didn’t book any more 'self-care for wifey' appointments during college days. You still wondered why he squealed and shied away whenever you demanded to check his phone. What bothered you the most was that, despite having a sharp tongue, he seemed quite naive and innocent when it came to understanding the consequences of his words and actions. This often led to clashes with his in-laws. Had his parents even bothered to teach him anything?

🍭"Good, you're ready. Let's go." You got up from the sofa as he finally emerged from the bathroom, dolled up. You were really hungry and just wanted to get to the family dinner.

"And here I was expecting you to shower me with romantic compliments... write a damn poem or something so we’d get delayed, and then YOUR family would ask why we're late so I could tell it to their faces that THEIR (Y/n) couldn't stop showering me with compliments and affection, making THEM jealous. THAT’S HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE!"

"Um... you look pretty. Pretty as ever. And we’re late either way, so you still get to use that line. Come on now." You walked past him, not forgetting to--

"Hey! NO! You don’t get the 'smack my bum pass' after that lackluster compliment you threw at my face, professor." Liar, he definitely loved it.

He’s a little manipulator with the eyes that of a siren. He knows how to use #keepingyourpartnerunderyourspell tactics very well. If you get furious or don’t take his side after he acts like the spitfire he is in front of your family, then goodbye. He’s leaving with his suitcase, which is mostly empty because he knows you’ll come to bring him back home anyway, to go to his parents’. After enjoying at least half a day of tranquility , you have to bring him back before his parents call you and inform you about his hunger strike.

However, when you visit your in-laws, you’re treated like a queen, being their only daughter-in-law. Narin, although a headache sometimes, really takes care of your comfort, always standing over your head and feeding you various dishes. You just wish he would be this docile in front of your family. Perhaps one day. Your parents scold you for being so lenient with him, but what are you supposed to do? On one side, your husband won’t let you be in peace, and on the other, your family. You just use the excuse of him being young and immature every time. It hurts seeing him sad without you even realizing it.

Narin feels deeply wounded by the way your family sometimes favors you and disapproves of him, especially after how he has schemed his way into your life. Despite this, he believes their disapproval is unjust and is tormented by the idea that they want you to LEAVE HIM! Leave such a beautiful, ideal boy like him!. The fear of this happening haunts him, makes him furious, even giving him nightmares. He can't bear that. He will wilt. He won't ever let that happen!

He believes in love, just like in the fairy tales and Shakespeare’s sappy lines and knows that one day your heart will melt. He can spot the tenderness in your eyes and the way you care for him, correcting his dumb choices like saving him from sending the shared account details to an unknown number for a free couple spa day at a resort in Greece🥹🎀

🍭"Hey, Coco? Did you tell everyone that I passed my driving test?" Narin asked with a mischievous glint in his eye. It was Sunday, and he’d invited your family over for tea, or maybe he was just feeling playful and bored. He loved stirring things up a bit.

"Yes, on his first try too," you said, looking up from your laptop with a proud smile.

Narin’s cheeks turned a shade of pink at your beaming expression. "Why wouldn't I pass? You were my teacher, after all, haha. God," he turned to your mum, "Your daughter is such a scary teacher, but it was worth it. Haha!"

He got up to refill your tea and serve more snacks, catching the eye roll from your mum as he did.

HE. IS. LOVING. THIS. MARRIED. LIFE. >_<

(AN: wanna get Narin preggo- also a warm welcome to my new subs✨️)

[lalunanymph]

I BET ON LOSING DOGS

୨୧ an unexpected surprise throws a wrench in your relationship with ken

✧.* ken sato x fem!reader, reader is an uriko (beer girl for japanese baseball games), unprotected s/ex, accidental pregnancy trope, angst with comfort, reader gets harassed, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, mentions of injuries, slight ooc!kenji but this is MY interpretation of him, emi makes an appearance, talks about fatherhood, relationship context, flashback heavy, 8k+ words i am so sick for this man

✧.* dawn says: i am absolutely in love with this pathetic milf </3

Life as the girlfriend of Japan’s number one baseball player wasn’t as easy as people think it is. 

The news portals and papers call you a modern day Cinderella, swept from her life of being a simple beer girl, and right into the arms of Japan’s best player, Ken Sato.

Looking back, you never thought you would catch his eye. 

You, a simple Uriko girl trying to get enough commission to pay off your literature degree at a community college, and him, one of the best baseball players to ever grace Japan’s shore. The both of you were a mismatch made on the verdant fields of the biggest game in Ken Sato’s life—and you will never forget the day you first met him. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the game will begin shortly! Please get to your seats and hang on tightly for the match of your life.” 

The announcer’s voice booms across the stadium, echoing the cries and cheers from over 10,000 baseball fans coming to see this legendary playoff between the Giants and the Tigers. 

Working as an Uriko girl—or better known as a baseball girl—came with plenty of challenges. 

There were the heavy bags full of beer that you had to carry up and down the stands, sometimes weighing up to 10kg. The smiles you always have on, the makeup you wear to hide your eyebags from working two part time jobs so you can afford to pay off your literature degree; sweltering heat and a loud, rowdy crowd fuelled by beer from the other keg girls working this cutthroat job. 

Many of them were wannabe idols who perfected the art of cultivating a following on social media and had regulars in the palm of their hands. Only a few handful shared the same fate as you did. 

The truth was, you thought it was just another ordinary day at work when you overhear someone whispering excitedly behind the stands.

“I heard Ken Sato has come out of his break to play this game.” 

Your attention slips from adjusting the straps of your beer keg and you try to listen in on their conversation. 

“He is so cute,” one girl with braided pigtails swoons. 

“Totally,” another agrees, wearing a baseball cap backwards to show off her petite features and pouty lips. “And he’s never dated anyone since coming back to Japan. Maybe one of us could change that for him.”

She giggles, as if it's the funniest joke she’s ever told. 

You try hard not to roll your eyes. A man like Ken Sato would never go for one of these girls. He was the type to exclusively date models and actresses, not struggling Urikos selling beer on the stands.

But, you don’t dash their hopes, and you follow the rest of them in a line, plastering on a smile and mustering up the courage to charm potential buyers into being regulars.

“Ladies and gentlemen—let’s put our hands together for the Giants!”

The roar of the crowd behind the doors shakes through your sneakers, in tandem with the tripling speed of your heartbeat. Electricity sparks through the air, and you can feel it in between your teeth when the stadium doors open and everyone rushes forward, pushing you along the stream of girls ready to break their sales target.

“And Sato-san steps foot into the pitch!”

You step out of the shadows, into the piercing bright light of the open air stadium, its magnetic dome rippling above. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, Ken Sato is back in his element!” 

You take a deep breath and catch a man’s eye. He nods at you and you smile, making your way towards him with a red cup in hand and frozen beer on your back ready to be poured.

Let the game begin. 

 “Ladies and gentlemen, Ken Sato is back in his element!” 

The announcer’s voice booms across the stadium, echoing the cries and cheers from over 10,000 baseball fans coming to see this legendary playoff between the Giants and the Tigers. 

It’s the game of his life, and to say that Ken is nervous would be an understatement. He twists the bat in his hands, adjusts his batting helmet and steps onto the pitch. 

“Oi, Sato—remember, don’t lose your cool,” Coach Shimura sternly warns him before he enters the game, flinty eyes never once softening even when Ken shoots him a reassuring smile. 

“I got this in the bag, coach. Just wait and see.”

Shimura doesn’t scoff, though the corners of his mouth lifts slightly. After months of watching him play in the leagues, the older man can be assured of his star player’s credibility.

Giving him a two finger salute, the young man picks up his favorite bat and high tails it to the edge of the pitch. 

The crowds cheer, their cries reverberating right into his bones. He’s focused, eyes on the pitcher who assesses him from head to toe like he’s vermin on the bottom of his shoes. Ken resists the urge to smirk behind his visor, eyes on the ball and head in the game. 

“Sato! Sato! Sato!” 

He tunes out the cheers, breathing deeply when the pitcher winds his arm back, and the ball goes flying. Narrowing his entire mind on the incoming white blur, he bats and it collides with the hardwood, flying off into the distance. 

“And Sato nails it right out of the park!” 

“Here we go,” Ken mutters under his breath, lurching across the bases until he finally hits a home run. 

The crowd swells like his erratic heartbeat, cheering out his name. Ken gives them a wave, his handsome face plastered all over the big screens, and in the front of the stands, right in the VIP center, his father whoops, raising his cane in exuberance.

Just the sight of the old man fills him with warmth, and Ken doubles back, about to return to his position when a movement on the second bleachers catches his attention.

His sharp, keen eyes catch sight of a man pushing an Uriko girl, goading her on as she backs away, apologizing profusely. He pushes her again, and she stumbles back, dangerously close to the edge of the staircase where she could take a tumble and break her neck.

Ken doesn't know what compels him to lurch right towards her, jumping over the barricade and straight into the stands, much to the crowd’s horror. 

“... you rejected me over and over again…”

“I’m sorry but this is just my job!” 

The red-faced man puffs his chest, and if looks could kill, the poor beer girl would’ve been dead twice over. He’s twice as big as her, and the other spectators are too afraid to jump right in due to his sheer size. But, that’s never stopped Ken Sato before—in fact, bigger opponents were his speciality.

“Oi! Back away from her,” he growls, and before anyone can blink, he’s grabbing the poor, shaken girl and shielding her behind his body. 

The crowds are murmuring, the commentators having a field day announcing every movement of his diversion from the main game. The referee repeatedly blows his whistle, but Ken ignores it, his instinct to protect the weak more important than some league title.

Shimura muscles his way through the crowd, and for a second, Ken thinks he’s gonna blow up on him when the older man glares at the bulky man. 

“Get out of here before I call security on you,” he sneers. “Bullying some poor girl because of your delusions. Tch. Away with you!”

The onlookers jeer him, and he has no choice but to scurry away from the game, tail tucked in between his legs unless he wants to face the wrath of every Ken Sato fan. 

Later that day when you’re washing your face in a nearby restroom, trying hard not to have a full on breakdown that your reputation and sales were ruined, you stumble into a familiar figure who gives you a once over, his mellow voice resonating through you.

“Hey—you’re the beer girl from before, right?”

Ken takes one look at your red-rimmed eyes and clicks his tongue. “Ah. Crap. Must’ve been a horrible experience for you, huh? You’re making me feel bad, angel. You wanna get some food and then we can talk about it?” 

Sliding your eyes over his handsome face, you’re momentarily stunned by those high cheekbones and deeply unnerving violet eyes. His shapely lips and messy dark hair, coupled with his tall, slender build and broad shoulders, makes you suddenly realize that those girls outside the stadium doors were right.

Ken Sato is so cute. 

“I-I—” you stammer, and flush, looking away. Did he just call me angel?

He gives you a sheepish smile, devoid of the cockiness and pride you’ve heard most baseball players possess. 

“Sorry—too forward? I heard girls in Japan were more shy and reserved so you don’t have to say ‘yes’ if you’re uncomfortable—”

“No!” You exclaim, and then start to panic when the rejection settles in for him. “I mean—yes! Yes. I would like to get some food. With you,” you add lamely. “A-are we going now?”

Catching himself before he bursts into laughter, Ken nods, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Sure. I know a great ramen place.”

“Sold,” you say, a smile playing in the corners of your lips. 

Maybe you might’ve messed up your commission for the week and would have to defer your dorm payment for another month, but none of it matters to you right now.

All you could think about was how sweet it would be if you could bring back the smile on Ken Sato’s face—perhaps make him laugh for real this time. 

“Let’s go for dinner, then,” he gestures for you to follow him, and you swear there are stars in your eyes; you can’t stop staring at him. “What’s your name, by the way?” 

“Y/N,” you mumble, and blink when he extends his hand, an easygoing grin on those perfect lips.

“I’m Ken. Sato Ken.” 

I know, you want to say, but tame down the fangirling, taking his hand. His palm is smooth, but his fingers have calluses on them from one too many rough tumbles on the pitch.

“Y/N,” he turns your name over in his mouth and you think it’s never sounded as beautiful as it does now. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You let go of his hand, feeling his warmth sinking past your skin, making your heartbeat kick up a notch. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too… Ken.”

The rest, as they say, is history. 

His large palm smoothes down your tummy, drawing you from the brink of sleep and back into a barely illuminated room. 

You crack your eyes open, one lid at a time, feeling him pushing your hair aside to kiss down the nape of your neck.

“Mhm,” your boyfriend’s sleep-drenched voice, still husky and rough, makes something deep inside of you throb. “Morning, angel. Did you sleep well last night?” 

Stifling a yawn, you nod, much too comfortable in his luxurious king-sized bed. Since coming clean on the dating rumors, Ken had whisked you away from your cramped dorm room to live with him right on the Azabu hills in his expensive, high-tech mansion.

You still went to school and did your assignments, but the biggest difference was you didn't have to worry about food or accommodation like before. 

“Like a log.” You lean into his embrace, loving how sturdy and warm his chest is against your back, making you feel protected and safe. 

“Good morning, Kenji and Y/N. Shall I prepare breakfast for the both of you? Eggs and toast or some pancakes?” 

Mina’s robotic voice chirps from somewhere behind Ken, and you feel him grab a pillow, tossing it over his shoulder. It thuds onto the floor, and you don’t have to look to know that the Sato family’s robot assistant has deftly avoided it.

“Give us some space, Mina,” Ken groans, burying his face into your hair. “It’s cuddle time. We’ll call you when we need you.”

“Alright. But, don’t forget that you have an interview with Tokyo Today at 11AM. Enjoy your morning, Kenji and Y/N.” 

You muffle the urge to laugh, turning around and drinking in the sight of his hazy, adoring violet eyes and sleepy face. Booping the tip of his nose with your index finger, you click your tongue. “Don’t be too mean to Mina. She was just doing her job.”

He grabs your hand and presses it to his cheek, breathing in a deep sigh. “Not my fault someone’s being so enticing today.”

“How can I be enticing?” You tease. “I’m just laying right next to you.”

Ken rolls his eyes, drawing the blanket down to expose your naked shoulder. “Um, duh. My super cute girlfriend is naked in bed with me. What else do you think is on my mind?” 

He loves how your nose crinkles when you laugh, fighting against the urge to kiss you all over for being so adorable.

You place a palm flat on his chest, exerting the slightest bit of pressure and he yields, shifting onto his back. The look of adoration on his face never wanes when you straddle his lap, your hair falling across his face. He pushes it aside with surprising tenderness, a huge palm cupping your face as he strokes the fullness of your mouth with his thumb. 

“I love you, you know that?” 

You kiss the pad of his thumb, basking in his adoration and your pure devotion for him.

“I know.”

Ken arches one dark brow. “Not gonna say it back? How rude.”

You giggle at his petulance, gathering his hands into yours and leaving soft kisses on his knuckles. Ken sucks in a sharp breath when you guide his hands to your chest, encouraging him to palm your heaving breasts. Those violet eyes darken with desire, shooting a dirty thrill right up your spine.

“Already so filthy in the early morning.” He doesn’t protest when you lift your hips, finding his stiffening length and giving it a few good pumps before lining it up to your soaked entrance.

“Just for you,” your feathery whisper gets him harder. 

Tease. You take him inch by inch, and he has to bite down on his lower lip to keep from springing a high-pitched whine when your velvet walls choke his length. 

Your tender nipples turn into hard nubs underneath his palms, the planes of your body a feast for his eyes. 

Kenji thinks he’s never seen such perfection up close.

His large palms fold around your hips, and you let him guide you up and down his cock; controlling the speed and depth, completely pliant in his grasp. 

Ken makes love to you exactly like how he plays on the field: focused, determined and with a firm grip. 

Oh, baby. You mewl, crumpling forward so he can catch you, strong arms vining around your shivering form. 

The scent of sex and skin permeates the room, and you’re close enough that you’re starting to see stars behind your closed eyes. 

Baby, I can’t hold back, he grunts. Need you to come with me—for me. Let’s do it together, okay? 

Your thighs begin to tense, head tipping back. 

His violet eyes darken imperceptibly, drinking you in.

Ken Sato is so fucking in love with you he doesn’t know what to do with himself if you ever got hurt. 

Your soul reaches out to twine with his, your bodies impossibly close until you’re sure your skin is melting into his. 

A burst of white light rocks your entire world, and your universe goes black, filled with only the sensation of his lips on yours and his warmth filling you up.

Ken holds you tightly in the seam of his embrace, kissing your hair and rubbing his cheek all over you like an overgrown cat. You giggle and he joins you, hazily laughing at your hair poking out everywhere.

The moment doesn’t last because Mina pops her head back in, clearing her robotic throat.

“Kenji. 11AM. You have half an hour left to get ready.”

He groans, head thumping back onto the pillows, both your bodies hidden under the blankets so Mina can’t see what he’s been up to, though you’re pretty sure the super smart computer can sense the pheromone shifts in the air.

“Fine. Fine.”

Gently, he nudges you off of him, giving you a kiss on the forehead. Rummaging inside his night stand, he procures a sleek black card and hands it to you without a second thought.

“I’m gonna be busy all day, angel face, so I can’t keep you entertained.” His boyish grin sends flutters in your belly, making you instantly smile. “Go buy something nice and have a good day. I’ll see you tonight.”

You nod and pull him in for another quick kiss; this time, Mina hovers by the doorway, her thin robotic arms arranged like a disappointed mother’s hands on her hips.

“Kenji—”

“Coming, coming,” he groans, and slips on his pajama pants and shirt, giving you a wink.

“Dinner tonight, angel face?”

“Like you need to ask.” You blow him a kiss and he catches it, pressing his palm flat over his heart, simultaneously walking backwards out of the bedroom. 

Once he turns the corner, you exhale, unable to scrub off the lovesick look on your face. 

Bringing his pillow to your face, you inhale the soft scent of his shampoo, forgetting the card and just wanting to bask in his presence a little while longer.

After a day of interviews, Kenji can’t wait to see you again.

He’s asked the chefs to prepare something special for you, a chirashi bowl and your favorite mochi to welcome you back from a day of shopping and classes.

His front door beeps open and you waltz right in, though he can tell something’s off. Your smile’s a little too tight in the corners, and he isn’t sure if the lighting is playing tricks or if your eyes are red-rimmed.

“Baby—”

“Ken, I need to tell you something.”

The truth was you’ve been feeling off the whole week—sleeping in too much, having rapid mood swings, going light-headed whenever you stood up too fast. But, the final strike was when you walked into a ramen shop this afternoon for a quick bite and literally gagged at the smell of freshly cooked rice—which never happens because you love rice more than life. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Fumbling in your backpack, you don’t look up, rummaging for the small test which has changed your life in a matter of minutes. You bring it to him, noticing his wide eyes and bloodless lips; looking like he’s gone into shock.

He plucks the test from your hands, scrutinizing the double pink lines that cut through him with more pain than any Kaiju claw ever could. 

Without another word, he sets the test down, storming past you and grabbing his leather jacket.

Your world falls apart at the seams when he can’t even look at you, the tufts of dark hair falling across his face being angrily pushed back. Agony rips through your soul, leaving you shell shocked at his reaction, your hands falling uselessly to your side.

“Ken—”

“We’ll talk about this later,” he cuts you off. 

You hear a mechanical whirl behind you, Mina coming to your rescue.

“Ken? Aren’t you going to have dinner with Y/N—?”

“Later,” he snaps at her, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen your tender-hearted boyfriend look this angry; a dark cloud hangs over him, thundering across this room and bringing you right into the eye of his disappointment.

Tears sting behind your lids, and you dash at those pesky droplets before they could fall, running after him.

“Ken, I’m sorry—”

“I need time to think.”

You grab at his sleeve, wishing he would just tell you what was bothering him.

“About what?” you shout in despair.

You’re being unreasonable with his request for space, but you can’t see beyond the fear of losing him after you’ve already lost so much: your parents to a Kaiju attack, your sister to a painful drug addiction. 

You can’t lose Kenji, too.

He tugs at his sleeve back, nearly making you stumble and fall flat on your face. You catch yourself in time, staring at him in pure shock.

Ken curses under his breath, and despite his cruelty, he steadies your shoulders, clasping onto you tightly. Those violet eyes are brimming with anguish, a pain he is unwilling to share with you. From being an open book whose pages you love to read and reread again, he’s now a subject you can’t possibly understand. 

“I need time to myself to think about what to do.” Glancing at the hovering robot, he sighs. “Mina, make sure she gets to bed on time. I’m going for a drive.”

Though she’s programmed to check her Master on orders that do not make sense, her sensors record the cadence of his tone, registering it as pure frustration.

“Of course, Ken. Y/N—come and have some dinner—”

You storm past him, ignoring his squeak of indignation. 

“Where are you going?”

Turning back, your lips pull into a terrifying sneer. “Doing you a favor and leaving first.”

“To where?” His exasperation makes you see red, and you don’t reply, huffing and pushing the door open, speed walking towards your old Camry. 

“Come on. You can’t be serious.” Kenji uses his longer legs to effortlessly catch up to you, grabbing your arm.

The drizzle outside turns into a light rush of rain, steadily soaking you from head to toe. Ken can’t help the flash of panic at the thought of you driving in such bad weather conditions. But, you’re understandably upset with him and can’t think straight—it was his fault for hurting you first.

Heartbreak radiates across your face and he flinches at the sight of tears welling in your eyes. His shoulders sag and he wants nothing more than to reach out to you and hold you tightly to his chest, but you pull away with a sniff and a shake of your head.

“I can’t believe I thought you would be there for me when I needed you the most.”

You tug yourself free from his grasp, opening the car door and rushing inside; giving him one last, stinging look.

Droplets of icy cold water trickle down his face, illuminated faintly by the green neon of your car’s dashboard. 

“Y/N, I…” 

He wants to open his heart to you, tell you everything about the man behind the facade. 

The wounded son, the struggling young baseball star, the giant hero fighting monsters and the dangers that haunt his waking moments…

But, he clams up, holding you back from the truth. 

You exhale brokenly. 

It was just like Ken to always keep you at arm’s length—hovering just out of reach. You’re not sure how long you can stay faithful and patient for him to finally let you into his heart.

“Goodbye, Kenji.” 

He watches your car speed down the driveway, round the bend and out of his life. His broad shoulders curl forward, and he wants so badly to kick his bike into gear and chase after you, apologizing for his mistake.

But the part of him that would always remain selfish, the one untouched by your goodness and the harsh lessons he’s learned in this life, nails him to the spot. 

If he doesn’t chase after you, maybe you might change your mind and get rid of it yourself. 

He shakes his head, a wave of disgust rising in him.

Is this who you really are, Ken Sato? A coward? 

“Ken? It’s raining. Don’t you want to come in?”

Mina’s concern breaks through his destructive thoughts and he sighs. “Mina, do you have a view on her? Where is she going?”

The robot pauses, scanning through the city’s data systems. “She’s right on Odori-chome. Rounding the bend to Takayo Dorms. It looks like she’ll be staying with a friend tonight.”

As much as he loathes the idea of you being pregnant and having to sleep on some poor college student’s floor, Ken knows he has to give you space or else you’ll implode. 

“Okay. If she calls, let me know immediately. She’s pregnant—” He chokes on that word, and Mina gives a concerned whir. “And I’m worried. I’ll see her tomorrow and…” The young man trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Mina, I’m scared.”

She extends one robotic arm, guiding him inside to warmth and dryness, the doors automatically closing behind him. Ken staggers to the couch, kicking the bottom compartment open and finding a can of his favorite Asahi on hand.

He cracks it open, drinking deeply while Mina floats next to him, vigilant and listening.

“Was dad ever scared when mom broke the news to him?”

To his surprise, Mina chuckles. “Why don’t you call him up and ask him yourself?”

Ken considers it, glancing at his watch. Professor Sato was probably already in bed by now, and he didn’t want the old man grilling him on his poor life choices so late in the night.

“... I’ll do it tomorrow. After the playoffs.”

Mina titters and floats in front of him. 

“Whatever mistake you think you’ve made Ken, I know you will have the courage to solve it. You are not like the person you were before—you’ve grown. Changed. And when the time is right, everything will fall back into place.”

Her words marginally comfort him, relieving him of the heaviness in his chest. Ken flashes her a weak smile, drooping his head back against the sofa. He hopes to every god above—both baseball and Kaiju deities—that she’s right.

That no matter how things ended between you two tonight, it will never leave a permanent scar on the future.

“Hey, isn’t that the guy you said you were seeing?” 

Chisa, your roommate from months ago when you still lived near campus, points at the shoddy screen of her twice broken down TV. She’s sipping on a beer while spreadsheets and blueprints litter around her—remnants of last night’s cramp study session which was interrupted by your unexpected return. 

You lift your head from her couch and true enough, the devil in the form of Ken Sato’s confident smile appears on the screen, making your stomach turn and heart twist.

Flopping back onto the hard couch, you sigh. “Yeah.”

Chisa rakes a hand through her platinum blonde hair, stifling a yawn. “You know what—I get it. I would be absolutely shattered too if a hot, successful and rich man dumped me for getting pregnant. You just can’t win everything in life.”

You want to throw a pillow into her face for such harsh words, but a part of you—that small, terrified part—has to agree. 

“So, are you going to keep it?” 

Her sudden question makes you wish you never asked her for a favor in the first place. While Chisa was friendly enough, it was her sharp tongue and blunt nature which often led you two into mini arguments back when you were still living with her.

“I don’t know,” you tell her truthfully, sitting up and feeling a pang of hunger course through you. “It’s not like I can afford a baby right now without—” Your throat swells, the words caught behind a lump.

Chisa has enough grace not to comment on the tears glossing in your eyes. She turns her attention back to the screen to let you rub them away, raising the volume to drown out your quiet sniffles.

The both of you watch the sports segment—her, completely engrossed, and you numbly tracking Ken's every movement on the pitch. It’s a livestream from one of his games happening this morning, the very first game you won’t be cheering him on from the stands.

Without much thought, you touch your belly, wondering if the little life in there could see his or her daddy on screen. The reality that this would be the only way they could meet their own father makes you tear up again, and you reach for your dead phone, needing to at least hear his voice again. 

It didn’t matter if Ken Sato didn’t want you in his life or if he refused to acknowledge the child you’re carrying as his. You just needed to know he would still be there for you.

Hooking it to a cable, you switch your phone back on, and instantly, a stream of messages swarm in.

I know you never liked it whenever I asked Mina to keep an eye on you, but she told me you’re rooming with a friend. Chisa, right? I hope she doesn’t make you sleep on the floor.

Another text. 

Yikes. Reading that again, I sound like an absolute dick. What I meant to say was that I hope you’re comfortable and you can rest well. I know the way we ended things was messy to sum it up, but I really hope this wouldn’t be the last time we see each other. 

The last text, sent around one in the morning, three hours after your epic fight, reads:

I miss you. Goodnight, baby. Sleep well.

You lift your gaze to the TV again, and start to notice the dark circles under his eyes. The hard set of his mouth. Ken still loves me—he still wants this. Your heart leaps, and you turn your attention back to the screen, typing out: 

I miss you. I’m sorry. I 

A sudden tremor rocks the house, and your phone goes clattering to the ground. Chisa’s loud yelp rings through your mind as the shakes get more and more intense, as if it's getting closer.

Outside the dorms, screams erupt and alarms blare. The symphonic pattern of the warning is unmistakable: there is a Kaiju nearby.

You lurch to your feet, dragging Chisa by the arm, jolting her into action. 

The sound of hundreds of feet running in one direction burns through your mind; Chisa’s arm is a constant around you as she drags you down the road, trying to find shelter from the impending danger. 

It’s a lizard or moth hybrid with a wide wingspan and sharp rows of teeth. You’ve seen news reports of Kaijus before, but you’ve never dared to think you would see one up close. Spikes adorn its tail which goes crashing into buildings and houses, debris raining to the screaming crowd below like a reckoning halestorm.

Car alarms blare, in tandem with the rising panicked screams of hundreds of students and teachers who were caught off guard by this sudden attack.

“Look!” Someone yells, and in the distance, you see a human-like shape approaching fast. 

“Ultraman!”

“He’s here!” 

“He’s here to save us!”

Chisa, whose lips are bloodless and cheeks pale with fright, leads you up the stairs of the business school building, where you both can find higher ground to avoid the falling debris.

In your panic, you trip on a large rock and tumble to the ground, a loud, ominous crack resounding throughout this concrete cube you’ve both locked yourselves in.

“Shit!” Chisa bends down to inspect your ankle. She tries to lift it, but a searing pain cuts through your entire body, your shriek of agony making her flinch. “Fuck. Oh, fuck. This isn’t good. This isn’t—”

Boom!

The doors of the building fly off, and the monster sticks its muzzle inside, sniffing around for its prey. Having scented you and Chisa, it releases a loud screech, and before both of you could even blink, the roof flies off, its sharp talons reaching inside and grabbing you. 

The sudden loss of gravity strains your broken foot and you scream in agony and fear.

“Y/N!” 

As the monster lifts you right to its face, you think—this is it. 

Every nerve in your body is frozen, your mouth falls open and you might’ve screamed—you can’t hear yourself or feel your body or your hands or even your broken foot anymore.

This is how I will die. 

“We interrupt this game to announce that there’s a Kaiju attack nearby. All civilians are requested to proceed to the nearest emergency exit. We interrupt this game to announce—”

As the stadium erupts in chaos, Ken hears the worst news his nightmares could conjure when someone screams: “The Kaiju—it’s attacking Takayo University!” 

His mind goes into overdrive, his body catching up as he feels the familiar muscles stretching and pulling, turning him into a 50-foot gargantuan hero. Mina chirps to life, and he’s never heard a robot sound so serious before.

“Ken, Gigan is approaching Takayo University. I can’t seem to get a hold on Y/N’s signal. I think her phone is switched off.”

Damn it—damn it all to hell! 

He pushes his body to the max, racing towards your direction, hoping against all hope that you were somewhere safe. 

The young hero wouldn’t know what to do if he lost you.

“Her messages were all gray yesterday. Her phone’s out of juice,” he snaps back. “Run a search on Chisa’s signal. They should be together.”

“Alright,” Mina whirs. “Chisa’s signal: located. They’re at the Business Faculty Park. I have sent you the coordinates.”

A flash of numbers and lines appear in front of him. Ken reads them quickly and nods. “Got it. Mina, alert dad and tell him Y/N might be harmed. Prepare the base, if needed. If she’s gone, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Mina doesn’t comment on his language—she chirps back, “Noted. Calling Professor Sato now.” 

He sees it then—Gigan the monster who’s stomping around and has something in its grubby claws.

“Mina, I see it. I—”

Ken thinks the light is playing tricks on him. There’s a flash of a familiar sheen of hair, a smaller figure held inside Gigan’s monstrous grip.

“Mina, enhance visibility—what is it holding?!” 

The sight enlarges, and Ken gasps. His shock turns into anger, and he’s taking off towards the beast, not caring of anything else in his path as he summons all his anger into a fist and knocks the giant lizard’s head backwards. Gigan’s grip loosens and Ken rushes forward to catch you, holding you tightly to his chest with one hand. 

With the monster down for a moment, he glances at his palm, unfurling his fingers to find your pale, frightful face staring right at him.

“Ultraman,” you gasp, and his heart breaks when he notices streaks of tears running down your face. 

You must’ve been scared shitless for your life.

“Are you alright?” The tenderness seeps through his tone, and he can’t fight back the cresting wave of loathing and self-hatred when you wrap your arms around your midsection, nodding tearfully.

“I-I’m fine—look out!” 

He holds you to his chest, careful not to crush you in his grip as he spins around, deftly avoiding Gigan’s tail as it careens right into his face. The Kaiju raises itself on its hind legs, releasing an earth shattering roar.

Ken cringes back. He needs to find you a safe spot; he can’t bring you into battle like this.

Sprinting away from the carnage, all the screams and fear fade into the distance, his mind hellbent on getting you to safety.

Finding a relatively high rise building that’s been torn apart by the Kaiju and left for ruin, he gently unfurls his hand, placing you back on solid ground as if you’re a Lego figure he needs to safekeep.

You drop to your knees, unable to hold yourself up. Ken sweeps his gaze over you, and without thinking, says: “Mina, run a scan on her. Is she safe?” 

Loyal to a fault, she follows his orders, coming to a hard pause when your screech reaches both their attention.

“Mina?! Hang on—”

Despite his sheer size and how tinier you are in comparison, Ken flinches when you march up to him, looking right into his glowing eyes.

The masked hero whose identity has been hidden since the day he assumed the role of Tokyo’s protector, freezes like a deer caught in headlights and for a moment, nothing exists in this world besides your eyes on his. You reach out, tips of your fingers caressing his armored cheek. 

As if an unspoken truth comes to light, your eyes widen, and you touch both hands onto his cheek, skimming them across his nose. Those wide, luminescent eyes slip close, like he's enjoying your touch.

“It’s you.” Your choked gasp tears at his soul, and Ken opens his eyes to find you crying, a palm pressed right to your mouth. “Oh my God. It really is you. It—”

Your knees buckle, unable to hold yourself upright to such a heavy truth. You slide to the ground and he reaches out a hand, letting you lean against his much bigger palm. His heart is beating so fast, he has to remind himself to breathe so he doesn’t transform in front of you and can’t protect the rest of the civilians from Gigan.

“Ken,” you say his name like a prayer, curling your much smaller fingers around his ring one, feeling the smooth armor of his alien skin under your touch. “Ken. I knew something was off about you but I—”

This pure moment of ecstatic discovery is cut off by a loud screech. 

Ken hears Gigan approach and he’s about to urge you to be safe when you lurch to your feet and stumble towards him.

It’s a split second of unadulterated heaven opening its white, pearly gates when your head touches his gargantuan forehead. You breathe and he breathes, the both of you suspended in this time and space where it's just the two of you in this world—human and beast, lover and monster. 

“Come back to me.” 

That’s all you say, all you have the time to elucidate before he’s ripped away by Gigan’s claws. 

Your cry pierces through his soul, and before he falls, he casts a protective shield around you, trapping you in a blue bubble of safety. 

But, it’s a miscalculated move. 

Gigan’s tail whips around, knocking the base of the building. One second, Ken’s eyes are locked on yours, and in the next moment, the entire roof falls on top of you.

“Nooooo!” 

Ken fights out of the monster’s grasp, using his sheer strength to dig his fingers into the creature's mouth and tear its entire head clean off by its jaw. 

Ending its life for daring to hurt yours.

This is it. 

He doesn’t care that his father would call this cruel—doesn't care for the mess and press comments calling him unhinged or for the KDF commending him on his efficiency in killing off a Kaiju.

This is his entire universe coming to an end. 

The tap tap tap of Professor Sato’s cane on the steel floors of the family’s underground base barely rouses Kenji from his vigil by your sickbed.

From his vantage point, Hayao easily notices his son’s sunken eyes, the unshaven chin and exhausted slump in his shoulders. Ken is holding his phone in one hand, occasionally glancing at a message on the smeared screen. His sharp eyes catch an unfinished message, glossing over it as Ken finally hears his footsteps and pockets his phone hastily.

I miss you. I’m sorry. I

A heavy weight settles in his chest like grease, and the older man exhales a sigh.

Without another word, he takes a seat next to his weary son, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Kenji, you’ve been down here for days. You need to see the sun—stretch and eat a proper meal.” 

He turns those solemn, violet eyes he passed down to his son onto the faint pallor of a young woman resting in a medically-induced deep sleep inside the emergency pod, her chest rising and falling slowly. 

Your vital stats on a holographic board floats in front of him, and Hayao stifles a sigh when he sees a tiny, bean-shaped blob hovering in another panel, its features barely formed but already so dear to him. 

Kenji can barely look at the vitals of his unborn child, eyes closed and head hung heavily as if the weight of the world drags his shoulders down. It might as well have, judging from the mess Hayao had to clean up when his son was too emotionally strained to handle the aftermath of Gigan’s attack.

“I can’t leave her side,” he replies monotonously. 

Hayao recognizes that despair Kenji exudes, having experienced it many, many times over his twenty plus years of being a father. 

Unexpectedly, he chuckles, and Kenji raises his head, finding his father’s expression faraway, nostalgia glistening in his rheumy eyes. 

“Oh, I remember the time your mother broke the news that she was expecting you.”

Any mention of Emiko would draw Kenji’s attention like a moth to a flame. His son listens, patiently waiting for him to reveal the next part.

Hayao smiles and shakes his head. “Just like how you reacted, I was stunned. I had to sit down when she passed me the test. It was the first time she’s ever seen me speechless.” Grasping his son’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze, the older Sato sighs. 

“Kenji, there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to sit down and evaluate if he’s the right fit for fatherhood. Any man can be a father, but it takes a noble, patient, and kind-hearted man to be a dad.”

He continues. “Children aren’t easy. Human children, that is. Kaiju ones grow too quickly and already have a set path due to their nature,” he chortles at the memory of Emi, and Ken can’t resist smiling at that. 

“But, babies… They test us. Show us what we lack and how imperfect we are. They have their own dreams, needs and wants. They’re loud, messy and take up so much of your heart, thoughts and peace. But, despite all of that, they’re our hopes and dreams.” Hayao chuckles. “If anyone were to ask me what my greatest legacy is, I would never say ‘Ultraman’ or the research I’ve done over the years.”

Ken listens to him raptly, violet eyes wide and waiting. 

Hayao finally looks at him, and in those similar purple orbs, he finds a kindred spirit—someone who knows his burdens inside and out because he’s lived through them all for half of his life.

“My greatest legacy is you, Kenji. My son.” 

A wizened finger taps on the screen, and the room fills up with the echoing pulse of a second heartbeat, fainter like its coming from the bottom of the ocean. But, it’s as strong as his own, and in that, Ken feels the anger, despair and disappointment he holds for himself slowly dissipating like steam on a hot day.

“And after seeing how much you’ve sacrificed and learned from raising Emi, I know this baby would be so lucky to have you as a dad.”

Hayao gets to his feet with slight difficulty, patting Ken’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Kenji. It will all work out just fine. Take it one day at a time, alright?”

Ken wants to ask about the neverending dread, if his father ever feared putting his family in danger—the perils of parenting and how he’s going to juggle baseball, Ultraman and being a dad (a real one, this time) all at once.

Like he’s heard his son’s uncontrollable thoughts, Hayao turns back to give him one last piece of sage advice. 

“Everything will be okay. You are Kenji Sato—your mother’s son and my son. You will never be alone.” He glances at your resting form. “And she will never leave you. A woman who readily accepts our family’s duty and burdens is a rare gem indeed, son.”

“But, mom did the same,” he blurts out, brows knitting together. “She accepted you with open arms, too. How can you say it’s rare when it has happened before?”

Hayao’s eyes sparkle as if Ken has finally found the answer to his perpetually troubling question.

“That’s why I married her.”

He leaves Ken alone to ponder his words, the doors closing behind his frail form. 

The young man turns back to your pod, placing a hand over the reinforced glass, right over your belly.

Before he can stop himself, he presses his forehead against the cool metal, sighing.

“Well, you heard him,” he mutters. “The second you wake up, baby, I’m locking you down—there’s no shaking me off this time.”

A click. A whir. 

The world slowly comes back to focus and you furrow your brow, biting back a groan. Your body faintly pulses with pain, like it’s remembering the trauma you suffered through a five year memory fade.

But, your limbs work, and it doesn't hurt to breathe. 

“Hey, you’re awake.”

That voice… 

You pry your eyes open and the second you recognize his face, you think you could break down and cry. Soft violet eyes appraise you, slender fingers reaching out to tenderly graze your cheek.

“Ken…” 

He catches your embrace, holding you so tightly you think you might suffocate. The feel of his arms around you is like coming home after a long day, and you think he might feel the same way, his heartbeat thudding erratically under your cheek.

“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” he apologizes over and over again. It takes all of your willpower not to tear up at the look of defeat on his face. You cup his cheek, bringing him closer so both your foreheads can touch. 

“It’s alright, Ken,” you murmur, free hand running through his thick, raven locks. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

He cradles your tummy at the reminder, looking like a puppy that’s been kicked to the curb. 

“I was so mean to you. And to Peanut. I’m so sorry—”

“Peanut?” You blink, and he doubles back, scratching the back of his head.

“I, um… may have given the baby a nickname while you were, uh, recovering.”

Your lovely, silly boyfriend thought you would be angry when it is the furthest from the truth. “Peanut, huh?” 

You place your hand over his, drinking in this moment of having your entire family right here, safe and sound. 

“I like it. Peanut.” Your smile is saint-like, warm like the first sun rays breaking through a long, dark night. “Peanut is perfect for him or her.” 

He doesn’t deserve the grace and forgiveness you’ve shown him and Kenji thinks that for the rest of his life he wants to atone for all the wrongs he’s ever committed. 

Your health is his priority, and kick-starting this renewed promise to you, he’s there every step of the way during your recovery—feeding you, bathing you, helping you regain your ability to walk without needing a crutch, taking you to physiotherapy classes so you would be mobile again after breaking your leg. 

He even shows you Kaiju Island with his dad, Professor Sato and him catching up with a now one year old Emi who’s grown into her wingspan and new abilities. At first, you were terrified to meet the Kaiju baby your boyfriend once raised, but the moment she scented you, she was all over you like an overly-friendly cat.

Her beak presses against the barely-there swell of your belly, and she coos in delight.

Looks like Emi is happy to be a big sister. Professor Sato laughs at that, thumping his son on the back. 

Siblings—Kaiju and a human—I’ll have to trash my entire research thesis because nothing can compare to this!

You move back in with Ken, ditching your old dorm and studying from home to accommodate your growing belly and fatigue. Your lecturers were understanding enough, though you suspect the Ken Sato’s reputation was enough for them to give you some leeway.

Ken reduces his time spent on the pitch to be home with you and the baby, catching the press’ attention who start to wonder if the great Ken Sato is cracking yet again.  Eventually, it's his old frenemy, Ami, who spots him leaving a prenatal clinic with you one rainy morning after tailing him for days. 

Your boyfriend literally has to bribe her with two months worth of free Tonkatsu dinners on his card before she lets the scoop go, giving you a sympathetic look that makes you laugh and Ken indignant. 

Life was back to normal—or, as normal as it could be after finding out your boyfriend is literally a 50-foot alien superhero who fights monsters. 

One night where you’re both just lazing around on the sofa, Ken decides to show more of his world to you, and tugs your hand, leading you to the underground base which he affectionately dubs his ‘mancave’. 

There, he asks Mina to pull up an old recording of Emiko on the stands and officially introduces his girlfriend to his mother. 

“She’s beautiful, Ken.” You approach her with a fond smile, and his arms wrap around you; heart filled with pure happiness at the sight of his two favorite women in one room. Ken kisses the top of your head and then sighs. 

“I wish you could meet her, baby. She would’ve loved you to the moon and back.”

He tells you of the efforts to retrieve her from a wormhole; how he spends everyday wondering if the next time he sees his mother, he’ll be just as old and gray as her. You’re there for his every rumination, every fear. 

“My parents separated when I was really young,” he confesses while you’re both lying in bed in each other’s arms, giving you another piece of his childhood that you welcome with no judgment. “I don’t want to be like my dad—putting Kaijus or my career first that I lose the both of you.”

At those words, you take his face in your hands, looking him in the eye as you shake your head. “You will never lose me, Kenji Sato. I’m yours and you’re mine. We’re in this as a team and we’ll see this through.” Echoing his father’s advice, you grin. “Let’s just take this one day at a time, okay?”

With his past revealed and double identity known, it’s your turn to be there for him in a different way. 

When the voices of doubt get too loud for him, you don’t let him wallow in his misery for long, encouraging him to teach you how to bat a ball or letting him press his cheek to your growing tummy so he can feel Peanut moving around. 

You meant every word you said to him that night in the tender darkness: you were both a team. No matter how bad the storm hits, you would weather it together. 

One day, without you expecting it, Ken proposes to you while you’re both watching a movie.

“I can’t walk down the aisle!” You pout, and he’s taken aback, thinking you’re flat out rejecting him when you point at your nose. “My nose will be all squished and the photos will come out ugly,” you whine. “Pregnancy noses are a thing,” you try to convince him as he bends over in laughter.

“Baby,” he wipes the tears from his eyes, broad shoulders shaking with repressed mirth. “Squished nosh or not, I still love you, squirt.”

He removes a simple, velvet box from his pants pocket and reveals a ring with your birthstone and his on it. You whisper about a hundred ‘yes's’ in response to his “Will you marry me, sweetheart?”; tearing up when he slips the ring onto your left hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles affectionately.

“Have I ever told you I love you so, so much, baby?”

Though you have no idea what’s in store in the future with a man who can turn into a superhero, and a whole new world of monsters, baseball and parenthood to navigate, you thank your lucky stars that he’s right beside you for the journey. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again.”

He chuckles and kisses your cheek, the feel of his smile on your skin like the embrace of home.

“I love you.” 

“Hah,” you look up, starry-eyed and in love as you push his bangs out of the way. “I love you, too, Kenji Sato.”

— feedback and reblogs are appreciated <3

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim my plot points, structure and elements of work as your own.

[frankingsteinery]

victor is one of the most psychotic characters i have ever read in literature and it all feels both surprisingly accurate and relatable given the time period; i have been meaning to make a proper analysis on victor's psychotic symptoms for awhile now, but have, ironically, been delayed due to my own psychotic symptoms, so here's more of an informal list--

i'll be breaking down victor's: 1. negative symptoms (loss of functioning)

2. positive symptoms (hallucinations)

3. disorganized thinking and speech/behavior

victor's psychotic symptoms, as well as his initial psychotic break during the creation of the OG creature, are brought upon by the stressors of creating the creature(s), both before, during and after the creation process. the first of these symptoms were negative symptoms.

negative symptoms of psychosis are a loss (thus--"negative") or reduction of normal functioning, and can include restricted emotional expression, lack of speech or monotone speech, difficulty thinking, reduced motivation and/or desire to initiate activities, reduced socialization and social withdrawal, and an inability or decreased ability to experience pleasure. they most commonly occur in the prodromal (initial) phase before the acute phase (characterized by hallucinations, delusions, and confused thinking) and in the recovery phase, which is true of victor's case.

andehonia (lack of pleasure):

"...but I did not watch the blossom or the expanding leaves—sights which before always yielded me supreme delight, so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation... But my enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety... I became nervous to a most painful degree" (paranoia, too) -- Vol I, Chapter III

"It was a most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature" -- Vol I, Chapter III (1818)

"By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses, that alarmed and grieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I became capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure..." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

asociality (social withdrawal) & alogia (impoverished speech):

"And the same feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also to forget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had not seen for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them..." Vol I, Chapter III (1818)

"Study had before secluded me from the intercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial..." -- Vol I, Chapter V (1818)

"This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had entirely recovered from the first shock it had sustained. I shunned the face of man; all sound of joy or complacency was torture to me; solitude was my only consolation—deep, dark, death-like solitude." -- Vol II, Chapter I (1818)

additionally, and in general, victor becomes incapable of initiating activities (avolition) while being cared for by henry at ingolstadt.

victor hallucinates several times throughout the novel. these hallucinations are almost exclusively visual, and primarily of the creature:

“'Do not ask me,” cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I thought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; “he can tell.—Oh, save me! save me!” I imagined that the monster seized me; I struggled furiously, and fell down in a fit." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"The form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was for ever before my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him..." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"I saw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated by no light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me. Sometimes they were the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the dark orbs nearly covered by the lids, and the long black lashes that fringed them; sometimes it was the watery clouded eyes of the monster, as I first saw them in my chamber at Ingolstadt..." -- Vol II, Chapter IV (1818)

"All pleasures of earth and sky passed before me like a dream, and that thought only had to me the reality of life. Can you wonder, that sometimes a kind of insanity possessed me, or that I saw continually about me a multitude of filthy animals inflicting on me incessant torture, that often extorted screams and bitter groans?" -- Vol II, Chapter IX (1818)

"Sometimes I entreated my attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I was tormented; and, at others, I felt the fingers of the monster already grasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror." -- Vol III, Chapter IV (1818)

beyond that, victor's positive symptoms also include delusions of guilt, grandeur and persecution. however, this is complex enough that it warrants its own separate post. for another time... (edit: find it here)

victor also experiences disorganized behavior, behaviors that are inconsistent, contradictory, or don't fit the situation; for victor, the most obvious of which is catatonia, a symptom of psychosis characterized by abnormal movements, behaviors, and withdrawal. he demonstrates both akinetic (staying still, appearing unresponsive, staring blankly, lack of speech) and excited/hyperkinetic (moving in a pointless/repetitive way, appearing agitated or delirious, pacing, etc) catatonia.

"Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of the room, and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber, unable to compose my mind to sleep...I took refuge in the court-yard belonging to the house which I inhabited; where I remained during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"...my spirits became unequal; I grew restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my persecutor. Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing to raise them lest they should encounter the object which I so much dreaded to behold." -- Vol II, Chapter II (1818) 

"Then the appearance of death was distant, although the wish was ever present to my thoughts; and I often sat for hours motionless and speechless, wishing for some mighty revolution that might bury me and my destroyer in its ruins." -- Chapter 21 (1831)

he also displays inappropriate/unusual reactions, another example of disorganized behavior:

"I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that possessed me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse beat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same place; I jumped over the chairs, clapped my hands, and laughed aloud... my loud, unrestrained, heartless laughter, frightened and astonished [Clerval]" -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

victor shows disorganized speech through his "ravings" several times and there's quite a few examples of this but i can't be bothered to pull more quotes. here's just one:

"A fever succeeded this. I lay for two months on the point of death: my ravings, as I afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the murderer of William, of Justine, and of Clerval." -- Vol III, Chapter IV (1818)

as a side-note, in the 1800s, the term "fever" was used loosely in comparison to its modern definition, and the health of the mind and body was often viewed as interconnected--thus victor's "fevers" after periods of high stress that triggered psychosis—while being nursed back to health by henry, during his time in prison, etc.—could easily be viewed as mental illness rather than an actual physical sickness, or some combination thereof.

lastly, victor experiences disorganized thinking, which includes racing thoughts, flight of ideas, confusion, trouble keeping track of thoughts, difficulty concentrating, time processing disturbances, etc.

in general, victor experiences dream-like perceptions that leads to difficulty being present, concentrating, and processing reality, what he himself refers to as “strange thoughts” (Vol II, Chapter IX, 1818). for example:

“All pleasures of earth and sky passed before me like a dream, and that thought only had to me the reality of life.” – Vol II, Chapter IX (1818)

additionally, victor is known to lose time and “awaken to understanding” weeks or months later several times:

“What then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me…by degrees I gained a clear conception of my miseries and situation, and was then released from my prison. For they had called me mad; and during many months, as I understood, a solitary cell had been my habitation.” – Vol II, Chapter VI (1818)

“But I was doomed to live; and, in two months, found myself as awaking from a dream, in a prison…It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding: I had forgotten the particulars of what had happened, and only felt as if some great misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me.” — Vol II, Chapter IV (1818)

“I seemed to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit. It was indeed but a passing trance, that only made me feel with renewed acuteness so soon as, the unnatural stimulus ceasing to operate, I had returned to my old habits.” — Vol I, Chapter III

he also demonstrates flight of ideas, a thought disorder that involves rapid shifting of thoughts that are expressed in language. people with flight of ideas may speak quickly and jump between ideas that are not connected in a way that is difficult to follow, illogical, or nonsensical. this occurs just before alphonse visits him in prison:

“I know not by what chain of thought the idea presented itself, but it instantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at my misery, and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement for me to comply with his hellish desires… “Oh! take him away! I cannot see him; for God’s sake, do not let him enter!’” — Vol III, Chapter IV

to which mr. kirwin “regards [victor] with a troubled countenance” in response.

aaand that's a wrap.

there's no real point to all this i just wanted to outline most of his symptoms so i could have it all in one place. i'll probably expand on this sometime with more actual thoughts and ideas of substance as well as building on the implications of a reading of frankenstein where victor experiences psychosis (and how actually acknowledging victor's mental illness forces a much more sympathetic interpretation of victor... which is why people tend to talk around it). do with this what you will!

[unfortunate17]

whats your fav wilmon headcanon? where do you think they’ll end up living after graduation?

you know I was going to reply that I don’t have very specific headcanons but I was thinking about it as I got ready for bed and -

I like to think that Wilmon, above all else, prioritize making experiences together and having fun doing things Wille always thought impossible for them. I think they do long distance for college and Simon is so afraid that it’s going to be hard, especially for Wille, but it ends up being one of the best things to happen to them - Wille learns to find his own interests and make friends and just be a regular young adult who makes mistakes in the kitchen and skips class. Ofc they see eachother on the weekends and holidays 🥰

I think Wille majors in something like Literature and writes a lot of poetry on the side, then does a 360 and goes on to get a PhD in a stem field just because he can change his mind now and do whatever he likes. All of the poetry he writes ends up being for Simon - and the first time Simon gets one, it’s as a birthday present, and he cries.

Simon, on the other hand, has a very clear vision of his dream job, so he gets an audio engineering degree, and works behind the scenes producing and mixing music. He still sings occasionally ofc and everytime he uploads a video to social media, it blows up because you can always hear Wille clapping & cheering at the end of each one - and the internet is naturally obsessed with them.

Wille’s interest in fashion develops, but remains a hobby, and he starts to experiment with cuts and silhouettes - luckily he has the perfect (albeit reluctant) model at home. He goes out shopping with Felice and every time Simon’s like oh what did you get?, Wille shows him one thing he bought for himself and six other things that he thought Simon would look amazing in.

They spend their 20s just luxuriating in each other - visiting one another at work, trying different restaurants and bars, partying together - hosting friends and out at clubs, and TRAVELING. Simon has always wanted to see the world and Wille is determined to show it to him. I think home base will always be Stockholm for them, but they’re definitely globe trotters.

Ofc they fight and squabble like children - but they can never stay mad at each other for too long. Sometimes Simon cracks first, turning to show Wille something on his phone, forgetting that he’s supposed to be mad, and sometimes, it’s Wille - who’ll just slide up behind Simon to hold him as he sniffles and Simon always melts instantly. They learn to communicate better, especially when they move in together - Wille picks up a sport to channel his temper and Simon learns to actually vocalize his feelings and wants.

Wille’s relationship with his parents also improves drastically now that he’s no longer forced into being someone he doesn’t want to be. Him and his mother slowly start to understand each other better, especially as Wille gets older and starts wondering if he wants a family of his own and Kristina softens with age and love, especially when faced with Wilhelm’s sheer, unbridled happiness. When Linda gets married, her and Ludvig both attend the ceremony with Wille & Simon and it is the talk of the internet. Ofc Wilmon wedding rumors start to swirl everywhere after that.

Still, Simon and Wille don’t get engaged until they’re in their early 30s and stay engaged for a few years before they tie the knot in a small court house ceremony with little fanfare. Wille picks out Simon’s suit and alters it himself, and despite not being the Lit major, Simon writes him the most beautiful vows.

As for children - Simon kind of wants them, but Wille’s unsure. Maybe they have one, maybe they just get a pet. Either way, once they get married, they give a rare public interview where Simon and Wille finally talk about their tumultuous coming of age story. It’s so funny, Wille says, that he had to leave his crown and title behind to find his happily ever after. Simon jokes that it’s like a reverse Cinderella story.

And yet, what a fairytale they make: a troubled, delinquent prince who crossed paths with a small town boy with big dreams who changed the very trajectory of his life.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Dignity

[ dark academia • Aemond x rich • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, class inequalities ]

[ description: Aemond worked his whole life to get into the best university in the country. The class inequality he sees there strikes him, and the target of his hatred is a female classmate from his year, a rich girl from a wealthy family. However, it turns out that what was obvious to him is not so simple and he has to face the consequences of his own decisions. A lot of angst, bitchy, violent, mean Aemond. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He very quickly came to terms with the fact that life is not fair. He understood this when he watched his mother, worried, choosing between buying him a new sweatshirt and buying him a new textbook for school, between paying the heating bills and a new bed so they wouldn't all have to fit into one with an old, yellow mattress.

They didn't starve, they didn't walk around dirty, their mother made sure they looked like decent people, however, they were always lacking things, always had too little money for something.

Although his mother worked two jobs at school, she didn't earn as much as his friend's mother, who bought her T-shirts with Disney cartoon characters, had a whole pencil case of glitter pens and expensive chocolate croissants for her second breakfast.

He envied her and one day, when she wasn't looking, he stole her pensieve and threw it in the rubbish. She cried all day because of this, the pencil case was eventually found, however, she didn't want it anymore because it stank.

The next day she came to school with a new pencil case, even prettier.

From then on he decided that whatever he did would not change anything, so he chose not to worry about it and to stay away from such people. He was repulsed by their feeling that they could look down on him, that they were proud to have new, fashionable things, as if there was any merit in it.

They just got it and he didn't.

Something that could not be bought was intelligence, and he did not lack it.

Therefore, he decided to concentrate on his studies, spending whole days in the school library, borrowing thick, worn-out books to take home, having no money to buy new ones in the bookshop. He set himself the goal of getting into a degree in classical literature at the best, most prestigious university in the country by virtue of his academic results, to win a scholarship.

His mother was horrified by the idea, having no clue how she would help him pay for his stay in the capital, where everything was several times more expensive than in their city.

Not wanting to burden her more, to her despair, after high school classes he would go to work for a friend who ran a car repair shop, working as his helper, every paycheck saved up for his plan.

He felt like he was obsessed with it and did not accept the possibility that he might not succeed.

When applying for a scholarship, in addition to a written essay of at least a hundred pages about his favourite author, he had to appear in person for an interview.

Specially for this occasion, he bought himself an expensive shirt, smart trousers and a suit jacket for the first time and, dressed like this, went there with a beating heart.

The professors sitting in front of him seemed tired and weary of their work, sipping tea from beautiful, surely very expensive, porcelain cups. He looked at them trying to hide the disgust on his face, listening to their questions, which turned out to be trivially easy.

He saw how he was arousing their interest more and more with every minute with his attitude, they started asking him about his life, where he came from.

He sold them the heart-wrenching story of his childhood, the tale of his accident involving his nephew, through which he lost his eye, and then his slow road to the top, presenting himself as a young boy with dreams who had worked so hard for his success.

To his surprise it worked, and after a week he received a letter confirming that he had been awarded a scholarship and a place on his dream faculty.

He cried like a baby reading it several times, glad that no one was home at the time, feeling that he had finally managed to win something for himself in his life.

His mother burst with pride when she found out, while at the same time fearing how he would cope in this group, full of aristocrats and children of rich parents who could afford to simply buy them a place there.

He figured he would destroy them all, show them for who they really were.

He felt within himself some great need for revenge and atonement, although he did not know quite how he was supposed to express it.

He spotted his perfect target at the first meeting of his year with the professor who was to be their mentor during their stay at the University.

Despite the fact that they were all sitting in the same elegant uniforms with the intricate gold crest of their university, he saw that she was holding the latest model of phone in her hands, a beautiful gold ring with a sapphire on her middle finger and an old, expensive watch, surely inherited from some very wealthy and famous great-grandfather.

It came to his ears very quickly that her surname, Howard, was due to her grandfather on her father's side, the baron who had been given that title, which her family had boasted of ever since, living in their mansion in a village near the capital.

He looked at her and thought only of the fact that she was a fucking nepotistic, spoilt brat who never had to earn anything, who was taking the place of someone who really deserved it.

He very quickly caught a good rapport with a boy similar to himself, also from a small town from a working-class family, Criston. Like him, he owed his place to his education and scholarship, although he was not as harsh as he was in his assessment of their new friend.

"Oh, come on. Just concentrate on being content that you're here." He said one evening as they prepared for their first classes together. They were sitting in large, comfortable armchairs by the fireplace in the university's huge library filled with old, oak bookcases reaching the ceiling, filled to the brim with thick, dusty tomes.

He instantly fell in love with the place and only dreamed of spending whole evenings there, imagining how other students, writers and poets sat in his place. He hummed at his words, turning the page of the book he had just read, a history of ancient Greek literature.

"I'm concentrating on this, but when I look at her, I just feel sick. She's only here so her daddy baron can show off his daughter at the University. I have no respect for her and don't think she deserves any. The fact that she is here is a joke and one big misunderstanding." He muttered lowly, Criston sighed heavily, shaking his head, not having the strength to argue with him.

They both flinched when they heard someone's quiet footsteps, the figure of Howard appeared from among the bookcases with several books clutched to her chest and headed immediately for her entrance, her face pale, her lips clenched.

He swallowed loudly, feeling the cold sweat on his back at the thought that she had heard it all, and although he thought it was good for her that he had told the truth out loud, a sense of shame overcame him anyway.

Criston threw him a confused, horrified look and he lowered his gaze and grunted, letting out a loud breath, returning to his reading, recognising that the words of someone like him were meaningless to her anyway.

The next day was their first class with Professor Morris, in which they were to study Greek literature of the Classical, Hellenistic and Empire eras. Their professor, a short, smiling old man with big glasses, spoke with enthusiasm and energy surprisingly high for his age, introducing them to the subject and telling them what they would be working on first.

He said they would start with something simple, a collection of myths that, although passed down through generations and written down very late in history, were a source of inspiration that still stirred the minds of young artists and writers today.

He began with a question about who the Greek gods were in Greek mythology, Howard's hand shot up before he could think of anything.

"As far as the Olympian gods are concerned, they were imagined as humans, or rather the inhabitants of Hellada with the difference that they were immortal by drinking ambrosia and had various powers." She said quickly, their professor nodding at her words.

"That is true, Miss Howard. Why were they imagined as human beings and not, like the Christian God, as a superior, infallible entity?"

Howard's hand shot up again and he pressed his lips together, looking at her impatiently.

Stupid bitch.

"Because they were supposed to be the answer to what was happening around the living population, they were not the determinant of moral values, like the Christian God, but more like guardians whose care had to be constantly sought.

They loved and hated like ordinary people, they were eager for revenge, murder and rape, so they did not represent a pattern of behaviour, but rather depicted the unpredictability of nature and events in human life." She said without stammering, and he let out a loud breath, impatient.

She was doing this on purpose.

She wanted to prove him wrong.

He spent whole evenings reading and preparing for class and in the days that followed, he began to overtake her, watching with satisfaction as she turned to him over her shoulder with furrowed brows, impatient when it was him that their professor allowed to speak and not her.

They were at war.

He saw that she had her two friends with whom she went everywhere, naive girls from good homes who clung to her to wallow in her luxuries.

He felt like laughing at this sight.

He had the feeling that it was getting worse by the week, they were throwing hateful glances at each other in the corridors and shunning each other in the common rooms and the library, not wanting to bump into each other by accident.

He knew she was doing this to prove him wrong, to make herself feel the best again rather than because she was interested in literature.

After the first exams they both had very similar scores, but he felt a sense of pride when he saw on the posted list that he had scored one point more than her, a grimace of satisfaction showed on his face as he glanced in her direction indulgently.

Even though she had second place right after him she turned and walked towards the women's dormitory, clearly frustrated, making him feel better for the day.

And that's when he appeared.

Ronald Collins, a blushing man with slight curves, looking as if he was living in some sort of dreamy state had been introduced to them in class with their tutor and it appeared that he would be joining them mid-year.

No one understood how he managed to achieve this, he didn't look like a wealthy man, he smiled at everyone as if he were a priest at a sermon, with tenderness and care, as if he lived in a completely different reality. He and Criston would sometimes see him sitting on the cloisters with a notebook in his hand, gesticulating and talking to himself as if he were some inspired 19th century poet.

"What the fuck is his problem?" He muttered to Cole, recognising that this man was out of his mind.

In their first class together, however, he proved to them that he was something far more dangerous.

"Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet. Trash and kitsch, or sincere, sudden, fiery true love? There are different thoughts about this world-famous work today. What is your opinion?"

He and Howard automatically raised their hand, but Collins preceded them. The professor allowed him to speak first and, to everyone's surprise, he stood up, looking around the room.

"Pontius Pilate asked Christ - what is truth? But I ask you - what is love?! Is there only one kind of love? When we truly love, can we be so desperate as to reach for the finality, for death itself?" He asked, stretching his hand out in front of him, sweeping it in a semi-circle as if he was showing something, a few people couldn't stand it and laughed under their breath, Howard turned to him over her shoulder, looking at him with big eyes in disbelief, and he looked at her feeling that he looked exactly like her.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He bullshitted his way through the next five minutes until their professor decided he'd had enough.

However, what horrified him the most was the results of his first exam, which he saw on a list posted for all students outside the room.

100/100 points Mr Collins 94/100 points Mr Targaryen 94/100 points Miss Howard

What?

"What?!" He heard a familiar voice beside him, Howard stepped closer to the glass as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

She threw him a quick, helpless look as if she wanted him to tell her what had just happened here, but he himself had no idea how that was possible.

How could this fucking moron get such a good score?

"Ah, my sweet rivals!" They heard a voice behind them and turned around, Collins was looking contentedly at his score from over their shoulders, blushing, smiling and dreamy as usual, he could see from so close up that despite his young age he was slowly starting to go bald.

"Miss Howard and Mr Targaryen, the age-old battle between the aristocracy and the working class. So dramatic, solemn, full of contradictions. Love - hate - or perhaps cold calculation? Like Athena and Arachne, like Aphrodite and Persephone, like Achilles and Hector!" He said grabbing Howard's arm and she shook her head, completely surprised, not believing that he dared to say such things out loud.

"− Achilles and Hector didn't −" She began, but he interrupted her, looking up, as if suddenly dazzled.

"− no − Romeo and Juliet − separated lovers − they don't even know yet that tragedy awaits them, that they will not be given the chance to be reunited − but nevertheless this feeling, this will to fight will always prevail." He said worriedly and shook her, as if he wanted to make her realise how serious his prophetic words were, and then he left, wishing them a good day.

They stood horrified, he saw her look at her arms, as if she might have been contaminated by him just a moment ago.

"− oh God −" She muttered, lowering her hands without strength. "− he's an idiot −"

Their war was put on hold as they were forced to turn their gazes to a new enemy, more dangerous and more unpredictable, turning their joint lectures into a nightmare, for some reason having perfect scores on all their exams.

How was it possible that he was always a few points short and he passed everything with the highest score?

He decided to hide in the library as usual, tired and frustrated, and clenched his eyes when he saw that in his armchair, hidden between a few bookcases so that he couldn't be seen from a distance, sat Howard, reading a book even though it was his favourite place and she knew it perfectly well.

"Get the fuck out." He said to her straight out, towering over her with an angry look. She furrowed her brow and pressed her lips together.

"No. That moron is still after me, and he won't find me here. I was here first." She said angrily and turned the page with a quick, theatrical gesture.

He leaned over her resting his hands on either side of her body on the armrests of her armchair, looking at her face from so close that the tips of their noses were almost touching.

"Get. The fuck. Out." He hissed low.

"Fuck. No." She hissed parroting his tone, he grabbed her hard by her arm, trying to pull her out of there, but she immediately lifted her leg and kicked him in the stomach.

He bent down and growled, grabbing her ankle.

"You little spoiled bitch." He snorted, pulling her so that she just fell off the armchair, ignoring the fact that it made her skirt roll up and he could almost see her panties. "You think if your daddy pays for your studies, you're allowed everything?"

In response, he was hit on the head with the book she had just been reading, grabbed his forehead and shouted in pain, closing his eyes.

"Fuck off! I'm studying here as hard as you are!" She snarled furiously, wanting to throw the other book at him, but he grabbed her arms and blocked her movements. They were both panting loudly fighting each other, she tried to hit him with her knee, but he pinned her down with his body.

"Yeah? Oh what a poor girl. She studies as hard as I do. She never had to earn anything, she didn't have to work for long fucking hours after school, studying late to earn a living here, she didn't have to write a 100-page essay to get here, beg the university authorities to give her a scholarship." He hissed out looking at her with hatred, not letting her get away, feeling that he was just pouring out everything he had felt over the years, all the loathing he had for her and people like her.

She stopped fighting him and pressed her lips together, her eyebrows at the same time furrowed in a grimace of pain and sadness, her lower lip began to tremble at his words, her eyes turned red and glazed over from tears.

"Oh, are you going to cry? Are you going to fucking cry now? The poor rich little girl is going to cry because she heard a few words of truth?" He asked in a mocking, sweet voice as if he was speaking to a small child who still doesn't understand much and needs to be explained slowly.

"Fuck off." She exhaled with difficulty, already with less certainty, trying to push him away but to no avail, his hands clenched tighter on her shoulders, her body pressed against the armchair so that she was unable to make any movement, her cheeks red with exertion.

"You're not so snarky anymore? Well, please tell me, how did you earn your place here? Let me guess, you told your daddy - daddy, I would like to study here - will you pay my tuition fees? Hm? Is that how it was? I know, you worked so terribly hard for it." He sneered, arching his eyebrows in a gesture as if he really felt sorry for her, and she burst out crying, looking up at him from below, breathing hard.

"− I wanted to study here because I'm interested in literature, and my dad helped me − what the fuck is your problem? −" She mumbled out almost choking, and he clenched his jaw, his nostrils moving restlessly in rage.

"− my problem is that you've taken the place of someone who's worked all their life for it − some poor boy or girl who didn't have your father's money − the university authorities prefer your money to their knowledge −"

"− then why don't you go and yell at the rector for it? − won't you go to the dean and name some person to take my place, tell them that they are only after my money? − I'll tell you why − thanks to my father's money you can be here for free − thanks to my father's money you'll be able to do your PhD and do your research −" She laughed desperately through her tears, looking at him in disbelief, seeing him turn pale, his lower lip trembling in rage.

"− you didn't know? − you thought our country was paying for your place here, your uniform, your room? − no − but you're right about one thing − you've earned this place harder than I have −" She said emotionlessly, looking at him with a blank stare, and he felt unable to get a word out, his throat tightened, he felt like he was about to vomit, humiliation and rage spreading through his body.

"− you don't know anything about me − you've been insulting me ever since you got here, even though I'm the one you feel sorry for, you're the one carrying yourself like a king, looking down on everyone − and I thought that maybe things would get better, that maybe we'd even become friends − you're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants −" She hissed, pushing him away from her, he stepped back, turning his head away, not looking at her as she picked up her book from the floor and moved ahead, disappearing around the corner.

He slid his back down the bookcase and sat on the floor, burying his face in his hands, feeling that he was trembling all over.

You're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[offender42085]

Post 1349

...not guilty of felony hate crime charges, but guilty of third-degree malicious mischief -- a crime that is a gross misdemeanor with a maximum penalty of 364 days in county jail.

Frank John Bagley, inmate 395764

Cabriel R Smith-Nilsen, inmate 395763

Matthew A Clement, inmate 365991

Lewis County Washington Jail inmates, incarceration intake October 2024, sentenced to 364 days

In October 2024, a Lewis County (Washington) Superior Court judge sentenced the three men convicted by a jury for defacing the “Friendship Fence” in Chehalis earlier in the year to 364 days in county jail: the maximum sentence allotted for their cases.

“This crime cries out for the maximum. It cries out for a statement that this will not be tolerated,” Judge J. Andrew Toynbee said during a sentencing hearing for the three defendants, Frank John B. Bagley II, 40, of Seattle, Matthew A. Clement, 33, of Centralia, and Gabriel R. Smith-Nilsen, 25, of Driggs, Idaho, on Friday, Oct. 4.

Bagley, Clement and Smith-Nilsen were arrested in Centralia early in the morning on Sunday, Feb. 25, after a neighbor saw them defacing the Friendship Fence — a rainbow-colored fence — in Chehalis and followed them as they fled in a dark-colored Subaru station wagon.

The Chehalis Police Department received a call at 12:08 a.m. on Sunday, Feb. 25, from the neighbor, Norman Lynn, reporting three subjects “wearing all black and ski masks” were spray painting the Friendship Fence in the 600 block of Northwest Pennsylvania Avenue.

They hid behind the house before fleeing on foot, getting into a dark-colored station wagon and fleeing northbound on Interstate 5 into Centralia. Officers with the Centralia Police Department were able to stop the suspects’ vehicle as they were trying to get onto southbound I-5 at 12:38 a.m. on Feb. 25, according to police call logs. 

Officers found a stencil “covered in multicolored paint and had the words ‘Patriotfront’ as the cutout for the sign,” as well as a blue bag containing “several pieces of White Lives Matter and … literature and propaganda stickers” inside the vehicle the suspects were in when Centralia police arrested them on Feb. 25.

A Lewis County jury ruled earlier that Bagley, Clement and Smith-Nilsen were not guilty of felony hate crime charges, but were guilty of third-degree malicious mischief.

The crime is a gross misdemeanor with a maximum penalty of 364 days in prison.

“This was undoubtedly a contentious case,” defense attorney Shane O’Rourke, representing Clement, said Monday.

While the jury found that the defendants did not target a specific person’s sexual orientation or gender identity, which would be required for a hate crime conviction, O’Rourke said Friday, “I think the evidence did suggest it was an attack on the social commentary and political messaging of the fence.”

O’Rourke said the fence was “unquestionably a symbol and monument” in the community, but asked the court “would we all be engaged in the same conversation” if “liberals” had vandalized a hypothetical Confederate or Trump monument in the community?

O’Rourke and fellow defense attorneys Joseph Enbody and Jakob McGhie, who represented Bagley and Smith-Nilsen, respectively, argued Friday in favor of a suspended sentence or an electronic home monitoring option for the defendants, saying such a sentence would be consistent with what they’ve seen the court sentence for third-degree malicious mischief cases in which the defendants have little to no prior criminal history.

3v

[thelvrsera]

[mentions of drugs + hook ups ]

— early years (the good)🌷

jimmy keene , who you’ve known since you were both in diapers + played together in his parents living room floor

jimmy keene , who would bring you little wild flowers out of the ground that first bloomed in the spring

jimmy keene , who was your first real friend in elementary school , and always made sure you sat next to him in the cafeteria because “other girls had cooties , but not y/n”

jimmy keene , who gave you lunch money for ice cream because you lost yours in your moms car

jimmy keene , who ran to your home-made box first to put valentines cards inside that he stayed up all night making for you

jimmy keene , who saw you crying on the playground because you fell in the mulch , and dusted your knees off and said “its okay , it’s just a little scratch , let’s go play on the swings ! “

jimmy keene , the only boy your parents allowed to stay the night for a sleepover , all because your mothers worked together

jimmy keene , the first person who ever really mattered to you..

— the awakening senses of two teenagers (the bad)🫀

jimmy keene , who was always dotted on by teachers for “being a cops kid” . not a day went by where he wasn’t talked about .

jimmy keene , who had 3 out of 6 classes with you , and still always made sure you sat beside him . people always thought you guys were thicker than thieves .

jimmy keene , who never understood the English homework that was given , so he always came over to get help with studying , and admired you for being so in touch with English literature

jimmy keene , who was always getting you both in trouble for talking in class , which lead to the first time you ever had detention .. your father wasn’t too pleased with that one.

jimmy keene , who came over when his parents divorced , and cried because he thought he would never see his father again. He was never the same when Big Jim Keene moved out . he had lost his first best friend

jimmy keene , who got on the football team , which caused you to jump with joy as he was finally achieving what he dreamed of .

jimmy keene , who made your heart beat out of your chest when he was near you . he made you feel those butterflies in your stomach , but who were you kidding , you guys were just friends .

jimmy keene , who got into an argument with you after you found out he was selling pot . you told him that it wasn’t a good idea . he told you to stop acting like you were his mother .

jimmy keene , who asked you out on the football field after a big win — there was no doubt you said yes , everyone knew jimmy + y/n , the biggest couple of Kankakee Highschool

jimmy keene , the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with ..

— you were supposed to be in love , right ? (The chosen) 🚬

jimmy keene , who was with you all throughout college . he got his scholarships through sports , and got another degree elsewhere . you on the other hand , were a law major . being a federal agent was a dream to you

jimmy keene , who was still invested in the drug business after almost 8 years of college . you dared not to say a word , you’ve been together since highschool , why would you ever question the man you hoped to become your husband ?

jimmy keene , who owned a couple of homes . some vacation lot and the Kankakee house , in which you both lived . he loved it , it was the dream spot for him , for you it was an unseen look into the future .

jimmy keene , who started to bring home weapons . and put you into a spiral . “james you can not just bring an AK into our home , what if you get caught?” , “why are you so worried ? it’s not like I’m gonna use it— quit complaining .”

jimmy keene , who would come home at late hours of the night , and even wee hours of the morning. 12:47 am , 2:04 am , 5:58 am ? what was he doing coming home this late ?

jimmy keene , who bought you an expensive dress from Versace the night he asked you to be his wife . it was like all of your worries had washed away . It was the 90s after all , 1993 to be exact . anything could distract anyone.

jimmy keene , who was excited that you started off in your career , you didn’t tell him you were working for the bureau , you told him you were working in journalism . and nothing could beat his excitement for you , future Mrs. Keene

jimmy keene , who ran around the room in a panic . a sheet wrapped around his slim waist when you came home the next morning to a woman in your bed , lines of cocaine on your dresser , and both parties in the nude . he was your fiancé ? how could he do this to you , he loved you … right?

jimmy keene , who broke down and cried that night in the living room floor as the house was quiet . you had packed your stuff and left , you drove so far you didn’t even realize you were in Missouri . but you also realized , this was the start of your new life . he kept the engagement ring tucked in a coat pocket , in case you ever came back to him .

jimmy keene , who still hadn’t got over you in three years . he made sure he found you in every woman he slept with , just to give his heart a rest . Until his home was raided in 1996 . he knew this was the end , he’d never get a chance to salvage that relationship with you ever again . he finally realized that it was over

or was it …

the last thing you expected to fall onto your desk was a file . Larry Hall was a well known suspect you had , but when you got a file from Beaumont , it was the one thing you knew would happen .

You opened the file and was met with the familiar face that you once fell in love with … Jimmy Keene .

It was risky , you knew the whole plan was , but the plane ride from Missouri back to Chicago was something that had your heart racing .

—

Two days later , you had stepped foot into the penitentiary , the decision was still being made at who would go in undercover. the sound of your heels hitting the concrete linoleum floor sounded louder in the dimly lit hallway.

When you opened the door, you sat down in the chair opposite of the one in front of you, which was later filled by the man himself , Jimmy Keene .

Giving him a small smile , you placed the file on the table and watched as his face contorted. Was it fear ? Was it excitement ? Or was it betrayal .

“Let’s begin , shall we ? … Mr . Keene “

THE GOOD , THE BAD , AND THE CHOSEN — jan . 26 , 2024

[atlafan]

Carnal Attraction - Part One

a/n: sexology professor!harry is here!! Just a reminder, this is the only part being posted on here. The rest will be on Patreon. I can’t wait to know what you all think so far. This is going to be a good one, I think.

Warnings: talk of sexual acts, mentions of sexual misconduct

Words: 4.7K

Tumblr Masterlist I Patreon Masterlist

The world of academia is astounding. People stay in higher education for so many different reasons. Some go off to become medical doctors, others become doctors in specific fields like psychology or literature or philosophy. Some choose to stay in academia because they don’t want to sell their souls to industry work. Mavis always loved school. She was one of those kids that did well no matter what the subject was. She studied hard, wanting to take in more and more information. She was naturally gifted in the art of time management. Everything clicked for her. If something was puzzling, she’d figure it out.

There isn’t much she can’t figure out. Which is why she’s grown increasingly aggravated with her sexology professor. She can’t figure him out. She swears he hates her. He’s short with her, and less personable with her than he is with the other students. She’s never struggled like this with someone before. And he wasn’t even supposed to be the one teaching her courses!

When Mavis tells people she’s in graduate school for a master’s in sexology, they look at her funny. Furrowed eyebrows, puzzled facial expressions, etc. No one can ever piece together why someone would get an advanced degree in a subject like this. That’s because people can’t get their minds out of the gutter. In undergrad, Mavis majored in psychology, and minored in gender and sexuality studies. She eventually wants to produce literature and perform psychoanalysis on sexual behavior and sexual issues. She thought she wanted to be a psychiatrist, but that involves medical school. And as smart as she is, she’s rather squeamish when it comes to blood. So, then she thought maybe being a psychologist, some type of sex therapist would be good, but she honestly has a tough time speaking aloud about the various subjects. And sex therapy isn’t just for helping couples have better sex, a lot of it is helping people with history of sexual abuse recover and find ways to heal. Mavis doesn’t have the stomach for that. She cried too many times reading case studies about it in undergrad.

All that being said, she eventually wants to get her doctorate in psychology with a concentration in sexology, so when she found a graduate program to help get her started on that journey, she went for it. She could write about sexual disorders and the like all day. When she’s writing and researching, she’s quite helpful to others. She enjoys learning about sexual history, those were always her favorite courses. Learning about how trans people in the 1800’s used binders to hide their breasts, learning about how two opposite sex couples would get married, go in on a duplex together, and use the basement to sneak over to sleep with their same sex partner, learning about different gay and lesbian liberation movements, the HIV/AIDS epidemic, and so much more was where her interest was. It all just fascinated her, it all astounded her, and a lot of it just made her downright upset. Tears would litter her textbooks as she read about people being beaten senseless until they were left for dead in the streets. She’d cry because all of it was happening not too long ago. She cried because it still happens today.

She’s quite empathetic, and almost too much to a fault. But she can’t help that she cares! She enjoys studying the psychology side of things, how the brain functions of these people work, how the brains of bigots function, if there’s a disparity between the two on scans or octopuses. All Mavis wants to do is hunker down in her own academic sanctuary and research and read and write and publish.

Mavis had been assigned an advisor over the summer, one whom she emailed with frequently to make sure she was taking the correct courses in the correct sequence. Her advisor recommended courses with one specific professor, Professor Amaro. Apparently, her classes were top tier, and she was a favorite amongst the other graduate students. No brainer – sign up for Amaro’s courses.

Except when Mavis showed up for her first day of Human Sexuality, a co-requisite for her Sexual Pleasure Education course, there was a man standing at the podium, hooking his laptop up to the HDMI cable so he could project onto the screen up front. At first, she thought maybe he was a TA just setting up for Professor Amaro. She paid it no mind. She found a seat in the middle front, and got her own things set up. It’s syllabus week, so there won’t be much to go over, but Mavis still likes to take handwritten notes. She pulled her agenda, a notebook, and her copy of the syllabus out, and set them on her desk. The classroom is small, only meant to hold about twenty-five people. Mavis prefers small classrooms. She’s not a fan of lecture halls with stadium-style seating.

“Is anyone sitting here?” A woman’s voice took over Mavis’ attention. The desks are set up for two people to sit at. “If it is, I can sit somewhere else.”

“Oh! No, go right ahead.” Mavis smiled. “I’m Mavis.”

“Thanks.” The woman says with relief as she sits down. “I’m Taraji, I use she/they pronouns.”

“Nice to meet you. I use she/her. Thanks for letting me know yours.”

“Nice to meet you too, and no problem. It’s something new I’m trying out. I don’t…I don’t always feel like a she, you know?”

“Totally get that.”

“Sorry, I hope that wasn’t too much info too soon.”

“No worries.” Mavis waves her off. “We’re going to be talking about some real shit in this class, it’s best to just be open and honest.”

“Agreed.” Taraji takes out her own agenda and notebook. “I hate that we have to take this course in conjunction with the sexual pleasure class. I feel like I’ve taken a million human sexuality courses at this point.”

“I know, it seems a little odd, but I figure there must be more high level stuff to discuss since this is at the grad level. And review isn’t always a bad thing, I like refreshers.”

“Well, aren’t you full of silver linings?” Taraji smiles. “We need more people like that in this world.”

The girls continue to chat while the class fills in. At 10:30, the man at the front closes the door and turns the projector on, revealing his screen. Mavis’ stomach drops when she sees Human Sexuality – Professor Styles – M/W 10:30-12:00 in big bold letters.

“What happened to Professor Amaro?” She whispers to Taraji.

“Beats me.” Taraji shrugs. “Maybe we signed up for the wrong section?”

“That can’t be it, this is the only section being offered.”

The man, Professor Styles, clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. He’s wearing a button up, but it’s not buttoned up all the way. You can see his undershirt. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing quite a few tattoos. Round glasses are on the bridge of his nose, and his hair is pushed back with a couple of curls falling forward on his forehead. He looks young. Who the fuck is this guy?

“Morning, everyone.” His deep voice fills the room as he rounds the podium to stand in front of the desk attached to it. He leans back against it, gripping the edge behind him. “I’m Professor Harry Styles, I prefer to be called professor, so please try to remember that. I’m sure you’re very confused as to why I’m standing here and not Professor Amara.” He pauses to take a sip of water from his Nalgene. “I quite literally found out the other day that I would be taking over her courses. To be transparent with all of you, Professor Amaro is under investigation for sexual misconduct with her patients. As many of you know, a lot of the professors in the psychology department have their own practices outside of academia. Summer is when Professor Amaro picks up new patients. There was someone undercover seeing her for therapy, and she was caught taking advantage. It’s extremely disappointing. So, not only will she be losing her licensure, but she has been let go from the institution as well. We do not condone the abuse of patients. We also do not want someone so unethical being the one to teach our future therapists. How many of you are in here as part of the clinical licensure program?” More than half of the class raises their hands. “Right, I thought so. I usually teach undergraduate courses, but I’m fully prepared to teach at the graduate level just the same. I know many of you have already taken different iterations of Human Sexuality, but this course is integral for you so you can fully get what’s needed out of the Sexual Pleasure Education course. It says 10:30 to noon up here, but I’ll typically only be keeping you for about an hour, if that. Many of you have research and other time consuming things to do, and I want to be cognizant of that. I am also working towards my PhD, I’m about two years into my program and research.” He pauses again, knowing he just word vomited. The class is stunned with the bomb he just dropped about Professor Amaro, and they’re whiplashed going from that to the basic information about the course. “Any questions so far?”

“I have one.” A brave soul in the back raises their hand. “Which undergraduate courses do you teach? Will you need any TA’s since your load just got bigger?”

“Great question, thank you for asking. I will end up needing TA’s, but I have to wait to meet with the department chair to see what our budget is. I teach the undergraduate intro to gender and sexuality studies, and I also teach some of the higher level special topics courses. This semester I’m teaching the history of feminism, which is one of my favorites to teach, and I’m also teaching the film history course that focuses on how sex has been depicted in film since its start to the present.”

“You’re teaching a course about feminism?” Another person asks.

“Yes.” Professor Styles smirks. “It’s one of my main focuses of study. I may not be a woman, but I am a man that believes in equity and equality. Plus, I’m a huge history buff, so I enjoy teaching about how the movement began and how feminism has transformed over the years, both the good and the bad of it.”

Mavis swallows thickly. She’s a history buff too. Maybe she could be a TA for one of his classes. The extra money would be nice, and so would the bit of teaching experience if she were allowed to give a lecture or two.

“Let’s focus on this class. We’ll be going over a number of topics, and at times you may feel the need to giggle because of nerves. We’re going to discuss endorsement, communication, fantasy, masturbation, homosexuality, bisexuality, desensitization and resensitization, female and male sexuality, sexual enrichment, special problems, therapy, and cultural expression. So, this gives us a base for what we’ll be discussing in the co-requisite course. Now, I’m going to do something that I do with my undergrads, I’m going to say a ton of words and phrases that you’ll feel the need to giggle about as we discuss certain topics. This is your only chance to laugh. If you do it throughout the semester, then we’re going to have a problem. If you become a sex therapist, you can’t laugh at your patients. We’ll get into why these words make us feel nervous, and why we feel the need to laugh when we hear them.” He grabs the remote for the projector and clicks it. Everyone gasps and starts laughing when they see many words and phrases appear. “Alright: penis, vagina, pussy, cunt, cock, dick, mutual masturbation, anal, penetration, fingering, eating out, going down, blow job, hand job, sucking someone off, breasts, boobs, nipples, fetish, BDSM, whips, chains, handcuffs, threesomes, orgies, condoms, contraceptives, birth control pills, IUD, sex toys, dildo, vibrator, cock ring, lube, dirty talk, dominant, submissive, daddy, baby talk, douching, porn, clit, clitoris, prostate, prostate orgasm, orgasm, vaginal orgasm, stimulation, fucking, fisting, getting wet, wet, come, precome, squirt, squirting, ejaculation, and sex.”

The entire class is snickering and giggling and laughing, even Mavis. Hearing all of those things back to back and watching the words dance on the screen in an animated fashion is hilarious. What a fun approach to getting people more comfortable with these terms.

“There are many more words and phrases, obviously, but these will be the ones we use more often.” Professor Styles explains, smiling fondly to the class. “If you’d like to be considered for a TA position, please come up to me after you’re dismissed. “Any questions?” No one raises their hand. “Great, then you’re dismissed. Enjoy the nice weather.”

Mavis and Taraji exchange contact info, and agree to meet for coffee tomorrow morning before their sexual pleasure course. A few people go up to Professor Styles to tell him they’d like to be a TA, and he takes down their information. Mavis is the last in line, the last student in the classroom with Professor Styles.

“Name?” He asks, not looking up at her.

“Mavis Ashford.”

“Alright.” He looks up at her now, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Do you have a preference?”

“I’d love to help out in the feminism course or the film history course. I like the historical side of things when it comes to studying this content.”

“Great, those are usually the ones I have trouble finding help for.”

“Really? I’m surprised.”

“Since a lot of you are here to become licensed therapists or psychologists, not a lot of people are interested in the theoretical aspect of things.”

“Well, I definitely do not want to be a therapist. I want to do research, eventually get my PhD, like you, I suppose. I’m sad about Professor Amaro, I heard so many good things about her.”

“None of us knew about any of it. She hid what she was doing well. She had been doing it for years, supposedly.” He sighs and takes his glasses off, putting them into their case. Mavis catches how green his eyes are, almost like sage. “Did you have any other questions? I need to get across campus to my office so I can take some time to edit the Canvas courses a little more.”

“Oh! No, sorry. Guess I was just curious to know how long you’ve been teaching for. You mentioned you were in your second year of your doctoral program, so-“

“There’s a bio page for me. My listing lives under the Psychology department. I’ll keep you in mind for my special topics courses. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Mavis watches the very flustered, unorganized man leave the room in a rush. His papers were all over the place, and he just shoved all his things in his bag. How chaotic. Maybe if she’s able to become his TA, she could help him with that.

**

Since Monday went so well, including Mavis’ other courses, she’s excited for Tuesday. She meets Taraji for coffee, as planned, and then they head to class. A course about Sexual Pleasure Education at 9AM is wild, but if coffee doesn’t wake the class up, the content of the course sure will. Harry is at the podium, connecting his computer, just as he did yesterday. Mavis and Taraji sit at the same table they did yesterday. The class eventually fills in, and Harry turns the projector on.

“Let’s see, did I scare anyone off since yesterday?” He asks out loud, but it’s more for himself, as he checks off names on his attendance sheet. “Great, you’re all here.” He smiles. “I know you’re probably thinking how I could have possibly memorized all your names already, but I haven’t. I just have your student ID pictures next to your names on my sheet.” He leans back against the table, gripping the edge of it, same as he did yesterday, and scans over the class. “Welcome to Sexual Pleasure Education. In this class, we will discuss strategies for improved sex life, sex aids, sexual approaches, and male and female pleasuring. We will also be stressing the value of various body work techniques for persons intending to work in the field of sex therapy and counseling. Lastly, we will discuss sexological exploration of objects which have been created in response to sexual desire and experience.” He pauses to take a sip of water. “Basically, this is sex ed on crack.”

“Professor Styles?” A girl in the back raises her hand, and he nods for her to continue. “So, are there going to be, like, demonstrations in class?”

“Yes. Most people learn best by doing. And it’s important for you to know what you’re talking about if you end up becoming the type of therapist that has to make recommendations for couples. The conversations we’re going to have in this class are going to feel awkward and taboo. There are going to be days where we look at various sex toys and how to use them, and why people use them.”

“I sort of meant, like, is anything going to be demonstrated on an actual person?” The same girl asks.

“Considering that this isn’t a tantric sex workshop, no.” He smirks. “We’ll look at various anatomical diagrams to go over specific areas where people find pleasure and how best to get them to feel it in those areas.”

“Professor Styles?” A boy in the front raises his hand, and Harry nods for him to continue. “I know this isn’t technically a psychology course, but are we going to get into kinks and why some people have specific ones or like using specific objects?”

“Yes and no. We’ll discuss the psychology behind kinks in our Human Sexuality course. What we do on Mondays and Wednesdays will be more theoretical, and what we do on Tuesdays and Thursdays will be more practical. Great questions so far. Anyone have anything else?”

“Will there be trigger warnings?” Taraji asks. “For both classes?”

“Yes, when we get into some of the heavier topics, there will be trigger warnings. I’m working on updating the syllabus so you’ll all know when to expect those. If the topic is so heavy that you don’t feel as though you can come to class, please let me know so we can have a one-on-one session so we can go over the material. I can meet in-person or on zoom.”

“Thank you.” Taraji smiles softly.

“Are we going to be talking about our own personal sex lives in class?” Another girl asks.

“That depends on how comfortable you feel. We may share anecdotes, and we may not. If you become a therapist, remember that what might work for you, might not work for others. However, your patients will ask you about your personal experience with some of the things you recommend to them. I’m not saying you need to shove a butt plug up your ass in order to have a frame of reference, but sometimes it helps for your patient to know you’re a real person. Just don’t cross any hard boundaries. We all know that many patients tend to experience romantic feelings towards their therapists. That can happen twice as much with sex therapy. You need to make it clear right from the start that even though it’s a safe space for them, things will still be professional. No one is to ever take their clothes off during an appointment. That’s what leads to things like what happened with Professor Amaro to happen. Respect will be integral to this course, as well as not kink-shaming. You may find something weird that someone else may love, and vice versa. You don’t have to agree, but please be mindful of how you speak to and about others.” He drums his fingers behind him as he takes another pause. “All of that being said, if we do discuss personal sexual experiences, you need to speak about them educationally. I don’t want to hear things like, ‘this one time I was fucking this dude and he,’ blah blah blah. Okay?”

The class makes a collective noise of agreement that makes Harry very happy.

“I’m hoping to have the courses updated to my liking by next Monday. I should also know by then about TA positions for my undergraduate courses. Do we have any other questions right now?” No one answers. “Excellent. For tomorrow’s Human Sexuality class, I’d like you all to fill out these surveys.” He starts handing out papers row by row. “They’re to give me a pulse check on what you already know a lot about, and the areas you need a bit more information on. It’ll help for Thursday’s lesson in here as well.” Once all of the papers are passed out, Harry goes back to the front of the room. “If no one else has any questions, you’re all free to go.”

Everyone begins packing up their things. Mavis is stuck looking over the survey questions. Her cheeks are beat red, she just knows it.

“You coming?” Taraji asks her.

“Um, yeah.” Mavis blinks and starts packing up her things. “I just have a few questions for Professor Styles. Wanna get lunch later?”

“I’d love to. Text me later.”

Mavis nods to her new friend, and goes to the back of the line of students that have questions for Harry. Just like yesterday, it’s the two of them alone in the room. He doesn’t look at her as he stuffs his papers into his bag.

“Have you ever thought to use an accordion folder for all of that?” She asks him.

“You waited in line just to ask me that?” He looks up at her, taking his glasses off and putting them into their case.

“No.” She laughs sheepishly. “I just had a few questions about this survey.”

“Alright, shoot.” He tells her, crossing his arms over his chest loosely.

“The first question says to list five common sex toys that I know of.”

“Correct.”

“Then the second questions says to explain the function of each of the toys.”

“Also correct.”

“What if you’re not familiar with well-known sex toys? Is it okay to look up the functionality?”

“No, just give your best guess as to why someone would use it.” He looks at her, studies her. He has a question of his own to ask, but it could come off as inappropriate. “I’m going to try to phrase this in the most professional way possible…do you not have much, um, first-hand experience with sex toys?”

Mavis’ eyes widen. All she can do is shake her head no. Harry nods in understanding, not being the least bit judgmental.

“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to know more about them, like, I know a lot about the history of them, the…the theoretical side of things, as you mentioned before. But in practice…I guess that’s where I need to learn more.”

“That’s fine, you can just say that on the survey. You can keep it anonymous too. I didn’t leave a space for your names at the top.”

“So, it’s not a big deal if I haven’t personally done some of the things we’re going to discuss.” She says for clarification.

“Perfectly fine. You could be a virgin for all I care. You just need to be able to discuss and write about these things knowledgably and eloquently.”

“Well, I’m not a vi-“ She’s about to scoff, but he raises his hand to halt her from finishing her sentence.

“I don’t need to know the particulars of what you have and haven’t done, Miss Ashford.”

“You just said we need to be able to discuss these things, though.”

“Yes, as a class, when other people are around. Not when you’re in here alone with me. Someone could get the wrong idea about why we’re having this very conversation.” He slings his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t over think it, it’s just a pulse check.”

He leaves her there, sweating. Did he think she was coming on to him? Did he think she was flirting? She wasn’t! She would never do something like that with a professor.

**

The rest of the week goes by smoothly. Mavis makes sure not to ask Harry any questions after class. In the second session of Human Sexuality, they went through all the changes Harry made to the course Canvas page and to the syllabus. They did the same for the second session of Sexual Pleasure Education. Pretty easy stuff that the students are thankful for. The other courses Mavis is taking are research methods and a high-level sociology course. So starting off on the slower side is a major bonus. Harry lets them know that he’ll post a paper on his office door on Friday with who has been selected as TA’s.

Around noon on Friday, after a work out and a hearty breakfast, Mavis makes her way to the building Harry’s office is in. She takes her headphones out as she gets inside, and makes her way upstairs and down a hallway until she gets to the psych department office suite. His door is closed, so the paper is easy to read. Her eyes scan over it, and she’s taken aback when she doesn’t see her name. Four students were chosen: Eric, Alyssa, Mohamed, and Liza. Mavis frowns deeply. How could she not have been chosen? She spoke to Harry directly about helping with his higher level courses. What made these students better choices than her?

She hears the squeak of a sneaker skidding, and turns her head in its direction. There Professor Styles is. He looks rigid, almost like he had stopped short and was about to turn around. He sighs heavily and makes his way down the hall.

“Miss Ashford.” He nods and unlocks his office door. “I would have thought you would have been here first thing this morning.”

“Why didn’t you just email the students that got selected instead of making all of us come down here?”

“Because I didn’t make my decision until very late last night.” He tells her, opening his door and setting his things down on his desk. His office looks like a tornado hit it.

“Still, you could have emailed-“

“Miss Ashford, what is it that you need? I don’t have office hours today and I’m very busy.”

“I want to know why I wasn’t selected. I told you how much I love the history courses, I could have been a major help.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but I didn’t think you were the right fit for what I needed.”

“You came to that conclusion from only a week of knowing me?”

“I know the four students I selected better. I had them in my courses as undergrad students. They already know my teaching style and the learning outcomes of the courses.”

“Again, if you knew-“

“You need to go now.” He tells her, taking a dominant step forward, making her take a step back. “Don’t take it personally.”

“How can I not when you just told me I wasn’t the right fit?” She pouts, and she swears Harry’s eyes flicker down to her mouth, only for a millisecond.

“Mavis, I don’t feel comfortable with us being alone like this. There’s no one else in the office right now, I’m one of the few instructors that actually utilizes their space on Fridays.”

“But if you had office hours, I’d be alone with you.”

“Yes, with the door open, while other people are around.”

“Are you afraid of someone accusing you of doing what Professor Amaro did? I feel like you’re being overly cautious…with me.”

“You ask a lot of questions, and it’s annoying. You’re annoying. That’s why I didn’t select you. I don’t have any desire to be around you more than I’m already obligated to.”

“Are…are you allowed to speak to me like this?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Or maybe not. Who’s to say? It’s your word against mine, right? No one else is here. Are you picking up what I’m putting down? I already told you I felt uncomfortable, now please go before I have to call campus police to escort you out.”

Mavis is stunned, and about ready to cry. Harry rolls his eyes when she doesn’t budge, so he goes into his office and slams the door in her face. What the fuck is his problem?!

**

[kilometresrufflefuck]

hey. you went to law school because of ace attorney. would you recommend it? because I've been y'know. Considering. and if it was a terrible idea I will Stop Considering

hi! great question!

ultimately the reason i went to law school was because i realised i had a great passion for justice and social welfare - which, yes, aa helped me discover, mostly because law wasn't an avenue i'd considered before aa turned my attention to it. my interests in law have shifted around a lot over the course of my time in it so far, but even in my lowest moments there was something that felt very right to me about being in it. law requires a very specific way of thinking and i just felt it click. even if i swerved from the path now and never became a lawyer, i wouldn't regret my choice.

however, studying law is really, deeply grueling. not just because it's substantively difficult (it also is substantively difficult), but because so much of it just does not feel rewarding at all. the achievements feel good, but the study itself is not nearly as fulfilling as anything i felt studying, say, literature or linguistics or philosophy. it is a real slog. the community is also kind of bad and you will meet a lot of very shitty people, both peers and teachers. (there are of course also many good people!) it can be very demoralising and WILL be very boring and time-consuming, and you will see the very worst of people, a lot, because case law only happens when things go wrong.

so my advice is - studying law will never be a waste in terms of the knowledge and the unique analytical skills you'll gain. it's intensely valuable to anyone trying to exist in human society. it is one of the most rewarding learning experiences, but it's only really rewarding if you have a legitimate passion for it. for anyone doing law for the prestige or the money, or because you don't know what to do and it seems like a sensible choice, or (yes, this is coming from me) just for a joke, it will be a hundred times harder, just because of how often you have to just sit down and remind yourself to keep going and how much harder that is when you don't have a driving passion. not impossible! just harder. i'd be remiss to imply everyone in law is passionate about it, haha (far, far, far from it) but this is the same advice i give irl when im trying to save my young relatives a bit of needless suffering lol. if you think you might have a more fulfilling path somewhere else you shouldn't take law just as a "safe" or prestigious option because it'll just suck for you. i'm not saying don't do it, though, even if you're not sure! just think it through first. you can always change your mind (it might be an expensive change of mind but it's always possible).

if you think you might be really interested in law, of course i really encourage you to go for it. it will never be wasted information and it's incredibly practical for your day to day. honestly, if it weren't such an Ordeal i would advise everyone to study law because it's just SO useful to being a person. i never really want to dissuade anyone who's interested in law from trying it out, because as much as i whined and cried and screamed my way through my degree... if you sent me back to remake the choice, i'd do it again.

[grendelsmom]

I had to take two Latin courses (basic and advanced/literature) at Uni, because knowledge of Latin is required for my degree and I didn't have Latin in school. That whole thing took me a year and a fucking ton of effort.

I was just told today (!), over two years after I finished the course, that the second course I took isn't valid for my degree, because I only did the Uni exam and not the state exam that would have been availabe if I had taken the "advanced course" instead of the "qualification course".

The qualification course btw is on a higher level and offers either a) a higher level state exam or b) a University exam. I was playing with the idea of doing a), but was under the impression that for my specific degree either a) or b) would have been fine, since it's only describe as needing "knowledge of Latin". And if I would be doing my Bachelor that would have been the case. But I'm studying to become a (special needs) teacher and therefore have to do a state exam, which requieres a state exam in Latin. Which I don't have.

So, yeah, I already cried in the auditorium and the semester hasn't even started.

[lilolilyr]

Tagged by @toboldlynerd and by @die-schwanenkoenigin , thank you! <3

15 Questions for 15 Friends

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?

Not to my knowledge

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

Probably today? About fanfics or memes or something? Oh! I remember, it was this post.

DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

No and don't plan to!

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?

As a kid I did Judo for a while, then horse riding, unicycling, and handball

I did and, while not regularly atm, still really like to dance :) took standard&latin classes from age 14-18 and again in the last couple years, modern dance both during my bachelor's and the first years of my master's degree, and a semester of pole dance

My absolute favourite: aerial silks ♡ I've been doing it on and of since I was 11, depending on whether I could take classes or find a place for my own silks in the towns I lived - I'm still trying to find a place to practice again at the moment, but I went to classes in a studio last year and even was part of a performance in December, first time in ages :)

DO YOU USE SARCASM?

:}

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?

No idea?? Vibes?

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOR?

Brown

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?

Happy happy happy happy happy

ANY TALENTS?

I can wiggle my eyebrows separately. Also my ears.

WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

Germany

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

At the moment mostly reading&writing fic and making origami butterflies, but theoretically also cosplay, photography, travelling, literature, psychology, and much more

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?

No :( but the neighbours' kitty likes to come over a lot, and today a different neighborhood cat came over: a young and incredibly clumsy and anxious orange cat, he's hilarious but I had to gently shoo him away because Disl (the regular visitor) probably wouldn't take kindly on an interloper and I don't want them to start throwing handspaws

HOW TALL ARE YOU?

160sth cm I think 165 is in my ID

FAVOURITE SUBJECT?

In highschool English (as a foreign language) and literature&theatre, in university (try to figure out my degree from these I dare you) intercultural relations, marketing psychology, venue management, and I don't remember what exactly it was called but it was basically a seminar on intersectional feminism?

DREAM JOB?

Getting paid for reading fanfic all day. :]

Tagging, if you want to do it, @lavendelhummel , @cryhardanddanceharder , @ladydedlock , @raindropsandteaandtears , @mindflamer , @asstraightasau-turn , @mimi-mindless , @smittyjaws , @banashee , @nbie , @existentialvoidofexistence , @katharinaste , @grayisthewarmest , @sharkbatez , @gunsandcherries , and everyone else who sees this :) purlturtle yes you too :)

Blank copy for easier copy-pasting:

15 Questions for 15 Friends ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? DO YOU HAVE KIDS? WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED? DO YOU USE SARCASM? WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOR? SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? ANY TALENTS? WHERE WERE YOU BORN? WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? HOW TALL ARE YOU? FAVOURITE SUBJECT? DREAM JOB?

[thoughtportal]

In his 1961 book, What Is History?, Edward Hallett Carr explains that history doesn’t write itself; it’s historians—human beings with biases and specific motives—who determine its basis. “It used to be said that facts speak for themselves. This is, of course, untrue,” he writes. “The facts speak only when the historian calls on them: it is he who decides to which facts to give the floor, and in what order or context.” Throughout the tumult of 2020 many American cities, particularly in the South and parts of the Midwest, addressed the reckoning brought on by the George Floyd protests by taking down Confederate monuments. Beneath the cheers from many celebrating the long-overdue actions, right-wing activists shouted that removing the statues was “erasing history.” The Right’s cries of erasure reflected a view that history is rigid and static.

For New York–based rapper billy woods, history is a tool for understanding the world we live in. Woods sees history as fluid: perspectives change over time, tipping points are only recognizable in hindsight, and everything is tangled together. In his songwriting, references to politicians, global conflict, and leftist theory abound. To lay out his themes, woods folds time like a sheet of paper, pulling disparate historical events into the same space. “There are a lot of histories,” woods says, “so if we examine the places where they bump up against one another, then maybe we get something approximating truth.” The first verse of “spongebob,” the opening track from his and producer Kenny Segal’s 2019 album, Hiding Places, weaves together mentions of Mao Zedong, Robert Mugabe’s eviction of white Zimbabwean farmers from their land, the capture of Saddam Hussein, and the Atlantic slave trade, all to illustrate the ambient stress of living in the present-day United States.

Woods’s parents met in New York City as graduate students. His mother is a Jamaican English-literature scholar and feminist writer, and his father was a political refugee from Zimbabwe with a PhD in history and a law degree. Woods was born in Washington, DC, but his father moved back to Zimbabwe in 1979 after the collapse of Rhodesia, eventually holding two separate positions in Robert Mugabe’s Marxist government. The family followed in 1981 but moved back to DC in late 1989 after woods’s father’s death. After a stint at Howard University and an itinerant young adulthood, woods settled in New York City. He wrote his first rap while working in a Maine laundromat in 1997, and when he moved back to New York in 2000, he invested all the money he had into a music career, eventually founding his influential label, Backwoodz Studioz, in 2002. His first album, Camouflage, was released in 2003, but his music career didn’t take off until the release of History Will Absolve Me in 2012. (The album’s cover is a close-up of Mugabe’s face). Woods and fellow Brooklyn emcee E L U C I D formed Armand Hammer in 2013, and between his group and solo work, he’s released more than twenty albums in less than two decades, to increasingly wide critical acclaim. (In all public-facing photographs and videos, woods keeps his face or eyes obscured, a choice he made early in his career to protect his anonymity in a constantly surveilled world.)

I spoke to woods twice for this interview: once at his apartment in Brooklyn, seated beside boxes of his LPs, and again via phone on July 4, 2024. Rather than focus on his musical output, each conversation spiraled through time, with woods moving from one historical event to another in a matter of seconds. “Human behavior is a problem,” he said at one point, illustrating that one of our most consistent through lines in history is also one of our most inescapable.

Not all conversations are as linear or succinct as they appear. This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.—Ed.

[writing-for-life]

Thanks for the tag, @marlowe-zara This is actually a nice one, and I’ve got time (I always take the day after the Oscars off, I’m really that sad)…

*****************************************

Are you named after anyone? No, not that I know of. I use the name I nearly got as my writing pseud/pen-name though.

When was the last time you cried? Not a crier about a lot of stuff because my go-to-mechanism is to get on with it, for better or worse (so not saying that’s always a good thing). If I cry, it’s mostly when I’m proud of my kid, so rather happy tears than angry/sad ones. I know when I need to cry because of latter reasons though and can easily get the floodgates to open with art/music/films/books when I feel it’s safe for me to do so. That sounds… well-adjusted? Not 🤣

Do you have kids? One, primary age.

What sports do you play/have you played? Dance (professional performer). Knees, hips and back are fairly wrecked, so gentler stuff these days (mostly the right gym-stuff, Yoga and walking/running if my joints oblige). But do they count as “playing” sports?

Do you use sarcasm? Yes. Not always proud of it, so I try to limit it.

What is the first thing you notice about people? Their voice (occupational hazard, but also a kink 🤣). And the way they communicate in general, whether written or orally. That can mean many things—I like the occasional, well-placed swear-word, as an example. But most of all, I notice if people understand that words hold meaning, and if they use them well (again, in all sorts of ways).

What's your eye color? Some say blue, some say green. Very dark, whatever it may be (I have my own opinion, and I shall call it dark teal).

Scary movies or happy endings? Neither really. Not into scary movies, not the biggest fan of sappiness either. But it all depends. A good movie is a good movie and all that.

Any talents? I speak four languages fluently—is that a talent? All joking aside, I believe it’s all a mix between some natural aptitude, interest, support and commitment anyway, so the idea of “talent” is always one that makes me scratch my head a bit. I’ve had people comment favourably on my singing, acting, writing and drawing. Plus that I’ve got good problem-solving skills?

Where were you born? Western Central Europe 😜

What are your hobbies? Reading, writing. And reading. And writing. I also like reading, and did I mention writing?…

Do you have any pets? Yes, a black cat called Morpheus. His name used to be something else entirely when he was a kitten, but especially my kid and I think his attitude is very Murphy. We’re really that pathetic, and so is he. He also has a little scar under his eye now, courtesy of a love interest that didn’t reciprocate his feelings (I wrote about it on here), so it is very… apt?

How tall are you? 1.80m/5’11 My back and joints thank me every day.

Favorite subject in school? Languages, hands down. Everything that relates to writing, reading, literature, drama. And music. I’d love to say art, but I’ve only ever had arsehole art teachers who ruined it for me. So that’s to say: It’s not just the subject. It’s also the people who see you, support you, want you to succeed.

I teach performance-psychology at University, so I like that, too 🙂

Dream job? Oh, that’s tricky. Usually the one I’m doing, but that doesn’t mean it’ll forever stay that way. I’m lucky enough to have basically three degrees (the first one a science/music double major, the second in psychology), and I loved working in all three fields—until I didn’t. And if I didn’t, I stopped. It was hard every time, both financially and emotionally, but I’ve come to the conclusion that my gut usually lets me know when it’s time to move on, and that it’s advisable to listen. At the moment, I split up my time between writing professionally, seeing therapy clients roughly 2 days a week and having a teaching gig. My brain likes the variety and needs it, and for the time being, that’s my happy place.

I see the usual suspects have already been tagged, so I’m going to mix it up (no pressure though if this stuff isn’t your thing) and send this into the direction of @morpheusbaby3 @duckland @dxliriumoftheendless @stellerssong @bobbole

[asksythe]

I've been researching turtle-type fantastical beasts of ancient China for my article on the Tulu Xuanwu in MDZS and its symbol as a foreshadowing of Wei Ying's path and ending in his first life.

This was one of the possible candidates. I figure I might as well scan the art and translate the text from the Shanhai Jing and post this as a fandom resource.

Xuan Gui 旋龜 (lit. the Spinning Turtle)- Shanhai Jing / Classics of Mountains and Seas (circa 4th century BCE)

Illustration by Shan Zhe, published in Guan Shan Hai, the compiled and edited version of the OG Shanhai Jing, by Hunan Literature and Art Publishing House.  

My Translation:

Text from the 4th century BCE Shanhai Jing: From Nuyang mountain comes a strange stream. This stream flows to the East and pours into the Xianyi River. In this stream live many black turtles. These creatures have the body of a turtle, the tail of a Hui snake (*: a type of ancient, fantastical, poisonous snake), and the head of a bird.

Its name is Xuan Gui. Its cries are like chopping wood. Wear it on your body to cure or prevent deafness. It can be used to treat foot calluses.

Explanation text from modern anthropologists: Other than Xuan Gui, the Shanhai Jing also mentions other fantastical turtles, such as the three-legged turtle, the Liang Gui, Gui, etc... Turtles are sacred in ancient beliefs. They are seen as the spiritual bridge between heaven and earth, the divine and the mortal. During the Yin Shang Dynasty (a semi-mythical dynasty over 3500 years ago, from 1766 BCE - 1122 BCE. All historical records of this dynasty are lost, and it's only mentioned in texts of a more fantastical nature), turtle shells were used for divination. During the Zhou Dynasty (Wu Zetian's Dynasty, 690 - 705), there existed court officials whose task was to divine the future using turtle shells.

In the Book of Rites (禮記 Lǐ Jì, one of the five founding classical texts of Ancient China, 213 BCE), the turtle is counted among the Four Sacred, alongside unicorn, phoenix, and dragon.

The ancients held the turtle in such high regard due to several reasons. One, its long life span (in ancient times, creatures with long life spans are believed to have a degree of sentience and the potential for the spark of the divine). Two: because the shape of the turtle symbolizes heaven and earth, and the four cardinals). In summary, the turtle symbolizes the ideal values of ancient people: long life, sedentariness, high esteem, and purity of heart.

-- End Translation --

[filminghere]

15 People, 15 Questions

Tagged by @norashelley. Thank you so much for the tag, Rose! I won't tag 15 people, but anyone who wants to do this, please feel free! I'll tag @sonnet77 @glamourofyesteryear @ladybegood @audreytotter @valsemelancolique @summers-in-hollywood and @oldhollywoodholla

1. Are you named after anyone?

Technically, the Biblical figure (mother of John the Baptist & cousin of Mary, the mother of Christ).

2. When was the last time you cried?

Earlier today while I was reading! I cry very easily when I watch movies/videos, read books, hear touching stories, etc. Today though, I cried for a very odd reason (I didn't cry because something in the story touched me, which is usually why I cry while reading a book; I actually cried because I related too hard to the protag).

3. Do you have kids?

No.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

I did a lot of sports during elementary school that I was bad at lol. I was never good at anything athletic. The sports I did the longest were swimming and tae kwon do (was at least able to get a first degree black belt before quitting).

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Hm, not too often, I don't think. My problem is that I'm too honest/blunt; I don't have the wit to be able to use sarcasm 😅.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their face. And the thing I notice first about their face is their nose. I focus a lot on nose shapes lol.

7. What’s your eye color?

Dark, dark, dark brown

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings 100%!!! I'm not scared of scary movies, but I really don't enjoy them.

9. Any talents?

Art

10. Where were you born?

In a hospital in the United States of America haha

11. What are your hobbies?

Watching movies, reading books, writing, video editing

12. Do you have any pets?

No. I had two Zebra finches until pretty recently, but then one of them died, and I didn't want to get another finch (Zebra finches shouldn't be alone). We actually had gotten another finch after one died a few years back, and I didn't want to be in an endless cycle of getting a new finch every time one of them died. It was too emotionally taxing, and honestly, I don't think I'm a very good pet owner. I don't think I'm someone who personally wants to put in the time and care you should put into raising pets, so we gave the living finch away to a woman who owns several Zebra finches. And to be clear, it's not that we bought the birds and regretted them! They were given to my family because the original owner just had too many birds. I liked them a lot and wish I could've done more for them; I didn't really put serious care into them until later on, and I regret that a lot now. But the living finch is doing well in his new home now.

13. How tall are you?

5'2"

14. Favorite subject in school?

Literature. I did not have the capacity to pay attention during any class except in lit class because I enjoy reading and talking about books.

15. Dream job?

As of now, it's to be a children's novelist-illustrator (I don't want to say a writer-illustrator because I think that gives the impression that I want to write picture books, but I actually want to write middle grade novels with illustrations in them 😂). I finished a manuscript for a book a few months back, but it's taking me FOREVER to do the illustration part. So who knows when I'll actually finish it and if I'll actually be able to put it out...

Unrealistically, I really want to be a criminal investigator, but I don't think I have any of the skills needed for that kind of a job. And I know most criminal investigators start out as cops, and I know I don't have the skills to be a cop lol.