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imsosocold · 1 year

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Different DL-6 victim anon here yet again - obsessed with the Yogi AU making Manfred question his morals as he repeatedly tries to prevent Miles from confessing. Like, objectively he knows Miles is innocent, that he has no business being punished for a crime he didn't commit, but he can't very well say that to him, can he. So he tells him "it was an accident, you're not to blame" instead, but it's implied in Turnabout Goodbyes that the law in Japanifornia would rule him as guilty anyway? So is Manfred truly saying "the law is unjust"? (I mean I know he's really saying "I know who the criminal is and it's not you" but again he can't SAY that so he has to pretend he's saying something else and stand by it.) Besides, if Miles is innocent and he confesses either way, does he deserve to be found guilty, as per Manfred's "every defendant is guilty, ever" philosophy? Is part of his desperation to keep Miles from confessing to avoid that cognitive dissonance? There's just so much to unpack there and it is SO fascinating

And the Miles AU breaks my heart. The betrayal once the truth would be revealed omg. Probably as severe as the one Miles must have felt in Turnabout Goodbyes, although in a totally different way. On one hand, Manfred didn't frame Gregory for murder, and although he's here to pick up the pieces as Gregory is grieving, he's not Gregory's caretaker, he wasn't as formative a part of Gregory's life as he was for Miles. On the other hand, this is a fellow father that took Gregory's son from him. There are no amends that can make that right, and I think Manfred is too proud to try anyway, even through his guilt. I wonder if Gregory thinks Manfred did it on purpose? And whether Manfred would correct him. I'm not sure what would hurt less, "no I won't deny I took your son's life purposely just to make you miserable, no I will not explain either" or "I actually meant to kill you and not him, it was your son who was supposed to survive." I'm sure Gregory wishes the latter had happened anyway, but hearing that that was what Manfred meant to happen... it would hit different.

It actually makes me wonder about the canon events again. I wonder if Miles went to talk to Manfred after the trial? I wonder if he got an explanation for Manfred's behavior, of if Manfred just refused to talk to him. (I actually also wonder how Manfred went from "I'm gonna take this kid in and teach him everything I know" to "I'll bury you with my bare hands" but tbh I could write an entire essay rambling about that. It's such a mystery to me!) Is Miles under the impression Manfred planned the whole thing fifteen years earlier? Does Manfred correct him? Does he not bother? Hhhhhh *shakes them*

Ooohhh, best of luck on your journey! I hope it brings you the healing you're seeking. I'm glad you're having fun but please take care of yourself and don't pass out while hiking! All the best!

One of the things I love about Manfred is that he’s filled with contradiction and cognitive dissonance. I’d love to read an essay about his potential reasons from going from “ loving yet stern father inwardly struggling with guilt and generally how to express himself ” to “ I will give my all and risk everything to frame this kid I raised”. In the Yogi AU, Manfred probably wouldn’t be thinking that deeply about morality ( I don’t think he’s that self aware) but if he did, he’d definitely try to twist it. ‘ I’m not wrong about anything, this is just a special circumstance.” There’s definitely a part of Manfred whose desperation to stop Miles comes from him not wanting to have to examine himself further. Of course, if Manfred attempts anything like Turnabout Goodbyes he could use all this . I’m imagining Phoenix trying to defend Miles when Miles himself is insisting he did it, certainly with his own father figure finally going against his own words, Manfred finally “relenting” to the truth. Very tasty. In the Miles AU, I think Manfred would probably admit his initial plan in the retrial, similar to his outburst in canon as well as the reason for wanting to murder Gregory. Whether he’d admit the extent of the guilt he feels for killing Miles is another story. Something I’ve always found interesting after Manfred’s outburst in the trial, he’s surprisingly calm. He doesn’t run or scream or cry or verbally assault people. He has an almost resigned air to him, like a prisoner being taken to their execution. I imagine things would be left pretty ambiguous, similar to canon. Gregory would probably never learn Manfred’s motivation for becoming practically a caretaker to him . There’d definitely be a lot of self blame from Gregory, if only I hadn’t been so picky about Manfred’s evidence, if only I hadn’t believed so blindly. Just expecting himself to have known better. Oh, and Phoenix as well! He got the truth, but at what cost? I really wish we had gotten more detail on the whole custody and imprisonment process , along with more information about the prison system in general. Things in Japanfornia are really complicated and its not made very clear what law wise goes, not what general character opinion is beyond laws ( like how its generally agreed killing abusers is self defense though the law may disagree). But honestly I don’t think the series could bear to cover such complex topics. A scene with Manfred and Miles talking about their past would probably be considered too dour for most players ( not for me I want to squish them like bugs). I do imagine, at least at the start, Miles goes to visit Manfred in prison. How could he not, despite everything Manfred was like another father to him. While Manfred is a tricky character, personally I think he’d have a “ what’s done is done” attitude, that even with pride aside he’d believe there’s no point in revealing his real feelings as it wouldn’t change anything. All Manfred has left is the secrets he holds onto like armor. Thanks for the well wishes, it’s been a long journey but I did my best and made it. Lots of love sob.

#different dl 6 victim au #ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #manfred von karma #gregory edgeworth #miles edgeworth #yanni yogi #noelle's rambles

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ausetkmt · 2 years

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At a time when there’s a national debate over critical race theory and how much of America’s worst moments should be taught in American schools, a new book seeks to provide some context for how history textbooks traditionally came to focus on the experiences of white Americans and downplay the experiences of Black Americans.

In Teaching White Supremacy: America’s Democratic Ordeal and the Forging of Our National Identity, out Sept. 27, Harvard University researcher Donald Yacovone analyzed 220 history textbooks from 1832 to the present day. Among his biggest takeaways, he found that textbooks mostly focused on national politics. Because African Americans were underrepresented in that arena, their stories were often left out. “There’s a very limited understanding of what history is,” Yacovone tells TIME.

Here, Yacovone talks about the most surprising bits of information he found in these textbooks, and how the books are a window into how America presents itself to the next generation of leaders.

TIME: Why did you decide to write a book on history textbooks?

YACOVONE: I don’t want people to think I’m some disaffected, leftover 60s radical who can’t stand America and is out to get it. That’s not me. And that’s not how this book happened. It was completely by mistake. I was writing another book. I needed just a brief respite, so I decided to go over to the Gutman Library at the School of Education at Harvard and examine a couple of history textbooks to see how they dealt with the abolitionists. Well, I had no idea what I was walking into. I went to the now defunct Special Collections Division at the library, and the head of the department, Rebecca Martin, introduced me to their collection of textbooks—over 3,000. And I was just stunned. I had no idea they had this collection.

Overall, did you find a recurring theme throughout these textbooks?

The overwhelming majority of them treated the introduction of African Americans in American society as a “problem.” The further you go into the 20th century, this almost Evangelical theme of “the problem of a Negro” and how much he needed to be controlled because he was so inept and ignorant became the guiding theme of American history textbooks. After going through this whole collection, I thought, “Wow. This really isn’t a study of textbooks. It’s a study of national identity because the purpose of textbooks is to acculturate younger people into American ideals, American destiny, and what is valued and honored by Americans.” And what these books were saying well into the 1960s was that it’s a white man’s world.

Read more: African-American History Finally Gets Its Own AP Class

How did these textbooks distort facts about historical events?

A circa 1831 illustration of the discovery of Nat Turner, who led an uprising of enslaved people in August 1831.

MPI—Getty Images

Nat Turner [who led a rebellion of enslaved people in Virginia] is either a legitimate expression of resistance to enslavement, or the obvious threat to white domination. John Brown [who initiated a raid with abolitionists on the U.S. arsenal at Harpers Ferry] is either an incendiary, insane anarchist who caused the Civil War, or he’s a heroic figure who represents the impossibility of slavery continuing. The overwhelming number of textbooks clearly depicted him as crazed, lethal and a threat to the Republic—the single most important cause of the Civil War. So the shift is being made from blaming the South’s defense of slavery for the Civil War to Northern agitation, particularly John Brown, for causing the Civil War.

In the pre-Civil War era, one is struck by how few images of African Americans there are in textbooks. These books didn’t consider people of African descent to be important, so they just weren’t included. Almost all of these textbooks spent maybe two sentences on the introduction of slavery in Virginia in 1619. They spent far more time discussing the introduction of single women to become wives of white settlers than they did on the introduction of slavery.

You feature a 19th-century New York editor named John H. Van Evrie, often called “the nation’s first professional racist.” Why did you focus on him in your book?

After I had gone through white supremacist attitudes in all of these textbooks, I said, where does it come from? I spent a whole summer reading digitized newspapers and found references to Van Evrie all over the country. In one year alone, he ran advertisements in 1,400 different American newspapers. He created a small empire in Manhattan, where he published his own books, innumerable pamphlets, poetry, and two newspapers, which reached thousands of people. His major theme was the necessity of having the African in American society because he was, according to Van Evrie, born to do the white man’s work. He was designed by God and nature to do the white man’s work. The textbooks that I read bore out everything he argued.

Read more: A New Report Finds That 45 States Are ‘Failing’ to Teach Students About Reconstruction

What myths did you set out to debunk with this book?

The central one would be northern responsibility for the creation of white supremacy. It’s not a southern creation; it’s a white northern creation. It is an American problem. A majority of Americans live outside the South, not in the South. The publishing industry grew up in Boston, New York, and then a little later, in Chicago. Those cities dominated the distribution system. Over 90% of the authors who wrote these textbooks were northern-born or certainly northern trained at northern universities.

A lot of people believe the Lost Cause narrative—the myth that the Civil War was fought for states’ rights not slavery—came from the South, but your book shows that publishing houses in the North put out a lot of books about the Lost Cause of the Confederacy.

I was actually stunned when I discovered that the first expression of Lost Cause ideology didn’t even come out of the South; it came out of the North. The Daughters of the Confederacy, famed for its promotion of the Lost Cause and segregation—well, guess what? Whom did they reprint? John H. Van Evrie.

How does your book provide context for the controversy over whether critical race theory is taught in schools?

The Trumpers have created this thing, which doesn’t really exist, to be a substitute for discussing race and racism. They don’t want that. This is indicative of the psychic crisis that many white Americans are undergoing because of the transformation of American culture. And one of the major reactions is this resistance to the teaching of the past. This is not stuff that’s made up. Slavery is real. Racial domination is real. But they’re doing their best to deny it, to affirm the innocence of whiteness. And it’s not going to work.

#How Racism Was Baked into U.S. History Textbooks #systemic racism #american history #white lies #white supremacy #hate

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road2nf · 1 year

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We have the same goals, and I like to think we have the same message to share.

I want to go to Amsterdam because of TFiOS and Thoughts From Places.

I would have NEVER known the plot/read the novel Pride and Prejudice if Hank and Bernie hadn’t produced The Lizzie Bennet Diaries (which I later read the original P&P novel this year). Even though I have never met Esther, I feel as though she’s one of my close friends.

After the videos John and Hank made for her, and of course TSWGO, I bought her memoir and oh my gosh. Esther is both hilarious and reflective upon life and what it means to be alive. Her book has shaped my own life as I reflected on her story.

There’s so much that I have to thank her for.

I have added so many more books to my “to-read” list, and have read books that I likely would not have tried had I not been recommended to them

The Crash Course videos I’ve watched for fun. No lie. I’ve learned so much from those videos by watching them, so I should probably say thank you to all the people that are a part of that team as well. They are a great resource for people interested in furthering their education.

I want to be a teacher, so a lot of the things that Nerdfighteria does are really awesome to me. The Crash Course videos I also have used to study for my finals--so I probably got a better grade thanks to them.

I have an AP exam in my Psych class coming up- that Psych section will come in handy Hank! :) I would have never heard of a Single Wizard rock band if not for y’all.

I think how John and Hank have handled being such huge successes with our community growing has been incredible.

John and Sarah went to the Oscars, a movie came out, and there will be a lot of non-Nerdfighters watching, and possibly becoming Nerdfighters themselves. I love that you both continue to promote beneficial things to teenagers with education and decreasing world suck. There are few people that are in a spotlight that choose to promote good messages, which make me really proud to support you.

I understand a lot more of current events because of how you both teach them on your channel. A lot of what goes on today is complicated and has spanned for decades, and it really helps to have you all talk about them.

Plus I think about those that have no knowledge of the world around them, and I think about how much your success can help those teenagers understand the world around them.

I’ll be honest- I love the books John writes and I love the videos you both create.

They’re witty and I go on YouTube pretty much just to watch Vlogbrothers, Crash Course, and Emma Approved.

I think part of the reason why I relate to you two the most is because we have the same goals.

I believe that education is the key to breaking the cycles of poverty that exist in our world.

I also want to make a difference in this world through my being on Earth.

I believe that everyone has a purpose to serve and that you should always pursue it.

We have the same goals, and I like to think we have the same message to share.

“What is the point of being alive if you don’t try to do something remarkable?”

I want to do something remarkable with my time on earth. I’m so glad that you want that too.

I hope I’ve expressed clearly through this that you both have made such a positive impact in my life. If I haven’t, you’ll have to forgive me. I’m not a writer, I can’t even keep a journal without abandoning it after a few days.

I guess you’ll just have to go off of faith. God bless and DFTBA.

- Kristin (Nerdfighterprincess.tumblr)

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adventofheroes · 2 years

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Short Story- Writer's Example

A writer has an audience with one of his most vile creations..

Writing was supposed to relatively be a safe job. No dangerous situations. No excessive physical labor. The only thing the Writer really had to worry about was carpal tunnel. (And making his writing deadlines on time.) These were the facts. However, the facts didn’t explain why there was a crying demon sitting in his workspace. No facts told him about this. He didn’t know why his assistant let this demon in, but if things were quieter, he’d fire her. Instead, he had to deal with the boo hoos of a demon.

The Writer reached over across his desk and handed the Demon a tissue, “Now now.. Stop that blubbering, WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

The Demon removed his black claws from his red face as he blinked. What made this Demon worse was that he wasn’t just any demon, he was in fact a character he had created for his novels, named BurnFire. Despite writing BurnFire as a cunning and emotionless manipulator it had apparently not translated into real life. Assuming he wasn’t dreaming in the first place. Perhaps he had simply gone insane, all these hours upon hours writing fiction simply broke his mi-

“I’m so very s-s-sorry Father!” BurnFire said still nearly crying.

“Father? Father! Don’t call me that, you make me sound like I’m Satan or something!” The Writer said.

“B-but you created me..” BurnFire said.

“No, ZaraFire created you but I haven’t written book twelve yet…” The Writer mumbled.

“Look Father.. it’s not that you haven’t treated me well, I’ve appeared in every single one of your books.” he said, “It’s just that… I’m tired.”

“Tired? What could you possibly be tired of? Being evil?” The Writer asked with much frantic hand waving.

BurnFire nodded, “What’s the point of being evil all the time? I carry out my role faithfully, but all that ever happens is that so and so gets manipulated and then they’re a victim of their own desires.”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s how I write you!” The Writer asked.

“I don’t think I want to be an evil no-good manipulator anymore,” BurnFire said as his eyes watered.

He doesn’t want to be the villain anymore? I can’t have this, there’d be a crisis on my hands! But maybe I can convince him. I need to stall for time as I think.

“Are you sure you’re really a bad guy?” The Writer asked.

“You said my full name is BurnFire the 666th…” BurnFire said.

His facial expression was turning rather hopeless.

“Yeah but you’re created for a purpose!” The Writer said.

“The purpose of being evil..” BurnFire said.

“No, every story I make with you is supposed to teach a moral..lesson!” The Writer.

“Is it that demons are evil? I think that’s what I’ve learned.” BurnFire said.

“No, you’re taking things at face value. You represent temptation. You’re an instrument I use to teach people about how their evil desires can lead to their undoing!” The Writer said.

BurnFire rubbed his chin, “Me? A way to teach someone?”

“Yes, without you I wouldn’t have an instrument to propel their desires into an action-packed story! That my creation is your use.” The Writer.

“So I’m not truly evil?” BurnFire asked in surprise.

“Nope! You’re just a way for me to teach people and there’s nothing evil about that.” The Writer said.

BurnFire stood up, “I’ve never thought of it like that before. I guess what I’m doing is good?”

Yes, making me money is very good. The Writer thought.

“Yes, teaching people is very good.” The Writer said.

BurnFire smiled and wiped a tear from his eye, “Thank you, Father. You’ve opened my eyes. I’ll be on my way now.”

And then in a puff of smoke BurnFire was gone. The Writer stretched out his legs and cracked his knuckles. Time to write another book and hope that the other dozen characters he had created wouldn’t come visiting him. He considered writing about what had just happened but if his stories were becoming reality, he wasn’t sure what would happen if he wrote about an actual event.

#original fiction #short story #original writing #horror #writing #comedy #short fiction

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yuurei20 · 2 years

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Jamil Fact Sheet

(Voted 8th-most-popular-character on the jpn server (tied with Lilia) in a combination of seven different character-ranking surveys held throughout 2021)

Born into a family that has served Kalim’s family for generations, Jamil is unusually calm and logical for an NRC student.

Jamil takes as many of the same classes as Kalim as he can in order to protect him—Kalim has been kidnapped “more times than (he) can count on both hands” in the past—but they are in separate home rooms. The two grew up in the same household together, but their relationship has been naturally distorted by their roles of “master” and “servant”, with Jamil being instructed by his own parents to downplay his talents and focus his efforts upon promoting Kalim’s achievements from when he was a child.

We learn in Book 4 that Jamil wishes to escape this servitude, but “the Viper family would suffer for it…I’m not going to put my whole family on the street because of my selfishness. It is what it is. That is the fate of those born a Viper”. (these lines were removed from the ENG-server translation)

He also refuses to participate as a suitor in the Phantom Bride event as, if he joined and Kalim followed after him and something summarily happened to Kalim, his family would suffer the consequences.

His wish in the “Wish Upon a Star” event is to be able to travel alone to somewhere where no one knows anything about him.

During the fireworks event Jamil explains that his horizons broadened greatly during middle school, as he had been allowed to study at a public school away from Kalim, who was privately tutored.

Jamil’s grades rank him as a student with only middling accomplishments. There are some students who are suspicious of this, however, and Azul says directly that he believes Jamil is underperforming on purpose, observing that he shows “no outstanding weaknesses in classroom learning, applied lessons or PE” and that he is “impressively middle-of-the-road in all regards. It’s almost like you prefer to keep it that way…”

Jamil reflects that “Azul has such a way of sussing out the truths people prefer to keep hidden. The surest way to success is to stay right in the middle of the pack without getting ahead or falling behind.” In this same vignette, Jamil realizes the solution to a high-level alchemy assignment immediately upon hearing the details from Riddle, but intentionally chooses not to use it so as not to stand out, preferring to suffer Crewel’s ridicule with the rest of the class rather than reveal what he knows (ultimately, Azul blackmails him into succeeding at the assignment).

Kalim is often impressed by Jamil’s abilities, once saying “I was sure you were going to be selected to become house warden of Scarabia dorm”, to which Jamil replies “I am not fit to be on top”.

Despite being so reserved Jamil harbors a passion for dancing, and even teaches Floyd a breakdancing move in a basketball club vignette, much to Ace’s confusion and annoyance.

While Kalim enjoys to dance as well Vil has stated multiple times that Jamil is the more talented of the two, with Jamil covering for Kalim's mistakes in their Fairy Gala performance. Vil also promotes Jamil to a lead member of their performance group in Book 5, leaving Kalim in the role of backup.

Floyd refers to him as “Umihebi-kun” (sea snake), and Rook calls him "Monsieur Multi" for his multitude of talents. (ENG-server: Monsieur Pyramide).

As Kalim’s servant (and vice-house warden of Scarabia dorm), Jamil is constantly anticipating Kalim’s needs. Kalim explains that all he has to do is yawn and Jamil prepares Kalim’s bed and textbooks and writes him short notes about things he needs to remember for the following day—hearing this, Silver expresses dismay at Jamil's overprotectiveness.

One of Jamil’s duties is as Kalim’s personal chef, as attempts to poison Kalim are not unusual. He has been cooking for Kalim from as early as elementary school, though his parents once scolded him for using the stove unattended as a child. He also cooks for Scarabia dorm’s banquets, as well as his own lunches.

While Kalim is constantly praising Jamil’s cooking, Jamil’s younger sister Najma has said his meals are not colorful enough.

Jamil once became ill after eating poisoned curry that had been meant for Kalim. Kalim summarily refused to ever eat curry again, but Jamil still enjoys it regularly. He has not, however, ever been able to eat dates again after discovering a bug inside of one.

His dislike of bugs is so strong that, during Halloween, he attempts to burn down a section of the schoolgrounds where insects were congregating.

Jamil has studied poisons and antidotes exhaustively due to how often attempts are made on Kalim’s life, and is able to identify poisonous mushrooms to some extent. He been tutoring Kalim in antidote mixing for three years. Kalim often carries medicinal potions that Jamil has made for him.

Illustration nots: "He generally doesn’t open his mouth very wide when he laughs. This expression is him trying to keep himself from laughing but failing. Mean. Wearing a hood. His hair drapes over his left shoulder when his hood is up. No hood."

Jamil’s intricate hairstyle used to take him up to two hours to complete, but after constant practice and improving his magic he now needs only five minutes. He is always conscious of his physical movements, as his hair accessories ring like bells if he moves too much.

When the player character expresses surprise at how much effort he puts into his physical appearance, Jamil response “taking care of your appearance leaves a better impression on people”.

In his birthday vignette we learn that Kalim one day decided that he wanted a parrot, so Jamil researched them and watched videos about their ability to speak. Kalim had to give up when it was determined that keeping a parrot in the dorm wouldn’t work out, but Jamil has been interested in owning one of his own (after graduation) ever since. Jamil says that the first word he would teach it to say is “master”, as “hierarchy is important”.

"Master" was changed to "Hello" on ENG server.

Jamil’s unique magic is “Snake Whisper” (Japanese: Snake’s Invitation/Enticement, English: Snake Charmer). It is a “brain washing” form of high-level magic that enables him to control one or more people by taking over their consciousness.

The official fan book explains that the word “Jamil” is Arabic for “beautiful”.

Some great artists for Jamil fan-art and more (SFW, no story spoilers)

An amazing album of Jamil art/comics

・This artist has tons of great Jamil

Jamil in Kalim’s SSR pose

Various Jamil

Voice Jamil is the one and only named voice acting role of Futaba Kaname (二葉要) , one-half of music duo TWIN PARADOX with his twin brother Yuu (though he also provided voices for unnamed background characters in the Fate/Grand Order anime).

He is largely a musical theater performer, appearing in The Prince of Tennis musical as Saeki Kojirou, in Hiragana Danshi as Ni, Ryuuji in Renegade, Yuuki Hideyasu in Touken Ranbu the Musical, Jo Jiro in Run with the Wind and Hitachiin Kaoru in Ouran High School Host Club the Musical (also with his twin brother Yuu).

More seiyuu information available here.

Additional Fact Sheets ・Riddle Rosehearts ・Trey Clover・Cater Diamond ・Ace Trappola・Deuce Spade ・Leona Kingscholar ・Ruggie Bucchi ・Jack Howl ・Azul Ashengrotto・Floyd Leech・Jade Leech ・Kalim Al-Asim・Jamil Viper ・Vil Schoenheit・Rook Hunt ・Epel Felmier ・Idia Shroud・Ortho Shroud ・Malleus Draconia ・Silver・Sebek Zigvolt・Lilia Vanrouge ・Sam・Crewel・Trein・Vargas・Crowley

#twstcharactersheet #twisted wonderland #ツイステ #twst #Jamil Viper

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wri0thesley · 3 years

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Nat. NAT. I just saw your concept about naoya "training" his wife by just throwing her in the room and just watching her struggle to defend herself... Until she ofc breaks and begs him to protect her🙈 you have a MASSIVE brain, the biggest and horniest brain nat can you please write this concept for the event😭😭 maybe w 45 and any other dark or spicy add ons that you see fit!

traditional discipline - naoya x fem!reader (3.3k)

naoya has had enough of you, and resorts to an unusual method of discipline.

warnings: not sfw/minors dni. DARK CONTENT. unhealthy relationship/marriage. fearplay, dacryphilia, finger-sucking, cock-sucking, punishment, threat of violence and death. dubious consent. afab reader with fem pronouns.

[a/n: this concept literally wouldn’t leave me alone. i’m sorry to all of the readers who are naoya’s wife i’m always so horrible to them]

The room goes quiet as Naoya hauls you out of it by your upper arm.

It’s an easy mistake, a simple slip-up; accidentally talking over your husband. But it’s one in a slew you’ve been making recently, despite Naoya thinking that you were polite and well-bred and knew your place. He’s sick of it, to be quite frank; he doesn’t have time to be correcting you when you should already know how to behave.

You’ve done accidental, small things since the two of you were married. Denying him when he rolled you onto your back at night. Not standing quite as far behind him as you should. Pouring tea for other people before him. He’s given you swift reprimand with both his words and his hands, but . . . it’s clearly not sinking into your pretty little head, is it?

He warned you about this.

“Next time,” he’d growled to you, when you’d laughed too loud at a joke that one of his brothers had made and not laughed at one of his, “I’m going to teach you a real lesson.”

He tells you about the ‘training and discipline room’ on the Zenin estate later that night. A room that the family use for honing cursed techniques, both for practising and for learning purposes, when someone needs to be brought down a peg or two. It’s full of cursed spirits – all the way up to grade two, which makes your blood run cold.

Of course, you have cursed energy. You even have a careful little technique; one that would wrap your enemies up in vines, if you’d ever been allowed to train to use it for anything other than keeping your well-appointed garden neat and orderly. Naoya would not have married someone without either of those things, lest they not bear him fruitful children--

But you have never been allowed to use it for anything more.

The women of your clan are pretty decoration, with no need to learn anything other than how to behave and how to please their masters-and-husbands. You would be useless, thrown into the den of the wolves like that.

“Please don’t,” you’d said to him, your voice all soft and gentle, trying to be appeasing. “Please. I promise I’ll try harder.”

Naoya had taken your chin between thumb and forefinger, the grin across his face very sharp as his light eyes took in the pleading in your own gaze. You remember how the light had hit his earrings, the look of satisfaction at your begging and having you utterly and completely under his thumb.

“Be good,” he’d breathed, all slow and drawling. “And I won’t have to, will I?”

And he’d bid you to get on your knees for him and show you just how good you could be. Starting with your mouth.

So you know where he’s dragging you, down the labyrinthine halls of the estate. You try and pull back, feet sliding on the tatami mat, your voice pitching as you say;

“Naoya, please, I’m sorry--”

“Women should be seen and not heard,” he says to you. “Don’t make a fuss like that. You earned this.”

Your eyes are filling with tears, hot fear clawing its way up your throat.

“I’ll do anything,” you say to him, despite knowing that it’s a dangerous bargain to give him. He almost considers it for a moment, pausing – but then, his fingers just dig harder into the softness of your bicep (you’re going to bruise), and he tugs you.

“You’re making a scene,” he says. “If you don’t stop, I’ll leave you in there even longer.” You try to wrench your arm out of his grip, all of your self-defense mechanisms going into overdrive as you recognise the door he’s leading to you too. You’re breathless, so frightened you think that your heart might stop.

Naoya opens the door and pulls you in. You almost stumble at the flight of stairs, but he clicks his tongue at you in annoyance.

“So clumsy,” he drawls. “And here I was, under the impression I was marrying a graceful, lovely, credit to her family--” More steps, until he’s gotten you in the middle of the floor. He gazes around him, and you hear the low hum of a hundred cursed spirit’s voices murmuring the same things, over and over again. “The only time you’re a credit to them is with your legs spread.”

“Naoya,” you whimper, torn between pushing yourself into him for the comfort and protection that you know he can offer, or trying to tear away from him and escape the room yourself. You know the second option won’t work – he’s far faster, far stronger than you – but it’s hard to think of anything when you feel like your very survival is teetering impossibly over your head.

“If you run,” he says, still in that cold, uninterested drawl, “I’ll break one of your ankles.”

You don’t think he’s bluffing. Naoya says a lot of things, yes – but he’s also reckless and proud enough to mean them. You stand there, next to him, feeling yourself begin to tremble.

“W-why aren’t they attacking yet?” You ask him, voice very small. He looks at you pityingly.

“They’re afraid of me, obviously,” he says to you, very slowly, like he’s explaining it to somebody very stupid. “I didn’t get this good at everything by not training myself, darling.” He lets go of you, finally, a whistle escaping his pursed mouth as he rocks on the balls of his feet. He’s supremely unconcerned by your fear. “When I’m gone, they’ll come out for you.”

Your eyes fill with tears.

“What am I supposed to do?” You ask him, desperation leaking into your cracked voice. “I can’t—I can’t protect myself--”

Naoya narrows his eyes.

“You should have thought about that before you were such a pain,” he replies. And, without further ado, he turns around and begins to ascend the stairs again. You turn with him, moving forward, stumbling in your haste and ending up sprawled at the bottom of the stairs with your hand pathetically fisted into the hem of his hakama.

He looks down at you with a disgusted sneer on his face, and you hate that even with that expression his features are still unmistakably handsome.

“Let go,” he says. “Have some dignity.”

“Please,” you repeat. You can feel a fat tear spilling from the corner of your eye down the curve of your cheeks. You know the ‘dignity’ statement is a dig; the fact that you’ve heard his family members calling your clan power-hungry undignified gold-digging whores, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you can see the beginning of shadows spilling out too far into the main floor of the room. “Naoya. Please.”

He kicks out at your wrist, face twisted in distaste, and you let go to avoid it being stood on and crushed under his strength. You cradle it against your chest, looking up at him still all desperate and afraid.

“If I helped,” he said to you, “you’d never learn your lesson.” He takes a step up and turns away completely from you, as if you’re nothing more than an ignored child on the street. “It will be good for you, beloved wife. Character-building.” You hear the smirk in his voice and you hate him.

You want to strangle him. You want to beg him to protect you. You want to tear him limb from limb, but you want him to let you bury your head in his chest as he dispels the spirits with ease. You want--

The door slams shut behind him. He’s too cheerful as he throws behind him;

“Good luck!”

And you are left alone.

It takes a moment before anything slithers out from the shadows, and you clap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself screaming. The first cursed spirit is a hunched over creature with the face of a Pierrot clown, mouth stretched impossibly wide with gaping black abyss where eyes ought to be. It’s whispering something over and over to itself, but the wide mouth is so crowded with teeth that it comes out as an incomprehensible noise, dripping drool as it begins to move horrifically slowly towards you.

Oh, God. You’re not supposed to look at them, are you? You dimly recall something about many sorcerers wearing glasses so the creatures can’t tell where their gazes are, but this one has already got the scent of you; those dark pits staring at your crumpled form.

Everything you’ve ever been told in passing about jujutsu and cursed spirits and cursed technique just seems to flow out of your mind to be replaced by mind-numbing fear. You’ve not been trained for this; when your clan had arranged your marriage with Naoya, you know that they’d expected fine silken kimonos and traditional food and you being a pretty trophy on the arm of the future leader of their clan. You know they’d be horrified if they saw what was happening.

More of them are melting from the shadows, the whispering and moaning reaching a terrifying crescendo. You’re trembling. Your heart is beating so fast inside of your chest you think it might break free of your ribcage and sputter out onto the floor.

The Pierrot monster is close enough that you can see the six hands it drags on the floor are all tipped with claws that are sharp as blades. You scramble up the stairs on your ass, too afraid to turn your back on the creatures. You realise you’re shouting, but it seems just as blurred as anything that the cursed spirits are saying. You’re crying, too – howling, whimpering, so scared you’re surprised any noise is able to come out at all.

You’re going to die.

It hits you with cruel certainty as you reach the top and throw your weight at the door, only for it to not give an inch. You scramble at the heavy wood, not caring about your careful manicure (Naoya wants you to be a credit to him, and that means manicures and facial treatments and a fancy bathroom full of soaps and creams that he expects you to use and that he slathers, too, on himself). You hear a nail break but you can’t bring yourself to worry about that when the Pierrot monster is dragging itself up the flight of stairs, one step at a time. It makes a hideous sliding thump, like it’s both wet and heavy – and you notice, too, the scent of blood invading your senses.

Your tear-blurred eyes can see all of the other monsters, too – not quite as close, but still too close for comfort. Too many eyes and not enough eyes, too many legs, claws and teeth and misshapen bones and blood leaking from holes. What are you supposed to do?

Naoya has left you here, alone, to teach you a lesson. You hadn’t realised the lesson would culminate in your death, but with all of the spirits so close to you, you cannot see any other way.

All of the fight goes out of you and you sag against the door, a broken sob escaping your lips. Your throat is dry from hoarse screaming.

You are going to die. You hope it will come quick; you hope the Pierrot monster will tear you limb from limb and you’ll die in instants from the shock. Your voice whispers Naoya’s name one last, hopeless time.

Will he find another wife? Will they even bother covering up your death, or will they spin some rumour or lie to your family and the whole of jujutsu society that you brought it upon yourself?

You would do anything to be rescued right now. You would crawl on your hands and knees behind Naoya for the rest of your life, refer to him only as ‘Master’, fulfil every single thing he ever asked you with no more than a meek nod of your head. Pull out your tongue so you couldn’t make any more mistakes.

But the time for pleading seems to have gone entirely, and you are useless and stupid and weak as you run out of tears, eyes burning. All you can do, you think, is wait for death.

The door swings open behind you and you’re dragged backwards, onto tatami, by powerful hands gripping your shoulders as it closes once more with a massive clunk that echoes in your ears--

And you find yourself strewn out on the floor, face caked with dried tear-tracks, a trembling, pathetic mess looking up at your husband’s face.

He leans against the door, listening to you scream. He can hear his name mixed in with sobs and screams and pleading; saying that you’ll do anything, you’re sorry, you’ll never disobey him again you’ll take any punishment he metes out with a smile on your face, if he just helps you. He hears you call yourself weak and pathetic and useless around the tears clogging your throat; he hears the thump of you hitting the door and the sound of your nails scratching down the wood, uncaring of anything other than getting away from them.

Yes, he thinks as he opens the door for you and you fall, shivering and sobbing, in front of him. Yes, he thinks you’ve learnt your lesson.

You’re so pretty, he thinks, closing it once more (he sees the cursed spirits begin to creep back to where they came from at the very sight of him, now their preferred victim is protected), with your eyes all glassy and wet. You’re extra pretty looking at him like he’s a conquering hero who’s saved you from certain death – which he supposes he is.

You cling to his arm, pulling yourself up, burying your face in his chest as your hands cling to him like you’ve been lost and he’s the first familiar thing you’ve seen in months. Your tears soak his kimono, but . . . he finds himself not really minding, as big, lean hands pet you gently on the back.

“It’s alright now,” he soothes you, murmuring low. “Your husband has you.”

“Please, please, ‘m so sorry--” You’re mumbling into him, whimpering, your shoulders shaking. ��Please never m-make me, again--”

“Shhh,” he continues, gently beginning to move towards his chambers. You cling to him, adrift in a sea of your own fears. “It’s better now. You’ll be better now, won’t you?”

He receives a fierce nod for that, your fingers twisting into his clothing. It’s nice, having you so wrapped around him; seeing him as the strong protector that he knows he is but you needed reminding of. You’re still mewling little pleas into him even as he unlocks the door to his bedroom and gently pushes you in. Letting go of him even for a moment seems to cause you physical pain--

Good. You should feel like that. You should feel incomplete without him at your side. Naoya rewards you with a rare, soft smile.

“You know why you had to be punished like that, don’t you?” He purrs to you, petting your hair and carefully drawing back so he can look at your face. Your lips are all swollen from crying and biting; he thinks you’ve never looked quite so kissable as you do right now.

“Yes,” you nod, fiercely. “I’m sorry. I’ll do a-anything, I promise. I . . .” You swallow, your eyes filling with tears again. Naoya has been hard since the moment he heard you call out his name from inside the training room, your voice filled with choked tears, and watching them well up again does nothing for the stricture against the fabric. “I needed you.”

“And I saved you,” he says, arching an elegant brow – to which you nod again, and your hands drift towards him like you’re aimless without him in front of you to serve. “I’ll protect you, darling, as long as you learn your place.”

“I will!” That’s said with such conviction that he can’t help the smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I will. N-Naoya . . .” Your voice trembles a little. “’m willing to do anything for you. J-just please . . . not again.”

“Shh,” he reaches out and deigns to touch you, to gently and soothingly rub his thumb over your cheek, where the tears have dried. “If you’re really going to be so good for me, I won’t have to, will I?” You stumble forward onto your knees and Naoya’s brows shoot up in surprise as your hands tug at his hakama.

“Please let me show you how grateful I am,” you whisper, your eyes wide and bright and desperate. “Naoya, please, please, please--”

Oh, there’s something so gratifying about you like this, begging to suck his cock. It stirs between his thighs again, reminding him that he’s painfully stiff; and you are here, a willing mouth, scared out of your skull and desperate to please him. He’s smirking at you but you do not register it as such; all you see is the smile of your rescuer.

Your protector.

Your husband.

“Say what you want to do to me, darling,” he tells you, keeping his voice as sweet as he can make it. “You’re a big girl. You can use your words. What do you want to do, to show me how grateful you are that I saved your paltry life?”

You’re pouting; your mouth is sweet, pretty. He wants to pry your jaw open and fuck the back of your throat, and his body roars as your fingers tug on the hakama again and your meek, soft voice whispers;

“Please let me suck your cock.”

“You have a dirty mouth,” he coos to you, leaning forward to brush a finger over your lower lip. “Not befitting of a woman of your station. I suppose that means that it’s up to me to keep you quiet, hmm?”

You obediently open it, letting his finger gently rest on your tongue for a moment.

Desperate to please, your mouth closes about it, your tongue gently swiping over the pad, your cheeks hollowing a little as you suck on the digit inside of them. Naoya’s smiling again, the victorious grin of someone who’s gotten exactly what they wanted. He pulls his finger out and thrusts back in with two, whispering to you;

“Do you think you deserve my cock, after what you put me through today?”

You shake your head, but you don’t stop lavishing attention on the fingers in your mouth, a string of drool falling from the corner of your mouth as he presses his third finger inside of it. So warm, and wet. He needs his cock to be inside of you or he thinks he may embarrass himself.

The fingers are pulled out, wiped on the hakama fabric, before he says (the carefully adopted tone almost disinterested);

“Take them off, then. Don’t make your promises empty words. I wouldn’t appreciate such thoughtlessness in a wife.”

You’re eager, stripping off his clothes. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of his cock; elegant, flushed, hard and straining with a light upwards curve that he knows will hit you in the right place at the back of your throat to make you gag.

“Wait,” he says, as you lean in to bring him to your lips. “What do you say, darling?”

Your eyes (still brimming with tears, he notices – and fuck, he loves how you look teary-eyed and pouting. He has to make you cry more often) meet his, but the look in yours is worshipful so he doesn’t chide you for having the insolence to meet his gaze directly.

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For saving me. For letting me suck your cock. For everything.”

Naoya is smiling.

“Good girl,” he says, placidly, as you place a delicate kiss on the head of his cock and slowly envelope it in the warmth of your mouth. “Very good.”

730 notes · View notes

illyaana · 3 years

Text

Collab: Chaos's Bearsday Collab by @chaos-night

Thanks for having this Collab hun! I hope you had/have an amazing birthday <3

Tags: Aged Up! Birthday boy! Izuku Midoriya x Binaural, SFW, Fluff

Synopsis: You thought this was going to be a normal birthday with Deku - the only thing that was different is you were going to make Katsudon, pork cutlet bowls, for Deku. What you weren't prepared for was a flirty Izuku Midoriya.

Word Count: 1689

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Like my writing? Do you want a drabble specifically made for you about your love life with a character of your choosing? Check out my 50 followers event over here!

You groaned at the sound of your blaring alarm, forcing you awake. You raised your head to meet Izuku’s chin. His hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his body even more. You pressed against the bed, pushing yourself upwards to face the sleeping face of your beloved.

You adored the sight of the defenceless hero.

His dishevelled green hair mimicked a bush in the woods - wild yet so adorable. His lips were slightly parted, allowing soft snores to escape the powerful quirk user. His small freckles glowed under the soft sunlight entering your shared room from the window, leaving you in awe. His long lashes framed his closed eyelids.

Thankfully, your alarm turned itself off - he wasn’t letting you move anymore, not with the vice grip he had around you tightening unknowingly.

You couldn’t resist the urge to run the pad of your thumb against his soft lips - it looked so soft and supple. The rest of your fingers found their place on Izuku’s cheek, enjoying the warmth only he could radiate. You smiled, looking at the sleeping Izuku subconsciously pressing his cheeks against your fingers.

This is what you believed a life spent with him would look like - and you pray so that it stays like this.

“Hey,” you say as you kiss Midoriya’s forehead, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Your alarm began to ring again, causing the hero beside you to groan loudly.

“Turn that thing off,” he said, placing his head on your shoulder, “We don’t need to wake up early today.”

This man… how was he the top hero?

You ruffled his hair, chuckling.

“Weren’t you the one who told me to wake you up early today?” you ask, recalling your conversation with him yesterday.

“I just wanted to spend the whole day with you, but I think we can do it from this bed, can’t we?” he said, pressing kisses on the nape of your neck.

“I think you forgot, Deku,” you say, cupping his cheeks, “You have a press conference with Bakugo and Todoroki today - you know, about your job as a hero?”

His eyelids shot open.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbled, making you laugh.

“It’s only,” you looked at the wall clock, “9 am right now. You have about 1 hour to get ready and head to the studio. That trip would take about 20 minutes.”

You smiled when you saw him visibly relax.

“Sadly,” you say, “You aren’t getting breakfast from me since I couldn’t even move one inch from the bed,” you gesture to his arms on your waist.

You kissed his forehead again, trying to wipe off the guilty smile he had on his face.

“Happy birthday, Midoriya Izuku. Now, go get ready.”

He kissed the apples of your cheeks before pressing his forehead against yours.

“Thanks, love.”

⁜

The minute you heard the door close, you got out your phone and called your mother-in-law.

“Hi!” she answered cheerfully, “You ready to do this?”

You turned the voice call into a video call, then propped your phone behind the salt shaker.

“Hopefully…” you trail off as you put on your apron, “You don’t think I’ll burn anything or cause a fire, right?”

“If you’re anything like Izuku in terms of cooking, we’ll be fine.”

You weren’t.

Pancakes, waffles - you could handle that.

But meat? It definitely was not your forte.

Izuku’s the one who handled all the savoury dishes while you were the resident taste tester.

“Don’t worry - the very person who introduced him to the savoury dish is right here, showing you each step in detail. You won’t mess up that much,” you said to yourself as you brought out the ingredients.

You laid them out in front of her, allowing her to examine them thoroughly.

“First things first,” she said, moving to her couch, “You’re wearing your apron wrongly.”

⁜

You stared at the pan filled with onions, eggs and fried pork, feeling defeated.

You were supposed to move all of that into a small bowl of rice.

You were supposed to move a bunch of slippery onions doused in sauce, a steamed omelette that looked like it was going to break into two and a pork cutlet that you slaved over - all of that, into a small bowl of rice.

“Trust me, it’s pretty easy,” Inko said, trying to calm you down, “It just looks intimidating.”

“Intimidating is one way to explain it,” you said, staring at your hard work.

“Just do it, don’t worry - you have multiple backup pork cutlets if you mess up.”

“I know, but-”

“Just do it.”

You immediately placed the toppings into the bowl of rice without any spillage.

...or so you thought.

The whole thing spilt over the sides of the pan, missing the bowl of rice entirely.

“Try again, dear,” she said smiling, “No harm in trying again.”

⁜

After 5 tries, you managed to make two perfect bowls of fresh katsudon. The smell of the fried pork cutlets wafted through the air, making you smile at your hard work.

“It looks really good, dear,” she said, smiling, “He’ll love it.”

You smile at her cheerful gaze towards you.

“You sure you don’t want to come over? It’s just a fifteen-minute drive.”

“I appreciate you asking me,” she said, sighing, “But I think you two should spend the day together. I’m pretty sure you both haven’t spent much time together since your honeymoon.”

“You sure?” you ask once again.

“I’m very, very sure,” she says, chuckling, “Now go get ready.”

You placed your phone flat on the countertop and started to set the table. As soon as you finished, Izuku came into the house, a tired expression painted on his face.

“You okay?” You say as you walk towards him.

“How rude of them to make me work on my own birthday?” he chuckled softly.

He looked to the dining table and his eyes lit up.

“Did you made Katsudon?” he asked, the tired expression he once had leaving his face.

“Yeah, I did,” you say as you help him take off his jacket.

“However,” you place his hands on his chest, “You need to go bathe.”

“What’s with everyone bullying me today?” he huffed.

“Bullying or taking care of you?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” he trailed off.

“Just go bathe,” you say, chuckling as you push him towards your room.

“Oh no,” he said as you pushed him, “My feet can’t move.”

This grown kid.

“So I’m supposed to carry you bridal style now?” you joke.

“ I did it to you, didn’t I?” he whispers in your ear.

You felt blood rush to your cheeks the minute the sentence left his lips.

This man…

“Wow, my feet work now! I’ll go bathe,” he said as he kissed your cheek.

This man is too cute for his own good.

⁜

“This…” he said, mouth stuffed with food, “This is really good!”

You smile, looking at the green-haired male scarfing down the food you made. You loved the little sparkle he had in his eyes whenever he truly enjoyed something - and to your luck, it was the food you prepared for him.

“You seriously made this by yourself?” He asked with his eyebrow raised.

“You don’t see your mom here, do you?”

“You sure you didn’t order in?” He teased again.

You kicked his leg under the table, causing him to wince in pain.

“Oh, how you wound me,” he said, faking tears.

“Serves you right for making fun of me,” you huff.

He got off of his chair and headed to the sink to wash his bowl.

“Well, to be fair,” you add, “I did video call your mom so she could teach me.”

“So I was right, then,” he said as he places his bowl in the sink and turning to face you.

“She didn’t make it, though!”

“You said you made it all by yourself, but you got my mother’s help. Hence, you lied to me,” he put his arms on the countertop.

“I didn’t lie to you,” you say, laughing, “I really made it by myself.”

Izuku was already standing in front of you, cupping your face in his hands.

“You kicked me,” he stared at you, “You kicked a tired hero.”

“Heroes don’t tease others as much as you do,” you retort.

“What is my purpose in your life but to tease you?”

“A lot of things actually,” you say, smiling at him.

“Oh? Like what?”

“First of all,” you put your hand on his chest, “Where did this flirty Izuku come from?”

“Maybe,” he put his thumb on your lower lip, “He came because I am using my birthday privileges to be a little more flirty than usual.”

You stare at his green orbs. They glimmered even under his own shadow. Its golden flecks shined just for you and you alone. The creases of his eyes curved upwards, showing you how happy he was just to be in your presence. The wild forest he calls his hair had rogue strands that tickled your cheeks. You loved how soft they were - especially after him just washing it roughly an hour ago.

Your hand on his chest began to outline the scars he cultivated through his years under All Might’s wing and his hero training back in UA. You smiled as you remembered how strong-willed he was as a boy to become a hero, and now he was - standing on the very top.

“You okay?” he asked, worried.

“I was just thinking of how much you’ve grown from back then,” you look up to his face, meeting his eyes that were staring straight at you.

“For someone who took so many notes back then, you’re really dumb,” you both chuckle.

“How are you still bullying me?” he sighed.

“Endure it, Deku,” you joke, imitating Bakugou.

You close your eyes as you pressed your forehead against his, enjoying the small moment you’re sharing with the male in front of you.

“Happy birthday, Izuku.”

“Thank you, love.”

You both shared a kiss, both bellies and hearts full.

164 notes · View notes

reidgraygubler · 4 years

Text

trouble (matthew gray gubler/fem!reader)

Title: trouble

Request: requested by anon

Couple: matthew gray gubler/fem!reader

Category: smut (*gasp* i know...) w/ a side of fluff

Content Warning: sexual content (penetrative sex, unprotected sex (be safe buddies), fingering, car sex, choking kink, daddy kink (But as a joke), masturbation, slight edging (i guess that’s what it’s called)), kinda sub!reader, kinda dom!mgg, swearing, sexual innuendos, teasing, pissed off matthew

Word Count: 4369

Summary: Reader and Matthew are going out to a dinner party with the cast of Criminal Minds. After some suggestive comments and innuendos and actions (done by reader). Matthew teaches Reader a lesson in the back seat of his station wagon.

A/N: in celebration of hitting 200 followers, i decided to pus my first smut here :) although it was a request and i was going to post it either way. this was the request i got and when i saw it i got more than excited and my mind ran wild with it! matthew 10/10 calls his partner princess in this one-shot. it’s a little bit rougher than i was expecting, but i kinda lost track of my thoughts and just went for it. thank you so much to that anon that sent this in! if you have a request or an idea, send it in! and check out my masterlist!

6/1/2021 Edit: I no longer write rpf smut. this was written before I made that change.

~*~*~ THIS DOES CONTAIN 18+ CONTENT! ~*~*~

{***}{***}{***}

Oh boy, it was just one of those days… I could just feel it in my body that I was going to be an asshole today and nothing anyone could do could stop me from that. My sassy mood would be the one thing that gets me in trouble today, and I think I’m honestly okay with that.

I walked into the bedroom, wearing nothing but my undergarments (which consisted of my personal favorite black/mint lingerie), and tan stockings. Matthew was sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his shoes. I walked over to the closet, right past him. We should and are getting ready for a dinner party with his friends from Criminal Minds. Should being the key-word there. I loved messing with him like that.

“Woah,” he spoke ever so softly. I stayed facing the closet, but a smile grew on my lips. I gently swayed my hips as I went through the dresses I had hanging. He was staring, I knew he had to be staring. I pulled one dress out, not really thinking it’d be the one.

“What should I wear,” I asked out to the room. The sounds of his shoes hitting the wood flooring was the answer I got instead of his voice. I pouted as I dropped my head to my shoulder, my hair hitting my arm. I jumped as his icy cold hands and arms wrapped around my middle. His face was pressed into my neck. He exhaled deeply before kissing the base of my throat. I smiled as he swayed with my movements.

“I think you should go like this. Show you off to all my friends,” Matthew hummed as he dragged his hands to the front of my hips. My hands stopped on two separate dresses and clenched the fabric in my fingers. “I think they’d enjoy that… I know I would,” he added, his thumbs playing with the lacy edges of my panties. I took a deep breath and stepped back, so I was flush against his body.

“Matthew, obviously I can’t just go in my underwear.” I scoffed as he pushed me so there was a small space between us. I sighed deeply as he stepped away from me. “I’ll figure it out,” I rolled my eyes as he retreated to the bed. I filed through my dresses again before pulling out a black cocktail dress that I knew would drive Matthew crazy during the night. I dashed off to the bathroom to finish getting ready. “Zip me up?” I asked as I stepped back into the bedroom and stood behind Matthew. Shuffling came from behind me before he zipped my dress up.

“Ready to go?” he whispered. His breath hit the shell of my ear, causing me to swallow roughly.

“Almost. Let me get my things together and I should be ready,” I sighed deeply. It’s going to be one of those nights, I just know it. Matthew pressed his lips to my cheek before walking away from me, again.

And that was my cue. I was quick. I’ve never been so fast to get ready for an event. He was probably getting out into the car as we speak. I grabbed a tube of lip gloss from the bathroom and tossed it into my bag before slipping a pair of plain black heels on. And then, I left the house.

And, as per my guess, Matthew was already sitting in his station wagon, waiting for me. I shuffled to the passenger’s side of the car and pulled the door open.

I looked over at Matthew as I slipped into the car. He was looking at himself in the mirror of the visor. I swallowed roughly as my eyes trailed from his perfectly sculpted face (lingering for a moment on his lips), down to his neck (where I would love to leave love bites), down his chest (and even though he was wearing a suit, I wanted to push off his dress shirt), and finally, down to his lap (a lap I would just love to sit on). And he was just there… Sitting there, doing his thing like I wasn’t imagining wanting to rip his clothes off to have sex with him right now.

He dropped his hands from his face and rested them on his legs. I stared for a moment at his hands and their placement on his legs. I could feel my heart pick up and my head getting mildly dizzy. I took a deep breath and shook my head as I looked up at his face.

“Mm, now that’s a lap I could sit on,” I grinned at Matthew as I buckled my seatbelt in. The thought of grinding my ass into his crotch made me giggle lightly as I stared at him.

Matthew gawked as he looked over at me, his hands resting low on the steering wheel. I smiled as I folded my hands over my lap. I could feel Matthew’s eyes still on me as I looked out the window.

“What did you just say?” he asked as he slowly started the car. I hummed before looking over at him. He was still staring at me with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Hm? Oh! I said are you ready? I can’t wait to see Kirsten and AJ.” I smiled as I looked at him. He raised an eyebrow, but his expression was now amused instead of shocked. At least he’s amused now…

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what you said, Princess,” Matthew glanced at me as he started his car and pulled out of the driveway. I couldn’t tell if he actually meant to call me that pet name, or if he was just teasing. Either way, he knows it gets me going.

“And, Aisha! Oh! I miss her!” I clapped my hands together. Matthew seemed to enjoy my excitement at seeing his friends and co-workers. It’s been a while since the wrap party for the show, so it’s been a while since either of us had seen them. “I still owe her $10 for that prank she helped me play when I visited the set that one day,” I grinned at Matthew.

“Yeah, sure, because stealing and hiding my fruit roll-ups is a prank,” he rolled his eyes as he glanced at me. I smiled and nodded. “Finding them a month later though was quite a pleasant surprise. I will admit that,” he laughed lightly.

“Listen, Matthew, you were the one who invited me to set. It’s not my fault I got bored while you were filming. Someone had to keep me entertained. I’m sorry it was Aisha who took that job. We had fun that day,” I laughed as I turned to face him. I crossed my legs as I looked at him. I pulled my purse off my body and put it in the backseat, accidentally hitting Matthew in the face. “I’m so sorry.” I looked at him with wide eyes. He looked at me with a playful irritation on his face.

“Accidents happen, just don’t let it happen again,” he glanced at me. I smiled and nodded.

“Won’t let it happen again,” I looked out the windshield.

The drive to the restaurant was in a comfortable, yet somehow tense, silent. I couldn’t help myself when it came to making a comment or innuendo of some sort. Matthew didn’t seem too crazy bothered by it, if anything it looked like he enjoyed it. Of course, I knew I needed to stop before we went in. So, I stayed silent when he pulled into a parking spot.

“You ready?” Matthew asked as he pushed the visor down. I reached back for my purse and pulled it in the front. I “accidentally” hit Matthew in the back of the head with my bag as I pulled it onto my lap. Oh, no, the first time was definitely an accident. The second time was 100% on purpose. No accident this time.

He dropped his shoulders and looked over at me, annoyance on his face. I looked down at my lap and bit my lips to refrain from smiling. Oh boy, I wonder what he’s going to do. Surely he won’t yell at me.

“Choke me, daddy,” I very jokingly teased as I looked at Matthew. He looked at me with shock on his face. I smirked as I began digging around in my purse for lip gloss. When I looked back up, Matthew threw his hand over my neck and pushed my head against the headrest. I widened my eyes and looked at him. I was relieved that he was just holding his hand there, not applying any pressure. But part of me really wanted him to do it. “I was joking,” I stated in a tone that said I wasn’t sure of myself.

“I’m not so sure you were… Princess,” Matthew smiled at me before removing his hand and turning back to the visor. I pouted at the lack of his touch and looked at him. I moved closer to him and looked up at his face. “Can I help you,” he looked away from the tiny visor mirror and down at me. I smiled and nodded before puckering my lips.

“Please,” I whispered and batted my eyelashes at him. He laughed before kissing my lips lightly. I pouted as I turned back in my seat. I glanced at Matthew and noticed that he was still fixing his mess of hair in the mirror. I turned back to face him, grabbing his hand again. He glanced at me for a moment before looking back at his reflection. I slowly brought his hand back to my throat and looked at him.

I swallowed roughly as I stared at him, keeping his hand on my throat. Matthew just continued to mess around with his hair. “Are you busy with my hand,” he asked looking at me. I pouted and pushed his hand away from me.

“No, I’m not,” I muttered before looking down at my phone. I looked at Matthew and pouted. “But I’d like to be,” I glared at him as I placed my hand high on my bare thigh.

“Hold on, what do you think you’re doing,” Matthew asked as his hand shot out to grasp my wrist. I smirked and looked over at him, pushing his hand off mine.

“Well, I wanna have fun before we go in and you won’t have fun with me. So, I’m gonna do it myself. Unless you want to change your mind,” I snipped back as I brought my hand to my panties. I honestly should’ve just forgone the underwear tonight. I don’t know why I didn’t. I could feel through the thin fabric that I was wet. He didn’t even do a damn thing to get me as wet as I am. But here I am, nearly sitting in a puddle. I suppose he just has that effect on me.

I looked at Matthew as I slid my hand into my panties and pressed a finger into my center, collecting some wetness on my finger. I gasped and lightly closed my eyes. I slowly moved my finger around my clit as I looked back at Matthew. He was silently watching me for a minute. The way he looked at me told me he was pissed. I've never seen him so mad before. I let out a soft moan as I pressed my head into the headrest.

“Matthew,” I whimpered as I looked at him. He shifted slightly in his seat as he looked back at me. I slowly circled my finger around my clit as I locked eyes with him. My breathing grew labored as I brought my free hand to my breast, kneading it over my shirt and bra. Just as I started to pick up speed, Matthew’s hand grasped my wrist and stilled my movements. I looked at him, alarmed and frustrated. He seriously did not just do that.

“Get in the backseat, we’ll have to be quick,” he muttered as he yanked my hand from my panties. I looked at him with wide eyes. He was looking at my wet finger before putting it in his mouth. I took a deep breath, feeling more overwhelmed by the second. “Go on,” he half-ordered as he nodded to the back seat. “Don’t make me say it again,” he muttered when I stayed frozen in my seat. I nodded before getting out of the front seat and trying to move fast to the back.

I sat in the middle of the bench seat and shimmied out of my panties. Matthew was quick to sit beside me in the backseat. He didn’t even give me time to understand what was about to happen. That’s okay, I just know I’ll get what I want.

He gently pushed me so I was lying across the bench and he hovered over me and in between my legs. One of his knees stayed between my legs, making it so I couldn’t press them together for any sort of pleasure. Part of me hated it when he was like this, but another part loved it. He knew that too.

“You are being such a bad girl,” he whispered, bringing his hand back to my throat. I gasped and pressed my head into the seat. I looked up at him and nodded, telling him it was more than okay to do this. He gently and carefully put pressure into his grip as he stared down at me. I struggled slightly to breathe as I locked eyes with him again. “Touching yourself in the parking lot before we go into a dinner party… With my friends nonetheless,” he kept his voice low. Matthew brought his other hand down between my legs, resting it at the top of my thighs.

“I’m sorry,” I struggled to speak as I threw a hand over his one on my neck. He cocked his head slightly as he stared at me.

“You’re sorry, Princess?” he questioned, slowly moving his hand closer to my center. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as he moved my panties to the side. I tried to swallow roughly and nodded. “Sorry just isn’t going to do it,” he spoke, causing me to open my eyes.

I tapped my fingers on the back of his hand, silently telling him that I really needed air. His eyes flashed slightly with concern as he removed his hand. I took a deep breath like it was my first time breathing. It was like fire in my lungs as I inhaled and felt like I was mildly high as I exhaled.

“I won’t do it again,” I whispered as I looked up at him. We both knew that I was clearly lying when I said that. Any chance I get to act like this, I’ll do it. A small smile twitched on his lips as he inserted a finger into my center. I gasped and closed my eyes as he pumped his finger in and out of me.

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered, pushing his hand into my hair. I stared at him, shock on my face. “You know you’ll have to be punished for that. Right, Princess,” he asked as he rubbed my clit with his thumb. I whimpered and bit my lips together before nodding. “Mm-hmm, use your words,” his words were low. I swallowed roughly and stared at him.

“Yes, yes, I know. I know,” I spoke fast like if I didn’t speak fast enough I wouldn’t have words to say. I brought my hands to his belt buckle, going to undo his belt. I yelped when he grabbed both my hands with his one free hand. He held my hands above my head and smiled down at me.

“I’m in charge here, Princess, you know that,” Matthew moved his thumb faster. I wiggled and nodded. He leaned down close to my ear before whispering, “You don’t get to come till I tell you you can. Okay?” his tone was mildly teasing. His breath hit the shell of my ear, causing me to shiver slightly. I took a deep and shaky breath as I stared at him, a certain excitement setting in my belly. I was okay with it, honestly.

“Matthew,” I whined as I inadvertently bucked my hips to his hand. He pulled his hand away from my center, causing me to whine loudly. I stared at him in protest. “Yes, I understand,” I cried as I stared at him. He smiled before sticking his fingers between my lips. I sucked them clean, free of my arousal, as I stared at him. He smiled at me before pulling his fingers from my mouth and placing his hand on my jawline.

“Good girl,” he whispered. But the way he said it told me I wasn’t really a good girl. No, I knew I wasn’t a good girl. However, I was getting what I wanted, so who’s really winning and in charge? I just needed to be like this more often.

Matthew removed his hand from my face and down to his belt. Somehow, he managed to get his belt buckle undone with one hand, and managed to undo his pants. I looked down as he pulled himself out of his pants and boxers. I whined and tried to pull my hands. My hips ground into the seat beneath me to get some sort of pleasure.

“Wanna touch you,” I cried as I pulled my hands from his grip. He laughed as his grip on my wrists got a little tighter. “Please,” I whined looking between his face and down at his length. “Matthew, please,”

“You should have thought of that before that stunt you pulled,” he whispered before stroking himself a few times. I let out a loud whine and wiggled in my spot. He groaned slowly before lining himself up to my entrance.

I’ve never wanted to touch this man so badly in my entire life. I wanted to run my hands in his hair, tugging at the hair on the back of his head. I wanted to drag my hands all over his chest, leaving red scratchy marks in their wake. And I wanted to wrap my fingers and hands around his cock. He is killing me right now.

The head of his cock was pressed against me, causing me to inhale deeply. He smiled before slowly entering me. I struggled to stay still and quiet as he slowly bottomed out. I swallowed roughly as my breathing became ragged.

“Oh, Princess,” Matthew mocked as he looked down at me as he slowly started moving his hips. I whimpered as I continuously tried to pull my hands from his grip. A smile twitched on his lips again, further frustrating me. Bastard knows how to mess with me and I hated it more than anything in the world.

Matthew slowly, and carefully, picked up the pace of his hips. The way he brought his lips to mine made me feel dizzy. He knew how to kiss, with lips like his? Of course, he knew how to kiss. He carefully bit my lower lip before kissing his way down my jaw and to my neck. He left a small love bite on the nape of my neck, making it difficult to breathe. This level of excitement would kill me.

“Fuck,” I cried, throwing my head to the side. Matthew laughed and shook his head. A moan so loud, I swear it came from the pit of my stomach, came from my lips. He laughed again as he looked down at me

"You need to be a little quieter," he whispered into my ear. He clamped a hand over my mouth and nose to silence me. I whimpered against his hand and nodded.

He has to know how close I’m getting. I was about to be in more trouble than I already am. He keeps playing me the way he is. If he did anything else, I would be screwed. No, no wait. I already am screwed, or being screwed.

“You getting close,” he grunted. I sighed and nodded, trying to hold back a moan. His face twitched as he smiled at me. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look too long at him. I knew if I kept my eyes on him I’d break. I can’t break now. He’s right though, I am getting close.

I nodded, as if my answer would give me what I wanted. He smiled before pressing his lips to mine in a rough way. When he finally pulled his hand from my wrists, I pushed my hands through his hair and kept them firmly placed on the back of his head. He groaned as I tugged lightly on his hair.

“Mmm,” I looked up at him as he pulled his head away from me. I bit my lips together and nodded. I wrapped my legs around his waist to pull him closer to me. My heels dug into his lower back as I gripped his tie with one hand.

Matthew hooked his arm under one of my knees and lifted my leg slightly to get a better angle. I cried when a burn started to grow in my hamstring, but also when he pressed deeper into me. I closed my eyes and pressed my head into the seat. I could feel myself getting closer. Maybe he forgot what he said?

And then he stopped his movements. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, feeling anger grow suddenly on my face. Matthew was looking down at me with a smile on his lips. Although, I knew it must’ve been hard for him to stop. He was just happy to see me suffer.

“I hate you. Please, please,” I pulled on his tie to bring him closer to my face. Matthew smiled at me before pressing his lips to mine. I whined against his lips. He laughed before slowly moving his hips again. “I’m so close,” I managed to get out through pants.

“Yeah,” he asked the obvious. I screwed my eyes shut and nodded. I’m sure if I had it in me, I would have been more than sarcastic. But I couldn’t even begin to try. I’m sure he would keep teasing me if I was sarcastic, so my best bet was to either stay quiet or let out a grotesque sound. I went with the latter. That seemed to please Matthew.

“Promise you won’t do that again,” he brought his hand to push my hair away from my face, before resting it on my cheek. I swallowed roughly and nodded. “Uh, use your words, Princess,”

“I… I promise…” I spoke, my voice was soft and shaky. I pressed both my hands flat on his chest as I looked up at him. He smiled softly and nodded.

“Come on, come for me,” he whispered, keeping his hips moving at a steady pace. After a moment, I felt my body snap and tighten around him. I threw my arms back around his neck as I buried my face into his body. I shouted his name when I reached my high. My body arched up into his, and he held me close.

Matthew’s movements faltered slightly and a groan fell from his lips. I could feel him release inside me as he rode out his orgasm. Oh, that bastard.

He gently rested me back down on the seat. I looked up at him and laughed, bringing my hands to rest on his cheeks. He looked down at me, smiled before laughing.

“I don’t know what’s so funny,” he mused as he moved away from me and sat at the way opposite end of the seat. I stayed lying down, watching as he tucked himself back in his pants.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” I smiled at him, watching as he went to the front seat. He moved a few things around before coming back to me with a handful of napkins and a pack of wet wipes. “I think I might have to break my promise and do that again,” I laughed at him again.

“Well, now we’re late, so I hope you’re happy,” he mumbled as he cleaned between my legs. I flinched at the coolness of the wipes. When he finished cleaning me up, as best he could, he grasped my hands and pulled me so I was sitting up. I looked at him and smiled.

“Yeah, I got my fun,” I kissed his lips. I reached upfront for my bag and pushed Matthew out of the car. I quickly fixed my hair in the reflection of the window before following close behind him.

Of course, when we entered the restaurant, loud chatter came from the far side. Everything told me that it was Matthew’s friends doing all the talking.

“There he is!” A familiar and friendly voice shouted as we got closer to the table. I stood beside Matthew and smiled at him. “With his lovely girlfriend,”

“Kirsten! It’s great to see you,” I smiled at her when I saw who was talking. I walked around to embrace her. Shemar whispered something to Adam before looking over at Matthew, then at me, and then back at me.

"So sorry we're late," Matthew spoke as he pulled a chair out for me. I glanced at him before sitting. He sat beside me and smiled. "I forgot something at home and had to turn back to get it. And then the traffic here was awful." The lie he told was so easy. I'm impressed he told it so easily.

"And I needed to change. There was a stain on the front of my dress." I looked down at my dress that I’ve been in since we left the house. I did not change...

“You’re both walking like you just had sex,” Shemar looked between Matthew and I. I looked up at Matthew before looking at the table. I could feel my cheeks warm up. “You didn’t,”

“Yeah, we… we just had sex.” I muttered.

taglist: @boiled-onionrings @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @spencer-reid-enthusiast

#shadow posts stuff #shadow writes stuff #masterlist #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #doctor spencer reid #doctor spencer reid imagine #doctor spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spence reid fanfiction

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nenithil · 3 years

Text

About Hans and Shadis, and their insight on humanity(1)

Hans is often regarded as too pure and naive, or doesn't that understand human nature(comparing to Erwin or Armin), has unrealistic illusions about human beings and over-idealized.She even rejects selfish desires, this impression particularly comes from C71, when she scolded Shadis: To give up the individual and dedicate the heart to the public, it's like that,isn't it?

It's a very powerful scene. At first glance, I also feel a kind of frightening moral cleanliness from their words, but combined with other plots, I don't think so.

On the contrary, I began to think that her eyesight and response to people's mind are very sharp. She has usually appeared very joyful, it's not because she is naive or only looked at the good aspects of the world, or really had a very happy life,but because she focused on objective work and generally would not be distracted from those kinds of nonsense.

There are many descriptions of this kind of things in smartpass. For example: In "crimes inside the wall", Levi mentioned that the Survey Corps often cooperates with some members from aristocracy in gray areas for financial needs: "There are not a few rich men who make use of criminals... For example, smuggling or assassinating opponents in trade. They are too professional to be tracked. Even if they are unluckily caught, they could just deny that they knew it. Before, there are some just soldiers who tracked them down. Finally, they found that the behind the scenes was actually the sponsor of the corps. Similar events emerge one after another." Eren was very angry when he heard this, which made Levi even wonder if he said too much to youngsters. He went back to discuss it with Hans. Hans replied: "If it's something you will know sooner or later, it doesn't matter whenever you say it." "Teaching new people what's reality is an important task for senior superiors! I don't think you did anything wrong, Levi."

And in smartpass about Eren: When she first met ERen, she performed psychological investigations on Eren, asked him about his dreams and made some comments, which showed that she at least knew psychology well. She even said to Eren: "Apart from the fact that you can shift into a titan, you seem to be an ordinary kid, Eren." "I mean, at least, I don't feel some violent nature from you, like what they discussed in the court." It doesn't really matter whether Eren is an ordinary child, but Hans's words could greatly comfort Eren, who was regarded as a monster, anxious and self doubted at that time. What she said would make him feel closer to the Corps. She made her comments on him on practical purposes, not to show her judgment.

This reminds me of her comfort to Mikasa in the Manga during "midnight sun". In order to prevent Mikasa from snatching injection, she expressed her understanding and closeness to Mikasa's pain and told her, "but we have to move forward".

she accurately saw that Mikasa was not really that kind of people who only cared about the life of her own friends, totally disregarding for the lives of others,but was just unwilling to let it go for the moment. So she chose comfort rather than admonishment.

She don't need much cover up with her words, but always enter the truest part of the heart.

We can imagine what will happen,if she criticized Mikasa for "only caring for personal desires and ignoring the interest of public"and asked Mikasa to" give up her personal feelings and devote yourself to mankind ",as any critics did in some forum. She can stop Mikasa not only because of her kindness but also her wisdom.

In smartpass:Shelter from the Rain ：Hange&Jean，she also showed her interest and understand of 104: "At present, people who can make calm judgments are very valuable." Hange said this because she had come into contact with the "power" of Jean's contemporaries,and she knew that they could not be controlled merely by giving orders as a superior. "Armin is smart, and he's always been self-abase about his lack of strength... I think we have to get him on our side..."

There are a lot of details like this in smartpass. Even for Erwin, who is generally considered the most enigmatic, Hange offered a rather unique perspective in his personal interview:

Hange： Charismatic, unshakeable faith, he would not mind sacrificing himself or others for the goal…well, he tries to maintain that kind of outer appearance. Hange: He might not be too happy if I say too much out loud. What I told you just now, it might be something that he shows to the public…however, even if you were to peel off that appearance, you still wouldn’t be able to see his true personality. That’s my personal opinion about it. H: Even so, he is someone that we can trust. If we leave the situation to Erwin he will evaluate it, and we therefore rely on the commander. If he wasn’t trustworthy, he would have been stabbed in the back. This is not something that is only limited to a commander though.

She haven't idealized Erwin so much, but regarded his appearance as "shows to the public," she confessed her doubts about his true personality and haven't even overestimated his morality,or selflessness, as Levi did. She just said pragmatically that if he would make the right decisions, I would trust him

In her own interview, she said: Erwin’s active support of my research has been very helpful. And I’ve heard that he also has doubts about how this world was formed?

She thanked Erwin for his support and then without further comment, but she clearly caught the core desire of Erwin: doubts about how this world was formed

If regardless of smartpass, she also showed her sharpness towards humanity many times in the manga: C52 her threat to Sannes:

She accurately summarized the reasons that ordinary people would use to make excuses for doing evil.

This is also why she can quickly come up with a ferocious plan to deceive Sannes into confession. She knows their kind well

Similarly, in C60, when facing journalists who wrote false news and slandered their dead subordinates, she also showed tolerance for weakness of human, and performed her skill of getting closer to others.

She may have succeeded in persuading Fregel,who would rather live a miserable life, in similar way (the manga doesn't describe it in detail, and I doubt even Isayama doesn't know how to write.

She is regarded as an "over idealistic" commander, but she still said such words:

Her words have described Hizuru's intention to monopolize resources, which can only be inferred by herself. At the same time, she also speculated that countries regard eldia as a scapegoat to maintain their domestic unity. It shows that she has basic insight and understanding of politics. Particularly, if compared with Armin:

... well, I don't know why Isym wrote like this. Armin is not like a naive kid to ask suchquestions. I regard it as a simple emotional vent. Here I can even understand why Eren showed such a disdainful face,Lmao

Hans obviously won't believe Mikasa's words, which are indeed too simple, but their kindness did give Hans some strength, or positive feelings, making her focus on what she can do - surveying and understanding the world, striving for friendship with others, rather than what can't be changed- all countries are selfish, they deceive citizens and don't mind doing harm to others in order to maintain their "rule".

PS: the plots that I like most about Mikasa in manga almost are with Hans. I'm happy to guess that Hans gets along well with individual having this kind of character (like Levi)

These are my views on this side of Hans. She can see and master the complex and dark side of people skillfully, although she still tends to look at the good side of them. She treats other as human-being with their own weakness and uniqueness. She would not judge others without considering the specific situation

So about C71, I think what she said to Shadis was not because she is too naive, or being so strict with others to ask them to give up their personal desire, but because of the special relationship between them.

TBC..

#hanji zoe #hans zoe #hange zoe #commander hanji #snk analysis

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wisteriashouse · 4 years

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I saw percy jackson au! one the troupe's list and i never tap the ask button this fast/no. Maybe a drabble where kyo and his team lost against gn reader on capture the flag because reader keeps distracting him when they're facing each other so reader's team can take the flag? (Let's say that kyo is the strongest opponent since he can wields sword better than anyone else 😂)

Also who do u think kyo's immortal parent is? I can picture him being an apollo's son since kyo always reminded me of the sun itself hshshs -✨

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x gn!reader

genre: fluff; pjo!au

word count: 1899

a/n: rip word count and the word drabble but here it is!! might do a pjo! au headcanon one day... this event really is no good for my soul... i hope you enjoy it!!

“Do you think we can win?”

It’s Tanjirou’s first Capture The Flag game, bless the sweet kid’s innocent soul, you think. Both of you are crouched behind a line of bushes near Zephyrus’ Creek together with the rest of your team - Blue, for this round - your weapons in hand as you wait for the scouts you’d sent out to return.

“Well, it’s hard to say.” You try to be positive, waving your hand vaguely. Tanjirou’s eyes are fixed on you, wide with curiosity. It’s only his first week here, so he hasn’t had a chance to meet most of the older campers that have been away on missions. Lucky for him that Sanemi is probably still somewhere out in the strait of Messina with Tomioka hunting Charybdis, you think. The poor kid would have been scared off in seconds. “There are some people who could probably change the tide, but most of those people are off doing solo missions away from Camp Half Blood, so our teams are pretty balanced at the moment-”

“He’s back!” You rise to your feet at the noise to see Zenitsu (a son of Zeus), one of the scouts your team had sent out earlier, splashing his way back across the river. “Rengoku is back in Camp Half Blood!”

All around you, a collective groan rises into the air, the Athena campers behind you grumbling about how their strategies are all messed up now and they need to regroup.

“Shot at me, the second I breathed in the flag’s direction. Missed me on purpose too, just to show off.” Grumbling when he finally reaches your team’s side of the river, Zenitsu gratefully accepts Tanjirou’s outstretched hand, the younger boy pulling him into the shelter of the bushes. “Guess we’ll be doing clean up duty for the whole of next week.”

“Now, now, Zenitsu, don’t give up so fast.” You nudge the younger boy in the side encouragingly. He’s sopping wet from his little swim in the river. “There’s still a chance! We still have Muichirou and Shinobu on our team, don’t we?”

Zenitsu lets out a whine. “But they’re not Rengoku.” He complains. The entire time, Tanjirou glances between the two of you, confused.

“Who’s Rengoku?”

“He’s head counselor for the Apollo cabin.” Zenitsu explains, wiping the river water off his lightning spear. “He’s one of the best fighters in the entire camp, on par with even the head counselor of the War God’s cabin, Shinazugawa Sanemi! Not to mention that he’s handsome and cool and half of the Aphrodite kids can’t help falling over themselves every time he walks by, asking him to teach them how to write love sonnets.” He gags at the words. "As if they aren't just waiting to take a piece out of him, the damn piranhas."

You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh. “Well, he does write very good love poems,” you supply helpfully, and Zenitsu rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, of course you would know, since-”

“[last], we have a new plan!” Shinobu calls airily from behind you, interrupting Zenitsu. Turning around, you see the daughter of Hecate striding up to you with a smile on her face. It’s one that you’ve seen all too many times when she’s plotting something, and now that you’re on the receiving end of that smile, you’re not quite sure that you like it.

You squint at her suspiciously. “What is it?”

“You,” Shinobu answers with her usual smile, pausing for dramatic effect, “will be in charge of distracting Kyoujurou!”

You stare at her for a moment before you shake your head furiously. “No, no, no, there’s no way I’m doing that. I’d be shot full of arrows like a porcupine before I so much as touch the flag - I’d rather clean the Pegasus stalls for a week.”

“Oh, come on, have a little confidence in yourself!” Shinobu hums, the expression on her face practically radiating nefarious intent behind her sweet smile. “There’s no way he would hurt you, he’s your boyfriend, after all.”

To your side, you see Tanjirou’s mouth form a silent ‘o’ of realization, piecing together everything you and Zenitsu had been conversing about earlier. Flustered, you shake your head again.

“This isn’t going to work!” You insist, even as Shinobu tugs you to your feet and steers you in the direction of the river. “Shinobu, you know what Kyoujurou is like! He isn’t going to be distracted by me at all!”

“Oh, I know Rengoku very well,” Shinobu’s eyes curve into little crescents. “I think you’ll find yourself surprised, [last]. All you need to do is distract Rengoku, we’ll do the rest. Our entire team is counting on you!”

Helplessly, you turn to the two boys crouched behind the bushes. Zenitsu looks like he’s trying his best not to burst into laughter, and Tanjirou, the pure hearted boy, only gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

With a sigh, you turn around and march into the Red Team’s territory all alone.

It doesn’t take you long to reach the flag.

Although not quite as talented in direct combat as some of your fellow campers are, you’re skilled in your own ways as well, moving silently through the underbrush and disabling any traps that you’ve found - products of the Hephaestus cabin, no doubt. After narrowly avoiding springing a Greek fire trap, you manage to make your way to the location of the flag completely undetected.

Sidling up behind a tree, you glance around the trunk to observe the battle ground. And just as you do-

Thunk!

You barely dodge out of the way in time, a blur of gold embedding itself in the wood of the tree you’re taking cover behind. So Zenitsu was right - he really is back from his mission, and although the two of you are on opposing sides for this Capture The Flag match, you’re happy to know that he’s back safe and sound, uninjured enough to participate in this game.

“Is that you, darling?” He calls out, and you have to hold back your smile at the pet name. You haven’t seen him in a week, and hearing his voice after so long makes you want to just rush out to give him a hug. “I know it’s you, love.”

“It’s been a week since you’ve seen me last, and an arrow to the face is how you greet me?” You call out from behind the tree, slightly teasing. “I’m hurt, Kyo.”

“I knew you’d be able to dodge it.” Kyoujurou laughs. When you peer behind the tree again, you see your boyfriend standing there in his orange Camp Half Blood tee and jeans, leisurely nocking another arrow into his bow. “I won’t go easy on you if you attempt to steal the flag.”

“I’m not here for the flag,” you answer, and it’s only a half lie when you continue. “I’m here because I missed you.”

If you were even a little less observant, you would have missed the way Kyoujurou’s hands falter ever so slightly in the midst of nocking his arrow, before he covers it up with one of his usual booming laugh. “You’re not going to distract me like that!” He declares, and you stifle a quiet laugh of your own, your heart beating a little faster in your chest. “But,” his voice softens, “I missed you too, when I was away. One week felt like forever to me.”

Warmth touches your cheeks, but before you can smile too much, you smack your cheek lightly. Get it together, you scold yourself, you’re supposed to be distracting him, not the other way around!

With that, you take a deep breath and rise to your feet. You could never hope to beat Kyoujurou face on in combat, but you don’t have to - all you need to do is to distract him so that Shinobu can do... whatever she has planned.

You step out from behind the tree, and immediately Kyoujurou’s golden eyes lock onto you. You take the time to take in his handsome features, the warmth in his eyes, the fresh band-aid on his left cheek, did he get injured while on his mission?

“Changing strategy, love?” Kyoujurou calls out, looking amused. He tightens his grip on the bow when you take a single step forward. “Ah, ah, stay right there, or I’ll shoot.”

A frisson of excitement runs through you at the words, and you halt your steps, looking up at Kyoujurou with a smile. At this range, Kyoujurou has no chance of missing - you’ve seen him strike targets from yards away. “You won’t shoot me,” you hum, and with that, you take another step forward. True to Shinobu’s words, he lifts the bow, but makes no move to draw.

“I missed you very much, Kyoujurou. I did read all the poems you left for me, but it doesn’t feel as nice when it’s not your voice reading them to me.” You lower your voice to a soft, longing tone. It’s not hard, considering just how badly you’ve yearned to see him over the past week. “It just made me miss you even more.”

You see a tinge of pink touch Kyoujurou’s cheeks. “I’ll read them for you tonight, if you want.” Taking another step forward, you gesture at his cheek. “Did you get hurt on your mission?”

“No, I got it while shaving today morning. I was distracted because I was too excited about coming back.” Kyoujurou lets out a sheepish laugh. Out of the corner of your eye, you see some bushes rustle behind Kyoujurou.

“Well, you’re home now.” You’re almost within Kyoujurou’s reach now. If he decides to tackle you to the ground, you’d be out of the game even before you can so much as say ‘Zeus’. “With me.”

“Now!”

All of a sudden, a weighted net falls out of nowhere onto the both of you, and you’re sent falling by its weight. Before you can hit the ground, however, Kyoujurou wraps you securely in his arms, taking the brunt of the impact as you end up on his chest.

“Kyo!”

“Very well done, [last]!” Shinobu’s voice chirps from behind you, and you turn around to see Shinobu striding up to the both of you, the Mist melting off her. From beneath you, Kyoujurou laughs loudly, his chest shaking from amusement.

“This was your doing, wasn’t it, Kochou?” Kyoujurou shakes his head, a smile still on his lips. To the side, another figure slips out of the darkness, fingers wrapping around the flag Kyoujurou had been guarding before his entire body leaves the shadows.

“You just had to use [last] as a part of your plan.” Obanai says accusingly, jabbing his finger at Shinobu. The daughter of Hecate only shrugs innocently. “I had to watch all of that flirting, I don't think my eyes will ever recover. I'll need to wash them out with bleach,” he shudders in disgust. “I’m never going along with your plan again.”

“Now, now, there's no need to be such a drama queen." Shinobu tilts her head to the side, her smile still perfectly in place. "We won, so there’s no harm, is there? I’ll be sure to do the same for you when Kanroji returns from her exchange with Camp Jupiter.”

“You’ll do no such thing, you-”

With a shake of the head, you turn back to Kyoujurou, who’s still fighting to keep down his laughter. Gently, you let the pads of your fingers trace his face, his cheekbones, his defined jawline, before you tap at his lips, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile as he looks up at you.

“Welcome back, Kyo.” You whisper, and lean down to kiss him.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fanfiction #demon slayer kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu rengoku #kimetsu kyojuro #kny fanfic #kny kyojuro #kny

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postmodernbeing · 3 years

Text

Shingeki no Kyojin headcanons: 104th training corps (College AU)

Hello, Postmodernbeing here. This time I wanted to write about things that I actually know, since I’m a college student and I’m studing History and Social Sciences I found myself wondering about what would the 104th training corps focus their studies on if all of them had chosen humanities as their career. I hope you find this funny and at least a bit accurate.

IMPORTANT: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin, only these HCs are my own. // Might contain a few spoilers from the manga. // English is not my first language and I study uni at Latin America, so scientifical terms/words/concepts may vary. Anyhow, I thank you for reading and for your patience.

Eren Jaeger

He’s passionate about Military History, not to be confused with history of army. Eren’s rather focused in strategies, weapons and semiotics involved in military speech.

First started with books about great wars in modern era. The use of certain weapons took him by surprise due the technological development.

Then he took classes about discourse analysis, semiotics and such, and felt inspired by the discourse reflected in emblems, uniforms, flags, etc.

Eren doesn’t really have a preference between occidental or oriental, North or South, Modern or Ancient settings. He would simply devour all the books that deal with military strategy and warlike conflicts. Although he has more experience and information about great wars in modern era.

He’s fascinated with the inexhaustible human desire of freedom and the extent that it can reach. This fascination might not be very healthy, he concludes.

Also, finds a cruel beauty in violence when showed in freedom and ideals are protected over one’s own life. But he won’t tell his classmates or professors. He knows is a controversial opinion for he’s still aware the implications of massive conflicts and the abuse of power.

One thing led to another, Eren is now taking classes and reading about philosophy in war and anthropological perspectives about violence through time.

He’s so into social movements besides his main interest in college: “No one’s really free until all humanity is”, that’s his life motto pretty much.

Due his readings and researches he decided it was important to develop a political stance about the world’s problems. Eren strongly believes all lives worth the same, but systems and nations had imposed over others and vulnerated other human's lives.

Yes, Eren is anti-capitalist and anti-imperialist.

Mikasa Ackerman

Asian Studies Major / History Minor.

She thinks by studying these degrees, she pays honor to her heritage. Specially to her mother. Her family is the proudest for Mikasa is also the best student in her whole generation.

Mikasa received a scholarship thanks to Azumabito family, who are co-founders of an academic institution dedicated to Asian historical and cultural research. She might as well start working when she graduates.

Although she’s passionate about Japan’s history, she has written a few articles and essays about Asian Studies themselves and the importance of preserving but also divulging by means of art and sciences.

In her essays and research work, she likes to employ tools from many disciplines since she strongly believes all humanities and social sciences serve the very same purpose at scrutinize the social reality all the same. Might as well use demographics, ethnology, sociology, philosophy, anthropology, archeology, and so on. For it proves to bring light into questions that history by itself could answer unsatisfactorily (in Mikasa’s opinion).

Even her professors wonder how she manages to organize that much information and pull it off successfully. She might as well be more brilliant than a few PhD’s students.

Armin Arlert

Prehistoric studies / Archeology

He’s so into the studies about the prehistoric humans and routes of migration.

Passionate about the ocean and natural wonders since kid, Armin believed his career would be environmentalist or geoscience related.

That was the agreement he had with his grandad since middleschool, until he read Paul Rivet’s “The Origins of the American Man” book and captured him thoroughly. The way the book explained logically the diverse theories about global migration and enlisted the challenges of modern archeology -for there are numerous mysteries- simply devoured his conscience.

He knew from the books he’d read that most evidence of the first settlements are deep under dirt or far away in the ocean whose level has risen over the centuries leaving primitive camps – and answers – unreachable.

That’s the reason he is so eager to study and give his best to contribute both archeology and history disciplines. Also, he’ll forever love the ocean and nature, just leave him do all the fieldwork, please.

Jean Kirstein

History of industry / Industrial heritage / Historical materialism

Jean first started interested in capitalist industries and production development in first world countries. Kind of rejected other visions and explanations since he’d read about positivism studies.

His interest in such matters started when he was a just boy. He often found himself wondering how things were made and that question captured him ever since. As he grew up, he realized that machines and industrial processes were highly involved in the most mundane objects creation.

Nonetheless, he learnt that not always the best machinery was used, nor the best work conditions were available for mass production. From that moment he’d started to read about the First Industrial Revolution and his mind just took off with questions. Invariably, he learned about labour struggle and the transforming power due workforce.

Between his readings and university classes, he’d knew more about labour movements, unions. And in the theoretical aspect, he'd learned about historical materialism analysis.

One could say that Jean possesses a humanistic vision of the implications in mass production under capitalist system along history and nowadays.

Marco Bodt

Royalty's history / Medieval Studies

I wanted to keep his canonical fascination to royalty and the best way to do that was including Medieval Studies.

Marco would study since the fall of Roman Empire until the latest gossip of royal families all across Europe.

Might get a bit of Eurocentric with his essays but in real life discussions he’s always open to debates about decolonization. He has even read Frantz Fanon books and possesses a critical thinking about colonial countries and their relations with the so named third world.

Nevertheless, Marco finds a strange beauty in the lives of monarchs and he’s interested in study from their education, hobbies, strategies, relationships, everything.

I’d say that his favorite historical period is probably the establishment of the descendants of the barbarian peoples in the new kingdoms such as the Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Franks, Vandals, Huns, Saxons, Angles and Jutes (holy shit, they're a lot).

Because this would transcend as the beginning of his favorite matter of analysis.

Sasha Braus

History of gastronomy, development of cooking, antropology and archeological studies.

Sasha’s interested in the history that shows human development of food and cooking. She finds wonders when she inquires into cultural aspects from the first farming till modern artistic expressions that would involve food.

Such as gastronomy. But her attention got caught in literature’s food representation too, with its symbols and allegories, also in paintings that belong in still life movement, but also Sasha finds interest when food is used as rhetorical devices (for example: the apple in Adam and Eve’s myth).

She’s curious about primitive systems of irrigation, cultivation, food distribution, adaptation of wild species; as well as the domestication of animals, the diversification of the diet and its link with sedentary life, as well as the subsequent division of labor once the need for food was assured in humanity’ first cities.

Sasha’s convinced that alimentation is the pilar of civilization as we know it. For it involves cultural, artistic, economic, emotion and social aspects. Food is a microcosm of analysis of humanity.

Sasha hasn’t a favorite historical period or setting. But she definitely has a special fascination for first civilizations and their link with alimentation. Also, she likes to study the development gastronomy in occident world around different regions, social classes, and time.

Although, let’s be honest, Sasha would devour (lol, couldn’t help it) ANY book about agriculture, cattle raising, cooking or gastronomy.

Connie Springer

Micro-history / History of everyday life.

Connie loves his hometown, has a deep respect to his family and traditions. That’s why he finds himself wondering about the most ordinary events that developed in his dear Ragako.

The book “The Cheese and the Worms” by Carlo Ginzburg changed the way he used to understand history and capture him into meaningful discussions about what he learned was called micro-history.

His favorite quote from that book is: “As with language, culture offers to the individual a horizon of latent possibilities—a flexible and invisible cage in which he can exercise his own conditional liberty.”

Once deep into studying the Italian historians and their works, he decided to give it a try, and ever since he’s mesmerized with the mundane vestiges craftsmen that worked in his village left behind.

Connie’s parents are so proud of him and his achivements, but mostly because he became a passionate academic over human and simple matters, (so down to earth our big baby).

His attitude towards his essays and research works truly shows his great heart and humility. Connie is aware that academic works have no use if they are not meant to teach us about ourselves too and current times.

Empathy and hard work, that’s how one could describe the elements that integrate his recently started academic career.

Historia Reiss

Political History / Statistician

Her father’s family pressured Historia since she was a little girl into studying History just like his dad. For he’s a very famous historian that had made important researches and books about the greatest statesmen of Paradis.

She thought in numerous ways that she could sabotage her career or study any other career without her family’s consent and end with her linage of historians. But she ended up enrolling in tuition and so far, she is trying her best in her studies. Historia swears this is the right path for her.

But don’t let the appearances fool you, even thought she studies her father’s career and the very same branch of history’s discipline, she has her own critical sense and she’s so talented on her own, very meticulous with her research papers.

Definitely wants a PhD about women, power and politics. We stand a Gender Studies Queen.

Her complementary disciplines are Political Sciences. Historia also has a talent for philosophy and owns a diary with all her thoughts about them. She hopes one day she would write a book or a manifesto about an innovative methodology for research and teaching History of Politic Thinking.

Ymir

Religion’s History / Theology

Just like Historia, Ymir was pressured into studying History. And if she’s totally honest, she still has some doubts about it. Even if she couldn’t imagine herself studying anything else.

Anyways, Ymir thought that she could build her career around topics that she enjoys. So, she finally chose theology for unusual reasons.

Her classmates had grown up in religious families or had experience studying the doctrines they practiced. But she, being an agnostic, found satisfaction in unraveling belief systems in different cultures and time periods.

Albeit she studies in Paradis’ University, she currently has the opportunity of taking an academic exchange at Marley’s University. This only made Ymir more conflicted about her future, for she wants to stay (near Historia) but she’s aware that Marley would offer her more academic opportunities for her specialization.

Nowadays she’s working in some collaborative research paper with some people from Mythological Studies from the Literature department. She’s nailing it, writing some historical studies about titans in Greek mythology and its impact in shaping neoclassical poetry. Her brains ugh, love her.

Reiner Braun

Official History / Biographies of heroes and great wars.

His mother convinced him with numerous books about great national heroes, but mostly because she knew that would mean sure job to her son. All political administration in every level requires of an official chronicler.

When he started his college courses, Reiner felt motivated and he was actually convinced that he had the vocation. But the more he read the less sure he felt that the academic world was for him. He wondered if he made the right choice. If he did it for him or for his mother.

Stories and myths about heroes have always cheered him up. That gave him purpose and consoled him when feeling down. Or at least it was like that when younger. Reiner truly didn’t feel like himself when regretting his choices, but he couldn’t help it for he was changing in more than a way.

That’s why he decided to experiment with other disciplines and with time he would find joy in historical novels. He would analyze them just as good as a litterateur and research about historical context in the written story AND study the artwork’s context itself.

His favorites theorical books are: “Historical Text as Literary Artifact” by Hayden White and Michel de Certeau’ “The Writing of History”.·

Heroes stories would always accompany him, just differently now.

Bertolt Hoover

History of mentalities / Les Annales

Intimate relationships, basic habits and attitudes. / Culture

Bertie has always been a much reticent and shy guy. As he grew up, he consolidated his sullen personality, but maintained a friendly attitude towards anyone who needed him. That’s why he thought that the priority in his studies was to be at the service of his classmates.

So, although he was passionate about research and was a fan of the French Les Annales current, he considered his mission to be in the Archive. As a cataloger, organizer and curator of ancient documents.

But the ways of History are always mysterious, and Doctor Magath showed him that other way of being was possible. Before Bertolt picked his specialty, he met Theo Magath, a professor who recently had finished writing a book: “The Idea of Death in Liberio’s Ghetto in Marley During its War Against Eldia (Paradis)” (long-ass titles are historians specialty btw). After Magath ended his book’ presentation, Bertolt reached him. They talked for hours and finally, he felt inspired into pursuing his true passion. Magath gifted him “The Historian’s Craft” by Marc Bloch as a way to reminding him his way.

By the time Bertolt took History of Mentalities as optional class, he already had some basic notions about Les Annales, Lucien Febvre, Marc Bloch, Fernand Braudel, Jacques Le Goff and such.

Being the gentle giant he is, Bertolt finds joy in reading about different lifestyles in diverse cultures. He constantly wonders about the origin of social constructs and the way they shape thinking as much as identity.

This boy is a wonder, he might not be the best in oral presentations or extracurricular activities but sure as hell he’ll graduate with honors.

Annie Leonhart

Oral history, about institutions. Particularly, police and justice system in early XXs.

Albeit she got into the same University than Bertolt and Reiner, even shared classes and hopes, Annie regularly felt disconnected from her studies. With time she realized it wasn't due her career itself but rather because of the currents that her professors had suggested her taking. Until now.

Talking with Hitch and Marlow about their doubts concerning subjects and departments it came up the topics of history and present time but also oral history. She’d never heard something like that before. So, that very same week, Annie started searching for information about that.

She ended up with more questions: is it all of this just academic journalism? Or maybe sociology? When we can talk about regular history and when it starts being present time? If she introduces interviews due oral history, then that makes it an interdisciplinary work? Which are the best systems for analyzing data? Definitely, she’ll need help from anthropology and sociology departments if she wants to keep going.

Contrary to her initial prognostic, philosophy and history of historic writing became her new allies, and the text “Le temps présent et l'historiographie contemporaine” (Present Time and Contemporary Historiography) by Bédarida among others, provided Annie another perspective.

Regarding her favorite topics, she wouldn’t say that she selected them freely. They were just practical preferences. For institutions own extensive archives and numerous functionaries. One way or another, she ended up tangled in judicial system and police issues.

With new tools and object for studying, one could find Annie having a blast as detective too. Even if her academic essays focus on institutions’ history and configuration, she’s also working in corruption and more. She doesn’t do it because she believes it’s the right thing, but besides, the thrill of the tea is spicy. Although she won’t admit it.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirstein #marco bodt #sasha braus #connie springer #historia reiss #ymir #reiner braun #bertolt hoover #annie leonhart #modern au #college au

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lovelylogans · 3 years

Text

parallax

parallax, noun: the apparent offset of a foreground object against the background when your perspective changes. at a given instant, the moon appears among different stars for observers at widely separated locations on earth. astronomers directly calculate the distance to a nearby star by measuring its incredibly small positional changes (its parallax) as earth orbits the sun.

warnings: staying up late, unhealthy study habits, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairing: virgil/logan

word count: 2,211

notes: this is for day 2 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “song/stars” and i have decided to write about stars! please enjoy!

⁂

“Barlow lens,” Virgil reads off the notecard.

“A lens that’s placed into the focusing tube to effectively double or triple a telescope’s focal length and, in turn, the magnification of any eyepiece used with it,” Logan recites. His glasses are off, his hands are over his eyes, and if not for the absurd amounts of coffee they had both consumed and the bright lights of the empty classroom they are occupying, Logan would probably fall asleep.

If not for the fact that Logan loves astronomy so much, he would gladly fold it in for the night and get some much-needed rest. As it is, Virgil is also in his class, and he does not hold the same inclination for the subject.

And also, Logan has a massive crush on Virgil and would likely do anything he asks, except Virgil doesn’t know that part. He likely thinks that Logan is helping him study because of his deep love of science.

“Good. Me now.”

Logan picks up a notecard at random and squints it, resettling his glasses on his nose. “Nebula.”

“Great clouds of glowing gas, lit up by stars inside or nearby.”

“Dark nebula?”

“Not lit up and are visible only because they block the light of stars behind them.”

“Latin for?”

“Cloud.”

“Good,” Logan says, tucking the notecard at the bottom of the pile, or as close as a pile as he can get. Their study materials have made quite a mess. The notecards that Logan made are sprawled across the table, some tucked under their notebooks, and Virgil’s pens are tossed along the table within easy reach. The whiteboard is already filled up with mixtures of both of their handwriting, highlighting key concepts that they’d wanted to go through in this study session. They’re almost all crossed out—all that’s left is general review of key terms.

“Oh, here’s a hard one for you,” Virgil says. His black hair is sticking up in tufts, because he’s been running his hands through it and tugging at the ends for the entirety of their marathon study session. It makes him look very cute. “Albedo feature, and tell me a prominent one.”

“A large area on the surface of a reflecting object that shows a significant contrast in brightness or darkness compared to adjacent areas,” Logan says. “And Syrtis Major, on Mars.”

“You didn’t even hesitate,” Virgil says. “You’re definitely gonna ace this final.”

“Well, obviously,” Logan says, and it only occurs to him to perhaps pretend at humbleness when Virgil snorts. Logan feels his face heat, and he says, “I mean—”

“Nah, nah, it’s cool,” Virgil says, stretching out his long, pale arms, and Logan hopes he isn’t too obvious as he stares at the subtle lines of his biceps, his triceps, his flexor carpi radialis. He had taken off his hoodie two hours in, and his binder not long after that, leaving him in a loose black cap-sleeved t-shirt. Seeing him in it is its own unique brand of torture. Surely if he can manage to recall terms while staring at Virgil’s collarbones and the hollow of his throat he will be able to withstand whatever foot-tapping and pencil-chewing will occur in the large lecture hall during their final.

“You’re the one who’s gonna go for a doctorate in this, it makes sense that you’re incredible at it,” Virgil says. “I know it’s a big deal for you.”

“It is,” Logan says. Virgil knows this. They know quite a lot about each others’ life stories—Logan is the first in his family to attend college in America, let alone achieve a doctorate here. His parents immigrated from Nigeria shortly after his birth and all of them have worked hard—his parents, to provide a life for him here, Logan, to get into a good university in the first place.

“I’m the one who has to worry about making it out of their lab elective with a decent enough grade.”

He knows that Virgil works hard, too. Their scholarship depends on maintaining a certain grade point average. There is no way Virgil would have achieved this scholarship if he did not work hard, let alone the fact that they have been studying in each others’ presence for the entire school year.

“You’ve done wonderfully this semester,” Logan says stubbornly. “The only way you will fail is if they feed the scantron in wrong while they’re grading and that’s easily remedied.”

Virgil’s brow quirks. “Thanks, specs,” he says, then makes a face, as if realizing how much he sounded like Roman just then.

“It’s just,” Virgil says, then hesitates before he shrugs and looks down at his notebook, avoiding Logan’s eyes. “I dunno. Um, I never really thought college would be an option, ‘till I got my scholarships.”

Logan, familiar with this story, just nods.

“And I,” he sighs, before he says in a whisper, “I really like it here. At university. I didn’t expect to like it so much. I need—if I want to stay, and I do. I need those good grades. And I want to stay, and the scholarship’s let me put aside enough money so I nearly have enough for top surgery, which I won’t be able to do if I lose my scholarship. So. I’m a bit.” A drum of his fingers. “A bit anxious.”

Logan surveys Virgil for a few seconds.

Virgil’s black bangs has swept over his face, obscuring most of his expression from Logan’s view. But he can see the muscle in Virgil’s jaw jumping, his shoulders practically hiked up to his ears. Even without the verbal acknowledgement, Virgil is portraying enough of the physical signs of anxiety that is obvious even to Logan’s emotionally oblivious eye.

Logan pauses, before he reaches across and places his hand on Virgil’s wrist. He likes the feel of it there—Virgil’s skin, chilled from the air conditioning, cooling Logan’s warm palm. He likes the look of it, too, the contrast of them, Logan’s skin seeming even darker against Virgil’s paleness. Considering Logan is black, this is something of a feat, and Virgil would likely have some sort of joke about how he is so absurdly pale that he manages to refract light.

Virgil looks up and chuckles awkwardly.

“But, y’know,” he says. “When am I not a bit anxious, right?”

He does not dislodge Logan’s hand, though. Instead he covers Logan’s hand with his own—his hand is quite large, and it is also cool from the air conditioning. The temperature of Virgil’s hand does not quite explain the jolt in Logan’s stomach.

Logan considers him for a few more moments.

“I have another astronomical term for you to learn,” Logan says decisively, and slides off the desk, standing on his own two feet “But you’ll have to follow me to learn it.”

Virgil’s lip quirks up. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Virgil smile widens. “All right, then.”

Logan’s stomach flutters, and he quickly turns his attention to gathering his notecards and notebooks as tidily and swiftly as possible, placing them into his backpack.

Virgil puts all of his things in his own backpack, and when Logan asks him if he’s ready, he simply ambles along after Logan as they walk out of the empty, quiet building on their university campus’ quadrangle.

Logan leads them to the center of the grassy area, looking around, before he nods decisively and sets his backpack on the ground. He opens a pocket and fishes out the compact travel blanket he has in there.

Virgil laughs as Logan unfolds it. “You have a blanket in there?”

“Of course I have a blanket in here,” Logan says, shaking out the blanket before he lays it out on the grass. “Blankets are ideal for providing significant warmth and offering protection from hypothermia and precipitation.”

“You and your Mary Poppins backpack,” Virgil says, but there is a tone in his voice that Logan... hesitates to describe.

Is it, perhaps, fondness?

No. Logan is likely projecting his crush onto Virgil. He has a tendency to do that. Wishful thinking has been studied by various disciplines of thought and it is a very common occurrence for many people.

Logan wishes it would not be so common for him, though.

Virgil sits on the blanket, then.

“So,” he prompts. “That astronomical term you wanted to teach me?”

Logan smiles, just a little.

“Star party,” he says. “A gathering of amateur astronomers for the purpose of observing objects and events in the sky.”

He tilts back so he’s lying down on his back. He would be looking directly up at the sky, but he tilts his head so he can see Virgil instead.

Virgil’s smile has gone soft. “You want to star-gaze with me?”

As an answer, Logan pats the blanket, as a silent entreatment for Virgil to lie back. Virgil grins, shaking his head, before he acquiesces, settling on the blanket.

It would be so easy to reach over and touch him. It would be only a little bit more effort to roll and balance himself on his elbows, so his face hovers above Virgil’s. And from there it would just be the slightest downward tilt—

Logan redirects his attention to the night sky.

Though it is, obviously, not quite as good a view as they would have had in a more rural location—light pollution is a given on such a large campus—it is still quite a nice night. There are very little clouds in the sky and it is late enough that the moon hangs almost directly overhead.

Logan points upward at a slight slant, using his right arm rather than his left, so that he will be able to look over and see Virgil’s face without having to lower his arm. “Polaris.”

Virgil shifts, close enough that it would only take the slightest jostle for their arms to touch. “The north star,” he says, and squints up at the sky. “Which means,” he reaches up to take Logan’s wrist in hand, using his outer arm, not the arm that is nearly touching Logan’s, and directs it slightly and Logan can’t breathe, “that Ursa Minor is right over here. Shame we can’t really see it.”

Logan hesitates, biting his lip, before he directs both of their hands again.

“We can slightly see Ursa Major, though.”

Virgil shifts again, his shoulder pressed against Logan’s. “Huh. We sure can.”

Logan traces the shape in the sky, Virgil’s hand cool, loosely wrapped around his wrist. Logan hopes that Virgil cannot feel how quick his pulse is. “Colloquially known as the Big Dipper.”

Virgil shifts again. Their legs are pressed together now.

Logan continues, trying his hardest not to react, “Though of course, the Big Dipper is only part of Ursa Major. An easy point to find so you can see the rest of the Big Bear, which is—which is a more direct title for Ursa Major.”

“Mhm,” Virgil hums. He can feel the warmth of Virgil’s breath at the shell of his ear. “Hey, I think I see Orion?”

Logan would look up at the sky to continue his quasi-lecture, but instead he turns his head so that he will be able to see Virgil.

Virgil turns at the same time. There is a soft smile on his face.

Logan swallows hard. A hand around his wrist. Continually shifting closer to touch him. What he’d thought might be fondness in Virgil’s voice.

Conjecture: perhaps... Logan isn’t submitting to wishful thinking. Perhaps Logan is simply observing.

“Virgil?” He whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

Virgil’s eyes crinkle up as his smile widens.

“Logan, I’ve been trying to flirt with you all semester.”

“Oh,” he breathes out. “Okay.”

Virgil lowers their hands from pointing at the sky so their arms rest upon their bodies, and he shifts his hands so that his fingers intertwine with Logan’s.

“I really like you,” Virgil says. His voice is trembling. His hand is shaking in Logan’s.

Logan’s eyes sting. He squeezes Virgil’s hand tightly. “I really like you too.”

Virgil laughs, but it sounds relieved more than anything.

“Um, okay,” Virgil says, looking a little stunned, as if he did not expect this to go as well as it is going. It’s very likely he did not, considering his anxiety disorder. “Cool. That’s—yeah. Great. Um. Wow.”

“I,” Logan says, and he bites his lip. “I do not have much experience with this. Liking boys. Dating, at all. I would like to have that experience with you. Would it be acceptable if I were to kiss you right now?”

“Incredibly,” Virgil says, “Incredibly acceptable.”

Logan releases Virgil’s hand, and carefully rolls so that he is hovering over Virgil the best he can. He has never approached kissing anyone like this before.

He has never kissed anyone before.

Logan takes in a deep breath, swallows hard, and figures he may as well just make an attempt. His heart is thundering in his chest. His hands are sweaty. He angles his face toward Virgil’s and closes his eyes.

Virgil’s hand settles on Logan’s back, and their lips meet.

And very suddenly, the two activities presented to Logan right now are star-gazing or kissing Virgil. And now he is kissing Virgil. He finds that he does not want to stop kissing Virgil.

Star-gazing would have to wait.

#my post #text #my fic #analogical #analogicalweek #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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lunaverseimagine · 4 years

Text

Escape

Prompt: I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with from @masterofthedarkness‘ 300 follower writing challenge! Congratulations again Val, I hope you like it <3

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You’re having a bad day and your crush seems to notice

Warnings: Mention of injury (not your own), mention of alcohol

Word count: 2k

A/n: So I had a complete brain flop writing this and forgot that Snape was not, in fact, teaching potions in the Marauders era. However, I’ve written the fic now and don’t have the energy to change it, so consider this an AU of sorts? (Putting in bold bc I keep getting comments about it)

Fic:

It started the moment you woke up. You couldn’t explain why but all you wanted to do was crawl back into bed, wrap the duvet round you, and hide from the world. It was as though your energy had been sucked out of you, leaving a shell that felt too heavy. And yet you were a good student, you couldn’t stand missing lessons, plus you didn’t want anyone worrying about you. Which is why, in spite of your body’s groaning protests, you heaved yourself out of your dorm and down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Your friends were talking animatedly around you, occasionally trying to get you to join in the conversation, but all you offered in response were weak smiles and one word replies. As a last resort your best fried Beth tried bringing up your crush, Sirius. The topic normally excited you, but today it was just a reminder that nothing would happen between you, and you became even more withdrawn. Luckily your friends understood - you wanted to be near them but weren’t up to their early morning gossip - so they stayed with you but didn’t try to get you to speak anymore.

As always, halfway through your meal the owls swooped into the hall, bringing newspapers, letters, and the occasional parcel. Mild surprise filled you at the sight of your own family’s owl Lolly settling in front of you. You stroked her head before gently untying the small, crumpled letter attached to her leg, and she nipped your finger affectionately. Your parents didn’t send you letters very often, and you were stumped as to what could be written inside. You took a deep breath. Only one way to find out.

Unfolding the parchment carefully revealed your mum’s scrawled handwriting. Odd. Normally your dad would write the letters; he found it calming to sit with his parchment and special quill after a long day as an auror, pondering his words for a while to make his messages as concise as possible. He said the process was therapeutic. But when you read the words inside it made sense, and you felt your stomach drop.

“Y/n, I’m sorry to tell you like this, but I thought you should know. Dad was injured at work. The healers say it’s treatable but he’ll be in St Mungo’s for a while. Hope school is going ok. Love Mum xx”

Swallowing your tears down, you let the letter fall from your hands and settle on the table. You forced your eyes to look up, away from the words, and you could’ve sworn you caught Sirius watching you from across the hall. As soon as you’d thought it, he’d already turned back to his friends, and you shook your head at yourself. So desperate that you were imagining interactions with your crush. Pathetic. You lay your hand in Lolly’s warm fur, focussing on how soft she felt between your fingers, trying to push the rest of your thoughts to the back of your mind. Breaking down in the middle of the Great Hall was the last thing you wanted to do.

Your lessons did nothing to help your mood. In transfiguration you were supposed to be turning rats into clocks. By the end of the class most students had done it perfectly, but your clock had a tail instead of an hour hand, and instead of ticking it squeaked with every passing second. You felt so deflated, the only thought that kept you going was getting back to your dorm at the end of the day and hiding in your bed. Maybe finding some firewhiskey too to dull the aching you felt when your thoughts drifted to your dad in a hospital bed. In fact, what you really wanted, the one thing that might bring you peace, was to have someone hold you. Not just someone. Sirius. But you knew as well as anyone that he wouldn’t be interested in the likes of you. You couldn’t event transfigure a rat, you’d never be good enough.

You had mixed feelings as you made your way to your last lesson of the day. After this you were free for the evening, but first you had to endure an hour of Snape’s teaching, and his judgement of you. Potions was your worst subject and Snape made a point of noticing every little thing you did wrong. Begrudgingly you approached the dungeons, the echo of your footsteps was all that filled the empty corridors. Most of the time Hogwarts felt familiar, but in times like these it felt cold and unforgiving, emphasising the loneliness that was building in your chest. Wait- why was no one else in the corridors? With a jolt you realised that you’d spent so long lost in your thoughts between lessons that you were late. Your steps sped into a run, and when you finally burst through the door to Snape’s dungeon, he stopped mid sentence to scowl at you. Everyone else turned towards you too, so many pairs of eyes drilling into you. You willed the stone floor to swallow you whole.

“I will not tolerate students showing up late to my class.” You gulped, trying to suppress your heavy-breathing as you awaited your punishment. “I’d have thought you of all people would want to be present for the whole lesson. Then you might finally brew a decent potion. Alas…” he trailed off, a thoughtful expression on his face. You felt your cheeks burn, your head hung low. “Detention. After class you will scrub everyone’s cauldrons clean. No magic allowed.” It was all you could do to nod. You felt so defeated as you stood at the table beside Beth that you almost didn’t notice the small explosion a few tables behind you. You whipped your head around, and- no, you definitely weren’t imagining it this time- Sirius winked at you as Snape stalked between the desks towards the commotion. He glared down at Sirius.

“Looks like Y/L/N won’t be alone in detention.” He sneered, and weaved his way to the front of the class without another word. Your jaw was slack and Beth nudged you with her elbow.

“He did that on purpose!” She whisper-yelled. Your jaw was slack, not quite sure if you believed her.

“Well- well maybe it was an accident? Or he did it for fun?” Your excuses were weak even to your own ears. But why would he want to be in detention with you?

Seconds stretched into minutes as you willed the time away. Thankfully Beth was good at potions so she did most of the work, telling you which ingredients to chop and when to add them to the cauldron. Snape still found things to fault but you just tuned his voice out, feeling like you were watching the scene through a window instead of being in it yourself.

Eventually the class was dismissed, and Beth gave you a sympathetic smile and mouthed “good luck” as she left the room. When it was just you, Sirius and Snape left, he held a hand out to each of you.

“Wands.” Reluctantly you and Sirius both placed your wands in his hands, not quite meeting his eye as you did so. “I want the equipment spotless.” With that he left the room. Despite feeling as bad as you did, you couldn’t help your heartbeat quickening at the thought of being alone with Sirius.

Avoiding his eye, you crossed the room to the cupboard full of cleaning supplies, dirty cauldrons being the only thing that stood in the way of you and the relative peace of your dorm. You felt his gaze on the back of your head.

“What?” You kept your focus on the cupboard, rummaging through the supplies to find what you needed.

“Are you ok?” After a moment, you turned to face him, throwing a sponge which he caught effortlessly, without breaking eye-contact.

“I’ve been better.” You didn’t elaborate, instead getting to work scrubbing the grime off the cauldron closest to you. Sirius abandoned his sponge, coming to stand on the opposite side of your table, watching your determined face as you tried to get one particularly tough spot of dragon-bogey off the side of the cauldron. He found himself admiring the way you furrowed your brows as you concentrated, the way your tongue poked out slightly from between your lips. Those lips. You, on the other hand, were thinking about how it would take double the time to clean if Sirius didn’t do his half. Subconsciously you squeezed your sponge tighter until your knuckles turned white.

“I bet I could make you feel better.” You huffed. Sure you had feelings for Sirius, but he could still be infuriating.

“I bet you could.”

His eyes twinkled, surprised that you’d joined in with his flirting. “Oh yeah, how’s that?” His hopes were soon shattered as you replied.

“By helping me clean so we can leave this bloody dungeon.” Sirius was taken aback. You never normally snapped at people, and he was just trying to be nice. Godric, he’d got himself a detention just so you wouldn’t be alone.

“You know what? Fine.” He stormed back over to his sponge and started cleaning the cauldron furthest away from you. The two of you scrubbed in silence for a while, making decent progress on the cauldrons, but you felt guilt creeping in at the way you’d treated him. The guilt, the tiredness, the worry about your dad, all of it swirled through your thoughts in a perpetual loop until you couldn’t help it anymore. You let out a small sob, trying your best to be quiet, but in the otherwise silent room Sirius heard it perfectly. He abandoned his cauldron, rushing over to embrace you in a hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back. He had no clue what to say, but the silence didn’t bother you. It gave you a chance to work through your feelings.

After a while you pulled away, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your robes. “Oh Merlin, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for darling.” He rested his hand on your arm for a moment, waiting to see if you wanted to say anything else. When you just smiled, he returned the smile, before going back to cleaning the cauldrons. This time the silence that filled the room was comfortable, both of you lost in thought. Finally, arms aching, the two of you finished your last cauldrons, and Sirius went to Snape’s office to collect your wands. You sat on the floor outside the classroom waiting for him, picking at a loose thread on your robe. When Sirius returned he handed you your wand, and slid down the wall so he was sitting next to you. You rested your head on his shoulder, whispering into the corridor.

“Thank you.”

Sirius wrapped an arm round your shoulders. “What for?”

“I know you got that detention on purpose. Just- thank you for being there.”

“Not a problem darling.” His fingers traced tender circles on your shoulder, and you felt yourself melting in to him. Being so close to him you thought you’d be nervous, but instead you felt peaceful. Safe.

Sirius broke the silence. “What’s going on?” It was almost a whisper, as though he wasn’t sure whether he should’ve asked, but he couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering on your own. He needed you to know that he was there to listen.

“It’s just- it’s a bit of everything, y’know? I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.” You laughed at how stupid that sounded, but Sirius took your hand, lacing your fingers through his.

“I’ve got some firewhisky in my room?” It came out as a question.

You turned so you were face-to-face.

“And the cuddles?”

“I’m sure I’ve got some of those to spare too.” He lifted your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on each knuckle in turn. You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation. Then he stood up, helping you off the floor after him, and your hands stayed connected the whole walk back to his common room.

End

A/N: I hope you liked it (regardless of the Snape/Sirius timeline error oopsies)! If you did feel free to give feedback or check out my other stuff, and also give Val (@masterofthedarkness) a follow if you haven’t already! <3

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spidersbane · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I get MCU, The Hobbit, and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. ship? 💚

Appearance: She/her. 179,5cm tall, rectangle body shape. Fair skin complexion with quite a few birthmarks. Dyed brown with honey-red highlights, shoulder-length, straight hair with bangs. The left eye is a mix of two colors – a smaller portion of (darker) greyish-blue and a larger portion of hazel; while the right eye is just a (lighter) greyish-blue. Heptagon face shape with two dimples on the left cheek and one on the right cheek (only visible while smiling). A gap between the upper front teeth.

Personality (good and bad traits): Ever since I was a kid, I was always quite mature for my age – I identify myself as an old soul. I come off as polite and well-mannered to strangers, yet I tend to keep it to myself by being reserved. But, that’s because I have social anxiety and I’m nervous and shy when meeting/talking to people. The only people I’m comfortable with being with my inner circle – closest friends and family. I am usually more “open” with my friends than with my family. With my friends I can be my “truest-self” – I smile more, I laugh more, I feel more accepted and understood. I am the mom and the fashionista of the group. Don’t get me wrong, I am fiercely protective of my family, especially of my mother and younger sister. But, lately, I’ve been feeling like the “black sheep” of the family, Cinderella who’s been taken advantage of. I express my affection for the people I care about in little, but practical, ways. I can be a little stiff when it comes to open, gushy displays of affection. Others turn to me for help and advice. I’m kind-hearted and generous, always ready to help a person in need. Always have been motherly towards children. Very awkward at keeping small talk (usually with people that I’m not that close with). Absolutely, hate speaking in front of a public, and if I do, because of my nervousness, I tend to mess up my words and/or I practice whatever I’m about to say in my head at first. I appreciate the simplicity and am often most comfortable when I’m not getting too much attention from the world. I am sensitive – both to criticism and to others’ feelings (I sponge up the feelings and moods of people and the environment around me). Have a hard time saying no or expressing my true thoughts, feelings. I get influenced by other people’s opinions/thoughts quite hard (I take everything to the heart), that is why I tend to keep a lot to myself (may come off as a little bit tense, secretive, mysterious). I avoid the harsh reality by daydreaming (almost every day) – imagining myself in situations far from my current circumstances. Sort of like a self-escape. I worry a lot and overthink almost everything. I am easily distracted and my attention span can be quite short. I have an internal struggle between my needs and wants. I can lack focus and be indecisive as a result – when I decide on one route, I am pulled in another direction at the same time (“But what if…”, “on the other hand...”). That is why I’m having a bit of a struggle with deciding what I want to do in the future (career-wise). I am easily overwhelmed by pressure and stress. There is a self-destructive side to me (self-critical, lack of self-confidence) that I’m working on by confronting my fears (coming out of my shell). Don’t like taking pictures, or other people taking pictures of me. I feel most content when I’ve straightened out all the details of everyday life. I have a routine, that I follow by mostly every day, and if something small changes in that routine, I start to have a small internal anxiety attack. Also, I like to do things my own way, like, when it comes to cleaning the house or organizing stuff, etc. I get triggered even if people don’t do the laundry the way I do. I guess you could describe me as a perfectionist, clean/control freak. In triggering situations I can be impulsive, spontaneous, quick to act. Quick flare-ups of anger/annoyance when being provoked on my patience. Even when I’m feeling low, I manage to find humor in life and have fun with whatever I do have. Although I tend to bottle things up, I am an emotional person and my emotions are genuine – I love and care deeply and passionately and wish no ill will upon anyone, yet it hards for me to imagine someone falling in love with me or just liking me.

Hobbies, likes: My hobbies are cleaning, writing (re-writing song lyrics, making small notes, writing stories), listening to any type of music, catching up on my favorite films and TV shows, hanging out with friends, going to the cinema, or the club, being out in nature, reading, traveling. I like history, cooking, fashion magazines (or fashion in general), road trips, spirituality, mythology, books, orange juice, previous decades, cottage-core, dark academia.

Overall: Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bi-sexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. “Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” A feminist, support LGBTQ+ community. That’s it, thank you!

hey @pataim ! thanks so much for sending in your request, and thank you so much for your honesty about yourself. like it takes a lot to air yourself out like that, and I admire your strength for it. but also fINALLY a 'Man from U.N.C.L.E' ship! I love that movie and attempt Illya's accent all the time, so this will be fun :)

For the MCU/Marvel - I ship you with Steve Rogers/Captain America !

no one can tell me that Steve doesn’t have a set routine honestly, so let me just get that out there

he seems intimidating at first, esp as a public figure and Avenger, but Steve is nothing but passionate about what he does. so it may clash w your lack of direction, but I could honestly see him envying that a lil bit, like it’s not that you don’t have direction, it’s the fact that you still have a choice in the matter.

your love of history put you in a museum, here you bumped into Steve in a horrible disguise. he struck up the conversation first, and once you got past the whole “holy crap that’s Captain America”, you could actually engage with him in the material and boi was he smitten

he would love to join you when your rewatched your fave things, bc not only is he catching up on more media he missed out on, he’s also getting to know your interests in a way that’s comfortable with you. it avoids all the small talk, but leaves room for discussion after the film/show !

since you tend to sponge up a lot of what other people believe, it’s totally Steve who actually tries to question what you think and what you feel about things. he’s someone who encourages you to have your own opinions and to stay true to those thoughts. so while with him, you can rely on him to learn about yourself, you also gain skills for independence

overall, Steve is super patient, and despite his chaotic job as Cap, he takes comfort in his routine, and would find comfort incorporating a partner’s routine into his life. and as you grow in a relationship with him, he’s patient about teaching you how to be your own person, and helping you learn more about yourself. and while it’s uncomfortable, you grow stronger throughout being with him :)

For The Hobbit - I ship you with Bilbo Baggins !

Bilbo is the definition of introvert, and you're right there with him

not that introversion is ever a bad thing, bc it isn't. but Bilbo is quite content to sit in his little hobbit hole and vibe. like Gandalf had to come find him, ya know. dude disappeared from his own bday.

but anyways. it's not that Bilbo lacks purpose, it's just that he's more content with a quieter life. and it seems like his quiet life would balance you out well! like the Shire is so so chill, and there doesn't really seem to be a lot of pressure on the hobbits to pick a profession. like they just genuinely do what needs to get done.

similarly, Bilbo is the type who seems a little bothered by mushy displays of affection. exhibit a: disappearing from his own bday. like he's much more the type to refill your tea when y'all are reading by the fireplace, which he would totally do w you

it will probs take you a little while to warm up to each, given just how introverted you both are. but when he explains that he has set ways of doing things, then if they're compatible w your ways of doing things, then it doesn't take you long to open up to him

like it'll be a little jarring, but he takes comfort in his routines too. and it'll be an event trying to incorporate both of your ways of life together, but he's willing to do it

overall, yours is a very quaint partnership, built on deep respect for one another. neither of you are going to push the other to do things you aren't into. and y'all just live your best lives together tbh :)

For The Man From U.N.C.L.E - I ship you with Illya Kuryakin !

I love my big Russian spy so much, so this is fun for me

so Illya is the epitome of reserved and generally quiet, so it might take a while to really break down his walls and talk to him. and he's not quite sure what to do with you once you join the team

but, he's playing his game of chess alone, and when you sit down and ask to play with him, he opens up a little more after that

if you're one who get sent out on mission with the team, get ready, bc sometimes those missions require a lot of improvising. but you'd probably be at whatever 'base' was, helping run operations from a more secure place. but Illya and Napoleon improvise a lot, leading to a lot of headaches for you and Waverly

Illya has small bursts of anger, but similar to Gaby, most times, you can intervene and he doesn't get violent. or when he does, he tries to make sure it isn't in front of you. but bc you care so deeply for him, you're there for him in the aftermath. and that's how you show your love for him.

by patching him up if he gets cut, by talking him down when he's angry. and just generally trying to take care of him. and he totally does the same for you, especially if you get sent out into the field

and much to Illya's dismay, Solo doesn't refrain form making jokes about you. but if you can take them in stride, then Solo welcomes you into the team just as well :)

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