#Remote Learning Student Expectations

[bellatrixscurls]

group activities ii

part one here

pairing : fem reader x slytherin gang x golden trio.

warnings : SMUT. slight choking, nipple play, reader is a virgin, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, teasing, pet names, reader almost has a panic attack, talk of virginity and sex. lmk if i missed any! :)

summary : the slytherin boys have their way with you, but what about those who get left out?

a/n : i hope this is what you expected, feedback is greatly appreciated and needed.

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the next days were a blur. you were not ignoring your friends any longer, but you could tell that they were treating you rather differently.

first, ron started to hold the door for you, theo brought you extra sweets from honeydukes and draco would give you his homework without you even asking.

what was happening? you were almost positive you knew the reason behind it all. so, whilst in transfiguration, you slipped hermione a note.

“can i see you after class?”

she looked at you, a confused expression on her face, but she nodded nonetheless.

you smiled appreciatively and went back to listening to professor mcgonagall, not remotely aware of the pairs of eyes following your every move: tom, mattheo and blaise.

they were concerned. well, they did have a reason to be - you weren’t ignoring them any longer, but you were acting rather differently, not really giving them the time of the day either.

“what do you think she wrote?” blaise nodded his head in your direction, nervously playing with his feather.

mattheo looked up, his eyes focused on the back of your head as if he could read your mind. but seeing that it was no use, his head dropped on the desk. “if only we knew someone who’s learned the art of occlumency.”

“she’s wondering why you lot are acting so unusual since that day” tom hummed, rolling his eyes as he neatly put his notebook back in his school bag. “and it’s legilimency, idiot.”

blaise winced incredulously as he looked back at his friend. “us? i’m sorry you wanna be picked so bad that you’re willing to act nonchalant and humble about it.”

“it’s a skill” he smirked, finally standing up to leave as professor mcgonagall dismissed the class.

“you know, sometimes i feel like we’re so alike” mumbled mattheo happily, earning a dangerous glare from his brother.

watching them whisper to one another, you shook your head - mattheo shoved his brother, who, as unbothered as ever, brushed a hand over his robes while exiting the class.

and you could bet you knew the reason.

“ready to go?” hermione’s soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts, her smile bright as she looked at you.

“sure” you returned the smile, ushering her out of the room with a hand at the small of her back. and once you were positive you were out of earshot, the other students already heading towards the great hall, you spoke up. “listen, i know how this might seem, but you’re the only girl in the group… what’s gotten into them?”

she sighed, using her middle and pointer finger to rub at her temple; this was a discussion she thought she’d never have to have again, not with another girl anyway.

“they… they want you to pick them. each of them wants to be the one to claim your virginity. to claim you.”

“to claim me?” you were beyond confused, you really didn’t think your virginity was such a big deal. at least to you it wasn’t. “have they done the same to you? when you were- you know.”

she laughed softly at your nervousness, gently rubbing your back through your robe. “have you met them? of course they did. but- well, yes, they did.”

your ears perked up at her hesitation. “but?” you questioned rather alarmedly. “but what, mione?”

she took a deep breath before speaking, and you hated how that made your stomach churn. “they were not as possessive back then. they weren’t aware how much it meant. because whoever it is that you choose to do it with, it creates a special bond between you. it’s the first person you feel comfortable doing these things with, the first who gets to kiss every inch of your skin, explore your body” it looked like she was in a haze, daydreaming of the day she’d lost hers.

“oh, i understand” you nodded slowly. “so… who took yours?” you asked even though you could already guess.

“enzo” bingo. and how could you not guess? they were practically always together, always looking out after each other.

humming, you fell deep in thought. how could you ever choose between them? they were all your friends, and you’d never forgive yourself if your decision would hurt any of them or make them feel left out.

so you shook your head, toying with the ring on her finger as you leaned back against the wall. “i could never choose, mione. i don’t want to. i don’t want this to be such a big deal, i just want to get it over with so we can move on and fuck unlimitedly.”

your words made her burst out laughing, softly biting on her lip as a few students passed, and she took your hand in hers, guiding you to to the great hall too. “if you want to be a part of this, you will have to choose. but they won’t pressure you, if there’s one thing that they hate is feeling like they pressured each other into doing something, especially sexual… you have time.”

you nodded and finally, reaching the table, you sat down between draco and tom. “good morning” you greeted softly as you started filling your plate, your mind wandering.

“hey, y/n/n” theo reached over the table to squeeze your hand, a sincere smile on his lips, before draco kicked him under the table, the older boy hissing as he glared at him.

you didn’t really notice that though, you were too busy trying to figure out what you were gonna do.

but the boys seemed to notice that. the way you, so absentmindedly pushed at your meal with your fork, the boiled eggs smashing and the yolk leaking out of them. “woah, what have they done to you, sweetheart?” enzo’s voice was teasing, but in his own soft, characteristic way.

you looked at him, and he frowned at the confused, almost lost look on his face. then back at your eggs, your meal positively looking like a crime scene. “sorry” your voice was soft, barely audible. “m sorry, i’m not even hungry. i don’t know why i even took them.”

your nerves were growing and everyone could sense that, hence why they all shared concerned glances and only tom dared to speak. “can you focus on me? look at me, please” his voice was not like anything you’d heard before. it was soft and gentle, and he placed a hand on your arm, his slender, pale fingers squeezing loosely.

looking up at him, you tried your best to focus on his eyes. his eyes were so beautiful, a gorgeous shade of a deeper blue, and you could swear that you saw the ghost of a smile on his lips, but he quickly regained composure. “do you want to go back to the common room? lay down on your dorm maybe?” he asked and you nodded, arm curling around his own as he stood up, taking you with him.

🤍

you all but threw yourself on the bed, the boys sitting around you - tom and blaise were sitting on the rug by your bed, theo on your armchair, all while draco, enzo and mattheo shared the couch.

“i’m sorry” your voice made them perk up, their expressions almost unreadable, but one thing was for sure - they would do anything to make it better.

“what for, lovie?” asked blaise, his hand twitching as he almost grabbed your hand, but decided against it.

you sighed, mind wandering back to the day before. you had done the same thing : you moped around on the great hall and they had to take you back to the common room. “i’m being a baby. i just… i don’t want to choose.”

theo frowned. “choose what, dolcezza?”

“between you guys” avoiding their eyes, you started playing with tom’s family ring, his hand on the bed just by your head. “i talked to hermione today, and she explained the whole special bond thing, but i… i like all of you. i don’t want a special bond.”

enzo blushed, trying his best to hide his face by leaning his head forward, chin resting on his chest. mattheo nudged him playfully, messing up his perfect hair and causing the boy to whine.

“oh, baby” draco’s voice was soft as he approached the bed, but not before slapping enzo on his crotch. before you knew it, the bed dipped slightly and draco sat by your side, looking down at you lovingly. “we’ve been stupid, making you feel like you had to choose one of us to be your first. we’ve done stupid things and you’ve almost had a panic attack because of it.”

you didn’t say anything, just looked up at him, and the boys all seemed to had gotten closer too. “i don’t want any of you to feel less important. i’ll gladly let you all fuck me.”

you hadn’t realized what you said before it was too late, and even you were shocked. the boys all looked at you like you’d grown two more heads, and you flushed furiously, cheeks now a deep crimson.

“is that right, sweet thing? look at her, boys” mattheo’s voice was taunting, his signature smirk widening as he took a few steps closer to you. “i believe this poor thing only wants us all to feel good, to be able to feel her tight pussy for the first time ever. how sweet is that?”

“so sweet” theo’s voice had turned a lot deeper, need present in his tone. he had that look on his face. the one you’d seen before, directed at you.

“whenever you’re ready, angel, and whoever has you first…” blaise grinned, his hand coming down to caress your voice, your chest rising up and down rapidly. “this pussy’s not going unruined.”

your breath got caught in your throat and you almost choked at the intensity of it all. heat pooled in your tummy as they looked at you, hunger evident in their prying eyes.

“i want it” it was a soft whisper, a breathless, needy confirmation. and when tom’s eyes found yours, you knew you were in for it.

he was usually the most composed one, but in these past couple of days, he’d shocked you. he could be loving, caring and could even lose his composure around the right people. you’d seen glimpses of it before, but never like this, never so vulnerably.

his eyes seemed to twitch, so subtle that you almost missed it. he finally standed, making you feel small under his gaze. “how about we get her wet first, boys? oh, wait-” you didn’t expect it, but in the blink of an eye, tom had pulled your skirt up over your hips, curling two fingers around the hem of your panties.

you were drenched. you couldn’t even get out the gasp that was hanging in your throat, because his fingers just felt so good on your throbbing clit. everyone was silent as he worked on you, spreading your wetness over your slit and holes. “she’s so wet already. what’s gotten you so wet, baby?”

finally managing to gasp and whimper needily, you looked up at him, and he smirked at your helpless state. you looked limp and he fucking loved every second of it.

“answer tom, pretty. he might just stop making you feel good if you don’t” mattheo came to stand at his brother’s side, one arm resting against tom’s shoulder, and for the first time, he didn’t push him away or make a snarky remark. “you know how he gets.”

you whimpered out a soft ‘you’ and that instantly made tom’s eyes sparkle. in a moment of weakness, his thumb started rubbing your clit, and before you knew it, mattheo started massaging over your hole with two fingers. it was a feeling that you could not describe. nothing that you’d felt before.

their fingers felt so good on you, far better than all those time you had gotten off on your own. “t-tom- matty, please” you cried out, your legs begging to shake from the pleasure you were receiving. the way tom was pressing against you, and how mattheo was so close to making you scream on his fingers - it made you dizzy.

“ow, angel” draco was still sitting beside you, his eyes watching you and studying your reactions very carefully. he raised his hand and started stroking your jaw, his cold fingers making you shiver as the boys continued their assault on your cunt, causing you to jolt when tom would occasionally press too hard on your clit.

you looked up at the blond, growing more desperate to have all of their hands on you, your nipples getting harder and achy by the minute. he saw the way you shifted, and when your hard nipples pressed against your white top, the corner of his lips tilted upwards.

“you need my hands, y/n/n?” his hand slowly made its way down your neck, squeezing at the base of it for merely a second before it slid lower. you shivered in anticipation and he carefully pulled your top down, freeing your boobs - you were not wearing a bra. he groaned. “fuck, what are you doing to me?” and he looked into your eyes as if he was really waiting for an answer, but unfortunately you couldn’t give it to him if you wanted.

truth be told, you had not planned any of this. it all just worked out in your favour.

he brought both his hands to cup your breasts, squeezing gently as he watched them bounce back to their original shape, nipples looking eager to be - licked, bitten, tortured - by him.

draco wanted to tease you, he really did. but you looked way too delicious, so he didn’t hesitate and started sucking greedily on your nipple, one of his hands squeezing and pulling at the other one. you could hear him, even if your ears were ringing due to tom and mattheo’s attempts to make you lose your mind. draco was panting, not wanting to pull away from your boobs for one second. it really was a sight for sore eyes.

“feels g-good” you moaned loudly and tangled your fingers in his hair, your attention finally turning back to the boys between your thighs.

mattheo cleared his throat and when you looked at them, tom was wearing an annoyed expression. “didn’t forget about us, did you?” he asked pointedly, and retracted his hand, leaving you squirming for more.

but before you had the chance to blurt out an apology, mattheo spoke up. “i think you’re wet enough, sugar.”

but he didn’t continue, he didn’t make you feel like you had to do something more than that. he left it up to you.

“i want enzo to eat me out” your voice was small and said boy looked at you in shock, that it almost made you take your words back. but before you could do it, he was already on his feet - ready to do anything you pleased.

hermione had told you that enzo was good with his hands and mouth, and you were doing nothing but trying to test that theory.

he looked beyond excited as he looked at your cunt. it was glistening with wetness and a bit of sweat, and your clit looked mouth-watering; it was so swollen and hard.

“you are beautiful” was all enzo said before he buried himself between your legs, his hands holding you as if you were made of glass. “so so beautiful, you look divine” his voice was breathy as he nosed at your clit, pressing a soft kiss there.

draco, on the other hand, was grazing his teeth against your sensitive buds, making your toes curl and your pussy throb at the sensation. his mouth was perfection.

sponging a wet kiss on his temple, a broken cry was ripped from your throat as enzo slipped two fingers inside you, much too easily. his tongue sucked at the bundle of nerves that was your clit, sometimes exploring your sopping folds. “so sweet” he mumbled against you, his mouth not once leaving your heat as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot that made your eyes roll back into your skull.

“thank you, thank you, thank you-” tears were streaming down your face as you watched the other boys through blurry eyes.

mattheo and tom were jerking off, their cocks red and looking painfully hard, whilst blaise was watching the scene in front of him intently, and you did see his fingers twitching, probably needing to grab at you, but not daring to.

“kiss me” it was a broken plea that earned you quite a few confused glances, even enzo looking at you curiously from between your legs, not once resuming his work. “blaise- baby, kiss me” you whimpered, and kissing you he did.

he pressed his lips against yours, his hand gripping your jaw and holding you in place as he dominated the kiss. he tugged at your bottom lip and you whined, chasing his mouth. “so fucking needy” he groaned and smashed his lips against yours again; the kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth, spit glistening on your chin. “you just need us all, don’t you? you need us to please this desperate, perfect body of yours.”

his teeth sank into the underside of your jaw and you yelped in pain, your fingers digging into the back of his neck. “yes, yes i do!- i’m- i need all of you, i need you to make me feel good.”

“atta girl” mattheo spoke up as he tugged at his cock, his eyes moving from your cunt to your bare chest. “are they making you feel good, angel?”

you hummed and felt the knot in your belly about to snap, enzo now sucking harshly and bullying his fingers into your cunt at a pace that had your legs trembling uncontrollably, but fortunately draco was there to catch you. he placed a firm hand on your thigh, grounding you as he kept sucking and biting at the tender flesh.

“m gonna cum” you choked out and started shaking again, this time not even draco’s force being able to help calm you down. “please, please- i need to cum” you asked for permission, but you didn’t even know who was it that you were asking.

enzo used his free hand to caress your belly, his sweet eyes looking up at you. lost in them, you didn’t even notice when theo stood and walked over to you, his fingers forcing you to look up at him as he spoke lowly, his voice firm and steady. “look up at me when you do” he demanded and you nodded fervently, biting at your bottom lip.

in a matter of seconds, you were cumming. your heart was racing - so much so that it felt like it was trying to get out of your chest - you were sweating and your hands were gripping at anything you could find - draco’s shoulders, enzo’s hair, the sheets.

your walls spasmed around enzo’s skilled fingers, your clit fluttering as he sucked on it, refusing to let go as he moaned against you, his eyes rolling back as he started humping the bed. your cum was heavenly - the taste, how it dripped down his fingers, everything was pure perfection.

and what was even better? theo’s eyes were analysing your every move. how your lips pursed, how your muscles tensed - the way your eyes watered as you struggled to keep them open.

“you’re just perfect, principessa. you did so good” he praised as he leaned in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

you breathed out a laugh as you tried to recover from your orgasm and the overwhelming sensations you had gone through, but you had little to no time to do that, because the door flung open and revealed the golden trio.

harry was more pissed than ever judging by the look on his face and his clenched fists, ron was just red with fury, and hermione just looked disappointed, her brown eyes seeming more dull than ever before.

“and what the fuck do you think you lot are doing?”

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[kashverse]

anything for gojo your majesty🎤🎤

if you are not a nicki minaj fan i'm sorry

gojo being a stay-at-home dad was a double-edged sword. on one hand, babytoru was getting an absurd amount of quality time with her father—on the other hand, that quality time often involved questionable educational choices. you had expected him to teach her something useful. math, maybe. how to read kanji. literally anything that would benefit her future. 

instead, you walked into the living room to find your six-year-old sitting cross-legged in front of the plasma tv, gripping a pink crayon like her life depended on it, while gojo stood in front of the screen, pointing dramatically at an image of nicki minaj like he was delivering a ted talk.

"okay, kid, write this down," he said, flipping the remote in his hand like a mic. "in the beginning, there was mixtape nicki. underground legend. 'playtime is over,' 'sucka free,' 'beam me up scotty'—pure heat. this was when she really started cookin’. had wayne and drake in a chokehold. also, fun fact, this was when she still had the super thick ny accent—"

he glanced down at babytoru's notebook, then did a double take.

"baby, what the hell is this?"

she beamed up at him, proudly holding up a page where she had written, in large, wobbly pink crayon letters: nickee menaj.

gojo let out a long, dramatic sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "baby, this is unacceptable. you’re taking notes like a casual. like an unserious student."

"but i don’t know how to spell her name," she pouted, fidgeting with her crayon. he crouched down to her level, gripping her tiny shoulders. "listen to me. nicki minaj is a spelling bee champion. do you understand how embarrassing it would be if we couldn't spell her name right?"

babytoru gasped. "she is??"

"not officially, but spiritually," he said solemnly. "now fix it. it's n-i-c-k-i. no ‘e’s in this house."

she quickly erased and rewrote, murmuring under her breath, "n-i-c-k-i… no ‘e’s in this house…"

"good, good," gojo nodded approvingly. "okay, now where were we? ah, yes. pink friday, her debut album. iconic. certified classic. if you ask me, 'roman’s revenge' is the best track—insane flows, legendary bars. ‘did it on 'em’—a cultural reset. but of course, we can’t forget ‘super bass,’ which single-handedly raised a generation of barbz."

babytoru scribbled furiously.

"now, next, we have roman reloaded, where she gave us pop nicki—think ‘starships,’ think ‘pound the alarm.’ polarizing, but the range? undeniable." he paced the living room like a professor mid-lecture. 

"then we enter the pinkprint era. arguably her magnum opus. heartbreak, bars, versatility—this is where we have ‘anaconda,’ ‘only,’ ‘feeling myself’—"

you cleared your throat loudly.

gojo froze. babytoru turned to look at you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “mama! did you know nicki minaj is a spelling bee champion?”

you stared at your husband, who was now whistling innocently.  "satoru. why is our daughter taking notes on nicki minaj like this is a university lecture?"

"because it is," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "this is the history they don’t teach in school. i’m simply filling in the gaps."

"what about, i don’t know, actual school subjects?"

"she’s learning literacy," he argued, gesturing to her notebook.

"she spelled her name wrong five minutes ago."

"papa taught me how to fix it!" babytoru chirped.

"see? she’s improving already," he grinned. "also, i’d like to point out that this is a music history class, actually. next period is music theory, where we’ll be analyzing nicki’s rhyme schemes and cadence."

you pinched the bridge of your nose. "satoru—"

"babe, come onnnnn. you of all people should understand the importance of culture."

before you could respond, he clapped his hands together. "alright, break’s over! babytoru, let’s talk about queen. underrated era, but still solid. ‘chun-li’ was a moment. oh, and don’t even get me started on ‘good form’—"

you sighed. maybe it wasn’t entirely useless. at least she was learning something.

but when you glanced at her notes again and saw "all these beaches are my suns" written in pink crayon, you decided you needed to intervene.

[foone]

I need someone to make a video essay about Robot Alchemic Drive because this game is a specific kind of weird where there's got to be a story about why it's like this. a juicy one.

okay wikipedia says they made the engine for a canceled giant-robot anime tie-in but then made their own story, but that seems like just the surface.

This game is so weird. The plot is expecting you to be a big fan of 1970s mech anime (for a 2002 PS2 game), it's a visual novel with WAY too much voiced dialogue, the voice acting is profoundly shit, and then in-between hours of dialogue you fight giant robots with your giant robots, but you have to do it from the perspective of a highschooler who doesn't even get inside the robot. she just has to find a good vantage point and control her robot remotely.

The dialogue itself is... the protagonist befriends a homeless elementary student, who then turns against you when she learns you, too, control a giant robot, just like the one that killed the student's grandma.

Then some lady shows up and starts yelling about how all these robots are too expensive and now you have to to watch the budget while protecting tokyo from giant robot attack.

also the story starts with establishing this is an AU where all the astronauts died. all of them. as soon as you leave earth, you die. There is no life in space, there is no life possible in space, you can't even travel through space.

Then we fastforward to some "modern day" and the alien invasion begins.

Also despite this being a completely-voiced game, it lets you pick from three protagonists: two male and one female. They're all voiced, and this never matters for dialogue.

This game is some of the Most Japanese media I've seen and yet they released it in North America like 3 months after Japan. What? Who thought this would sell? (it didn't, reportedly)

Also the game has two control schemes you have to pick from at the beginning. One of them is "press forward to go forward" and the other is "you have to alternate pressing R1/R2 and L1/L2 to move each of your robot's feet individually".

Please. I need to know why this game is like this. There HAS to be a story there .

[kiyo-cant-write]

hey! sorry if i'm bothering, but can I request Silver and a Cinderella-inspired Yuu? I just think it would be really cute and I couldn't get the thought out of my head at all! thanks in advance and have a good day!

silver w/ cinderella!reader ✧･ﾟ

.

This is a cute idea!! I loved Disney's Cinderella as a kid (all three movies). I had an idea for this and I went with it, please let me know if I should make a secondary part to this or if you'd like another aspect of a "Cinderella" Yuu to be explored.

Because of a lack of preference expressed, the reader is gender-neutral in this post (my default mode of writing). I'm getting better at checking, though. Don't want another accidentally making a male Yuu they/them again (sobs).

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Summary: Silver meets someone from Royal Sword Academy at a joint school event that ultimately becomes a friend... or something more? Either way, Sebek won't shut up about it. (Silver with a Cinderella-inspired reader).

TW/CW: This is continued here.

Notes: pre to in a relationship, the reader is NOT Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them pronouns for the reader

Guest Stars: Sebek Zigvolt

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Silver

Silver has no specific opinions when he first meets [Name]. His judgments are regarding threats to Malleus, not personal thoughts.

Over time, he begins to notice that [Name] is a nice person.

Not only that, but they are more genuine than the average NRC student. It's almost a bit uncanny in the beginning.

Silver does not approach [Name] first and will need to be pursued by them or (essentially) have a meet-cute with them.

Provided one of those things happens, Silver does not mind being the friend of this nice and soft-tempered person.

They do not seem to be a threat to Malleus, so he trusts them.

Silver admires [Name]'s ability in the kitchen and with housework as both tasks were struggles for Lilia when Silver was a child.

He may ask to help you in the kitchen to learn more about food.

His taste buds are a bit damaged from Lilia's cooking.

Despite this, he is eager to learn and make better food for his dorm and family alike. He will praise his teacher as well.

Silver is a bit dense when it comes to his own emotions.

Between falling asleep at bad times and lacking emotional experiences that would make him understand "romantic" endeavors, Silver only looks the part of a fairy tale prince.

He is more likely to enter a comfortable dynamic with his potential love interest than profess his undying love for them suddenly.

A confession from Silver comes after a long period of friendship followed by a longer period of ???-ship in which everyone thinks the two are dating except for them.

Silver later realizes that [Name]'s inner strength and gentle soul are what made him care for them as much as he does.

Looking down at the light-haired sophomore, [Name] wondered what he was dreaming about. How could someone fall asleep in this field when there was so much music from the joint-campus festival? It seemed a bit odd, even for a mage school. [Name] could only think of one student at RSA whose sleeping habits were even remotely similar.

"Pardon me... Are you okay?" they asked again, crouching down and leaning over to observe his expression.

He's really not waking up...

He was rather... princely. A beauty if there ever was one. Sleeping in this field with his hair gently tousled from however he'd ended up this way... His eyes were closed and his breathing slowed.

[Name] could think of a few classmates who might call him a prince.

As they watched him, debating on whether to call out to him again, they noticed the small bunch of animals that had appeared near the boy. There were two birds, a bluebird and a cardinal, as well as a small rabbit with white fur and red eyes.

How sweet...

What [Name] wasn't expecting was to lose their balance suddenly, falling without time to save anyone from the impact. It was in that instant that the boy woke up and swiftly, in one motion, pulled [Name] close to him to prevent them from crushing the animals that had been observing him.

However, that act of kindness left the two of them in a bit of a compromising position for two strangers to be in...

Footsteps were heard growing faster with every passing second.

[Name]'s face burned red at the closeness even if there was no lustful intentions behind the resulting position. It was for the animals, it wasn't toward them of all people! This boy didn't know them.

"SILVER!?? WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?" a voice asked quite loudly as he approached the two of them. "HOW DARE YOU, HUMAN!!!!"

Silver sighed.

He was human too. Wasn't he?

Truthfully, despite being raised by a fairy, Silver thought that Sebek needed to change his attitude even if just a tad. They did go to what amounted to a majority human school. Didn't they? It was inappropriate.

"Sebek, be quiet," Silver replied, hesitating to move lest he make the situation even more compromising, "Are you alright?"

The second part of his statement was toward the fallen [Name]. They blinked a few times before nodding, trying to get to their feet without injuring themself or "Silver" (as they had learned from the louder boy, "Sebek"). They did not succeed.

Where do you put your hands in this situation? They didn't want to make it worse. Lost in the moment, they could only nod to Silver.

This is definitely something to add to my journal...

"I'm fine, thank you for protecting the animals," [Name] told Silver.

A serious expression graced Silver's face.

"I wouldn't want them to get hurt, they're innocent."

This was Silver's personal sentiment as a knight and as the little boy who played in the woods for many formative years of his life.

"SILVER. DETACH YOURSELF FROM THAT HUMAN AT ONCE."

Sebek was... persistent.

Yes... Let's go with that word rather than the couple of insults that buzzed around Silver's mind at that moment. Sebek should, in an ideal world, know better than to be rude to a stranger, a guest at their school no less.

"Right," Silver replied, standing instantly before helping [Name] to their feet before stepping away from them.

It all happened so quickly that [Name] wasn't sure how he'd done it.

"I apologize for that," Silver told them, looking just a tad sheepish, "It was not behavior befitting a knight to my Master. I hope you will forgive me."

[Name] was at a loss for words once more. Master? Knight?

"It's okay," they assured, unsure what else to say.

But, really, it was fine. No harm done. If it was for the animals then it was well worth it. Silver hadn't had any perverse thoughts by it. It was a little awkward but all's well that ends well. That was their thought.

Silver nodded for the second or perhaps the third time in the interaction as he gave Sebek a look (this made Sebek's harsh anti-human glare lessen ever-so-slightly).

"Once again, I apologize to you..." Silver trailed off, "Ah, I don't believe I've even introduced..."

In the two seconds Silver paused, Sebek cut him off.

"This is Silver and I am Sebek Zigvolt. Guards to Malleus-sama, we are here to ensure his safety," Sebek explained as if reciting something that had been taught to him from a young age.

"That we are," Silver agreed, "And you are..?"

"[Full Name]," [Name] answered, "A pleasure to meet you."

"Of course," Silver spoke, shooting a look at Sebek who was still glaring daggers at [Name] from earlier, "We have to leave now, but maybe we'll cross paths again."

A smile graced [Name]'s lips as they nodded.

What an interesting pair.

Unknown to [Name], Silver would think back on their encounter that night. Perhaps that was a first for him. It would be something for his father to tease him about for the rest of eternity, he supposed.

.

.

.

Imagine the rest yourself~

.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[colorlessjay]

A Little Elbow Grease

“You have a name to uphold”

That’s what Castiel’s father told him when he was old enough to understand and comprehend words. He was the third youngest of 9 kids, who were known to be on top of everything.

Doctors, Scientists, Business Owners, Lawyers. The Shurley's have a legacy of intelligence, dedication, and greatness, with the stray rebel here and there who eventually succumb to the family name and fall in line

All except little Castiel, the unplanned angel of Thursday who, despite his hard work, constant note-taking, and obsession with studying, has never gotten higher than a C- in his entire life. And that was because his teacher took pity (And maybe because they feared the Shurley name)

His family was generally understanding, if not a little condescending. His older sister Naomi had called him 'special'. Anna tries to be more encouraging about it, saying Castiel has a spirit like no other. Balthazar had tried to get Castiel to do more recreational hobbies, but none of it ever stuck. None of it he was ever good at or remotely interested in.

They never saw any evidence of Castiel straying from his studies, in fact, even his brother Gabriel voiced his (mocking) concern for Castiel's lack of social life. Michael tells him not to read so much in the dark, or else his eyes get worse. Raphael merely chastises him when he catches the young boy in the kitchen in the dead of night, nose-deep in notes and textbooks.

But no matter what Castiel does, he always ends up last in his class, just above the delinquents who barely go to class in the first place.

Ironic given how early Castiel gets to school every day

So Castiel takes drastic measures - asking for Lucifer's help. Despite being the black sheep of the family, Lucifer has achieved great things as a lawyer (Regardless of how... questionable his morals may be)

Lucifer's idea was... classist to put it lightly, but Castiel was desperate to ensure his last year of senior high saw him at the top of his class.

It took a bit of convincing (Lucifer was a very good lawyer) but by the start of spring, Castiel found himself enrolled in a no-name public school whose reputation was good enough to make sure Castiel wouldn't get kidnapped on the first day

What Castiel didn't account for, were the students that riddled the place. Demons of pure teen angst and rebellion

He definitely didn't expect to chase after the most stubborn, hard headed, but incredibly intelligent boy in the entire school, trying to convince him to be his study partner.

Castiel will not give up now. He's failed and fallen far enough.

Dean Winchester will be his wings

—--------------

“Get your GED and get out”

That’s what Dean's dad told him when he was old enough to pick up a wrench. After that? Nothing else really mattered anymore. His dad had a point, John couldn’t put both Sam and Dean through college, especially after they had lost everything to that damn fire. And Sam has so much more potential as a lawyer than Dean could as an engineer. The choice between who gets the college treatment was a no-brainer

John was too stubborn to ask for help beyond having Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen watch his kids while he ‘busted his ass for extra bucks’. Dean is beyond asking what his dad actually did when he goes off for weeks at a time to who knows where. He’s learned the hard way that you don’t ask a man where he gets his money.

The day after his 16th birthday, Dean practically begged Bobby to let him work part-time at his garage. He refused any gift, saying all he wanted for his birthday was steady pay and a warm bed for Sam. And like his dad, Dean was a stubborn bull. And besides, Bobby would rather Dean work somewhere he can keep an eye on the boy

During summers, Dean takes extra shifts at the garage and the Roadhouse Diner, often trying to charm his way for extra tips here and there. After school (the days Bobby forces him to go to ‘watch over Sam’), Dean would go straight back to work, even begging both Bobby and Ellen to give him a shift. And when that didn’t work, he would go around town offering to mow lawns, tend gardens, walk dogs, just about anything for an extra buck.

And all that money always went to Sammy’s college fund. Stanford ain’t cheap, and Dean was determined to give his baby brother the best opportunity he could

Rumors went around that he was an addict of some kind, willing to do anything for cash for some kind of fix. Someone even tried to offer him money to do their bidding, do their homework, be their boyfriend, and some more unsavory offers.

One suspension, two bloody fists, and three trips to the nurse’s office later, Dean made it very clear he wasn’t that type of gal.

Dean wasn’t desperate. He was hard-working. He had pride and dignity as much as anyone else who grew up with enough money to put food on their plate. Unlike any of them, Dean saw school as nothing more than an easy roadblock he had to get over to get a steadier job.

Like his dad said. Get his GED and get out

Too bad the new kid seemed to wanna put a wrench in his plans

With impossibly blue eyes, a gaze of steel, and a voice too deep and monotone for his age, Dean thinks the guy was a prototype for RoboCop.

Castiel Shurley just won’t leave him the fuck alone

-----------

I had this idea for a while

idk what to do about it but ya'll can have it

[rahuratna]

ღ Jujutsu Kaisen Series

• Nanami Kento: Relationship headcanons

Genre: Romance, angst, humor, fluff

Summary: Nanami x Reader headcanons (now a fic). Includes slow burn, pining, romance, establishing relationships, an introvert reader.

Links: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 ღ on tumblr

Beautiful art by @courtneedsleep : Nanami x Reader

• Jujutsu Academy Case Files

Genre: Fantasy AU, mystery, suspense, horror, humour, detective agency

Summary: "Welcome, Visitor, to Jujutsu Guild Academy, tucked discreetly away in the rolling foothills of the Byre Veld Mountains. Our team of expert sorcerers, now misfits and outcasts from society, gather here to train their talented students, as well as use their exceptional skills to solve cases brought to them by those who know the true nature of the Guild ... much like yourself. We invite you to place your case at their disposal. We guarantee that you won't be disappointed."

Links: Part 1

• The Transformation of Nanami Kento (complete!)

Genre: Crack, humor, fluff

Summary: An encounter with a rogue curse user leaves Nanami transformed into Pompompurin! It's now up to the first-year trio, with some help from Nanami-pom, to gain back his original form.

Links: ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch6 | ch 7 | ch 8 | ch 9 ღ on tumblr

• Ikemen Kaisen

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack, mystery, adventure.

Summary: A cursed spirit develops a massive crush on the 7:3 sorcerer while he's on a mission. Trapping him in its unique otome game domain, the spirit soon discovers that it's bitten off a lot more than it can chew with this particular jujutsu sorcerer ...

Links: ch 1 | ch 2 ღ on tumblr

• He Whose Arrows are Flowers

Genre: Mystery, Investigative, Romance, Slow Burn, Eventual smut/erotic content Summary: Nanami x Curse Analyst Reader. As a curse analyst, your work is a routine cycle that takes you between laboratory and crime scene. That is, until you are assigned to work a case alongside sorcerer Nanami Kento.

Links: Ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• He's got the look

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack, mystery.

Summary: A regular visit to the hair stylist takes a strange turn when Gojo is involved.

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• JJK: Encounters across the animeverse

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack, mystery.

Summary: The characters of JJK have close encounters with the other kind when strange portals appear within their universe ... crossovers, featuring characters from other anime appearing briefly in JJK.

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Geriatric Kaisen

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack, suspense.

Summary: Megumi returns from a day out to find that the inhabitants of Jujutsu Tech have undergone a strange transformation ...

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• This Fearless Shadow

Genre: Fantasy AU, romance, action, mystery.

Summary: Kusakabe x Illusionist Reader. Loosely based on the film 'Bajirao Mastani', a gift fic for the wonderful @jjk-eugie

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Boogie till we drop

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack, mystery.

Summary: Nanami and Ijichi are called in to handle an investigative mission requested by an unexpected client. The mission takes a strange turn when they learn that they're expected to assist in ... writing erotic fiction.

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Queen of Thorns

Genre: Action, adventure, mystery.

Summary: In the remote reaches of a Siberian peninsula, Kurosawa Akito, student of the legendary Nobara Kugisaki, learns a fundamental truth about his sensei's strength.

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• By the Gnashing of my Teeth

Genre: Horror, erotic, mystery

Summary: Famine! inspired Reader x Nanami Kento (MDNI) (Part 1 of 2)

The empty, downtrodden drudgery of your life as a salarywoman is brought to an abrupt halt when you meet your new co-worker. The enigmatic Nanami Kento ignites a hunger in you that you never dreamed possible ...

Written for the Spookinky Event hosted by the lovely @tsukimefuku !!

Links: Part 1

• In another universe, you and I ... (But it's crack)

Genre: Humour, parody, crack

Summary: A short series in which the highly attractive sorcerers of JJK find themselves in an alternate universe with you (with a twist).

Links: Part 1

ღ Jujutsu Kaisen Stand-Alone fics

• Arangetram

Genres: Romance, angst, suspense.

Summary: Post-Shibuya Nanami x Classical Dancer Desi Reader

In the aftermath of Shibuya, an injured Nanami struggles to balance his eroding self-worth with his desire to conduct his duty as a sorcerer. He finds healing in the fragrant garden of your dance.

Link: ch 1

• The Eye of a Little God

Genre: Angst, humour, mystery, character study.

Synopsis: Five different perspectives on Nanami Kento.

Link: ch 1

• To you, young sorcerer

Genre: Fluff, humour

Summary: Papamin fic written for Father's Day! Nobara suffers with cramps and feelings of inadequacy, and Nanami offers some advice, affirmation and hot tea.

Link: ch 1

• Suited up

Genre: Fluff, humour, action, angst

Summary: Another Papamin fic! Ino attempts to present himself just like the sorcerer he admires the most, with some ... regrettable consequences.

Link: ch 1

• Get that bread, sir!

Genre: Fluff, humour, crack

Summary: Written for the Foodies and Goodies challenge, created by the amazing @tsukimefuku ! Ijichi goes to get Nanami lunch, an excursion that turns into a fast-paced battle for a pork cutlet sandwich!

Link: ch 1

• The in-between

Genre: Fluff, humour, angst

Summary: Megumi needs silence and to be away from it all, at times. Yuuji and Nobara will always be waiting in the wings for when he is ready to join them again.

A short, fluffy one-shot for the first year trio.

Link: ch 1

• Thirst Trap

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack.

Summary: Ino and Yuuji unwittingly make Nanami IG-famous through a social media post. As the internet's thirst ramps up, Nanami remedies the situation by roping in the two young sorcerers once again.

Link: ch 1

• Love Thine Enemy

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack.

Summary: The JJK sorcerers find themselves faced with a slippery customer - a cursed spirit with the worst pick-up lines imaginable ...

Link: ch 1

• Good morning, Handsome

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack.

Summary: A JJK short. Gojo sends increasingly annoying 'good morning' texts and Nanami gets his revenge.

Link: ch 1

• Blue Moon

Genre: Fluff, romance, humour.

Summary: A series of occasions when the JJK sorcerers required your comforting embrace ... (x Reader)

Featuring: Gojo, Kusakabe, Nanami and Ijichi.

Link: ch 1

• Quetzalcoatlus

A gift fic for @courtneedsleep ! Happy birthday, beautiful Court! 🧡🎁

Genres: Romance, angst, humour, suspense.

Summary: Gojo x Reader. A chance mission allows you to encounter the conundrum that is Gojo Satoru.

Link: ch 1

• Tongue, Teeth, Eclipse

Summary: A little gift fic for @musubi-sama Happy birthday!

You've enlisted the services of Geto Suguru to assist you with ridding yourself of strange dreams. In the world of curses, however, nothing is as it seems ...

Link: ch 1

• Chimeral Larceny

Genre: Suspense, action, mystery

Summary: Nanami, Ijichi and Nitta foil a bank robbery with a cursed twist ...

Link: ch 1

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Miss Raven! Hope your day been good (:

(Or gonna be or is, who knows! Hope it’s good anyways)

I’ve been doing mischief known as creating a twst OC, he’s fae and at the moment of doing his age I understood that I have no idea how old they should be to be able to enroll at college!

The only full fae is Malleus(Lilia enrolled muuuch later so ain’t counting him, obviously) which means I can use him as a base, so I’d like to know if there any information that he enrolled the moment he got invitation or not?

I have a strong feeling that I saw some info on that, but I’m not his biggest fan (God I hate him), so my mind not really holding onto that, apologies for silly question, if what!

Hihi ^^ My day's been good! I had a really good bagel with cucumber dill cream cheese spread... Green for Diasomnia?/j

I know NRC is called a college, but it's called a technical school by Yana and has students of about high school to early college age, or 19-20ish by fourth year. I think we can safely assume Malleus enrolled as soon as he got his invite. In Malleus's dorm uniform vignette, Lilia says "[Malleus has] been away from Briar Valley for THREE YEARS [...]", so I assume the three years are Malleus being away for NRC schooling. The surrounding information also supports this. Firstly, we're never told anything to the contrary, and most students enrolled via normal means (if there were any abnormal means, they were usually pointed out to us by now; this would include things like Leona enrolling one year late, Lilia showing up 500 years late, and Kalim transferring in 2 months into the school year). Secondly, this timing makes sense with the time of Lilia's enrollment; he and Malleus would be going to NRC at the same time so that Lilia can serve as his mentor, guardian, and social support. It also lines up with Sebek expressing frustration that Malleus, Lilia, and Silver are at NRC, but he has not yet enrolled (which leads to development of his UM, Living Bolt). If Malleus had been at NRC for much, much longer than 3 years, it's strange that he was allowed to just... be on this remote island by himself, without any retainers. With that in mind, I think that the expected age for fae to enroll in a technical school like NRC... would vary. This is because different kinds of fae have different life spans. For example, bat fae like Lilia are expected to live around 1000 years maximum--but for dragon fae like Malleus, 1000 years is only considered the beginning of adulthood; dragon fae live for FAR longer than 1000 years.

Another thing to consider is that fae aging metrics do not translate well into human aging metrics. For example, Lilia states in book 7 that dragon fae are still considered hatchings at 200 years old, teenagers at 500, and adults at 1000. But we also learn in book 7 that Malleus is exactly 178 years old currently. That's under 200 years old, meaning that, by dragon fae standards, Malleus is still considered essentially an infant...? Yet it's still somehow possible for him to enroll at what is essentially a high school (by human standards).

Crowley states multiple times in book 7 that so long as someone appears with an invitation and is willing to learn, NRC will accept them. In earlier versions of Twst, I believe it was even proposed that Idia (a non-fae) would be a child genius and the youngest student ever at NRC. So really, I don't think it matters that much what age a fae OC "should" be at in order for them to enroll.

Before I sign off, I'd like to kindly remind everyone that while I'm fine with people expressing their opinions, I ask that we be mindful while sharing them! If it's not relevant to the ask, then do not say you "hate" a character. It comes out of left field and is a needless shock, particularly to fans of that character. If you feel you must include it, kindly watch your tone and wording! Think about how you would feel if someone randomly proclaimed, "God, I hate [insert your favorite Twst character here]" (even if it is struck out, the sentiment is still there) in an ask that is otherwise about getting writing advice or canon lore. Doesn't feel good, does it? Just "I'm not [Malleus's] biggest fan" would have been sufficient. We don't need to take it an extra step further, especially seeing as the ask itself was not Malleus-centric character critique. Thank you!!

[macgyvermedical]

I don’t know what nursing or medical student needs to hear this, but you need to take a first aid course if you have not done so. Preferably a higher level one like wilderness and remote first aid or even an EMT if you can spare the time.

Someone is going to get suddenly hurt or sick and everyone is going to look at you. And you’re not going to know why you have no idea what to do because all you’ve been doing for the past few years is learning how to take care of hurt and sick people.

The thing is, knowing what to do in the moment, being able to keep yourself and your patient safe while not making anything worse is a completely different skill than taking care of someone in a hospital or nursing facility. And its okay if you never want to do remote or on-scene medicine as a job, but everyone is going to expect you to be able to for some reason so getting some first aid skills is going to really help you in the coming years. Promise.

[lavenderdais]

AFTER THE RAIN FALLS | CHAPTER ONE

after the rain falls, the sky often becomes clearer, allowing sunlight to break through.

NANAMI KENTO X READER a/n: hi! i hope you all enjoy chapter one, thank you so much for reading!

LINK TO MASTER POST.

CHAPTER ONE:

In Japan, the rainy season, called tsuyu, typically occurs from early June to mid-July. While it doesn’t rain constantly, the likelihood of rain is higher, and sunny days are less frequent.

GOOD MORNING, TOKYO! I'm afraid we're looking at another soggy start to the week. The low-pressure system that moved in overnight has brought us some fairly intense rainfall—we've already seen about thirty millimeters since midnight, with more on the way.

The morning news hummed softly in the background as Nanami ran a hand through his hair, his reflection in the bathroom mirror staring back at him with dark, tired eyes. The weatherman’s familiar voice drifted in from the living room, accompanied by the noise of the unrelenting storm outside.

The rain had been falling steadily since about four in the morning.

Nanami knew this because he’d been awake since 3:30, listening to the gentle percussion against his apartment windows gradually intensifying into the kind of downpour that would leave himself and other commuters huddled under convenience store awnings, checking weather apps with increasing desperation.

By the time his alarm sounded at 5:15, the streets below his seventh floor window had transformed into rivers of reflected neon and headlights.

We're expecting the heaviest downpours between seven and nine AM, particularly affecting the Yamanote and Chuo lines. JR East is already reporting delays of up to fifteen minutes on several routes due to safety precautions.

Toothbrush in hand, he leaned into the hallway to catch the traffic report, brows furrowed and worry lines prominent on his forehead. Nearly every route was speckled red with congestion. He sighed, stepping back into the bathroom. Despite the growing headache that throbbed behind his eyes, he continued on with his routine, rummaging through the medicine cabinet for pain relief, swallowing the tablets with a handful of water from the sink. It was more than habitual, it was ritualistic, a constant in his life, something that he could control every morning. He’d learned long ago that consistency and preparation was the only reliable defense against chaos, whether it came in the form of natural disasters, or, corporate restructuring.

Nanami took quick, measured sips of coffee as he paced back and forth from his bedroom to the bathroom. He dressed methodically, as always, reaching for the outfit he had selected the night prior–charcoal suit, navy tie, and leather shoes that could withstand the temperamental weather.

Knotting his tie with precision, he stopped midstep, debating on cracking the sliding doors that led to a tiny balcony for a quick smoke. Tempted to take the risk, he looked at the scattered cigarettes on the coffee table, then to the rain outside, and begrudgingly, opted against it. He tucked the pack into his briefcase. Later, maybe.

The good news? We might see some clearing by the weekend, though it's still too early to make any promises. Until then, this is just the rainy season reminding us who's really in charge here in Tokyo.

He gave his briefcase a once over before moving toward the entryway where his umbrella was waiting, black and sturdy, the kind that wouldn’t betray him when the wind picked up. Just as he stepped into one shoe, he realized the TV was still on, murmuring incoherently in the background. He grunted, kicking off the shoe and making a beeline to the couch where the remote sat, cutting the last of the weatherman’s report as the screen turned dark.

Stay dry out there, and remember to drive carefully on those wet roads. Traffic and transit updates every ten minutes. Now back to you in the studio.

The train was packed with damp salarymen and students, everyone pressed together in uncomfortable solidarity. Nanami found his usual spot by the door, briefcase held firmly against his chest, and watched the city blur past through rain-streaked windows.

Monday mornings were always challenging, but Monday mornings with new hires were particularly exhausting. He’d received the email last Friday, brief and cold, with minimal information about you, who was about to become one of his (many) responsibilities: …she will be joining your team as a junior analyst. Please ensure proper onboarding procedures are followed.

Another fresh graduate, no doubt. Another eager face that would inevitably dim once she realized that financial consulting was ninety percent spreadsheets and ten percent explaining why the client’s unrealistic expectations couldn’t be met. He had trained enough new employees to recognize the pattern–initial enthusiasm, prompt disillusionment and the eventual transfer to a different department or resignation entirely.

The Gojo Financial building loomed through the rain as he emerged from Shibuya Station, its glass facade streaked and gray. Nanami’s umbrella cut through the morning rush with quiet efficiency, and he arrived at the office forty-seven minutes before his scheduled meeting with the new hire. Enough time to review her resume properly and prepare the standard orientation materials.

He settled into his chair and pulled up your file on his computer. Economics degree from Waseda University, decent grades, relevant internship experience at a smaller firm. Standard qualifications, nothing particularly remarkable. The attached photo showed a pretty young woman with hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, eyes looking directly at the camera with what appeared to be cautious optimism.

Nanami glanced at his watch. You were supposed to arrive at eight-thirty for their nine o'clock meeting. It was now 8:45.

He returned to his morning reports, working through the weekend’s accumulated emails. The rain continued its steady assault on the building, and he found himself occasionally glancing toward the elevator bank.

At 8:53, the elevator doors opened with a soft chime.

The woman who stepped out was unmistakably you, the new hire, though you looked considerably less composed than your professional headshot suggested. Your hair had escaped its attempt at neatly styled bun, damp strands framing your face, and your gray blazer bore the telltale signs of a losing battle with the morning’s deluge. You clutched a leather portfolio against your chest like a shield, a purse haphazardly slung over one shoulder, while your eyes scanned the office with barely concealed anxiety.

Nanami watched as you approached the reception desk, speaking in hushed tones to the secretary, who simply pointed in his direction without bothering to look up. You turned, and your eyes met his across the office. Even from this distance, he could see your slight wince–the universal expression of someone who knew they were late and was bracing for the consequences.

You walked toward his desk with careful, measured steps, as if sudden movements might compound your transgression. As you drew closer, Nanami noticed that despite your disheveled appearance, you maintained your posture and your shoes–sensible black pumps–showed no sign of the morning’s treacherous conditions. Prepared then, just unlucky with the weather and traffic.

“Excuse me, Mr. Nanami?” Your voice was softer than he’d expected, with a slight tremor that could have been nerves or the cold. You introduced yourself quickly, before taking a breath. “I’m so sorry I’m late; the trains were delayed because of the weather, and I–”

“It’s fine,” Nanami interrupted, promptly standing and only showing a touch of irritation by adjusting his wire rimmed glasses. “The weather is unpredictable this time of year. Please, sit down.” He gestured to the chair across from his desk, noting how you immediately straightened at his words, some of the tension leaving your shoulders.

You settled into the chair, placing the portfolio on your lap and smoothing your damp hair with one hand, now loose from the bun. Looking at you now, it was oddly charming. “Thank you for understanding. I left early, but the Yamanote line was completely stopped for twenty minutes near Harajuku.”

Nanami nodded. He’d taken a different line this morning specifically to avoid such delays–a small advantage of experience, and, of course, the weatherman. “The rainy season can be unpredictable. You’ll learn the alternative routes quickly enough.”

Something flickered in your eyes, relief, perhaps, or gratitude. “Yes, sir.”

“Just Nanami is fine.” He pulled out a folder containing your training materials and set it on the desk between them. “Before we begin, would you like some coffee? It’s going to be a long morning.”

Your face brightened. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

He stood and walked to the small break area adjacent to their section, aware of your quiet presence following a few steps behind. The coffee machine hummed to life, and steam began to rise from the brewing pot. Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance, and the rain hammered against the windows.

“How do you take your coffee?” he asked, reaching for two of the plain white mugs from the cabinet.

“Oh,” you turned your gaze from the storm to him. “Black, please, with one sugar.”

“Good choice,” he said, preparing both cups. He liked his coffee similarly, less so for the taste and more for the practical efficiency. “The coffee here is actually decent, unlike most office buildings.”

“That’s a relief,” you replied, and he caught a hint of a smile in your voice. “I was worried I’d have to find the nearest convenience store every morning.”

Nanami handed you the steaming mug. You whispered, thank you, and held the coffee in one hand while you waited for him to finish making his own. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, subtly admiring the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, as your gaze drifted across the office, a gesture that seemed unconscious, revealing the gentle curve of your neck. He glanced at your ring finger, no wedding ring, which he promptly told himself was standard information to be filed away in the recesses of his brain for team dynamics purposes.

They returned to his desk, and Nanami flipped through the documents in your training folder. “We’ll start with an overview of our current projects and your role in each one. The learning curve is steep, but manageable if you stay organized.”

You nodded, pulling a notebook and pen from your portfolio. You opened it to a fresh page and wrote the date at the top in neat, precise handwriting.

“Our primary client right now is Osaka Manufacturing,” Nanami began, sliding a project summary across the desk. “They’re looking to expand into Southeast Asian markets, but their financial projections are…” he paused, searching for the diplomatic term, “optimistic.”

“Unrealistic?” You suggested quietly, looking up from your notes.

Nanami blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Most new employees spent their first hour nodding enthusiastically at everything, afraid to voice any opinions that might be construed as criticism. 

“Exactly,” he said after a moment, adjusting his glasses. “Your job will be to help me compile the data that will guide them toward more feasible expectations.”

You made another note, then looked up at him with those careful eyes. “How do you typically handle clients who aren’t receptive to revised projections?”

It was a good question. Nanami found himself reassessing his initial assumptions about eager-but-naive new graduates.

“Carefully,” he replied. “With comprehensive documentation and alternative scenarios. We’ll go over the specific techniques as we work through the Osaka project.”

For the next few hours, they reviewed project files and client requirements. You asked thoughtful questions and took detailed notes, occasionally glancing out at the rain-soaked city when thunder interrupted their conversation. You were an attentive listener, not just the polite attention most colleagues gave, but genuine engagement with what he was saying.

“The quarterly reports are due next Friday,” he concluded, closing the final folder. “I’ll have you start with data verification for the Hiroshima account–it’s straightforward but important. Any questions so far?”

You looked down at your notebook, now filled with neat columns of information. “Just one. What time do you typically leave the office?”

Nanami glanced at his watch–already past eleven. The morning had passed more quickly than usual. He removed his glasses. “It varies. Usually around seven, sometimes later during busy periods.”

You nodded matter-of-factly, making a final note. “I’ll plan accordingly.”

Not a complaint about long hours or a request for work-life balance policies. Just practical acceptance of the job’s demands.

“Your desk is over there,” he said, pointing to an empty workstation near the window. “Mr. Yamamoto will get you set up with computer access and office supplies.”

“Thank you.” you stood, gathering your materials with the same quiet efficiency you’d displayed throughout their meeting. “I really appreciate your patience this morning, especially with my late arrival.”

“Weather happens,” Nanami replied blankly, then found himself adding, “Tomorrow’s forecast shows more rain. The 7:42 Chuo line train is usually reliable, even during delays.”

youpaused, looking slightly surprised before a tiny smile appeared on your lips, brightening your face. “Thank you. That’s very helpful.”

He found himself slightly flustered at your smile, nearly bristling. “Please be sure to ask questions. Revising mistakes can be more of a hassle instead of just asking from the get-go.”

You nodded, offering one more quick thank you as you walked toward your new desk. Nanami watched you navigate between the cubicles with careful attention to your surroundings. You paused to introduce yourself quietly to nearby colleagues, bowing politely at each introduction. Professional but not overeager. Respectful but not obsequious.

As you sat down and began to settle at your new workstation, you glanced back at him for a brief moment, catching his stare. Clearing his throat, Nanami adjusted his glasses and turned away, directing his attention to his computer, typing furiously.

Nanami stepped out for a cigarette in the late afternoon, huddled beneath an awning and engaging in meaningless conversations with coworkers. One cigarette turned to two, and soon, he found himself smoking what seemed to be an endless chain for lunch. He leaned against the building, exhaling smoke, looking through the floor to ceiling glass windows at the bustling lobby.

Then, he saw a figure exit the elevator. It was her, the newbie.

Your hair had fully dried by this point, loose around your shoulders and brushed neatly. You sat in one of the many benches scattered about, smoothing a hand across your skirt as you crossed one leg over the other. You produced a cellphone from the purse that rested by your feet.

Tapping ash from the cigarette, his eyes watched as you began tapping away, a small smile on your face. Occasionally, you would pause and look out at the rain, your face softening as you watched the water streak down the glass. In those moments, something wistful crossed your features–a brief vulnerability that you quickly tucked away as you returned to your phone. Using its reflection, you reapplied lipstick, brushed stray hair from your face, until a young man approached her. He wasn’t unfamiliar, instead he was just another colleague whose name escaped Nanami at the moment. you stood to speak with him, your face bright. Nanami studied your profile as you spoke, noticing that you had a habit of tilting your head slightly when in conversation, creating a delicate line from your temple to your jaw.

Nanami wasn’t sure how much time had passed until you met his gaze mid-conversation with their coworker. He blinked, his neck growing hot as he was caught, again. He held steady, looking back at you straight-faced, until you smiled and lifted a hand to mouth hello. Despite the window that separated them, he felt the chill in his expression thaw. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and nodded, turning away as soon as their colleague noticed your distraction.

Professional curiosity, he told himself. Nothing more.

Outside, the rain continued its barrage against the windows as the hours slogged by, the sound of keyboards and distant rumbles of thunder competing in a steady, endless rhythm.

It was nearly eight when Nanami made the executive decision to head home for the day. Others remained in the office, although the numbers were beginning to dwindle.

He was exhausted, as he always was, the spreadsheets and data rattling around in his head to the point of nauseum. As he made his way down to the lobby, he exhaled, looking at the worsening weather. He felt for the pack of cigarettes he tucked away into the breast pocket of his coat, a tinge of relief pricking at his chest, and he decided to give it a few minutes before making the mad dash to the station.

From the corner of his eye, once again, he noticed her, realizing he didn’t look for you as he left the office. He’d just assumed that you left hours ago. Their eyes met, and he dipped his head in polite acknowledgement. you smiled, returning the gesture, and he found himself wedged in the social dance of whether he should approach you or not. Ultimately, he decided not to, and hoped that you wouldn't approach him either.

Nanami began to open his umbrella as he moved through the revolving doors, aware that you were making similar motions with your own. Hers was green, and clearly flimsy. One wrong gust of wind and it would be turned inside out. He thought little of it once outside, snapping his open and trudging toward the crosswalk.

He peered over his shoulder, catching one last glimpse of her. You were buttoned into a smart raincoat, green umbrella open, walking in the opposite direction, away from him. Their eyes met again, and as you smiled at him awkwardly from afar, the walking sign flashed on, and he turned away.

Nanami groaned, dragging himself down the hallway to his apartment, his shoes sloshing with every step. He tucked his briefcase under his arm, balancing a bag of takeout, beer, and umbrella in the other as he twisted the key into the lock. Shouldering the door open, he stepped inside, finally crossing the threshold. He kicked off his shoes and umbrella, dropping the takeout and beer on the counter. Out of the wet gloom, and into the warm solace of home.

There were more delays on the commute home, the damp salarymen and students having turned into even soggier variants of themselves from earlier in the morning.

Grabbing a beer, he turned on the TV, shrugging off his jacket and placing his briefcase safely beside the couch as he made his way to the bathroom. He took a quick shower, occasionally sticking his arm from behind the curtain to reach the beer he left perched on the edge of the sink, taking long sips.

A few hours later, Nanami sat beside the coffee table, leaning casually on his palm, paying only half attention to the drone of the late night news anchor and flashy headers filling the screen. He’d changed into an old university T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair falling messily across his forehead. He took the final sip of his third beer and cast a lazy glance at the time glaring at him from the corner of the screen. It only reinforced the obvious: it was late.

He shifted awkwardly, tensely, rolling his shoulders and stretching his back with a yawn. When he finally rose to collect the empty beer cans and takeout containers, he made a soft groan, something like displeasure or irritation. Another casualty of a long day at work, especially the more sedentary parts.

The sound of his phone buzzing broke through the dull, fake cheery drone of the latest repetition of the week’s expected weather. After cleaning up in the kitchen, he went to retrieve his phone. It was a notification from work, go figure. You were online, currently editing a spreadsheet. He had tried to make it a habit to avoid work when he was officially done for the day, especially when he wasn’t getting paid, but of course, that was easier said than done. He scrolled through your edits, you’d been working for quite some time. He almost felt bad, in a way.

Whether it was from the alcohol or some other nameless emotion, he clicked on your profile and prepared to type out a message to her.

You don’t have to work this late, you know.

He quickly deleted it, and then rewrote it. He typed and deleted several variations of the same message nearly 10 times, until you pinged him.

Hello! I apologize for the late message. I noticed your icon typing in the chat and I just wanted to follow up. I see you’re viewing the Hiroshima account spreadsheet that I’ve been editing, did I do something wrong? Thank you so much!

Shit.

At best, he felt like a micromanaging asshole. At worst, he felt like a creepy micromanaging asshole.

Embarrassed, he typed a blasé response in return. You replied with a cheery and overly thankful message, far too many exclamation points for his liking, and he simply sent a thumbs up.

As he settled into bed, he turned on the AC and sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He reached for his phone, mindlessly tapping through a few apps before swiping to the work channel. He scrolled through his emails and other notifications, still kicking himself as he reread their conversation. He stopped mid-scroll, looking at your profile. You had already updated your photo. It was newer than your headshot–you were smiling wide, your face lovely, and it was cropped in a specific way that made him think it was a group photo at some point. Maybe with friends?

Your icon was yellow, idle. Last seen 24 minutes ago…

Nanami locked his phone and turned onto his side. The room was silent, except for the rain.

[aisiedaisie]

Heyo!

I noticed you take asks, but after lurking for a bit, I saw you haven’t done any yet. No worries if you’re not ready! But do you write _ x reader? Because I was thinking it’d be a super cute idea if the reader has a crush on their TA, who happens to be one of the Marauders, in the most boring class ever.

Oh, and if you haven’t had any designated anons yet, can I be ☁️?

Hello hello~ !

I do take asks!!! This is actually the first ask I’ve received and I am so happy. Thank you for sending it in and of course you can be my ☁️ anon! As for _ x reader fics… I’ve actually never written a reader fic before but I’ve tried my best! I think it leaned more gender neutral more than female reader, but I hope its okay.

Also, as someone who normally writes in third person, second person is difficult!!!

TA! Sirius Black x GN! Reader WC: 1.1k

You can’t remember why you signed up for this class. Maybe you thought it would be easy? Or even interesting…

But no.

The only thing remotely worth your time is the observation lab every Friday. The rest? Well, that’s just a blur of uncomfortable lectures, ticking clocks, and the distant hum of other students’ barely contained frustration.

No one would expect you to have perfect attendance. Most of the class doesn't even bother showing up, since attendance isn’t mandatory. They only show for tests, and even then, some skip those. You can’t help but wonder if they dropped the class, or if they just don’t care anymore.

Unfortunately— or, depending on your perspective, fortunately— something other than the lecture has caught your attention. You can’t help but quietly admire the TA at the front of the room, his presence oddly magnetic amidst the dull hum of the class.

Sirius Black is as punctual as you—if not more. He’s always there before anyone else, scanning IDs with a detached efficiency as students shuffle past. Then he settles into the front row, laptop open, his fingers dancing over the keys. He posts notes on Canvas for the absentees, though you suspect it’s more out of routine than necessity, since the lectures are always recorded and uploaded that evening.

He doesn’t seem like the type who’d voluntarily spend his free time sitting through intro-level astronomy lectures. With his shoulder-length, wavy dark hair—often loosely pulled into a half-bun—and his signature worn black leather jacket, he looks more like someone who should be out of a 50s film than a lecture hall. His casual blue jeans and plain white T-shirt complete the look, giving him a James Dean vibe that seems a little too effortless, a little too cool for this room.

You try to refocus, your eyes drifting back to the lecture. Professor Fancourt’s voice drones on in a monotonous lull, and he scribbles another formula on the whiteboard. “With this equation, please find the orbital velocity of Neptune,” he instructs, his back turned as he walks toward the desk by the door where Sirius is absorbed in his typing.

You glance back at the formula, but it might as well be a foreign language.

You’ve never been good at math, and when you signed up for Basic Astronomy, you didn’t think it would be an all-out battle of numbers. You thought you’d be learning about planets, maybe some stars, a little science history. But math? Why did they have to throw that in?

A knot tightens in your stomach as Professor Fancourt starts pacing. You know what’s coming. It’s only a matter of time before he picks someone—randomly, of course—to come up to the whiteboard and answer the question. You have no idea what’s going on with that equation, but you’re pretty sure it’s going to be you.

You don’t want to be called on. Not today.

With a resigned sigh, you gather your things, leaving your notebook open on the desk. A quick break—just enough to clear your head.

You make your way to the TA’s desk. Sirius looks up as you approach, his brow quirking in mild surprise.

“Look at that—someone’s actually moving from their desk,” he teases, and you manage a tired, half-hearted smile, nodding in acknowledgment.

“Just need a break,” you mutter, pulling your ID from your pocket and handing it to him.

He scans it without a word, his fingers drumming absentmindedly on the scanner. “If you’re grabbing something, make it quick,” he says, his voice laced with a playful chuckle. “And don’t forget—bring me something back, yeah?” He adds a wink for good measure, making the suggestion feel almost like a dare.

You step out into the hallway, the noise of the lecture hall fading behind you. For a moment, the weight of the class lifts from your shoulders, and you allow yourself to relax. You focus on the vending machine in front of you, half-stalling, half-actually needing something to take your mind off the dull lecture and the growing pressure of the equation you still can’t wrap your head around.

You scan the rows of snacks—chips, candy bars, granola. You grab the chocolate bar you always go for when you need something quick. You buy it, but as you clutch the candy and step away from the machine, you remember Sirius’ words, his playful tone still echoing in your mind. “And don’t forget—bring me something back, yeah?”

You pause, eyeing your snack. An impulse hits you, and you decide to grab a pack of sour gummies from the row below. It’s different from what you’d normally get, but you figure it’s a safe bet. Plus, you’d hate to go back empty-handed after he asked, even if he was joking.

With both snacks in hand, you head back into the lecture hall. The familiar hum of the room greets you, but this time it feels different. The pressure in your chest has lifted, replaced with an unexpected calm. You’re grateful to find the professor already discussing the next topic when you return.

You make your way to your seat, but before you sit down, you glance toward the front of the room. Sirius is still hunched over his laptop, typing with the same detached concentration as always. His attention is on the screen, but when he hears you approach, he looks up just in time to catch your eye.

You raise the pack of sour gummies slightly, as if to confirm you heard him. “Brought you something.”

His eyebrow quirks in surprise, but the smirk that follows is unmistakable. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a quiet chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned. You actually came through.” His gaze flickers between the gummies and your face, and you can’t help but feel a little self-conscious under his attention.

“They’re for you,” you say, offering him the pack. “Hope you like them.”

Sirius grins, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment as he takes the gummies. “Thanks. This’ll make the rest of this lecture bearable,” he says with a wink. “Thanks, love.”

You smile, a little shy, your cheeks flushing at the nickname. You return to your seat as he rips open the pack, popping a gummy in his mouth. The subtle exchange is enough to keep your mind from wandering back to the looming equation on the board.

The rest of the class goes by in a blur.

Professor Fancourt drones on as usual, but you don’t mind so much now. For once, you actually feel... lighter. Sirius hasn’t left his post at the front of the room, but every so often, you catch him glancing back at you with a quiet grin, as if he knows exactly how much of an effect he’s having on you. It turns your cheeks even darker, and your eyes quickly dart away when you make eye contact.

By the time the class ends, you’re no longer dreading the idea of coming back next week. In fact, you might even look forward to it a little, and not just because of the observation lab on Friday.

[swaps55]

I had to get up off the mat and attend a conference today. I was dreading it. Woke up at 3:30 this morning with a knot in my stomach heavy enough to be a murder weapon, and now I had to talk to people who possibly voted against my existence and act like it was fine.

But a couple of things happened today.

I work in a fairly niche industry, and in the sessions I attended today, people were talking about solving problems.

In one session, the speaker talked about discovering an accessibility problem on their college campus. This university is in a remote area, and students without cars weren't enrolling because public transit to get there took four hours.

So a group of people sat down in a room to try and solve the problem, afraid they'd run into roadblocks with costs and infrastructure. To their delight, they realized that by moving a bus stop and adjusting bus schedules by 15 minutes, they could take that 4 hours down to 90 minutes.

This speaker was so excited about creating better access for students who needed it. They'd found a solution for people who wanted to learn but couldn't due to lack of transportation.

In another session, a panel of people talked about how they integrate art into public buildings, and how the public entity, building designer, builder, and artist worked together to create art that belonged to a community, and how all the challenges to making it happen were worth solving. The building they did their case study on was beautiful.

In a later session, a room full of higher education professionals who manage transportation on their campuses talked about the growing need for EV charging stations on campus. It's a surprising complex and complicated challenge in terms of energy supply, infrastructure, cost, planning, etc. There are no easy answers on how to do it.

A few made the observation that by providing chargers, they'd accidentally wound up in the energy business, where they didn't think universities should be.

"Yes we should," one of them said. He went on to remind us that yes, we could expect students and faculty could go home to charge their cars instead of doing it on campus. But those are also the worst time to plug into the grid. It's overloaded. Solar energy can't handle it, so it taps into fossil fuels. It's dirty energy. And he wasn't satisfied for making it someone else's problem. "We don't have to be in the energy business. But it's better for the environment if we are. It's better for the future. We should be in the energy business, because it's the right thing to do."

All day I was surrounded by people who put their professional energy into solving problems, not because it would make them rich, but because they were problems that needed to be solved, and they were the ones who took it upon themselves to solve them.

And...I felt better.

After the electric vehicle panel, I thanked the person who made a plea for the right thing to do, because I felt a little less despair after hearing it. He smiled at me and said, "Yesterday was rough. But 48 million people in this country stood up and did the right thing. That's a lot of people."

On a lot of days to come that might not feel like enough. But in your city, in your town, in your state, there are still people who are taking on challenges and standing up to do the right thing, for both the small things and the big things.

It's not going to be easy. But I'm going to be one of them.

[reina-tries-2-write]

The Space Between Sounds

Chapter 1: Unfamiliar Territory

SYNOPSIS: What will your first day at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech entail?

WC: 3.2K

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The story switches between your POV and Toge's between the asterisk cuts. Any descriptions of sign language will be referencing ASL not JSL since I don’t know it. This is my first serious work so I hope you enjoy!

masterlist - next

You step off the train onto the platform in Tokyo, stomach churning with anxiety. The station is noisy, louder than you expected and the ambient volume is a lot to take in. The buzzing and humming is unlike anything you’ve ever heard before and it feels like electricity is running through you.

Scanning the crowd in the station, your eyes finally land on the person you’re looking for. He’s not hard to spot since he’s easily over six feet tall and wearing a blindfold which only makes him stand out further. You walk over and greet him which he eagerly reciprocates before leading you out of the station.

The two of you don’t talk as you make your way through the massive city that you are spending most of your time gawking at. You lived in a remote village and had never seen a building taller than four stories so the city was quite the shock for you. It was beautiful and a lot more colorful and busy than you expected which was honestly a little overwhelming but enjoyable nonetheless. The towering skyscrapers reflected the mid morning sun in a dazzling display that sparkled in your vision as you took in the colorful lights and people of the city.

Today is your move in day at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech and you are incredibly anxious about it. Sure, anyone would be nervous about moving five hours from home for university but you have an extra reason to be nervous.

Aside from missing the first month of classes, the thing about you is…

You’re deaf.

You can read lips and speak fine, or at least well enough to be understood, but you still battle a communication barrier. It can be quite frustrating at times as well. When people find out you’re deaf but can read lips, they often exaggerate their mouth movements as they speak which only makes it harder for you to understand them.

You find yourself nodding and smiling along with strangers quite often, having absolutely no idea what they are saying to you.

Back home, your friends Mari and Kai were the only ones who weren’t weird about you being deaf and took the time to learn sign language with you. You had a blast teaching them in middle school and the three of you were super close throughout the rest of middle and high school.

The three of you went off to separate colleges but promised to do your best to keep in touch despite being so far apart. You were definitely going to stay in contact with then since they’re your best friends, number one supporters, and honestly, the best people in your life. They’re more like family really.

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts of your friends and back into your anxious reality as the blindfolded man, Gojo, lead you up a dark cobbled path onto campus.

As you walked closer and closer, the buzzing, humming, and crackling in your ears got louder. Despite being deaf, you can hear cursed energy, and is louder the stronger it is. That being said, Gojo is pretty damn loud and so is the campus.

Regardless of the volume, it is really nice, set in the woods just inside the city and has beautiful traditional architecture. There are several different types of housing buildings on the campus along with student housing of course.

There is also a large training area with multiple accompanying buildings, and more official looking buildings where classes and other meetings are probably held, in the middle of campus.

There are some nice secluded corners of the campus too with ponds and shrines and small places to spend time in nature.

Gojo leads you to a dorm building and you take a deep breath of the crisp September air before walking up the three wooden steps. After the front door closes behind you, you sigh lightly in relief at the welcome, slightly quieter atmosphere.

Your room is nothing crazy fancy but it’s still very nice. Your belongings have already been delivered and are neatly sitting on the wooden floor in the middle of the room.

All of the furniture was wood but was in very good condition, clearly new and well taken care of. The bathroom was pretty plain, white tile and vanity, a shower with a small bench inside, and a small cabinet under the sink. You take in the warm wood of the room, breathing in the smell of varnish and a fresh citrus-y cleaner. The only noise in the room was the loud crackling and buzzing of Gojo’s cursed energy blaring in your ears.

After looking around, you turn to him to await further instruction, having no idea what you’ll be doing today.

“Alright! Now I’ll give you a quick tour of campus and then you can meet the other first years.” He tells you.

You nod your head nervously and follow him out of the dorm. Despite the fact you are able to speak, you prefer not to. Mari and Kai had described your voice to you on one occasion and, through no fault of their own, made you extremely self conscious about it. You knew you didn’t sound normal and had what is called a ‘deaf accent’ which only made you even more different. Needless to say, you never speak unless you absolutely have to.

You hated the way people reacted when you did speak— the way their eyebrows would knit together, and their smiles would falter, told you everything you needed to know. It was better not to try. Better to just be silent. Stay in the background.

Gojo takes you around campus and explains some day to day activities, giving you a mini version of the orientation that you obviously missed. Walking by the training arena, you spot four people at work. Well, three people and a panda to your utter surprise.

Noticing your intrigue, Gojo explains that they are the other first years and that you’ll get to meet them soon. You watch a guy with platinum blond hair and the panda goofing off which makes the girl cross her arms and shake her head as if to fake disdain for their antics while the other guy laughs along.

They all clearly knew each other pretty well at this point and that only made you feel even more excluded. Not only were you going to have to learn how to read them, get to know them, and be accepted, but you were going to have to figure out how to communicate without talking if possible. You didn’t want them to think any differently of you.

Well, more than they initially would.

Were you going to be able to fit in with them? What were they going to be like? Particularly the panda. Was he able to talk? Would you be able to read him? What if you couldn’t?

After a tour of the buildings, Gojo lead you down the stairs into the arena where the other students were still training. He greets them and instructs them to come over to meet you. The humming-buzzing noise gets louder as they approach and you are able to tell that the taller guy is the loudest which only makes you more nervous. He’s almost as loud as Gojo and you know he’s freaky powerful.

Your only goal today was to try and fit in. Okay just get through introductions without looking like an idiot. If you can do that then maybe, just maybe, this whole new life— your fresh start— wouldn’t be so terrifying. Yeah. You got this. You had to. You couldn’t survive four years alone without anyone who understood you. Back home it was so easy to slip into the background unnoticed. But there were so few of you here you had to fit in. You’d just be a burden to them if you couldn’t. You had to be seen— useful for once.

You get increasingly nervous as they all stand around you and you begin to fiddle with your bracelet, plucking at the beads with shaky fingers as Gojo introduces you to them, simply saying your name and explaining that you’re deaf.

You wished he would have said more and you looked up at him, eyes pleading to give a better explanation. You desperately wanted to fit in. But he didn’t look over at you.

You give everyone a timid wave and notice the guy with platinum blond hair seems to take particular interest in you, his thin brows raised curiously. Unfortunately for you, he’s got a high collared sweater covering his mouth so you won’t be able to read his lips.

Everyone goes around and introduces themselves to you but, as usual, you have no idea what their names are. New words you’ve never seen spoken before, names in particular, were very difficult for you to lip read.

The girl seems a bit standoffish, crossed arms and raised brow, but looks relatively happy to have another woman around nonetheless as she looks you up and down with a bit of approval. You get the feeling she’s pretty intense and despite having the least amount of cursed energy, you’re most definitely intimidated by her presence and sizing you up.

The taller guy seems pretty tired, eye bags and slouched posture, and a bit shy due to his timid wave and smile. But he gives you the impression that he’s pretty easy going and approachable despite the massive amount of buzzing cursed energy he’s struggling to control.

The panda eagerly introduces himself but since you’ve never exactly spoken to a panda before, you have no idea what he says at all. He then gestures to the blond guy and seemingly introduces him since he doesn’t speak to you. Or you don’t think he does anyway. He gives you an eager wave, eyes crinkling with his assumed smile.

Great.

You still had no idea who any of them were. Not to mention, you’re particularly anxious about how you’re going to communicate with the guy who covers his mouth. Hopefully that wasn’t a regular thing with him. Could he even speak? The panda did introduce him and for all you knew, he could be deaf too. You highly doubted that though. He would have signed to you if he was, right?

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

Gojo told us that the final first year would be arriving today and we were all curious as to who they would be. I got genuinely a bit disappointed at having yet another person who wouldn’t understand me but that’s just how things are for me. Always have been, always will be.

We were in the arena for afternoon training when we heard Gojo come in. With him is the new student, another girl to Maki’s clear intrigue. The pair make their way down the stairs and we meet them at the bottom for introductions.

“Hey guys! This is our final first year Y/N! One important note is that she’s deaf but she can read lips so we’ll do introductions now!” Gojo chirps in explanation.

She gives us a shy smile and wave before continuing to fiddle with the bracelet around her left wrist. She looked absolutely terrified of being here, out of her element and around people who she clearly couldn’t understand. She nodded and smiled along with everyone’s introductions but I know she had no idea what we were saying.

I’m very used to getting that look when I speak. The awkward smile and glimmer of confusion in their eyes, stiff and nervous body language, being obviously uncomfortable and suddenly reserved— I know all the tells.

But something about her quietness was different. It was like she was escaping into her world of silence whereas my quiet was just something I was used to. Something that just inherently came with me.

I felt genuinely bad that she wasn’t understanding but of course there wasn’t anything I could say to help the situation. Panda introduced me and I did my best to be welcoming and approachable. I could tell she had extra no idea about Panda and I, probably because she’d never spoken to a panda and it was difficult to read his lips. Well, snout. Whatever.

I’ll have to do a proper introduction with her later when I can type or write something up. I didn’t want her to feel isolated. I know what that’s like too.

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

After the very unhelpful introductions, Gojo tells them to resume their training and says that you can just watch for the time being as the allotted afternoon training time was almost over. You nodded and sat down on one of the benches as the others continued.

The girl wielded a polearm and was clearly very talented with it, sparring with the Tired Guy who’s weapon of choice was a katana. The Panda and Blond Guy didn’t wield weapons and instead goofed off a bit and worked on their physical fitness, doing a few laps around the track and the like.

Training ended a little bit before dinner time and you walked back to the dorms with the others, behind them on the dirt path. Blond Guy looked back at you a couple times, his expression hard to read and you hoped he wasn’t being judgmental even though he most likely was.

You weren’t very hungry due to the large meal you’d eaten on the train a few hours ago so you simply headed off to your room to unpack. Plus you wanted an escape from the loud buzzing of cursed energy that was going to take some getting used to.

You started with your litany of clothes, filling up your closet before you started on the mess of boxes. You hadn’t exactly organized them very well in your rush to pack and you had to dig through them to find everything you needed as you went.

The room quickly turned into a mess, items scattered all over the place as you looted through boxes and simply dumped a few of them out on your bed to rifle through the contents.

But a couple hours later and your room was complete, reflecting your bedroom back home, your style, and personality as you liked it to. It was an extension of yourself in a way and you felt much more at home now that it was decorated and the like.

Okay. Nice and organized and just like home. Yeah. This is good.

It was now your new sanctuary in this new and honestly overwhelming place. Despite your orientation, you were still pretty clueless as to what was going on around here and you struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the place.

It was well after dinner time when you got hungry and thankfully, one of the few things you understood was that the kitchen was communal and you had free reign to use whatever you’d like unless it was clearly marked with someone’s name.

You made yourself a simple sandwich and as you finished, you heard the buzzing increase like someone was walking toward you. This noise was more of a humming that wasn’t overwhelming and had an almost pleasant pitch. Like a machine quietly whirring as it worked intently on its task.

Cursed energy noises— that was your one and only auditory cue as to your surroundings and since most everyone had some amount of cursed energy, you learned to tell where people were relative to you.

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

I ran into Y/N later that evening in the kitchen on my way to get something to drink. She had her back turned to me as she prepared something on the counter and as much as I wanted to approach her, I didn’t want to scare her or anything by suddenly appearing or tapping her shoulder.

So I stood there a bit oddly as I contemplated how I wanted to approach but a few seconds later, she turned around. Thankfully she didn’t look surprised or scared about my presence and I chalked it up to her having felt my footsteps as I walked in or something. That or she just wasn’t a jumpy person and was used to others randomly appearing.

She looked really troubled, her brows furrowed at seemingly nothing and her shoulders slouched as she held a blue ceramic plate with a simple sandwich on it.

Looking up at me, she froze, eyes wide for a second.

Did I scare her? Was there something intimidating about me? Was it because it was just the two of us in here? I didn’t want to be threatening.

She blinked a few times before she gave me an awkward smile before her expression fell even further than it was before.

I did my best to ask if she was okay but she didn’t pick up on it immediately. But after a few seconds, she understood and shrugged her shoulders in answer before looking down at the plate in her hand, expression conveying some sadness among other things.

She holds her hand up in an odd goodbye of sorts, almost as if to stop me from asking or saying anything before she scampered off to her room, shutting the door loudly.

What was going on in her head? Was I not as approachable as I thought? Or was something else going on? She probably had a very overwhelming day and another social interaction might be too much for her right now. I wasn’t offended at her awkward departure, I was just worried and confused about what she was thinking. I didn’t want her to feel isolated here.

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

Turning around, sandwich in hand, you saw Blond Guy in the kitchen behind you. He gave you a smile and wave before his expression changed. His brows furrowed and his head tilted to the side ever so slightly.

Your eyes widened as you froze in place.

How were you gonna communicate with him? The one person around here that you can’t understand at all. Was he gonna think you were weird for smiling and waving and gesturing instead of talking? Would you be able to fit in here with him?

He pointed to you and then gave you a hesitant thumbs up. Your own brows furrowed in confusion before you realized he was asking if you were okay.

Are you okay? No, not really. You were overwhelmed and exhausted and hungry and terrified of what tomorrow was going to be like.

But you give him an awkward smile before shrugging your shoulders and diverting your gaze from his violet eyes to the sandwich on your plate.

You notice what looks like a frown on his face, again you still couldn’t see his mouth, but the rest of his face conveyed it fine.

Oh god, what is he thinking? Does he think you’re weird? Does he not like you? Is he scared to try and communicate with you?

You hold your hand up briefly as a goodbye of sorts before sheepishly heading back to the quiet of your room.

The weight of the day settled onto your shoulders as you shut the door behind you. For a moment, you stood there, leaning your forehead against it, letting the quiet calm you down.

Finally, a space where you didn’t have to try so hard.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Philip Holsinger at TIME:

On the night of Saturday, March 15, three planes touched down in El Salvador, carrying 261 men deported from the United States. A few dozen were Salvadoran, but most of the men were Venezuelans the Trump Administration had designated as gang members and deported, with little or no due process. I was there to document their arrival. For more than a year, I have been embedded throughout El Salvador’s society, working on a book chronicling the country’s transformation. From the huts of remote island fishermen to the desk of the President, from elite homicide detective units to elementary school classrooms, I have interviewed government officials and everyday people, collecting stories that would shock Stephen King. I’ve stood in classrooms full of happy students which not long ago were empty, because children here once learned early that schools were places to be raped or recruited. I’ve interviewed killers in prison and sat with them face-to-face. As I stood on the tarmac, an agent with the U.S. Department of Homeland Security's ICE Special Response Team told me that some of the Venezuelans had weakly attempted to take over their plane upon landing. It wasn’t unusual for detainees to try to make a last stand, the agent said, guarding the doorway to the plane at the top of the gangway stairs. “They began to try to organize to overthrow the plane by screaming for everyone to stand up and fight. But not everyone was on board,” the agent said, cautioning me to be careful because some of the Venezuelans would fight once they were offloaded. 

Even if not fighting, almost all the detainees came to the door of the plane with angry, defiant faces. It was their faces that grabbed me, because within a few hours those faces would completely transform. The Venezuelans emerging from their plane were not in prison clothes, but in designer jeans and branded tracksuits. Their faces were the faces of guys who in no way expected what they first saw—an ocean of soldiers and police, an entire army assembled to apprehend them. One of the alleged organizers of the attempted overthrow fought the U.S. agents on the plane, cursing the Americans, the Salvadorans, President Nayib Bukele himself. El Salvador’s Minister of Defense, René Merino, who had been standing on the tarmac at the bottom of the gangway, rushed aboard, dragged the guy to the gangway himself, and flung him into the waiting hands of black-masked guards.

[...] Around 2 a.m., the convoy of 22 buses, flanked by armored vehicles and police, moved out of the airport. Soldiers and police lined the 25-mile route to the prison, with thick patrols at every bridge and intersection. For the few Salvadorans, it was a familiar landscape. But for a Venezuelan plucked from America, it must have appeared dystopian—police and soldiers for miles and miles in woodland darkness. The Terrorism Confinement Center, a notorious maximum-security prison known as CECOT, sits in an old farm field at the foot of an ancient volcano, brightly lit against the night sky. I’ve spent considerable time there and know the place intimately. As we entered the intake yard, the head of prisons was giving orders to an assembly of hundreds of guards. He told them the Venezuelans had tried to overthrow their plane, so the guards must be extremely vigilant. He told them plainly: Show them they are not in control. [...]

Inside the intake room, a sea of trustees descended on the men with electric shavers, stripping heads of hair with haste. The guy who claimed to be a barber began to whimper, folding his hands in prayer as his hair fell. He was slapped. The man asked for his mother, then buried his face in his chained hands and cried as he was slapped again. After being shaved, the detainees were stripped naked. More of them began to whimper; the hard faces I saw on the plane had evaporated. It was like looking at men who passed through a time machine. In two hours, they aged 10 years. Their nice clothes were not gathered or catalogued but simply thrust into black garbage bags to be thrown out with their hair. They entered their cold cells, 80 men per cell, with steel planks for bunks, no mats, no sheets, no pillow. No television. No books. No talking. No phone calls and no visitors. For these Venezuelans, it was not just a prison they had arrived at. It was exile to another world, a place so cold and far from home they may as well have been sent into space, nameless and forgotten. Holding my camera, it was as if I watched them become ghosts.

Time Magazine has a report on how the Venezuelans deported to El Salvador’s infamous CECOT prison as a result of Donald Trump’s anti-American misuse of the Alien Enemies Act, many of whom were wrongly deported there since they had no gang ties of any sort.

[annabthesolitarywriter]

More Boromir headcanons (pt.2)

**Boromir as a boy-dad**

So many people, including myself, primarily think of Boromir as a girl-dad. As I have already explained in my main Boromir headcanon post, Boromir marries my OC Idhrildin of Anórien in the year 3020 of the Third Age and they have four children, three girls and one boy. In this post, I will be talking a little bit about Boromir's relationship with his son and how it differs from the relationship he has with his daughters.

Boromir's son, Berenor, is the baby of the house. He is born in FoA 17, and, contrarily to many nobles, Boromir is not thrilled because he has a son. He is thrilled simply because he has a new child and his joy turns to worry as soon as he is informed that Idhrildin is not doing as well as it is expected. He takes care of his newborn son while Idhrildin recovers and also takes care of him during her frequent bouts of illness during the following two years. When she dies, he is inconsolable but knows that his children need him, especially Berenor. Idhrildin dies when he is just two and, as a result, he does not really remember her and he is raised by Boromir as a single dad. His sisters—especially Findelis "Lis"—help him out, but Boromir does not want to overburden his daughters and does most of the raising himself. The first five years or so are definitely the hardest. He misses his wife terribly (obviously) and feels like he has no idea what he is doing. He is going through the motions and, although he tries his best to be a good dad, he feels like he is falling short. He is actually doing excellent, but he does not see it that way.

He is grateful that his wife helped him improve his cooking and house-management skills because those really come in handy. He has servants and people managing the household, but he and Idhrildin have always encouraged their children not to be too reliant on others doing things for them and he wants his son be able to provide for himself too. As such, he teaches him how to dress on his own, how to clean his own room and how to wash his own clothes and, by the age of ten, Berenor is perfectly capable of doing all these things without his dad having to remind him about it.

This completely goes against the Southern Gondorian custom of pampering male heirs of noble families and some people indeed criticize Boromir for his oddities but most of his quirks are dismissed as they are perceived as the nonsensical actions of a grieving man. So, in a way, he is excused.

While, as Lord of Osgiliath and Prince of Anórien, he is entitled to the protection of his own personal guard, Boromir also strongly believes that anyone—regardless of background or social status—should be given the tools to defend themselves and teaches his children basic defense techniques.

Out of his three daughters, Findelidrin "Idy" is the one who is more eager to learn about the military and how things work in the army. She is the spunky, rebel, sassy child after all. Findelis "Lis" is a quick learner, but she is not comfortable around weapons and only uses them when strictly necessary. Idhrilwen is too pure a soul to like anything even remotely related to war and, for her, it is a struggle to even pick up a knife. She is scared of war and sticks to helping people out.

Berenor takes after him and plays with wooden swords all the time during his childhood. He much prefers playing with swords to studying and has to be persuaded to attend his classes. He finds them boring and has trouble completing his assignments not because he is stupid, but because of his lack of interest in most things he is taught.

Lis writes most of his essays and Berenor only alters a few words so that his tutors are more easily fooled. He changes and adjusts his attitude as he grows up and, while I suppose he will never be the equivalent of an A student, he starts showing more interest and willingness to commit to his studies when he hits puberty. I guess he matures a lot during that time, which is fair, to be honest. The time he spends with Eönwë and his baby "cousins" also affect him pretty deeply in a good way. Boromir and Eönwë are definitely his biggest influences, while he sees little of Faramir. He does respect and love his uncle, but Faramir is a bit busy with this own things, so I do not think they will interact as much. Nevertheless, Faramir does love all of his brother's children and he does get to spend some time with Berenor whenever Boromir and his family visit Ithilien. I feel Berenor finds Faramir intimidating because he rarely smiles and always seems angry. He does not know the details of what Faramir went through—Boromir never told him—and thinks his presence upsets his uncle for some reason. As I said, they do get to spend some time together, but Berenor will try to give him space. He is obviously biased, but he finds his dad a lot more fun to be around.

BOROMIR AND HIS LITTLE BOY: A LIST OF THINGS TO REMEMBER

Berenor adores his dad. Boromir is the only parent he ever knew, so they are very close. Boromir reads him bedtime stories every night up until the age of ten, but, more often than not, they always end up talking about Idhrildin and they both end up crying as a result. He may be spunky and a little bit of a troublemaker, but it is important to note that Berenor is also a very kind, considerate and sensitive little boy. He has a lot of empathy, cares a lot for others and shows it. Boromir encourages him to act like a normal child and does not force anything on him. He just expects him to be a good, honorable little boy. He is partly raised by his sisters, which means he has a lot of respect for girls and women and promises his dad that he will make him proud in that regard. Boromir also tells him that he should marry for love and that he will not be forced into an arranged marriage. He even tells him that he does not have to marry at all if he does not wish for it. Berenor is confused because he has been told that every lord needs a son that the line can continue and Boromir sorts of dismisses the problem, leaving Berenor even more confused. I am sure they will have that chat sooner or later, just not when he is a child. Berenor may not be interested in his classes, but he does ask a lot questions and wants to have everything figured out. He knows very little, but what he knows, he knows very well. He has a lot of confidence to him, which I think he gets from both parents.

Boromir takes his dad duties very seriously and bath time is his favorite time. Berenor loves water and ends up splashing his dad every single time. Essentially, Boromir takes a bath as well and the bathroom is completely flooded everytime, every day. Many governesses will quit, but Boromir will not care that much. His boy's happy giggles are way more important.

Boromir likes to cuddle his baby boy a lot. He is a major hugger and tends to be a little too clingy at times. He sees Berenor as the last thing his beloved wife left him and, as such, he is even more inclined than usual to show him affection. His daughters are also lavished with presents and attention, but Berenor is the baby of the house so he gets just a little more. Boromir knows that he needs to be both a father and a mother to him and often finds it difficult, which is why he will hire a new live-in governess just to help him out. They have Nora already and she indeed was a great lady-in-waiting and secretary to Idhrildin. She is also a great tutor (she is, as a matter of fact, the head of the tutors in Boromir's household), but she is strict and not very maternal. She loves the Borodhril children, but is not the best at showing it and, in the modern world, she would have the mindset of a manager. She is totally dedicated to her job, but she sees it as just that. She is not as caring as Boromir would like her to be, which is why he wants to look for somebody else. He eventually finds a war widow—her name is Aerdhel—who works as a volunteer at one of Idhrildin's charities and offers her the job. Aerdhel is surprised and unsure about it at first, but eventually accepts. Aerdhel has a teenage daughter, Aelinn, who Boromir thinks of as another daughter. Although he does not formally adopt her, his daughters do think of her as a sister and involve her in everything they do. They know it is what Idhrildin would have wanted and they try to honor her memory with everything they do.

Alexandra Moen (Queen Elizabeth of York in The Spanish Princess) as Aerdhel.

Summer Richards (Katherine Howard in Wolf Hall) as Aelinn.

Mind you, Boromir will not fall in love with Aerdhel, but they will show one another mutual respect and she will be his main support when times get though. And they will, trust me. She is essentially a close friend. He is advised to remarry and he thinks about it, but he knows Aerdhel does not love him that way and he wants to stay true to himself and be coherent so the marriage does not happen. Nevertheless, Aerdhel becomes a very important figure in Berenor's life and she helps him keep his mother's memory alive by telling him anecdotes about her.

Boromir does all the shopping for his children himself and is mortified whenever they do not like his presents. His default gifts for his girls are dolls and he is heartbroken when they grow out of the "doll phase" as he does not know what else to gift them besides dresses. He always tends to buy similar dresses and can also see that, overtime, his girls grow bored of them. As they are not ungrateful brats, they always smile and thank him profusely anyway, but Boromir feels like he desperately needs advice and that is where Aerdhel comes in. Nora does not understand fashion and does not care for it. She only has multiple dresses because she needs to change, but if it were for her, she would only own one dress and one pair of shoes. Military mindset, as I said. With Berenor is much easier because he is a boy and Boromir understands boys just a little better. Berenor is happy with wooden swords (metal ones later on) and simple shirts. He is just a chill boy who does not complain and is happy with whatever he is given. I would actually say he does not care for the presents themselves, it is just the thought of his dad giving them to him that makes him happy.

He does help with his mother's charities and many people grow fond of him as a result. Boromir's enemies at court will say it is a political move to endear himself to the people even further but...they know nothing, so Boromir just lets them talk. There is a reason why he rarely goes to Minas Tirith (except for Fellowship reunions) and there is a reason why does not want his children hanging out in Minas Tirith too much. He wants them to feel happy and safe and does anything in his power to shield them from the corruption, treachery, disloyalty going on in the Capital. Lis vehemently agrees with this and she takes her big sister duties very seriously. The Minas Tirith issue, as I call it, will oftentimes be cause of quarreling among siblings, as Berenor—because of his largely sheltered upbringing—does not understand why everyone seems to think it is so "dangerous" (he has been there before with his dad and the rest of the Fellowship and it all seemed normal to him) and Lis and the others are tired of trying to explain it to him. Berenor's innate confidence can lead him to be very stubborn at times and when he sets his mind onto something it is really hard to distract him or dissuade him. I think he takes after Boromir in that and Boromir is not proud of it. He learns to be less stubborn as he grows up (he also a lot more introspective and quiet and more prone to listening), but he does not change his mind easily. Yes, he is prone to listening and does take advice from others, but when he makes up his mind...that is it.

I already mentioned Berenor is uninterested in most class topics and things concerning his education, but it is not entirely true. He does very much enjoy learning about Gondorian history; military history specifically. He loves wearing his dad's various armors and vambraces and, as time goes by, the bedtime stories are replaced by war stories, which Boromir censors a little so that his baby boy (I feel like Boromir will think of him as his little baby even when he is way past the age of majority) does not get traumatized. Plot twist: blood and gore are exactly what Berenor wants to hear about and Boromir will have to explain to him how war is neither something to dream of nor something fun to be at. I think Berenor already knows that, but he does get a little overenthusiastic about the idea of killing off orcs and being a hero. He is just a kid, after all. Berenor is especially interested in the wars Boromir participated in and begs him for details and anecdotes, which Boromir is always hesitant to discuss for the aforementioned reasons and eventually Berenor will stop asking him about it as he understands his dad does not really want to talk about it. He is eager to meet the members of the Fellowship and Boromir often offers to plan "reunion dinners" either in Osgiliath or in Minas Tirith, to which all the children of the Fellowship are also invited. The more, the merrier, I suppose. I can imagine little Berenor running around and pestering everybody with questions until Boromir tells him to be quiet because no one will have time to eat if he keeps at it. He definitely takes after "cousin Enna" and uncle Faramir when it comes to asking questions. It is also one of the many reasons why he and Anárion (=Enna's eldest son) get along so well together. They never shut up, but they both grow out of it eventually.

Berenor likes fishing and Boromir often takes him on fishing trips on the banks of the Anduin. The girls are not interested so they stay home unless they are really bored. Idy might be the one to tag along.

Berenor's favorite colors are blue, silver and green. I headcanon that silver is also among Boromir's favorite colors, primarily because it reminds him of home. White is another one Boromir really likes.

Contrarily to most people in Gondor, Boromir does not despise the Rohirrim and encourages all of his children to be open-minded. All of his children are formally introduced to King Éomer's court and that is where Berenor learns to ride. He is a great rider and—contrarily to most Gondorians, who treat horses as if they were objects in their service just to carry them somewhere, he understands that they are sentient creatures with feelings. He really likes horses and names his Idhrilos as a tribute to his mother. Idhrilos is a personal gift to him from Éomer and, as such, Berenor treats him even better than he does his pony and his two other horses. Yes, Boromir gave his children a pony and two horses each and expects them to take care of them on their own without the help of servants and stable-boys. They belong to the children and the children do the work.

Berenor visits Rohan several times throughout his childhood (he gets Idhrilos at the age of nine as a birthday present) and brings home even more horses and ponies as presents for his family. Boromir and Éomer are good friends and Lothíriel adores her cousin's little son. Even though she probably likes Faramir a little better, she and Boromir are very close as well and the Queen of Rohan always sends a lot of presents to her Gondorian family. The only family member she does not speak to is Enna, but that is only Enna's fault. Lothíriel merely respects her wishes. The only person from Rohan Enna get along with is Lothíriel and Éomer's middle child, Elenor. Quick info dump: in my AU, Éomer and Lothíriel have three children: Elenor (born FoA 1), Elfhelda (born FoA 2) and Elfwine (born FoA 4). We all know who Elfwine is, but I will take the opportunity to introduce his OC sisters: Elenor is the oldest child and is partly named after Lothíriel's mother, Elanur. She is her maternal grandfather's favorite child and hates everything that is in any way connected to Rohan. She is Imrahil's favorite grandchild because of that, actually. Despite being born into Rohirric royalty, she is fully Gondorian in both appearance and spirit, which means that she despises her own country. Her friendship with Enna is based on the fact that they both strongly dislike Rohan and spend most of their time together dissing it one way or another. Boromir loathes her (he does his best to hide his contempt for her, but I am afraid he struggles a lot with it) and so do his children; their paths only crossing because Elenor is betrothed to Prince Elendil (while he lives, that is) and Prince Elendil is a dear family friend. He is merely a teenager when he dies, but he is wise beyond his years—partly due to the fact that he spends a lot of time in Rivendell with his uncles Elladan and Elrohir—and is on extremely good terms with Boromir. Boromir is a sort of surrogate father figure to him as Aragorn is often too busy attending to Eldarion and Faramir is in Emyn Arnen and is also too busy with his personal things. Elendil is Berenor's godfather and spends quite a bit of time with him. Unfortunately he passes away when Berenor is four, but that is a whole different story. No, actually, it is not. It is just me being unmerciful. He will not have to marry Elenor—whom he also does not like—so I suppose that is, in some sort of twisted way, my own way of showing mercy to him. That IS something, right?

Natalie Dormer (Anne Boleyn in The Tudors) as Elenor.

Neither Boromir nor Berenor like her. She only shows up at Boromir's palace when Elendil is visiting him and she wants to make sure she does end up marrying him solely to become a Princess of the Reunited Kingdom. She stalks him and only loves him because he is Aragorn and Arwen's son. She does not believe in love and only wants power and prestige and wants the marriage to happen so that she can fully cut ties with those "filthy horse-lords". Her only interactions with Berenor take place when he is really, really young (a little more than a toddler), but he already shows every sign of strongly disliking her. He pulls some quite nasty pranks on her and, although Boromir scolds him, he is not exactly mad as he knows for certain that he would have done even worse. Father and son are very much alike, I have to say. A couple of pranksters.

Éothíriel's middle child is Elfhelda and she is very well-liked by the whole family. She is, as a matter of fact, Lis' best friend and spends a lot of time with the Borodhrils. Lis and Elfhelda are childhood friends—I do not know how and where they meet—and the latter thinks of Berenor as a baby brother. Boromir is also fond of her and she is always welcome in any of his residences even without notice. Boromir thinks Elendil and Elfhelda would be a good match and tries to play Cupid since he notices Elendil is much more at ease around her. That being said, Elendil tells him he is not interested. Elfhelda eventually marries Haleth.

Marta Wiśniewska (Princess Elizabeth in Korona Królow - The Crown of the Kings) as Elfhelda

These two practicing their archery skills/messing around. Elfhelda is definitely more practical while Lis definitely struggles a bit. She only uses weapons if strictly necessary, after all. She's not a fan.

Lis deciding to cheat and mess with her bestie. She is jealous of her skills, but it is the good, non-toxic, harmless kind of jealousy. (Little note for myself: Enna strongly dislikes Elfhelda and not just because she thinks it is inappropriate for a Gondorian lady to befriend people of "inferior birth". She is also jealous of the wholesome bond these two have and tears up every time she sees them together)

Back to Berenor now.

He is ticklish and Boromir often tickles as a punishment when Berenor is being naughty. Child Berenor has been tickled a lot both as a joke and as an admonition. He hates being tickled and Boromir knows it, which makes it all the more fun.

He takes part in Lis and Elfhelda's archery lessons and he is actually better than both of them. He does not boast about it though. On the contrary, he is happy to help them. He has a bit of a childish, innocent crush on Elfhelda and gifts her puppies to show his appreciation (like his dad, he loves all animals, but has a predilection for horses and dogs).

Out of Faramir's children, Berenor is closest to Eradan, whom he treats as a little sibling. Given his somewhat close relationship with Eönwë, he is also close with Enna and her children, especially the oldest (Nimloth, Anárion, Mírion, Wyn and Elenion). Given that Boromir takes him under his wing, he will see much of Elenion and the two of them will become friends. Berenor will try to cheer him up and to instill hope in him with any means necessary and will most likely be utterly devastated when the little cousin he grew to love as a baby brother commits suicide. He will blame himself for not having been able to help him more and will go through on a crisis of his own. He will get to Mírion better as well and he will become his confidant (ironically, I think his support during the mourning period is the thing that will finally convince Mírion that Berenor can be trusted. Mírion is fundamentally paranoid and does not trust anyone outside of his blood family. I do not even blame the poor guy, he is constantly betrayed by everyone).

Berenor will also be completely and utterly devastated when Mírion dies. He and Boromir will then have a conversation about mortality and things like that, and Berenor will comment how ironic it is that children with Maiarin blood who were supposed to live forever have dropped dead like flies and how anachronistic it is that the most powerful woman in Middle-earth was more miserable than the lowest and poorer commoner in Gondor. Boromir's health starts declining in the mid-40s and all of his children have this gut feeling that he will not be around for much longer. Mírion's death just worsens whatever health issues he already has as his mood plummets and he just seems not interested in living anymore. He dies six years later so he has some years left in him, but not that many.

I feel like Berenor will commission the grandest tomb he can think of when Boromir eventually dies. Although he knows that his father was beloved of the people, he feels that he was not respected enough by his peers and wants to honor him the way everybody should have. All of Boromir's children will be with him until the very end and Berenor holds his hand as he dies. I do not know who he will marry (or if he will marry at all), but if he does and has a son, his name will most certainly be Boromir.

I will add to this list as I come up with more headcanons, but that is all for now!

Option: Idhrildin lives (Berenor's relationship with his mom)

Berenor, son of Boromir

Future Lord of Osgiliath and Prince of Anórien

Fancasting: Spencer Treat Clark (child); Charles Vandevaart (teenage years); Jay Duffy (adult)

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Strategy Game Date - English Translation (2/2)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

My fingers inadvertently brush against his earlobe as I slowly drape my necklace on his face.

Like marking him as my guaranteed prize in advance, I grasp the chain and gently tug it, pulling him half a step closer to me.

The dazzling light settles back into my eyes, as if he has always meant to be mine.

Translation under the cut!

Previous: Part 1 & 2-> [Here]

=[Part 3]=

After I mention wanting to learn chess, Lucien unexpectedly takes me straight to the exhibition hall next to the banquet room.

Seven black and white checkered platforms of varying sizes divide the space vertically, connected by steps and reaching almost to the ceiling.

Towering above me, the black and white chess pieces are nearly life-sized. Like the legions of a mighty emperor arrayed for battle, they cast a majestic gaze down upon me, making me suddenly realize something.

MC: This... could this be a giant, three-dimensional chessboard?

Lucien: Hm, when the organizers created this exhibition hall, they probably wanted people to directly experience the spatial sense of three-dimensional chess.

Lucien picks up a remote control from the entrance and brightens the lights.

MC: So, if we're thinking like chess players, shouldn't we head up to the top level?

Lucien: [chuckles] Sometimes I wonder if this student has secretly seen my courseware.

He smiles and takes my hand, leading me up the steps. We weave between oversized chess pieces, finally reaching the top of the chessboard.

Lucien: Actually, looking from directly above, the rules for moving the pieces are generally similar to international classic chess.

Lucien: You've had some 'hands-on' experience with me before, so you should pick this up pretty quickly.

Lucien: The pieces in three-dimensional international chess can move vertically between adjacent boards. In addition to this, these small boards can rotate under corresponding rules.

He presses the remote, and a small chessboard begins to rotate horizontally until its black squares once again align with those of the adjacent larger board.

MC: Wow...! That's so interesting!

Lucien: [chuckles] Might as well give it a try.

I take the remote and, after a few shifts, gradually start to figure out the pattern.

MC: The smaller boards can only rotate if they're empty or have just one piece on them.

MC: But it seems like it can only move on the same side of the big chessboard and to the adjacent corners?

Lucien: [chuckles] As expected of a clever girl.

MC: Well, it's all thanks to the patient and guiding Teacher Lucien.

Lucien: Now then, rather than boring you with the rules, why don't we learn and gradually reinforce them through hands-on practice?

MC: So, are we going to jump right in and play a chess game?

Lucien: Mm, in an interesting way.

Lucien takes my hand and leads me to the level where the white chess pieces are arrayed.

Lucien: By entering the game personally, perhaps you'll be more immersed in it.

He smiles calmly and walks over to a white Queen piece. He extends his hand and pushes it aside, creating an empty space.

Lucien: Come on, give it a try.

Only at this moment do I belatedly understand the meaning of ‘entering the game personally'.

Gazing at each of the chess pieces solemnly arrayed around me, I take a deep breath and step into the center.

Like a coronation, the light crowns me. And amidst my nervousness, I also feel a thrill of excitement.

MC: Lucien, I'm ready.

Lucien: [chuckles] Okay, but you'll need to be cautious from now on.

Lucien: In chess, the Queen is the most powerful piece, and also the one most easily captured.

A voice that feels strangely familiar traverses the depths of distant memories, falling clearly upon my ears. I freeze for a moment, then a smile spreads on my face.

MC: Of course I know, especially since this is my first time on the 'battlefield’.

MC: However... I will do my best to fight a good battle.

Lucien: [chuckles] I'm honored to be your opponent.

With Lucien stepping onto the position of the black king, the instructional match begins.

To gain a more intuitive understanding, I open up the chessboard simulation that Lucien gave me.

Lucien: In three-dimensional chess, occupying and controlling the center layer is very important.

I suddenly recall the knight's jump in Carl's opening and skillfully push the white knight forward, seizing the initiative to start the game.

A flicker of surprise momentarily crosses Lucien's face, but he quickly smiles and moves to occupy the White Knight's most likely next landing spot.

After a few rounds, we soon converge on the strategic focal point—the center of the chessboard.

Lucien: The Queen piece can move along any horizontal row, vertical column, and diagonal line.

MC: Then I won't hold back.

Seeing my chance to capture Lucien's freshly placed pawn by moving between levels, I don’t hesitate. I walk over and gently push it.

A spotlight immediately illuminates this small victory of mine.

The display stand is already waiting nearby, and I proudly push the captured pawn onto it.

As Lucien explains the rules, the beams of light repeatedly light up, and I capture several more black pieces in succession.

MC: This feeling is just too addictive!

Lucien: Looks like this classmate is gradually discovering the joy of chess.

A subtle smile plays on Lucien’s lips, his expression brimming with lively interest as he appears engrossed in this entertaining and educational game.

At this moment, I notice Lucien standing diagonally across from me, just a step away.

According to the rules, I can checkmate this enemy king in just one step.

Suppressing my wildly beating heart, I casually start to speak as if it’s unintentional.

MC: What do chess players do at the moment of victory?

Lucien: They usually call out 'Checkmate' to tell the opponent, 'You've been ‘eaten’ by me'.*

MC: Ohhh~ Checkmate!~

Looking at him with his smiling eyes, seemingly unaware of his situation, I feel a bit giddy and rise slightly on my tiptoes.

Suddenly, tiny flecks of light glimmer across Lucien's face. Following his slightly narrowed gaze, I realize it's the light reflecting off my necklace.

The flecks of light dance just perfectly on his face, inexplicably arousing a desire within me.

I want to triumph over this genius, to have him celebrate for me, to have him witness my coronation.

Driven by this thought, I gently set the chessboard aside and take off my necklace.

My fingers inadvertently brush against his earlobe as I slowly drape the necklace on his face.

Like marking him as my guaranteed prize in advance, I grasp the chain and gently tug it, pulling him half a step closer to me.**

The dazzling light settles back into my eyes, as if he has always meant to be mine.

MC: Checkmate.

I look into his eyes and speak softly.

MC: Lucien, it seems like you're about to be ‘eaten’ by me now.

Lucien: Is that so?

Lucien: But... it seems my turn to make a move now

MC: …?

He raises an eyebrow, pushes the black Bishop aside, and moves along the line towards the King chess piece behind me.

Because I was focused on capturing pieces earlier, I didn't set up any defenses around my king. Now, I can only watch as Lucien advances towards it unimpeded-

As if in response to his words, the white king collapses in defeat.

Everything is happening so suddenly. A blinding beam of light abruptly shines just a few steps away, making me squint.

The chessboard, which just moments ago rested on the ground, now lies askew without me noticing, its tilted surface like a declaration of my defeat.

A golden chess piece rolls dejectedly towards the light until a large hand with defined knuckles picks it up.

Within the spotlight, Lucien holds the chess piece between his fingers and casually glances up.

Lucien: [the way his CN VA said this in english🤧] Game Over.

Lucien: Did this Miss Player enjoy the game to her heart's content?

The translucent colored glass refracts the cold light into his eyes, making him look like a proud and indifferent figure of high status.

It's as if, should he desire a win, the golden fruit of victory will naturally fall into his hand; and should I relish the challenge, he would be quite happy to help me experience that same joy.

Lucien has always been a good teacher.

Although the frustration of failure lingers in my heart, there is still a hidden sense of thrill that draws me toward him.

MC: Winning would make it even more enjoyable for me.

MC: However, losing might not be a bad thing either.

MC: That way, I can see how far I still have to go before I can beat you.

Lucien: [chuckles] That's very good.

Lucien: ‘Desire to win’ is the first step towards victory.

He gently caresses the chess piece in his hand, stretches his arms out even more languidly, and makes no attempt to hide his overflowing eagerness and anticipation.

Lucien: MC, do you still want to play?

MC: Of course.

He smiles ambiguously, his narrow eyes taking me in completely.

Lucien: Then, go ahead and beat me quickly.***

✂———————–

[T/N]

p.s. Did you catch all the references to S1 chapter 23 👀 Very interesting to see him saying essentially the same thing as Winter World Lucien/Ares, but more in casual tone and wording🤧 Also, as for the plot,… For now, I can only say that he's truly a black-bellied ‘beauty bait’ 😂 I will talk more about the plot at the end of the date~

*: In Chinese, 'capture' in chess is expressed as 吃掉 (chī diào), which literally means 'to eat up' or 'devour.' This creates an interesting double meaning in the MC's line, if you know what I mean🥴

**: The phrase used here is 囊中之物 (náng zhōng zhī wù), which literally translates to "something in the bag". It implies that something is already securely in one's possession, entirely under one's control, or easily obtainable—like something that's already been caught and placed in a bag or like a prize of a secured victory. By using this phrase, besides being overconfident she also expresses a desire to assert her “sovereignty” on him~

Also as for the line right after that (仿佛他本就是我的), a more literal translation would be that “as if he inherently/naturally/fundamentally belongs to me.”. like, him belonging to her just feel natural and inherent 🤧. That sounds awkward in EN so I use a more natural-sounding phrase sksksksks

***: Alternative translation: “Then, go ahead and win me quickly.” . 赢我 (literally, “win me”)can either be interpreted as him urging her to beat him in the game or literally ‘win’ him, with him still wearing her necklace a.k.a her stake on him, like a prize yet to be claimed… both can be true imo-

✂———————–

=[Part 4]=

Throughout our trip, Lucien's chess lessons continue to progress step by step.

Soon, it's the last day, and we're heading back to the guesthouse after completing our itinerary.

I rest boredly on Lucien's lap, thinking about how to properly wrap up the vacation.

Suddenly, an idea pops into my mind.

MC: Lucien.

Lucien: MC.

Our voices ring out at the same time, and then we both laugh together.

Lucien: [chuckles] You go first.

MC: I've been learning chess for a week. Shouldn't the teacher check the results?

Seeing me glance meaningfully at the chessboard on the desk, he catches my meaning with a knowing smile.

Lucien: It seems a chess match is inevitable then.

MC: Hee hee~ But since Professor Lucien often has a habit of going easy on me, I must give you a serious reminder…

MC: If you don't give it your all, then I won't play with you anymore.

Seeing my eager expression, Lucien smiles and winks.

Lucien: In that case, I'll probably give it my all even more than I would for the championship.

✂———————–

MC: Woo hoo, you're too amazing!

Lucien innocently arranges the chessboard, as if he wasn't the one who checkmated me three times in five minutes.

Lucien: Do you want to play another round?

MC: No, no, no more. If we keep playing, I might develop some psychological scars…

Lucien: [chuckles] In that case, why don't we go have some fun?

MC: Hm?

As Lucien draws open the floor-to-ceiling curtains, a bright orange-pink view suddenly floods my retinas.

Flamingo floaties, heart-shaped balloons, and red lip-shaped water balloons are arranged around the pool, creating a lively party atmosphere.

Lucien: We agreed to have a pool party on the first day we arrived here.

Lucien: It's just that a certain classmate was so engrossed in learning chess that she seems to have completely forgotten about this.

Hearing the pretend grievance in his tone, I laugh and pinch his nose.

MC: Could it be that a certain professor was playing such a fast game of chess just to get me to go have fun sooner?

Lucien doesn't say anything, but a smile plays on his lips as if in confirmation.

Lucien: You always keep your head down when we play chess. It seems like I haven't seen your eyes in a long time.*

✂———————–

A party should naturally have the vibe of a party.

By the time I arrive in the garden, having changed into my pink dress, Lucien is already waiting for me.

The beige suit hugs his elegant form, accentuating his sharp lines, while the light green tie adds a touch of freshness.

MC: This trip is totally worth it!~ I unexpectedly got to see so many different styles of Professor Lucien.

Lucien: Initially, I didn't quite understand why you didn't want to wear a swimsuit to the party, but now—

Lucien: Seeing such a lovely picture, I think I understand.

The summer breeze gently tousles his bangs, and I suddenly realize that his hair has grown longer without me noticing.**

I can’t help but reach up to fiddle with his hair a couple of times, but it doesn't feel like enough. So I take off my hair clip and stand on tiptoe toward him.

My fingertips twirl a strand of his hair. He seems to realize what I'm doing and gently leans down. His warm breath falls steadily on the corner of my lips, like a phantom of a kiss.

His naturally exquisite brows and eyes are now fully unveiled, making me smile with satisfaction.

MC: It's better this way~ I can see your eyes all the time now.

Those dark eyes freezes for a fleeting second, then the world held within his gaze curves into the faintest of smiles. For a moment, I'm completely spellbound by the sight.

"Pop!" The balloon bursts with a bang, and we both blink in surprise, then burst into laughter together.

Sunlight casts dappled light and shadow on the water's surface, and a giant flamingo float drifts towards us, like an invitation of some sort. So, I reach out my hand to Lucien.

MC: Are you ready?

Lucien: Although I don't know what MC is referring to, I think I'd be more than happy to entrust myself to you.

He places his hand on my palm, and I immediately hold it tightly.

MC: [laughs] Then I won't hold back-

I raise our intertwined hands high above our heads and take a big step forward, jumping towards the flamingo with all my might.

As we float in midair, the warm sunlight, woven with dappled shadows cast by the trees, rushes toward me, and a joyful exclamation escapes my lips.

His familiar gentle voice sounds by my ear as his strong arm pulls me close and protects me firmly in his embrace.

Bam-!

We feel a soft, bouncy sensation on our backs as we sink before being bounced back up.

Colorful balloons float in mid-air, while polka-dotted water balloons bobbing along with the waves, like a pop art canvas unfolding before one's eyes.

The splashing water droplets glint like the world’s own flash, capturing all the joy in that moment.

The flamingo drifts leisurely until the waves finally calm down, and I turn to look at the person beside me.

MC: Once you board my “pirate ship”, there's no easy escape!

Lucien: [chuckles] If you're using yourself as bait to lure me onto your pirate ship…

Lucien: Then it seems this pirate miss has ensnared herself in her own trap. After all, we're in the same boat now... [whispers] you can't escape either.

With a soft laugh, he deliberately tightens his arms around me.

MC: Hahaha! Don't underestimate me!

I feign a struggle to break free but discover something tangled around my arm—

Several bright red lipstick decorations each trailing a long red thread, winding messily and mischievously around our bodies.

I'm just about to take it off, but then an idea strikes me, and with a smile, I tilt my chin up.

MC: Shall we play a little game?

Under his noncommittal gaze, I loop a red thread around his fingertips, pressing one red lip against his chest. The other, I keep in my hand.

MC: Let's see who can snatch away the other's 'red lips' first. I may not be able to beat you at chess, but I'm still quite confident in this kind of little game—

Before I even finish speaking, I feel a sudden tug on my fingertip.

I turn my head in surprise and find that Lucien has already firmly grasped the “red lips” in my hand.

MC: ….

Isn't this too fast?!

I laugh in spite of myself as I turn my head back, meeting that gaze filled with a hint of smugness and mischief.

MC: [pouts] So you really have such a high desire to win.

Lucien: Of course.

He gives a subtle, almost imperceptible smile, and purposefully tightens his grip on the red lips, but doesn't take it away.

Lucien: But compared to winning, I find myself savoring this moment even more.

Lucien: A well-matched opponent... makes the competition itself more enjoyable.***

Gazing deeply into his calm, smiling eyes, I can't help but hook my finger around his tie, pulling myself closer to drown in their depths.

MC: But... when I really think about it…

MC: Lucien, have I ever won against you?

Lucien: [chuckles] What do you think?

His dark, ink-like eyes glimmer with interest, yet remain extraordinarily serious as they're waiting for my answer.

MC: I don't know.

MC: Sometimes I feel like I've never won, because it seems that even when I use all my strength, I'm only just engaging in a match with you, still a distance away from victory.

MC:  Sometimes I feel like I've won, but those instances don't seem to count as ‘winning or losing’.

The shimmering light of the waves drowns in the depths of his tender gaze, making me fall into those eyes just by looking at them.

Lucien: [sincerely] You've won against me many times.

Lucien: Sometimes, even when I fight back with everything I have, I still can't overcome you.

He smiles, a little helplessly, yet with a hint of willing surrender in his expression.

MC: Am I really that powerful?

Lucien: [chuckles] Mm. Besides, whenever I'm playing with MC, the rules, the strategies, winning or losing… none of it holds any significance anymore.

Lucien: I think, maybe you're just naturally talented at turning everything into the world's most fun game, making people want to keep playing…

Before I know it, he has silently wound a red thread around us, like the unbreakable red thread of fate. Greedily, I wind it tighter, until my fingertips touch his.****

MC: So, can I take that to mean that Professor Lucien enjoys playing with me the most?

Lucien: [chuckles] If I said yes…

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] Would you be willing to play with me forever, MC?

✂———————–

[T/N]

*: “You always keep your head down when we play chess. It seems like I haven't seen your eyes in a long time.”- By seeing her eyes, he confirms that she’s also ‘looking’ at him, paying attention to him. He's basically saying that she's so absorbed in chess that she seems to haven't looked at him for so long🥺 Although he's saying this in a lighthearted way, it also hints at his longing for her attention 🤧

**: This highlight how MC hasn't paid much attention that now his hair has grown longer without her noticing u.u

***: 旗鼓相当 (qí gǔ xiāng dāng) - "Evenly matched" or "well-matched." This idiom literally translates to battle flags and drums being of equal strength, symbolizing that both sides in a competition are equally capable or have the same chance of winning. It also implies mutual respect for the opponent, recognizing them as a worthy rival.

****: The red string/thread of fate! In the East, it conveys a sense of destined love. Lucien being the one who silently wounds it around them, he takes the initiative to establish the bond between them, but it is loosely at first, as if inviting her to be the one who tightens it. He’s not just forcing a bond; he’s creating an opportunity for her to choose how close they want to be. And longingly and greedily, she tightens the bond because she wants them to be as close as possible 🥺 Love is always a two-way street that requires active participation from two sides 🤧. Along with his “childish” proposal, you could also interpret it as a “trap” that he weaves for the two of them, but it’s one that neither of them wants to escape from 😂

✂———————–

[Moments- Emotional Expression]

Lucien's post: Sometimes, showing childishness can be seen as a way of expressing emotions.

MC: Do you also feel this way?

Lucien: Of course. In front of you, I often can't help but want to act a little spoiled.

[Reply 2]

Lucien's post: Sometimes, showing a ‘childish’ side can be seen as a way of expressing emotions.

MC: Does Professor Lucien like this way of expressing emotions?

Lucien: Mm, if lovers can freely show their childishness, it might mean their relationship has entered a new stage.

[Reply 3]

Lucien's post: Sometimes, showing a ‘childish’ side can be seen as a way of expressing emotions.

MC: I agree! Sometimes I want to act like a little kid in front of you~

Lucien: You have always been my little friend.

[T/N]

While "childishness" has a negative connotation in English, it carries a more neutral and sometimes even endearing connotation in Chinese. In this context, it conveys a sense of playfulness and innocence rather than pure immaturity👀

✂———————–

[Lux's Afterwords]

Not gonna lie, when I first read it, I felt a bit disappointed because this date seems to emphasize Lucien's victories despite being promoted as an "evenly matched game." 😂 However, after reading it a second time, I think I understand what the writers are trying to convey with this date (Also thank God at least they show this ‘evenly matched’ aspect in his Halloween date LOL).

I think this date is really trying to showcase Lucien's mischievous and “childish” side, reminiscent of his childhood before everything changed after the car accident 🤧 As we know from the R&S (that I shared before the beginning of the date- go read it if you haven't ahah), he was a gentle and quiet kid, yet there’s also that little “bad” streak in him. As a child, he loved teasing Fan Zihang (Zack in EN localization), and now he’s shifted that teasing to his girlfriend🤣 although there's still an obvious double standard like him still willing to go easy on her from time to time~

Just like what his reply in the moments said, a partner showing ‘childishness’ might mean that the relationship is entering a new stage. The fact that he can show this side of himself means he feels comfortable enough with MC to let his guard down. It’s like he’s letting her see a glimpse of the genuine him, the one who can be mischievous and has a high desire to win, just like he was as a kid. Perhaps…this is the kind of person he would have become if his parents were still alive. From being indifferent and distant, the snow is melting and he's entering a new spring in his life🤧

Then, reflecting on how the date mostly highlights his victories, I think Lucien’s not letting her win easily isn’t just about his mischief or his strong desire to win. He also hopes to challenge her with, make her understand, and eventually surpass his true capabilities 🥺. What MC says (“That way, I can see how far I still have to go before I can beat you.”) emphasizes this point. His display of true strength is meant to motivate her, not discourage her. He’s willing to give her a taste of victory, making the game more enjoyable regardless of winning or losing, and is even willing to teach her how to beat him. After all... an evenly matched opponent makes competition all the more enjoyable.

Furthermore, Lucien sincerely acknowledges that there are times when he can't win against her even when he fights with all of his might. Although it feels hollow if we only based it on the date alone, there are many, many instances of him ‘losing’ to her in previous dates and main stories- one instance that I can think of is this line from The Sea No Longer Distant MQ:

He feels as if she has left him far behind, as if she knows more things that he cannot comprehend.

He’s helpless to such outcomes, yet willing to surrender (coming from someone with such a strong desire to win... if this isn’t love, I don’t know what is). The result doesn’t matter as much as just enjoying the moment together🥺 Lastly, let's talk about his last line.

MC愿意永远和我一起玩下去吗? (Would you be willing to play with me forever, MC?)

With this date revolving around games and his ‘childishness’, the closing line is perfect ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡ 永远 (forever) is a heavy word, and it turns this seemingly playful line into something like an earnest yet almost childlike proposal 🥺. Through this, he’s expressing a wish for her lifelong companionship and commitment. There’s also an underlying vulnerability here—by asking for "forever”, Lucien hints at a deeper hope that she’ll stay by his side, to keep ‘playing’ with him until the end of life and more🤧

[lyledebeast]

New Thoughts on Visual Representations of Violence in The Patriot

As I was reading through reviews to plan a lesson on evaluating sources for my students, I kept seeing descriptions of The Patriot's extreme violence (which is wild looking back from 2024!) and of Tavington's excessive cruelty. And it occurred to me that anyone who had not seen the film would probably expect those two things to be connected, and they would be resoundingly incorrect.

The most striking example of Tavington's violence is, of course, the burning of Pembroke Church. The scene is visually arresting, but for very different reasons than we might expect seeing Tavington's superior officer describe his tactics as "brutal" and learning the populace has named him "the butcher." In one a wide shot of the interior, fading sunlight is shining through the windows, illuminating the congregation, all of them in cool tones so that the one bit of color that catches the eye is the back of Tavington's red jacket as he addresses them from his horse. It looks like an 18th century painting. It looks like it could be a shot from Stanley Kubrick's Barry Lydon (1975). The same goes for the wide shot with the church going up in flames as the British dragoons and regulars look on. What is absent from this scene is actual visualization of violence. Once Wilkins lights the church and smoke begins pouring underneath the doors, the interior shots become very tight, focusing on the terrified faces of women and men. We never see them again. The scene inside the church ends before anyone can so much as cough, and John Williams' score rises in the external shots to drown out the screams of those trapped inside. The next visual reference we have to the Pembroke congregation is freshly dug graves with neat little white crosses.

Tavington's other kills are similarly crisp and clean. He kills both Thomas and Gabriel Martin with wounds through the torso, from a shot and saber respectively, and while they do not appear to be in the bloom of health when they die in their father's arms, nor are their deaths remotely messy. For reference, Wade is wounded through the torso in Stephen Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan from two years earlier, and his dying produces buckets of blood. In one scene featured only the extended cut, we are meant to believe Tavington and Bordon have tortured a man to death without either of them getting stained by so much as a drop of blood.

Meanwhile, Benjamin Martin is also evoking a classic of 70s cinema in a scene I will henceforth only describe as The South Carolina Tomahawk Massacre. When I went to Amazon Prime to pick up where I left off on my last viewing, I got to see this scene completely unprepared. And I was reminded that it is visually horrifying, audibly gut-wrenching, and goes on for longer than most kills in slasher movies. Most of the shots in this scene are close-ups of Gibson's blood-splattered face as he grunts with exertion and finally screams, redoubling his efforts. There is a score in this scene, but the thwack of the tomahawk going into the British soldier's back again and again cuts straight through it. There are also some PoV shots from Martin's sons' perspectives, but every time I see this scene I'm grateful that there's no Martin PoV shot. That would show a degree of bodily destruction I could never unsee.

Frankly, I'm at a loss as to why this is. Why is the villain's violence so sanitized it would be at home in one of Disney's darker offerings while the apparent hero takes a literal blood bath half an hour into the run time? Who is this audience that can stomach cannon balls tearing off men's heads and legs but not the charred corpse of a woman or child? Is there something rugged and manly about Martin getting soaked in blood like Carrie at the prom and something effete about Tavington's distaste for excess in his violence?

You tell me! There are more ways to take this than I could write about out or probably even imagine. Reblogs and replies are equally appreciated, as are DMs. I want to read someone else's thoughts for a change!