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astralis-ortus · 19 days

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against the world

✱ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader

— for as long as i love you.

w.count → 2k genre → angst, fluff, a dash of comedy warnings → reader mocked by a character, self deprecating thought a.n → based on this request! took me a while to figure how to write because brain did not want to work together with the pictures i had in mind but we're here! it's a fun one to work on (despite the angst)(i actually love the angst) and i hope it's up to your expectation!<3 ⋆ see masterlist

the bus ride felt like forever.

honestly, you weren’t even sure why you ended up arguing with chan in the first place. hell, you couldn’t even remember what even really irked you about his response. all you remembered was about feeling upset and ended up lashing out at chan to the point where he decided to head back to his studio despite just coming back the hour prior, just so he doesn’t say anything he might regret.

when he still hadn’t returned hours later, however, guilt started to dig its sharp nails into your sore heart.

you knew you had to let him cool his head��you understand that, but you can’t sit still knowing he’d likely lock himself in and drown himself in work. you can’t, especially when you knew for a fact he hadn’t got anything to eat since you two were planning to go on a date had the argument never happened. he hasn’t been on top of his condition as is, and you won’t be able to forgive yourself if this whole absolute ridicule of a situation you caused made him fall sick.

hence, after your nth call went straight to his voicemail, you know there’s only one thing left you could do—go to his studio and apologize.

“thank you,” you offered a smile at the familiar security guard, bowing your head enough as you entered through the trainee and artist entrance of the building. usually, either you or chan would offer him a snack or coffee whenever you got there together, but with all the chaos happening inside your head, all you could remember to grab was the light meal you had hurriedly prepared for chan as an apology.

“bang chan is still in his studio,” the security guard quietly informed with a knowing smile, abruptly stopping you in your track with your eyes wide at him, “most of the staff, trainee, and artist have left for the day, but you could let me know if you need access to the rooftop. the weather is good enough for you to talk there.”

you blinked at his offer, a little stunned at the conclusion he took just by looking at you. is it that obvious…?

“it’s going to be okay; fights are bound to happen between couples,” he continued lightly with a tender smile, as if reading the thoughts passing your mind, “as long as you love and care about each other, there’s nothing you two can’t handle. don’t worry.”

choking up a breath, you hurriedly thanked the security guard and walked past the familiar hallways leading to your boyfriend’s studio. tears were pooling dangerously in your eyes, threatening its way out as you replayed the passing advice in your head. he’s right—as long as you love and care about each, there’s—

“hey! you! stop right there!”

the loud echoing voice snapped you out of your thoughts, again halting your steps before you reached your destination. despite your racing heartbeat at the sudden loudness, you try your best to seek for the other soul around—leading your eyes to land at a female figure at the end of the hallway.

“oh,” you immediately bowed your head as soon as you noticed the identity of the staff rushed towards you—one you recognize as a part of division 2, according to an exchange she had with chan a few months prior during one of your visits. “hello, i just—”

“who are you? how do you get in here?” the sharpness in her voice made you wince; startled and confused. you’re certain she’s aware of your presence before—distinctly remembering how chan awkwardly introduced you as to her own request, understandably wary of an unfamiliar face lurking around a private section of the company.

“right,” you shook your head, ridding your mind off of the uneasiness you picked up, “sorry, you probably don’t remember. i’m chan’s girlfriend. we met a couple months ago? i remember chan introdu—”

“girlfriend?” she scoffed, not even letting you finish your sentence. the way she shut you off left a sharp sting in your heart, but even that wouldn’t compare to the way her icy gaze pierced right through you—pricking and prodding every inch of your appearance, finalized with a condescending snicker.

“another crazy fan, huh?”

you felt your heart sink at the accusation. dating chan, you knew it would come with the bad alongside the good. you understood that, and you knew better than anyone to focus on the flowers and butterflies chan made your everyday look like while paying zero attention to the odd snarky remarks here and there. though it sure has been quite some time since the last time someone accused you of being delusional, but to be completely honest with yourself, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

fingers tighten around the strap of chan’s meal bag on your hand, you try hard not to let yourself crumble as you attempted to defend yourself, “no, i’m not—”

“besides,” cutting you short, she took a step closer and shoved her fingers on your shoulder, “you need to wake up. why would chan even date someone like you?”

you know you’re not perfect. you know that despite the amount of love you have for chan, there’s no promise of a perfect future between the two of you. you know that there’s a possibility of a life where you have to live without chan, and the blame will most likely be on you—because you’re not pretty enough. you’re not talented enough. you’re not someone of a similar background. you’re not even anywhere close to being on chan’s level, and it’s all because you’re you.

“seriously, get a grip,” she hissed, digging her fingers onto the bone of your shoulder while you desperately bit your lip, trying to contain the tears threatening to fall. “you’re just some lowly, delusional fan. don’t even—”

“don’t even what, noona?”

both you and the staff immediately snapped your eyes towards the figure behind her; heavy, firm steps towards you with his jaw tense and a silent rage burning in his eyes. she immediately scrambled away from you, hiding her hands—ones nearly pushing you to an endless canyon of despair.

you’ve never seen chan that angry.

“i-i just—”

“she’s my girlfriend,” chan emphasized through gritted teeth, taking your freezing hand in his trembling one, “and you do not talk to my woman like that.”

“i was just looking out for you!” she attempted to defend herself, fear present in her eyes as she attempted to look straight into chan’s eyes. “you know how crazy these sasaengs have been these days! i just—”

“stop!”

your body involuntarily jumped at the sudden raise in his voice, eyes wide as you looked at him in surprise. his face was red—but even from your point of view, you could see he was hurt.

“no one gave you the right to talk to my people like that,” chan towered against her as he makes himself clear, "especially towards my woman. you don’t—”

“channie,”

your voice was soft, but it was enough to quiet down the anger burning inside chan. yes—his priority is to keep you safe.

shifting his attention entirely towards you, chan felt his heart drop—your eyes were red, trails of tears apparent down your cheeks. your fingers were ice cold against his burning skin, and the way he felt your body tremble broke his heart.

“baby,” chan cracked a weak smile, trying to ease the tension on you as he ran his palms against your arm, “are you okay? need me to carry you?”

you quickly shook your head, sniffles escaping past your lips as your nerves slowly calmed down. you’re just so, so tired—and all you need is chan.

“let’s head to my studio, okay?” his voice was soft, arms wrapped around your frail figure as he leads you down the empty hallway, leaving the still stunned staff behind. he’ll deal with that tomorrow; because now, your well-being mattered most to him.

as soon as you got to chan’s studio, he immediately locked the familiar green room and covered you up with a blanket—ones he kept especially for you, keeping you warm as he quietly cuddled you on the small couch. your faint sniffles turned into sobs, and as the sense of safety finally settled in your bones, you finally let yourself cry into chan’s arms.

chan simply stayed silent; warmth of his arms surrounds you whilst he lets you pour your feelings out.

he heard almost everything the staff had said to you, and he’s mad at himself for not being able to protect you from those words. he should’ve been there with you, keeping you safe from the unnecessary hate just because you’re his girlfriend. he should’ve stayed with you instead of running away. he should’ve—

“i’m sorry for lashing out on you,” you clutched onto his hoodie, voice coming out weak as you try to regulate your breathing. “i didn’t know why i was so upset. i shouldn’t have done that to you. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too, baby,” he pulled you closer into his arms, letting you nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “i shouldn’t have left you home alone, let alone for hours. i just—i could’ve handled it better. i’m sorry.”

a hum escaped your lips along with a soft shake of your head, showing your disapproval to his apology. “no, channie. i understand why you feel like you need to leave to clear your head. just… i’m worried because you didn’t answer my calls, and i know you hadn’t eaten anything today, so—”

“wait,” chan gently pulled away and looked at your flushed face, light trace of his fingers fixing the stray strands off your features, “you called? i didn’t hear my phone ring—or buzz, as a matter of fact. when did you call?”

“last was an hour ago, i think?” you leaned onto chan’s warm touch. “i don’t know. i was hurrying—ah,” eyes suddenly wide, you prodded your finger at the bag chan had set aside on his desk earlier, “i brought you some sandwich to eat. it’s not much, but you need to eat, channie.”

chan was stunned—he felt warm.

he’s used to being left alone to sort his feelings. he’s used to being treated as if his emotions were worth nothing, and he only mattered if he did something for others. chan is used to feeling invisible—but with you, he felt seen. not because of what he’s trying to prove, but because of the simple fact that he’s… him.

clearing his throat, chan immediately flashes a smile at you. “let’s eat first, yeah?” he hummed, voice noticeably lighter as he gently moved you off his lap and grabbed the little bag. “you should eat too. you spent a lot of energy crying.”

“but—”

“no buts,” he playfully glared at you, lips pursed in protest, “you came all the way here for me, it’s only fair i share my food with you.”

“after this,” finally unpacking the sandwich and handing you his other half, “we’ll order something else and some ice cream while i play you some of the songs i was working on. sounds good?”

the way your face lit up was enough of an answer for chan—your excited nods were merely a confirmation.

“alright, alright,” he chuckled, fighting off the urge to pull you back into his arms. instead, chan fished for the phone in his pocket and handed it to you. “your pick, baby.”

“yes! i’m—wait,” pressing on the power button, you blinked upon realizing how the screen remained unchanged despite your attempts. “did you forgot to charge your phone, channie?”

Chan grimaced. You could see how he’s slowly tracing his steps throughout the day—until a split second of realization flashed past his eyes. His lips turned into a little grin; one he always wears when he realizes he did something wrong.

“…did i?”

You’re out of words.

“channie!”

“hahah—i’m sorry!”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 3 months

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Hi bb, just a thirst idea for you: Study fucking. Your fave has trouble being "smart" but he is a genius when it comes to pounding that ass after he gets too frustrated during a study session.

Oh, Vi, my sweet. I know you sent this a while ago. But when I read it, my heart wasn't the only thing to clench up 😈! Thank you so much for sending this to me. It was so fun to write!!

A/N ::: Nerd/Bad Boy!Keisuke Baji x F.reader, reader doesn't know he's in Toman until later (or at all, idk), he is NOT playing stupid, math is just really fucking hard!

C/W ::: Mutual pining that's super on the DL, unprotected P->V, Baji surprising us ... so nothing out of the ordinary.

WC ::: Just over 2k.

"Why though?!" Baji yelled a little louder than you thought he needed to. But it was clear he was getting more and more pissed about this. "Why the FUCK does it have to equal the fucking same area as this fucking pellaroraglam?"

You bit the insides of your cheeks and your tongue to keep from laughing at him about his pronunciation of the word 'parallelogram'. "Because that's how the Greeks intended it. Ok? Let's take a 10 minute break and come back to this again, yeah? You're not an idiot, Kei. I think you've just been staring at the book for so long that things are starting to make less and less sense. Does that make sense?" You reached over and took his glasses from his face and brushed your finger up and down the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to go for a walk or get something from the kitchen? Maybe to eat or drink? Make this 10 count because when we get back, we're hittin' it hard again, ok?"

Something about your wording made his cock twitch. But he shoved that thought down almost as quickly as it bubbled up into the forefront of his overworked brain.

"Hittin' it hard again, hah? You're mean, y/n. You're a bully. A learning bully. You're not gonna give in until I understand this shit, are ya?" He stood up from your desk and he gestured for you to follow him to your kitchen.

Your apartment was nothing special. But how you made the space your own was something that Baji always found so sweet and comforting. Of course, he'd never admit that to you. He is, after all, the first division Captain of Toman. Captains don't find things 'sweet.' They find them masculine and bloody. That's what everyone from the outside looking in thought, anyway. Though, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the pull you and your apartment had on him, he always found himself wishing he was back here, with you, in this little bubble of mild contentment you'd created.

He was relaxed when he was with you. Save for right now. But you were trying to help him study for his midterm. Any other time he's been here, he always felt safe. Maybe even small, for lack of a better descriptor, when he is anything but 'small' in any sense of the word.

"You really do have a mean streak in you, you know that?" He teased as you both walked into your kitchen. "But you're right. I need a break from that book. My eyes are crossing and it's starting to give me a headache."

"Do you want a couple of tylenol? I think I have ibuprofen, too. Anything I can do to help you with this, Keisuke. It's my job, after all. Use me however you need to to get this through that stubborn head of yours." You smiled so cute at him that he had a difficult time not telling you what he really wanted to use you for.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that. But first, can I ask you something kinda weird?" He sat down on one of the bar stools at the counter and you followed suit, sitting next to him.

"Of course! Anything, Kei." You rubbed your fingers up and down your forearm, a nervous habit. Even still, you assumed it was a question about the math you were helping him study. "What's up?"

"So, like, I know you're not into me in that way. Right? And that's fine. You've made that very clear. But, like, if you were...into me, I mean, into someone … hypothetically, I mean, what kind of person do you think you would be into? Like, are you more into the nerdy type, or the bad boy type, or, like, the artsy type?"

You didn't really understand where this was going. But you decided to humor him. "Well, I guess I've always been pretty attracted to the bad boy type. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't go for someone who was nerdy, too. It all depends on the person, you know? I have to like them first and foremost. Like, just because I see some bad boy doing bad boy stuff doesn't mean I'll fall to my knees and s-"

Baji choked on his tea, spitting it all over you in the process of trying to control the amount of liquid that was coming out of his mouth.

"Oh fuck! I'm so sorry, y/n! Gahhhd damn it. I am so sorry!" He grabbed the roll of paper towels from the counter by the sink and tore some off to frantically wipe your chest.

"K-Kei! Oh my god! Stop! It's ok! I'm at home, I can easily change my shirt. Don't worry about ... about it. You yell so much. Geez."

You hopped off of the stool and went back to your bedroom to find a shirt to change into. As you did so, Baji felt his stomach turn. He knew he shouldn't have asked you that. It was stupid and immature. But he couldn't help it. He'd had a crush on you for so long that he just needed to know if he had a chance in hell with you or not. But, as he'd guessed, you weren't interested in him that way.

He waited for you to come back to the kitchen before apologizing again. "I really am sorry, y/n. I don't know what came over me. I was just, I dunno, asking for a friend. And then you started to say that if you saw someone doing something that you’d fall to your knees and …" He waved his hand in the air as if to clear what he was going to say away before it’d even had a chance to see the light of day. “And I choked and blew my tea all over you.”

You giggled and shook your head, smiling at him. "It's ok, Kei. You're a little clumsy, but you're still really sweet. I like hanging out - I mean, you know. Helping you study. I enjoy your company, regardless of what we're doing."

"Y/n? I really wanna kih-" He blushed and looked away from you before he thought you saw his face turn a pretty shade of pink.

"You what, Kei?" You leaned around him a little to get his attention. "What do you want, Baji? You can tell me. We're friends."

FRIENDS

"Oh, y-yeah. Of course we're ... friends. Yeah. Well, let's get back to the math, then. C'mon." His heart, smile and morale sank as he headed back to your room with you.

Meanwhile, you were left to wonder what he was going to say. What did he want to 'kih'? Kiss? Oh, no. It couldn't be that. Right? Maybe he just wanted to kick your butt for making fun of his pronunciation earlier ... even though your face was the only thing giving away the fact you were getting quite a bit of entertainment from that. He wouldn't have noticed that. Right?

You followed him back to your bedroom and decided to keep quiet about the whole thing. You couldn't imagine that he would want to kiss you. You were just his tutor. And he was so cool. He had cool friends, girls practically fell at his feet when he walked by them. He couldn't possibly have feelings for you, right?

Oh, but he did. He really did. He was mad for you. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his lap and kiss you senseless. But that couldn't happen. He couldn't ruin the time you spent together. It was precious to him, even though he knew you saw it as nothing more than a job.

The next hour of your time together was spent studying right from the book. There was no talking, no joking, just Baji finally getting to work. It was a welcome change for you. It meant you could focus on your task at hand and not worry about him trying to distract you with his unfinished sentences.

He was still so frustrated. But he was starting to make progress. He was starting to understand what you were trying to teach him. He just wished he could show you how he felt.

As you helped him work through the last of the 4 problems he had to do, he tried to come up with a way to say it. To tell you how he really felt. He was never good at words. Action was his strength. "I'm not sure about par-parallelograms? Is that how you say it? I'm so fucking sick of that long ass word. It's so stupid. Why couldn't they just say a special type of quadrilateral that has both pairs of opposite sides parallel and equal. That word is like 73 letters long. I hate it. It's so fucking annoying, y/n. Jesus."

You clapped and jumped a little where you stood, your tits bounced and his eyes went right to them. "Yes! Yes, Kei! Good! Good job!" You jumped into his arms and hugged him so tightly, burying your face in his neck, (accidentally) inhaling his scent. "I knew you could ..." you pulled your face back from him and looked into his brown eyes. "I knew you could do it ... Keisuke. Mmm ... Kei-suk-e. You ..." you breathed the words out heavily and found yourself staring at his full lips. That sly smile, his sharp teeth. Pain never looked so appealing.

Your heart stopped in your chest when he threw the math book across the room and it slammed into your wall with a loud thud. Before you had time to process what was happening, his hands were in your hair and his lips were on yours.

You'd been so stupid for someone who taught other people things. So stupid to not see how he felt. And now, here he was, kissing you like he needed you to breathe. You reached up and pulled his long black hair back from his face and returned the kiss with just as much intensity.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything, y/n. I didn't think you'd want me that way. I'm just a dumbass with no future. You're so smart and pretty and funny and ... and I just can't believe you're actually kissing me back right now."

You shook your head and smiled. "I'm sorry! I didn't realize what was happening, Kei. You're not as good at hiding your feelings as you think. You should have just said something, though. This whole time we've been studying everything together, we could have been ..."

"... fucking like rabbits?" He laughed, but his eyes were serious.

You reached down and unbuttoned his jeans. "You know, it's not nice to talk to your tutor like that. But Baji, you've made a lot of progress tonight. I think you deserve a reward."

He picked you up and laid you down on your bed. "Oh yeah? And what kind of reward do you think I deserve, y/n?"

You reached over to your bedside table and turned on your neon pink LED lights. "The best kind, Kei. You've earned it."

"Fuck, y/n. You are so hot. I can't wait to fuck you so hard you forget everything you've ever taught me. We’ll have to have some more lessons. Is that ok with you?"

You nodded as you pulled your shirt up and over your head. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. We can even work on your pronunciation. You're a bit of a mess with your consonants."

He kissed you again and smiled. "Y/n, oh my god, shut up ... you're the worst." He pulled his pants down and straddled you, his cock rock hard and ready for you. "But you're also the best. I can't wait to make you mine."

"Kei, you're already mine." You reached up and cupped his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss. "Now ... teach me something.”

@darkstarlight82 @katshimizuu @kazutora-kurokawa @southside-otaku @arlerts-angel

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ceoofyearning · 8 days

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All I Want - Cassian

Pairing: Cassian x Bestfriend! Reader Summary: When Nesta Archeron dropped into Cassian’s life with the cataclysmic force of silver wildfire, you took one look at them and knew you missed your chance. There’s no fighting against a mating bond. But that hasn’t stopped the memory of him from haunting you since. Except there he is, decades later, just across the room, watching you watch him. Rating & Warnings: T/M | Hurt & Comfort, angst to fluff, PAST Nessian, recreational mirthroot use, alcohol, suggestive but nothing explicit (lmk if i miss anything else) Word Count: 4.4k Links: Masterlist

A part of you had always craved to see the rest of the world, and when you got the chance to work in the Day Court three decades ago, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. With how things were, it seemed like the perfect excuse to leave. After all, it’s not as if you had a reason to stay. The mating bond between snapping Nesta and Cassian had made sure of that.

In many ways, leaving felt like the easier choice - to shed your past and start anew in a court where no one knew you - a clean slate. Mother knows you needed one.

Your work for Helion involves acquiring ancient texts and artifacts for the One Thousand Libraries of Day. It required you to travel all over Phythian, even as far as the continent to procure these items yourself. You adore your job and enjoy the freedom it affords you, but when you were given the opportunity to go back to Velaris to manage the satellite division connected to the Great Library, a part of you had been reluctant to agree. Coming back meant facing your past. And that, more than anything, was terrifying.

It has been a few weeks since your return to the City of Stars. Although you didn’t have much time outside of work, you do try to maintain a semblance of a social life. Mor made sure of that. When you first met her a few centuries ago, Mor had taken one look at you, a broken, wingless half-Ilyrian female, and decided that the two of you must become friends. Perhaps she saw a piece of herself in you, in your defiance against a world that was out to get you.

You had been close friends with Mor in the past, and the moment she heard you were back in town, she reached out to reconnect. You appreciated it immensely, of course. Going back and having to build a life for yourself in Velaris after all these years of being gone seems less daunting with a friend by your side. So when Mor asks you to go out, you try to go whenever you can afford to, desperate to grasp at chances to belong, despite yourself. Tonight, Mor practically dragged you out of your apartment for drinks and to briefly attend a ball in the Moonstone Palace.

“I don’t understand why Emerie is allowed to pass,” you grumble morosely as you peer up the warmly-lit exterior of Rita’s.

“Because Em hasn’t been hiding out in the library for the past week,” Mor counters blithely.

“I was busy,” you retort in vain, knowing full well that all resistance is futile.

“You’re always busy,” Mor retorts, throwing an arm around your neck. Your friend is clad in her usual skin-tight red dress, exuding self-confidence with each step she takes. You shoot her a look of sheer betrayal, and she laughs, raising her hands in mock surrender. “It’s for your own good. You deserve to have fun too, you know?” Mor says with exaggerated gravity, which has you rolling your eyes.

You sigh, and pad after her, knowing there is no use trying to argue now that she has already dragged you here. You practically trip over yourself on your borrowed heels, as you try to adjust the straps of the dress Mor had squeezed you into. It’s a resplendent satin dress with a terrifyingly low neckline and an even terrifyingly high slit up your left thigh. To her credit, however, the black dress fits you like a glove, a testament to Mor’s eye for fashion. With much effort, you banish the thoughts of all your responsibilities and deadlines to the void. Fine, you’ll try to have fun tonight, at least.

You would've been happy enough with a simple dinner, maybe even some wine, but of course, Mor idea of fun rarely coincides with yours. The initial plan is to have just a few drinks at a nice, quiet bar - catch up a bit, and have a good laugh. But as the night progressed, Mor had piled you with more and more alcohol, and you became more amenable to going along with her unhinged plans.

It starts with you moving to another bar, then another, until you finally find yourselves right in the middle of the overcrowded dance floor in the Moonstone Palace. To call this gathering a ball would be far too generous. Sometime in the night, the party had devolved to the very picture of debauchery. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled liquor, and bad decisions. It’s a good thing you were drunk enough to not mind the overwhelming press of bodies against you. You could even admit that there’s some comfort to be had in being just another face lost in the crowd - free to enjoy the music, to simply be. The beat seems to reverberate throughout the whole room, through your bones, pulling you and everyone else into movement, like a collective heartbeat. Amidst the sea of nameless, gyrating bodies, that’s where you catch a glimpse of him - a slip of darkness, flickering in and out of view as the kaleidoscope of colors shifts overhead.

Cassian.

Your attention doesn’t go unnoticed for long. His hazel eyes catch yours, and for a moment, the world stops existing. There is only you, and him and the weight of all the love, heartache and desolation between you. A blink, and reality returns to its normal unrelenting pace.

His muscled frame is evident even from a distance, the outline of his strong shoulders and defined arms visible beneath the blank long-sleeved shirt he wore. Intricate tattoos peek through the opened buttons of his shirt, their dark lines running from his neck, chest, down to his forearms.

You knew Cassian back when you still lived in the Night Court, fancied yourself in love with his charming smile and penchant for mischief. More than anything, you admired him for his kindness. He had been the one to help you escape the camps, even helped set you up here in Velaris. As a half-Ilyrian female with no wings or any significant Ilyrian power, you don’t doubt that staying would have been a death sentence. Or worse.

Afterward, the two of you had spent the better part of the last two centuries circling one another. You didn’t know the name of what you had with Cassian, but the two of you had preferred it that way, not wanting to risk your friendship. You never had the courage to ask for more, not even when you desperately wanted to. But when Nesta Archeron had dropped into his life with the cataclysmic force of silver wildfire, you took one look at them and knew you missed your chance. There’s no fighting against a mating bond. But that hasn’t stopped the memory of him from haunting you since.

Except there he is, decades later, just across the room, watching you watch him.

You heard from the grapevine that, seven years ago, after a failed explosive engagement and years of falling in and out of each other's beds, he and Nesta had finally called it quits. The eldest Archeron sister, Lady Death, had moved to the ruins of Dusk to seek her own destiny, to carve the story of her glory onto the earth. Cassian, on the other hand, had decided to remain here in the Night Court.

A glint of recognition burns in his hazel eyes. For you, Cassian had always been the one that got away. Despite yourself, you find comfort in the thought that it might not have been easy for him to forget you, too.

You can feel your heart beat violently against your chest, threatening to break free from your ribcage. You can’t tell whether it's from anticipation, or a deep-rooted instinct that this? This is very dangerous territory, not unlike walking back into a battlefield you just managed to escape. Regardless of your better judgment, a smile makes its way to your lips, because, in the end, you’re happy to see him.

And Cassian smiles back.

Throughout the night, you watch Cassian from the corner of your eye, and you feel his gaze on you in return. Sometime in the evening, you lose Mor in the crowd, covertly swept away by a gorgeous Ilyrian female in black. You, in turn, are left precariously perched on a stool, nursing a glass of water. You swallow your disappointment while contemplating the logistics of winnowing home whilst being utterly tipsy, and conclude that you’re more likely to be spliced across time and space than to reach your destination.

Instead, you give yourself a few minutes to loiter by one of the palace’s expansive balconies, trying to get sober enough to depart. You’ve lost your shoal sometime during the party, but the crisp night air feels great against your heated skin, helping clear your mind. You recline against the chaise, before crossing your ankles and shutting your eyes. You stay like that for a few minutes, just enjoying the muted music and the blessed solitude.

Your peace doesn’t last long, however. You hear a familiar set of footsteps approach, followed by the telltale groan of the chaise beside you.

“You’re back,” he sounds breathless, disbelieving as though he hasn’t quite figured out if he’s dreaming. You’d know the calming cadence of his voice anywhere, in the dreaming, even in death.

“Cassian,” you sigh, just as breathless, just as dismantled by his presence. Finally, your eyes flutter open to peer up at him. You swallow the lump in your throat, and he watches the movement, transfixed.

You drink in the sight of him like you’re lost in a desert, and he’s the only oasis to be found. His long, wavy locks of midnight-black hair cascade over his shoulders, half pulled back into a disheveled bun behind his head. Loose curls frame his rugged features. He looks sharper, hewn from the toughest steel, but there was a familiar warmth in those hazel eyes.

“I thought I saw you,” he smiles, and your mind nearly implodes at the sight of the dimple on his right cheek. Memories flash, and you remember languid afternoons spent pressing kisses over the same dimple, your nose buried in his neck, your hands tracing shapes over his chest. The moment his hand lands on your knee, however, you snap out of it.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” you notify him pointedly because you are done giving pieces of yourself to this man, no matter how charming he can be, not without anything tangible in return.

He raises his hands over his head, as if in surrender, all the while giving you a crooked grin, “Hey, my intentions are pure, Sunshine. I just wanted to catch up.”

And that statement would have been perfectly fine, you think, if he hadn’t just called you that. Sunshine. God, how you used to love every time he said it, how your heart soared every time he spoke those two syllables. It made you feel special, seen. Now, all it leaves is the scent of smoke in your lungs and the taste of devastation in your tongue

“Cassian, Please,” and you hope to The Mother you sound casual, light, sarcastic even; and not like you’re about to swallow your own damn tongue. “Your intentions are as perpetually black as Azriel’s shadows.”

“I resent that,” he huffs petulantly. “I’m perfectly capable of having a chaste conversation.”

“Right.” You laugh, a real one this time, and Cassian holds his chest in feigned offense. “I just got back, and the first thing you do is lie to me? For shame, Cassian, for shame,” you tease, and a lovely shade of pink invades his cheeks, much to his chagrin.

As you settle further into the cushions, you ask, "What have you been up to? Those Illyrian Warlords still giving you trouble?"

Cassian leans back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I hardly involve myself in the military anymore," he admits, his tone tinged with an equal measure of relief and exhaustion. "I'm tired of the battlefields, the bloodshed. I’ve seen enough of it for several lifetimes. I want to build, not to destroy; to something new, something greater than myself."

And that’s when you see it - the weariness from the weight of all that violence, from the stains those lost lives have left on his hands. They may have called him the Lord of Bloodshed, and he may have been good at it even, Cassian - at his core - has always had a kind and tender heart. You don’t blame him for wanting to leave that life.

You nod in understanding. “What are you going to do?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

A spark lights up in his eyes, and his smile returns, softer this time. “I’m not entirely sure yet,” he confesses. “But I want it to be something that helps people, that brings more good into the world. The Valkyries were a great start, but I want to build a place for people like us, my mother, the outcasts - a safe place for all the females, the children and the bastards brutalized by this world. I want to give them a chance for a kinder life.”

Your chest aches, and you reach out, taking his hand in yours. “That sounds wonderful, Cassian.”

He squeezes your hand gently, his eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you.”

He studies you for another long moment, hazel eyes taking you in like he’s seeing you for the first time, as if you held the answer to a question he’s spent a long, long time asking himself. His gaze softens.

As the evening stretches on, you and Cassian talk about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing effortlessly like the constant ebb and flow of the Sidra. Despite what happened in the past, this thing between you two feels natural, almost as if no time has passed. Sitting there with him, you realize how much you've missed this, missed him. Cassian had been your savior, your family, and your closest friend before everything went wrong, and perhaps, that’s the one thing you mourned the most: his presence in your life, regardless of who he was to you. Reconnecting with him now felt like being ripped apart and remade all in one breath.

Then, he pulls out a pipe from his pocket, and promptly sticks it in between his teeth. You watch, half mesmerized by the way he lights it before taking a slow, steady drag. He breathes it in with practiced ease, before releasing a truly remarkable cloud of smoke. He must’ve noticed you staring because he looks at you and wordlessly offers you a puff. “Remember this?”

You eye him dubiously, “How could I forget.” It’s the same gem-encrusted pipe you had given him as a joke all those years ago, knowing how much he hated unnecessary finery. He had stared at it in horror when you first presented it to him years ago. That he kept it surprised you.

Memories of the two of you locked in his room come into mind. Your lips on his, bodies entwined as a bowl of mirthroot burns at the bedside table.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t do mirthroot anymore?” He asks, his grin growing wider. “What is it? Forgotten to have fun?”

Refusing to give him the satisfaction, you retort instead, “I haven’t.”

“Prove it then,” he challenges, as he taps off some of the ash that has accumulated in the mouth of the pipe.

You shouldn’t, really. But it’s been a shitty night, and an even shittier month. Mor was right. You’ve been running yourself ragged. And, in truth, you just needed a night where you could forget the rest of your life, even if it’s only temporary

“Well,” you say as you take the pipe from him, “If anyone needs a bit more mirth in their life, it would be me.”

Cassian chuckles, “And me.” The two of you mime clinking glasses as a show of commiseration, before bursting into raucous laughter.

You toy with the pipe for a few seconds, turning it over your fingers. It may have seemed like reluctance, but in reality, you were trying to remember the last time you allowed yourself to relax. You realize that it has been a very long while. With one deep breath, the earthy smoke fills your lungs, and you let it linger before you breathe it out. Not without being hit by a coughing fit though, much to Cassian’s amusement.

“Don’t,” you warn him.

And of course, he doesn’t heed you, and instead says, “You’re adorable.”

Before you can say anything else, he takes the pipe and squeezes himself beside you onto the scant space left on the chaise. You let him. It is as though the two of you can’t help but gravitate towards each other, twin stars pulled together by the same cosmic force; even after everything, even after years of silence, of insurmountable distance.

The chaise makes an impressive effort to hold the both of you, and it takes some truly impressive maneuvering for the two of you to fit. He’s turned towards you while you lay half-sprawled across his chest, your leg thrown over his thighs to lock around his calf. His wing curls over you, encasing you within his warmth. Your hand is over his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart echoing your own. It's comforting to know that, even after all that has happened, the two of you still fit together like long-lost pieces of a single puzzle.

“Here, let me,” he takes another hit, easily inhaling and exhaling the silvery smoke as if that alone is enough instruction. He hands it to you once more.

You give him a withering look, but take it from him anyway. Once more you try your best to take the smoke in, but it elicits another coughing fit when you breathe it out.

“Mother’s tits,” you mutter between coughs. Meanwhile, Cassian looks far too delighted at watching your miserable attempts to get high.

“Do you want me to help?” he cryptically proposes with a hopeful look on his face, and you see the question for what it is. “You can say no anytime,” he assures you.

In lieu of an answer, you inch closer, your face angled to fit with his, and you wonder if this is how a sunflower feels when it turns to face the sun. He only gives you one of his unfairly dashing smiles, before he takes another long drag. But this time, he keeps it in, as he cups your face and presses his thumb down your lower lip to coax your mouth open for him.

“Like this,” he whispers, his lips a mere centimeter away from yours. You’re practically vibrating with want, counting the infinities between seconds before you can taste his lips again. The smoke escapes his lips in languid swirls as you pull him down by the nape into a kiss.

Cassian smiles against your lips.

The world is gradually shifting around you, like tectonic plates converging to recreate the world anew. The both of you shudder at the contact. This isn’t a cataclysm, not a world-ending explosion, but a realization, an answer to an overdrawn question. Cassian kisses you like he’s got all the time in the world to spare. It’s a languid back and forth of shared breaths and the seamless glide of his chapped lips on yours.

The feel of him is familiar and foreign all at once. The taste of rum lingers on his tongue as he licks into your mouth, swallowing the moan that comes out of you unbidden. You don’t know how long you stay in that hazy bliss, reacquainting yourselves with each other, just breathing the other in.

But when he pulls away, he tugs on your bottom lip as if to make a final point. And what a totally valid point it is. You are convinced - so convinced, in fact, that you decide you aren’t going to smack him over the head for ruining you completely. The smug smirk on his face, by all means, would normally piss you off, but you find yourself smiling back instead.

“Was that better?” He inquires, batting his doe eyes at you innocently like he hadn’t just obliterated all rational thought in your head with his touch alone.

“I can’t tell…” you trail off in feigned consideration. “I think you’ll have to do it again, just to be sure.”

His nose scrunches in the most adorable way as he scoffs. Nonetheless, he humors you, lifting the pipe to his lips and inhaling another long drag.

“This is purely for science,” you inform him, running your thumb tenderly over his cheekbone.

He nods in mock seriousness, before adding, “An experiment of sorts.”

“Exactly,” you agree, as you tug on the curls on the back of his head to pull him down for another kiss.

Cassian offers to fly you home, and you accept despite the both of you knowing that you’re perfectly capable and sober enough to winnow back on your own. Cassian scoops you up in the cradle of his strong arms, and you can’t help but let out a small gasp as the massive shadow of his wings unfurl. With a few beats, you’re in the air, soaring high above the mountainside. You barely have the presence of mind to erect the barrier for the two of you to keep the cold at bay.

The flight to your apartment takes longer than it should because Cassian can’t keep his damn hands to himself long enough to take seven consecutive wingbeats. You indulge him, of course. With your arms around his neck, his lips find yours time and time again. Below, Velaris is a spread of starlight, like a reflection of the night sky overhead. You’ve got no viable defense for your actions, only that you missed him immensely, and deep in your soul, you know you still want him. You’re afraid that you always will.

But as you arrive at your apartment, the both of you walk up to the door. Cassian tells you he’ll see you tomorrow and moves to leave you with one final peck on the lips, but you maintain your firm grip on his collar.

“You’re leaving?” You ask, your brows scrunched and your mouth agape.

He chuckles at your confusion, his lips once again to that signature crooked grin you adore far too much.

“Oh? Did you want me to stay?” he asks, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a painfully gentle touch.

You huff out an exasperated breath, giving him a pointed look. “Cassian, if I didn't, you wouldn't even be here,” you retort, trying to mask the warmth his gesture ignited.

“Why?” He presses further. “What did you have in mind, pretty girl?”

That truth is this: you don’t think you could bear parting with him again, not when you just got him back. You don’t think that losing Cassian is something your heart can survive twice.

His hand makes a slow descent from the back of your head, to your cheekbone, then to your jaw before gently tipping your face up to meet his gaze. A shiver runs down your spin at the intensity of his gaze.

Cassian languidly leads you against the wall, pressing his body against yours. You can feel the evidence of his want against you, while he begins to leave butterfly kisses on your neck.

“Hmm?” He urges again, in between kisses. “C’mon, tell me.” Then, he tugs on your lobe lightly, before whispering against your ear, “Tell me all the lovely thoughts running through your pretty little head.”

A shuddering breath leaves your lips in response, your body reflexively arching into him. He slots his muscled thigh in between your legs while keeping a firm grip on your hips. Cassian, it seems, is as intent on keeping you as you are him.

“Cassian,” you plead, “stay.” Your chest feels like a supernova on the verge of extinction. Fear and longing grip you in a hurricane of emotion, threatening to swallow you whole.

For a while, Cassian just watches you, completely laid bare for him, his to keep or his to break.

“Cassian,” you repeat, the desperation in your tone palpable.

He raises his hands in mock surrender once more, reminiscent of earlier that night, before saying, “Say please.”

“I hate you,” you retort, but your body tells a different story. Without your approval, you realize your hands have slipped under his shirt, reflexively exploring the familiar terrain of his skin, while your lips press against the sensitive skin of his neck.

Cassian sighs, melting beneath your touch, his playfulness giving way to a look of pure adoration. With an expression that leaves no room for doubt, he whispers, “Liar.”

“Guilty,” you confess.

He matches it with a confession of his own, “I love you.” Cassian's gaze is unbearably soft, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. His voice is raw with sheer sincerity. "I've never forgotten you, never stopped thinking about you."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and for a moment, the world pauses, forgets what it is to breathe. You search his face, seeing the truth reflected in forest eyes. A mixture of relief and joy washes over you, like a stream of cool water over scalded skin. Every moment you’ve shared, every glance, every touch, each joy and regret - has led to this moment.

You lean in closer, your forehead resting against his. "I love you too, Cassian,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I never stopped.” At that moment, you’re certain that The Cauldron had made a mistake because every part of you is perfectly aligned with his, fitting together in a way that no one else ever could.

“Stay,” you implore him once more, your voice soft but earnest.

“Only if you promise to go on a date with me,” he says against your lips.

You blink blearily up at him, your mind still lost in the moment. “A date?” you ask, almost in wonder. There was a time when the two of you spent everyday together, back when you were in the purgatory between best friends and something more. But in retrospect, you’ve never gone on an actual date. Despite everything you’ve done so far, the thought of going out with Cassian is what sends your heart racing.

“Okay,” you finally agree, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cassian’s smile is radiant, a bright light in this wretched world. And for the first time in a long while, you look forward to the future.

Author’s Note: Hello! I’m new to this fandom & I’m so down bad I started writing fics again. I’d love to hear your thoughts 💙

+ This was literally supposed to be just Cassian + shotgunning but now there's plot so here we are.

#my fic #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #a court of mist and fury #angst with a happy ending #cassian fanfic #cassian fluff

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vexwerewolf · 8 months

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I always figured the Imperials were the good guys.

Nnnnnngh… no. Imperials are the better of two bad options, and it's really muddied because Bethesda lost its good writers years before Skyrim came out. I can feel a hyperfixation coming on, so a quick TL;DR: the Empire is an Empire so it's still bad, the Stormcloaks are just racist saboteurs led by a Manchurian agent and Tiber Septim is a gigantic piece of shit who ruined everything.

Okay, so the Empire functionally lost its equivalent of the Mandate of Heaven when Martin Septim died heirless at the end of Oblivion. His sacrifice forged a new compact to end the Daedric incursions, but by that point Imperial infrastructure throughout Tamriel had been so badly damaged that it could no longer maintain order. By the time the Mede dynasty got its feet under it, several provinces had either risen in revolt against the Empire or and were busy violently settling bitter generational rivalries with each other.

Most notably, this included the Thalmor, who are openly and proudly an Altmer supremacist movement. Their primary goal is to end the dominion of Men on Tamriel and institute a second Merethic Era dominated by them. This is the most obvious reason for why they want to ban Talos worship - the idea that a Man could become Divine is grossly incompatible with their worldview. (I must note that there's also a much-discussed fan theory stating that they intend to unmake creation in its current form and destroying Talos worship is part of that, but it's partially based on sources whose canonicity is in doubt, so I'm not going to discuss it further at this time.) The Thalmor are pretty much explicitly Elf Nazis, right down to invading foreign countries and rounding up their religious minorities.

It should be considered, however, that Tiber Septim was an UNBELIEVABLY MASSIVE PIECE OF SHIT. There's credible evidence that during his mortal life he assassinated the Cyrodillian monarch to whom he had sworn fealty and then seized his throne. He had a dalliance with Berenziah that ended up getting her pregnant, then forcibly abducted her and had the child aborted without her consent. After gaining Numidium from a treaty with the Tribunal of Morrowind, he discovered that they hadn't given them its power source (Lorkhan's Heart - understandable, since it was the source of their false divinity), and so he created a new one, the Mantella, by tearing the souls out of Ysmir and Zurin Arctus, two of his most loyal companions. He used Numidium to brutally conquer the rest of Tamriel and then turned it on all the noble families in Cyrodil who hadn't supported him. His empire - as all empires are - was built entirely on murder, pillage and rape. And - as all emperors do - he rewrote his own history because nobody dared openly oppose it. If the Aedra truly did award him a seat amongst them after this (and the fact that his bloody armor counts as "the blood of a divine" in Oblivion suggests that they did), it's questionable whether any of them are worthy of worship.

Nonetheless, worship of Talos was of extreme cultural importance to the Nords, because he was considered by history to have been a Nord, and indeed born in Atmora, the mythic first homeland of the Nords (although, again, it's likely he was just fucking lying - heterodox historical accounts suggest he was born in High Rock and never saw Atmora in his life). The White-Gold Concordat was formulated specifically to provoke division between the remaining provinces of the Empire - the Thalmor correctly predicted that the Nords would never tolerate being stripped of their right to worship Talos, and would rise in revolt against an Empire that mandated it.

The specific cause of the Stormcloak Rebellion is also… dubious. During the war with the Thalmor, the Imperial Legion had all but pulled out of Skyrim. This allowed an uprising by the Reachmen, an ethnic minority within southwestern Skyrim who, notably, had been brutally disenfranchised and stripped of their land by… Tiber Septim! Thanks, Talos, you continue to be a gigantic piece of shit! Anyway, they seized control of Markarth and held it for two years, during which by most accounts they ruled it as an independent kingdom that was making overtures towards being recognised by the Empire. After the signing of the White-Gold Concordat, Ulfric Stormcloak raised an army to retake it, and was promised by the Jarl of the Reach (and, allegedly, the Empire itself) that worship of Talos would be freely allowed in Markarth. Ulfric Stormcloak then proceeded to lay siege to the city and butcher it, ethnically cleansing the city of every last Reachman down to the women and children, slaughtering any Nord who had collaborated with them and allegedly even killing those citizens of Markarth who hadn't answered his call to arms.

Inevitably, the Thalmor found out about the Talos worship anyway and the Jarl was forced to sell out Ulfric and his men. This is generally considered to be the betrayal that sparked the civil war, but at this point we must examine who Ulfric is.

Ulfric was trained in the Thu'um from an early age by the Greybeards, but abandoned his tutelage to fight in the Great War. We know little of his performance other than that he was captured by the Thalmor, tortured extensively, and falsely made to believe that the information he had given under torture was instrumental in the fall of the Imperial City. His father, the Jarl of Windhelm, died while he was in prison, and he was forced to deliver a eulogy via a letter that he had smuggled out of the prison. He claims he escaped from captivity, while Thalmor records claim that they let him go intentionally; neither source is particularly reliable.

From a sociopolitical standpoint, Ulfric is a staunch Nordic traditionalist who openly states that he doesn't believe Skyrim has had a "true" High King for centuries, considering recent monarchs to simply be puppets installed by the Empire. He also seems to be deeply racist: in contrast to his father, he banned Argonians from entering Windhelm proper, confining them to the Assemblage on the docks, and he's allowed racist sentiments towards the Dunmer residents of the Grey Quarter to worsen. Even citizens of Windhelm who support the rebellion comment that isn't doing very much governing, since the civil war eats up most of his attention.

One point I will give to Ulfric is that establishing Skyrim as an independent kingdom that can actively resist the Thalmor isn't actually as far-fetched as it seems. After the White-Gold Concordat ceded half of Hammerfell to the Thalmor, Hammefell said "how about fuck you," broke from the Empire entirely, and smacked the Thalmor down so hard they had to sign the Second Treaty of Stros M'Kai and retreat from Hammerfell entirely. This rendered the nation a haven for those opposed to the Thalmor, and they're in such a strong position that the Alik'r can actively hunt Thalmor collaborators like Saadia in other nations. Hammerfell is in a better position than Skyrim, and it did it without any Imperial aid.

(A hilarious fact about the Hammerfell situation is that the Thalmor tried the exact same thing there - inciting a civil war between the Crowns and the Forebears, two factions that have hated one another for generations. Unfortunately, they fucked it up so badly that it actually managed to end the rivalry and unite both of them against the Thalmor.)

But this is where Bethesda's inability to actually capitalize on the good parts of their writing really gets to me.

The Empire in Skyrim… sucks. Like, from your perspective as a player, the first experience you have of the Empire is "okay, so you were at the border alongside this guy and we're executing him today so I guess you get to die too." The only decent Imperial you meet is Hadvar, who makes a lukewarm plea for your life but doesn't press the issue.

All of the Imperial Jarls except for Balgruuf and Idgrod Ravencrone are dogshit. Elisif is a naive, incompetent teenager. Siddgeir is an arrogant, incompetent ponce. Igmund is a spineless Thalmor toady reigning over stolen land, having broken a promise he made to Ulfric and thus being partially responsible for the civil war. The replacement Jarls you get if you side with the Empire and conquer territories the Stormcloaks hold at the start of the game fall into two categories: "who?" and "oh fuck not you." If I say the names Brina Merilis or Kraldar, I bet you won't even remember who I'm talking about. Brunwulf Free-Winter, the replacement for Ulfric Stormcloak, has ONE personality feature and it's "I'm slightly less racist than Ulfric." But when you capture Riften for the Empire, the new Jarl is MAVEN FUCKING BLACK-BRIAR, THE SECOND-WORST PERSON IN SKYRIM.

But the Stormcloaks suck worse. Laila-Law Giver is a puppet for the Black-Briar crime family. Skald the Elder is a grumpy, hidebound old man. Korir might as well not be ruling anything at all. If you side with them, you have to sell out Balgruuf when the matter of Whiterun comes up - a man who has never been anything but helpful, supportive, trusting and forthright with you. Oh, and let's not forget that if you take the Reach for the Stormcloaks, the new Jarl is THONGVOR SILVER-BLOOD, LITERAL SLAVEOWNER AND WORST PERSON IN SKYRIM.

(There is an absolutely cursed timeline wherein during the "territory trade" at the peace talks you can hold during the main quest if you haven't finished the civil war quest yet where Maven gets the Rift and Thongor gets the Reach, meaning you have just installed the two most powerful crime families in the country into positions of executive power.)

This isn't just a case of "of course both sides aren't perfect and have issues." This is just "both sides fucking suck." A better game would allow you to make some headway in resolving the massive issues that face Skyrim, but I've already written like nine billion words here so maybe I should go into that at a different time.

#skyrim #the elder scrolls #writing #bethesda

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exilepurify · 1 year

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“You know a lot of big words.” — Determining Shigeo’s Kanji Literacy

An analysis in four parts:

Jouyou kanji and Japan’s compulsory education system, explained.

An introduction to the analysis—what I did and why I did it.

A presentation of data, evidence, and counterarguments.

The truth revealed: can Shigeo write a reasonable amount of kanji for his age group?

Jouyou kanji and Japan’s compulsory education system, explained

Let us begin this analysis by establishing a basic understanding of how Japan’s education system is structured.

As you may already know, only elementary school and middle school are compulsory in Japan, meaning that high school and college are completely optional. Therefore, compulsory education in Japan consists of grades 1-9, with grades 1-6 being 小学校 (primary school) and grades 7-9 being 中学校 (middle school).

The term 「常用漢字」(jouyou kanji, “Daily-Use Kanji”) refers to a list of 2136 kanji that the Japanese Ministry of Education requires be taught throughout education grades in Japan due to their importance and frequency of use in Japanese daily life. Knowing all 2136 is defined by the Japanese government as the baseline for basic, functional literacy in Japanese. The jouyou kanji list is further divided into two sub-categories: 「教育漢字」(kyouiku kanji, “Education Kanji”) and 「中学・高校漢字」(chuugaku • koukou kanji, “Secondary School Kanji”).

教育漢字 (kyouiku kanji, “Education Kanji”) (A.K.A. 学年別漢字配当表 [gakunenbetsu kanji haitouhyou, “list of kanji by school year”]) is the Japanese term for the 1006 kanji that are taught over the 6 years of primary school in Japan, grouped into different grade levels by difficulty and complexity.

「中学・高校漢字」(chuugaku • koukou kanji, “Secondary School Kanji”) is the term for the 1130 kanji that students are expected to learn throughout middle school and high school. This list of kanji is not strictly divided by grade level, though a general grade level is often provided, because students in secondary school—whether it be middle or high—are expected to learn kanji more independently. Though the responsibility of learning these kanji is shifted from the classroom to the individual, the importance of knowing these kanji by the end of one’s education, if that be middle school or high school, cannot be overstated. Once again, these 2136 kanji are considered the basics of Japanese kanji fluency.

According to the “Kanji Frequency Number Survey/漢字頻度数調査” conducted by the National Cultural Affairs Division in 2000, in 385 books published by a major publishing company, 8474 different kanji were used (not including duplicates). However, speakers are able to understand 99% of them if they know the top 2457 kanji, and 99.9% of them if they know the top 4208 kanji. And as is true for speakers of every other language, people can generally read more words than they can write.

I determined the “grade level” of each kanji in this analysis according to the grade level provided in my Japanese-English dictionaries, but consideration will be made for Secondary School Kanji due to the lack of official grade divisions and the less organized circumstances involved with learning them.

An introduction to the analysis—what I did and why I did it

In this analysis, I focused specifically on Shigeo’s ability to write kanji, not to read them. This is most obviously because it’s much harder to determine whether or not someone can actually read something, especially in anime, without it being explicitly mentioned. However, it is also because the meaning of kanji can be inferred from knowing the meaning of radicals, and as mentioned above, it is common for people to be able to read more words than they can write. The true mark of knowing a kanji is being able to write it.

To determine Shigeo’s kanji-writing ability, I studied screenshots from a few scenes from the anime, specifically a couple of scenes from the Reigen OVA where Shigeo is writing a LOT, and a couple scenes from the regular anime where Shigeo is explicitly seen writing stuff down and the audience is shown the writing.

The data has been organized into two different excel charts—one for kanji he uses correctly, and one for kanji he doesn’t know or messes up. The kanji in each of these charts have been color-coded and organized by grade level, with readings, translations, and explanations provided. There is only one kanji in the entire analysis that is not considered a part of the jouyou kanji, and this kanji has been marked by “N/A” in the grade level section.

I will provide each chart alongside a percentage likelihood that Mob will know any given kanji from each grade level based on the information gathered from the anime. Please note that the sample size is obviously limited, but I’m working with what I have. If there is a kanji with some sort of detail worth consideration, I’ve marked it with a (**) in the chart and will explain below.

Lastly, I included kanji used in names in the chart here after some deliberation. Name kanji are tricky in general, because multiple kanji share the same pronunciation and people usually don’t know what kanji are used in someone’s name unless they are shown by that person (unless it’s some crazy common name like 高田 or 森 or 田中).

A presentation of data, evidence, and counterarguments.

Shigeo’s known kanji:

Shigeo’s unknown kanji:

IMPORTANT NOTE: There are one or two instances of Shigeo NOT using a kanji at all that I’ve decided not to include on the chart. This is because it is common for Japanese speakers to omit kanji for super common verbs and write them in kana instead, either for personal style reasons or for convenience. Since the verbs are so fundamental and commonly-used, it’s unlikely that they will be misunderstood or mistaken for another word if written in kana. So, if Shigeo wrote the verb for “to read” or “to eat” without using kanji, I didn’t include it, as I highly highly highly doubt he doesn’t know those kanji and I felt like it would unfairly skew the results against him.

米** = I don’t blame Shigeo for not knowing this kanji. It’s fair to assume that Mob might not have seen Mezato’s name written out and therefore wouldn’t know which kanji to use. On TOP of that, “me” for 米 is a special nanori (used for names only) reading and is super obscure and uncommon. I couldn’t even find it in my name dictionary by searching “Mezato”, I had to find her name written in kanji in S1E3 and go from there. I wouldn’t expect this kanji to be in anyone’s top ten possible kanji guesses for the “me” in “mezato”. I included it because rules are rules, but wanted to mention this to make it fairer on the boy.

世** = I want to make it known that Shigeo does successfully write this kanji in the image shown here, when he writes 「世紀」(century):

HOWEVER. However. He messed it up SO BAD before that I think it actually overpowers him using it correctly and brings it back around to a “not properly known” kanji, especially because it’s a kanji taught in second grade that he shouldn’t be messing up at all:

The subtitles intersect it but I’ve rewritten what Shigeo wrote there at the bottom. He tried to write 「世の中には」”In the world…”, but tried to write the kanji, messed up, crossed it out, and then rewrote it in kana. Didn’t even try to write it a second time. This is egregious and, in my juror’s power, cancels out his later usage. This would be like misspelling “world” in English. I’m willing to entertain arguments that he just wanted to write it in kana for some reason, but as it is now, I don’t think that excuse is compelling enough against such damning evidence, so in “missed kanji” it goes. (It’s partly cut off but what gets me is that it doesn’t even look wrong in the first place lol but if he crossed it out, it means he didn’t know it well enough, which allowed him to doubt, which is still damning enough.)

造** = Just like above, Shigeo actually does successfully use this kanji once in the show when he’s filling out his paperwork for the Body Improvement Club in S1E2 (forgive my awful kanji, it’s hard to draw on the phone lol):

However, that was not only on an official school document, it was also in the presence of a student council member and Saruta (#2 in the grade lol) so I have to assume he either asked someone for help or got corrected. Either way, the instance where he doesn’t use the kanji is when he’s in his bedroom alone, writing in his personal notebook—a much more casual environment, and one that takes place AFTER s1e2 (can’t argue he learned it):

This leads me to believe that Shigeo does not naturally know the kanji, as he can’t reproduce it in casual day-to-day or when alone.

焉** = This kanji is not only not included in the jouyou kanji, but it is also used in an obscure word. In fact, it took me a minute to locate it in my Japanese-English dictionary app. It is absolutely not reasonable to expect Shigeo to know this kanji off the top of his head, and he probably wouldn’t know it even if he were a kanji ace. It is included and working against him, however, because the kanji he initially tried to write in its place was 「円」, a.k.a. the kanji for YEN/¥:

Sure, 「えん」is a reading for「円」, that part makes sense. But 「終焉」means “the finals years in one’s life”, so I’m really struggling to understand why Mob would think the yen money kanji would be a part of that word and why he would try to write it with that kanji instead of just writing it in kana first, like the majority of the kanji he didn’t know. It’s truly an enigma to me. I’m bewildered he even tried that, and for that, I’m holding it against him.

BASIC STATS:

GRADE 1 KANJI:

- Total known: 17

- Total unknown: 0

- Grand total: 17

- Shigeo knows: 17 out of 17

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 1 kanji: 100%

GRADE 2 KANJI:

- Total known: 16

- Total unknown: 3

- Grand total: 19

- Shigeo knows: 16 out of 19

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 2 kanji: 84.2%

GRADE 3 KANJI:

- Total known: 13

- Total unknown: 6

- Grand total: 19

- Shigeo knows: 13 out of 19

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 3 kanji: 68.4%

GRADE 4 KANJI:

- Total known: 11

- Total unknown: 0

- Grand total: 11

- Shigeo knows: 11 out of 11

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 4 kanji: 100%

(Baby apparently had a great year in fourth grade.)

GRADE 5 KANJI:

- Total known: 3

- Total unknown: 4

- Grand total: 7

- Shigeo knows: 3 out of 7

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 5 kanji: 43.9%

GRADE 6 KANJI:

- Total known: 0

- Total unknown: 2

- Grand total: 2

- Shigeo knows: 0 out of 2

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 6 kanji: 0%

😭

GRADE 7 KANJI:

(No known or unknown 7th grade kanji found)

GRADE 8 KANJI

- Total known: 5

- Total unknown: 6

- Grand total: 11

- Shigeo knows: 5 out of 11

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 8 kanji: 45.5%

^ To Shigeo’s credit, this isn’t bad at all considering he’s only halfway through his eight grade year at this point in the story.

% OF JOUYOU KANJI SHIGEO KNOWS:

% known from observed data:

65/86

75.6%

# of jouyou kanji: 2136

75.6% of 2136 = 1615 jouyou kanji

Here’s a graph for your visualizing pleasure:

Finally:

(All values are rounded up)

There are 1006 kyouiku kanji. There are 1130 secondary school kanji. Because high school in Japan is not compulsory, we’ll assume that the secondary kanji are to be learned over the three years of middle school. That means about 377 words per middle school grade. If Shigeo is halfway through eighth grade, let’s say he should generally know 1006 + 377 + (377/2) kanji, which comes out to 1,572.

There are 80 kyouiku kanji assigned to first grade, which Shigeo should know 100% of—80 total.

There are 160 kyouiku kanji assigned to second grade, which Shigeo should know 84.2% of—135 total.

There are 200 kanji assigned to third grade, which Shigeo should know 68.4% of—137 total.

There are 200 kanji assigned to fourth grade, which Shigeo should know 100% of—200 total.

There are 185 kanji assigned to fifth grade, which Shigeo should know 43.9% of—81 total.

There are 181 kanji assigned to sixth grade, which Shigeo should know… 0% of…. 0 total.

This all totals out to:

80 + 135 + 137 + 200 + 81 + 0 = 633/1006 elementary school-level kanji. That’s 63% of the kanji required for elementary school.

(Didn’t include a calculation for middle school kanji due to having 0 data on seventh-grade kanji and also him being halfway through eighth.)

The truth revealed: can Shigeo write a reasonable amount of kanji for his age group?

Uh… no. Maybe? Well… probably not, no.

I mean, of course there are flaws with my methods. I had a super small sample group and applied the stats there to all of the jouyou kanji, which is almost guaranteed to be lower than reality. I just didn’t really have another choice. Also, I’m very certain that Shigeo MUST know some 6th grade kanji, even if in the results here I considered the probability to be 0%. That’s assuredly not accurate. There were just, by chance, only two instances of sixth-grade kanji in all of the sample writing and he happened not to know either of them. This is just for fun, anyway. I can say with confidence, though, that he certainly isn’t a writer, and he definitely knows less kanji than the average eighth grader, but I wouldn’t take my numbers for anything more than entertainment.

But yeah. Shigeo is…. a little kanji-impaired. Which explains why he struggled with Emi’s writing and is only ever seen reading Shounen Jump volumes lmao. I believe in him though. He makes it work. My illiterate king. Who needs the other half of your elementary sight-words anyway?

All jokes aside though, he really started to scare me with the 世 and 円 things 😭😭😭😭😭

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #FINALLY IT IS DONE. This took me forever bc i’ve been SOOOO busy this past week #i’ve missed posting on here #so here’s a super long post as apology lol #i actually had a lot of fun with this #im so tired rn tho so i’m desperately hoping it makes any damn sense at all #our illiterate boy #i love him #like i said don’t take it too seriously. it’s all in good fun #kageyama shigeo #shigeo kageyama #mp100 analysis #mp100 meta #described in alt text

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stylesispunk · 3 months

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Nothing's gonna hurt you baby | prologue

Detective! Javier peña x f! reader

summary: You were kidnapped one winter night, but you have no memories of the incident or the person who took you. A year later, a homicide leads Javier Peña to your door, seeking help. He soon learns that he must protect the woman he loves.

chapter warnings: mentions of kidnapping, death, angst. The story doesn't follow the plot from narcos, but the use of Javier as the main lead in this story.

w.c: 1,7k

a/n: So lately I've been reading a little bit of this kind of genre and I wanted to give it a try, I got inspired by some readings and movies, and I know that this kind of topic may be triggering for a lot of people, but I'll try not to describe anything hard to read. Thank you in advance for allowing me to keep practicing with my writing, I hope I get better at this someday and I would love to know what you think!

masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

NEXT CHAPTER

There was a pain in your head when you woke up. The different voices in your surroundings were pounding against your skull, and terror creeped in.

You slowly opened your eyes, adjusting to the bright light piercing through your headache, intensifying the pain. You tried to recognize the people’s voices around you echoing in your ears, jumbling together into an unrecognizable symphony.

You attempted to move, but a sharp ache shot through your body. You winced. Panic crept in as you struggled to put the pieces together. Tiny fragments of broken memories flashed through your mind, but nothing seemed to explain why you were here.

As you blinked away the haze of confusion, you noticed a figure standing by your bedside—perhaps a nurse—with a gentle expression and a comforting presence. Their voice cut through the chaos, speaking softly to you, trying to reassure you. But the fear remained, gnawing at the edges of your consciousness like a relentless predator.

Questions flooded your mind, demanding answers that seemed just out of reach. What had happened to you? Why were you in the hospital?

“I was coming home from the restaurant; I had this fight with Tom,” you struggled to answer.

“Who is Tom?” the officer asked, walking towards your bed.

“My boyfriend,” you replied.

“That’s the last thing you remember?”

“That’s the last thing that happened yesterday.” You were completely confused, not understanding what was going on.

“Miss,” the officer began, carefully with the next words he was about to say: “That happened a year ago; you had been missing for a year.”

Your hands were shaking; you were completely lost, and the officer tried to comfort you. Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps, each one feeling like a struggle against an invisible weight pressing down on your chest. Panic clenched at your throat, making it difficult to swallow, as the reality of your situation crashed over you like a tidal wave.

The officer, sensing your distress, motioned urgently to the nurse, who hurried to your bedside with a concerned expression etched on her features. "We need something to help her calm down," the officer instructed, his voice laced with urgency.

You had woken up and come back from hell.

You had survived from a nightmare, your captor.

ONE YEAR LATER

Javier parked his car at the curb. The chaos of curious people had already gathered outside the house. Surely, for people to witness a homicide was not an everyday occurrence, and what had happened at this place woke great concern among the neighbors.

He had been working on the Violent Crimes Division for years. However, despite facing things that people wouldn’t normally endure, he had never fully gotten used to them. He had to face death almost on a daily basis, and yet it hurt to see a human become a lifeless frame on the ground because another person took their life away.

Yet he made his way through the crowd, avoiding the concerned people around him. He passed by reporters who asked such morbid questions he couldn’t even believe. The withering look he gave them was enough to make them feel angry, so he kept walking towards the cordoned house, with some officers making sure no one got too close.

“Good morning, people." He greeted her, crouching down under the police tape.

“Good morning, Peña." Steve was welcomed, joined by their other partner, Lauren.

Javier’s gaze traveled down and up his female partner, mesmerized not only by her blonde hair but also her hips. She was a doll, and he considered himself a lucky guy to witness her presence not only here but inside the four walls of his department almost every night.

“How are you, Javier?” She greeted her, placing and swagging her hair.

“Blessed by your presence here,” he answered, smirking.

Not long after, Lauren furrowed her eyebrows, signaling for their partners to follow her to the crime scene.

“What do we have here?” Javier asked, analyzing the horrid image in front of him.

“Naomi Warren. She was found dead this morning at eight thirty by her roommate. She told us Naomi always ran in the morning; it seemed like some crazy bastard followed her here,” Lauren explained, and they kept studying the situation.

They walked closer, and the girl laying there, lifeless, broke Javier’s heart; she didn’t seem older than twenty-five with a life ahead that stopped so suddenly. She was lying there in a white gown with her hands placed over her chest, holding a bouquet of daisies in between.

“Guys, how are you?” the forensic greeted

“What do you think?” Steven replied, walking around, being careful not to step on the evidence around the girl.

“Do you have the cause of death?” Javier wanted to know, although he could imagine it already.

“It seems like she was strangled, but I’ll be able to tell you more after the autopsy,” she said.

The forensic officer motioned for them to crouch down. But he would initially assume that it was very likely that she had been strangled. The three detectives observed traces of blood in the victim's eyes, and the answer was almost clear.

“There was a note, though,” she clarified.

“A note?” Javier asked, taking a pair of latex gloves from the forensics’ briefcase and kneeling down.

With a gentle hand, he reached out to retrieve the note, his fingers trembling slightly as he unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the words written in hurried script, and his brow furrowing in concentration.

The note was brief, yet its message was chilling in its simplicity. "You can't hide forever," it read, the words scrawled in dark ink that seemed to seep into Javier's consciousness like poison.

There was a name next to it: yours.

Javier's heart skipped a beat as he read the name next to the ominous message. It felt like a punch to the gut, the familiarity of the name sending a jolt of recognition coursing through his veins.

As the weight of realization settled upon him, Javier's mind raced with questions. What connection did this person have to the victim? And why had they left such a chilling message behind?

“Who kind of bastard could have done something like this?” Lauren asked as she gazed at Javier’s hands.

"Wait,” Steven said. “Do you remember that case from that girl in Boston?”

“Which one?” Javier asked,

“The girl who went missing for a year?” Lauren questioned.

Javier's mind flashed back to the haunting memories of the Boston case—the details of the missing girl, who had disappeared for a year before her tragic fate was discovered. The parallels between that case and the current one sent a shiver down his spine, the pieces of the puzzle slotting into place with eerie precision.

"The Boston case," Javier muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of dread and determination. "It's all coming back to me now."

Lauren's eyes widened with understanding as she connected the dots, realizing the significance of Steven's mention. "You think there's a connection between that case and this one?" She asked, her voice hushed with apprehension.

“There is a way to find out.” Javier's gaze hardened with determination as he contemplated Steven's suggestion. He knew they had to pursue every lead and exhaust every avenue of investigation to uncover the truth behind the chilling message and its connection to his own name.

"What do you have in mind?" Lauren asked, her voice betraying a hint of urgency.

Javier took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding. "We need to revisit the Boston case," he declared, his tone resolute. "We need to dig deeper, reexamine the evidence, and see if there are any overlooked connections between that case and this one."

Steven nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring Javier's determination. "I'll reach out to the authorities in Boston," he said, his voice steady. "We'll request access to the case files, interview witnesses, and do whatever it takes to uncover the truth."

"I know someone from there," Javier said, his voice resolute as he recalled a contact he had in Boston. The mention of this connection sparked a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that hung over them like a shroud.

Javier had found that you and the victim were, in fact, similar. The eerie similarities between yourself and the victim painted a picture of connection that couldn't be ignored. His heart clenched with empathy as he imagined the fear and uncertainty you must have faced, knowing that the same darkness that had claimed the victim now threatened you.

You had moved from Boston and changed your last name. It was clear that you had been running from the ghosts, seeking refuge from the nightmares that haunted your past. But now, those same nightmares seem to have caught up with you, threatening to consume you once more.

With each passing moment, Javier felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He knew that time was running out and that he had to act swiftly to ensure your safety.

Armed with newfound resolve, Javier spared no effort in his quest to track you down.

As the first light of dawn broke through the darkness, Javier stood before your door. He knew that this moment would be pivotal and that the truth awaited him on the other side of that threshold.

With a steadying breath, he reached out and knocked, the sound echoing through the silent morning air. Seconds stretched into eternity as he waited, his anticipation growing with each passing moment.

And then the door opened, revealing you standing before him, bathed in the soft glow of morning light. Javier's breath caught in his throat as he took in your appearance, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as Javier drank in the sight of you, his heart swelling with a mixture of awe and protectiveness. There was something about you—something that stirred a deep instinct within him. The need to protect, to shield you from all the dangers of the world.

For a moment, he found himself lost in the depths of your gaze, the weight of his responsibility pressing down on him like a heavy burden. But then, with a shake of his head, he pushed aside his doubts and fears, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"I'm Detective Javier Peña," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "I need to talk to you.”

#javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javi peña #javier pena imagine #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javi peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier pena fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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bookofbonbon · 6 months

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strut: in the snow - coriolanus snow.

Characters: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Summary: Secrets are discovered, deals bartered and announcements made.

Word Count: 800+

A/N: Curious if this will make people regret their choice on the poll lol.

Your employee file proves to be almost entirely useless to Coriolanus; though the file was thick, the majority of it had been redacted, large chunks of information scrubbed out in thick, black, blocks. He learned part of it was because of Capitol laws that had come into place to prevent the exploitation of child labour; not that that had done anything to protect you.

The other part being your participation in highly classified projects that required the highest levels of security clearance to gain access too, information that wouldn’t be lying around in a regular old employee file in the back of the Archives.

Your file was a mess quite frankly and clearly no one had bothered to do a thorough check of it, only adding in new pieces of information as required.

Almost entirely useless but, still he’d learn three things of high value about you:

You had been in the Capitol for as long as Sejanus and the Plinth family however, judging from the photograph attached to your file, even longer - something told Coriolanus the photograph had been an oversight and should not have been in your file.

You’d been officially employed by the War Department at 15, primarily working in the Capitol’s Experimental Weapons Division under Dr. Volumnia Gaul - doing what? He was unsure.

Four years later, you’d transfer out of the Experimental Weapons Division - almost immediately after Sejanus’s death - remaining in The War Department but now, in the private sector of Munitions and under the tutelage of your uncle; coming out of the shadows and making yourself known to Capitol society - Coriolanus just couldn’t figure out why; there had to be more to it than just him.

Despite the limited and missing pieces of information however, Coriolanus was able to put one important truth together: Strabo Plinth was once notoriously known for his refusal to supply The Capitol with munitions in The First Rebellion. His stance however, had taken an unexpected and dramatic turn as he began to supply The Capitol with military weapons in droves. None knew what caused the sudden change of heart in stubborn Strabo Plinth but many assumed it was the first-class ticket it bought the Plinth family to Capitol Citizenship - given his new discoveries, Coriolanus knew that this was not the case, it had something to do with you.

It's what brings him to the door of Strabo Plinth’s office in the early hours of the morning. Strutting past the older man, the threat you posed to Coriolanus and his claim to the Plinth Munitions Empire; that loomed largely over him was about to grow smaller as he prepared to leverage his newly discovered secrets (and ambiguous claims) about you to his advantage and bring you to heel.

Your footsteps are hard and heavy, striking loudly against the marbled floors and echoing throughout the empty university hallway. Most students had gone home for the day and the sun was long gone from the sky - not that you noticed, eyes focused only on the ballistics report in your hands; you had been waiting for it in anxious anticipation all day and finally it confirmed what you already knew to be true.

So, focused however, you don’t notice the figure creeping in the shadows until she makes herself known-

“Trapped in the Snow, she is- trapped in the Snow and she doesn’t even know, she is trapped in the Snow and she doesn’t even know there is nowhere she can…”

Go, you think, but don’t say it aloud.

“Volumnia,” you close the file, not appreciating what sounded to be a veiled threat. “I hope you’re not still upset about me killing the upgrades to your laboratory. I’m sure you can understand why it had to be done.”

She laughs her usually maniacal laugh, quietly, her hands pressed together as if she knows something you don’t.

It unsettles you in ways it had never done before.

- and she doesn’t even know -

You straighten your back, all senses on high alert - something was wrong, something was very wrong.

“Come to kill me like you did my cousin,” you eye her wearily, waiting for her to pull one of her mutts out from one of the many pockets of her clinical looking dress.

She laughs again, louder this time.

“You insult me, Miss Plinth, you know very well that I prefer to take my enemies out in a spectacle,” she tuts at you.

“So then why are you here? You never just show up somewhere, there’s always a reason.”

“There is always a reason,” she repeats with a smile and speaking in rhyme. “Why I only came to congratulate you on the new season… he only just told me a few moments ago, so glad I am, to be one of the first to know - given the role I have played in your life, it seemed only right I congratulate the soon to be wife .”

“Who? What are you…” you trail off, blood draining from your face. “What are you talking about?’

She smiles wide, all her teeth showing.

“Your engagement of course, to Coriolanus-

- and she doesn’t even know she is trapped in the -

Snow.”

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo snow x reader #coryo snow #tom blyth

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drowning-moonlight · 23 days

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fans can believe what they want about who is really responsible for Ace's death but it just really rubs me the wrong way when some fans are so victim blamy and say that Ace got himself killed. okay yes he did put himself in harms way by giving in to Akainu's taunting of Whitebeard and had to save Luffy but I think the narrative makes it clear that he was doomed to death no matter what.

I just think it's very clear that the main reason the navy wanted to put Ace to death was first and foremost because he was Roger's son, not because of his own crimes of piracy. sure the Marines made a public show of it because they wanted to start a war with Whitebeard and executing his second division commander would provoke Whitebeard into waging that war. however, I think the navy would have had a public execution for any of the WB pirates that they could've gotten their hands on, it just happened to be Ace because of Blackbeard capturing him. remember, Blackbeard was originally planning on turning in Luffy to the Marines. him getting Ace instead is what instigated the Marines declaring war on Whitebeard.

the thing is, they would have executed Ace no matter what though, regardless of him being a Whitebeard pirate and regardless of him being a pirate at all. nothing would change the fact that Ace was the biological son of the Pirate King. the navy had been trying to kill Ace since before he was born. he was doomed from the start. the fact that they would have killed him as an infant should be enough to show that the Marines would have targeted Ace no matter what, so Akainu (or any Marine) killing him was basically inevitable. that doesn't say to me that Ace caused his own death.

there is nothing that Ace could or should have done - or shouldn't have done - that could have saved him. that's why I don't like when some fans say he died because of a "yo daddy joke." I just don't see it that way at all.

Ace's life was in danger the moment he was conceived just because of who had fathered him. he understandably resented that as it caused him a great deal of pain. he eventually found his true father in Whitebeard, who he loved and respected unconditionally and probably felt that love and respect back. however misguided, it's no wonder that he stopped and faced off against Akainu for insulting Whitebeard.

Ace famously never ran away from a fight, not just because he thought it was cowardly, but because he was worried he would leave something (someone) behind. then Akainu goes on to taunt Ace about WB retreating, essentially running away, and Ace might be projecting and think that Akainu is saying that Whitebeard is leaving him (Ace) behind. Ace can't retreat because that would be putting his loved ones in danger, so Whitebeard also can't retreat for the same reason in Ace's mind. and Akainu implying that WB would turn his back on his loved ones is what makes Ace stop and challenge him. at least that's how I interpret that interaction.

he died protecting Luffy and standing up for Whitebeard. he died protecting his brother and chosen father. protecting their life and reputation respectively. I think that's so tragic and beautiful and I think something is lost when it's joked about and sneered at as Ace just being a pig-headed idiot who couldn't take some taunting about his captain.

yes, in hindsight it was a dumb decision to stop and argue with Akainu on the battlefield as they were making their escape. I'm not saying he didn't make a fatal mistake. I just think too many fans take it at face value and see nothing more than Ace falling for a stupid taunt without unpacking why Ace did that. he's a flawed character and his flaws had consequences and repercussions but more importantly, when looking at it narratively, that flaw makes sense.

#portgas d ace #whitebeard #edward newgate #admiral akainu #one piece #I just have so many feelings about ace and his life and death #I've become so protective of him

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gobbogoo · 10 months

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Everything We Know About Who Pyro Is/Was:

Obviously Pyro remains ⁠⁠⁠an enigma and I'm not going to pretend I have much in the way of definitive proof, however there ARE aspects of their background we can reasonably assume based on the skills and behaviours Pyro displays. First and foremost, we need to understand the extent of the disconnect between their consciousness and reality. Most folks understand it as mainly auditory and visual hallucination, however if you look at side-by-side moments in Meet The Pyro, you'll realize that there's a clear disconnect between Pyro's physical stance:

What Pyro believes they are doing with their body and what their body is actually doing can be entirely disconnected. Furthermore, if you listen closely to Pyro's more comprehensible dialogue, you'll notice that what they say lines up more with what they're actually doing, and not what they THINK they're doing:

Put together, this implies Pyro possesses not just a disconnect from reality, but also a full-blown division of personality. There's Conscious Pyro, who is the bundle of joy frolicking through Pyroland, and then there's Unconscious Pyro, who is the maniacal murderer actively interacting with reality. Both of these personalities seem to play a factor in Pyro's behaviour. While Conscious Pyro clearly seems to possess a degree of control over how they act in Pyroland, the fact that all those actions also happen to be very effective methods of murder in the real world says that Unconscious Pyro is steering these decisions.

Now, these two are not ALWAYS so disconnected or extreme. When not actively burning things, Pyro's perceived reality seems to line up more closely with what's actually happening from a visual, auditory, and physical standpoint:

Conscious Pyro's whimsy and Unconscious Pyro's murderousness both seem to drastically tone down in these circumstances, however both never fully go away. Pyro is ALWAYS capable of extreme violence/destruction:

Speaking of extreme violence, Conscious Pyro DOES share Unconscious Pyro's capacity and willingness to cause harm. This implies that the difference between the personalities' behaviour is more-so the result of their perceived environments, not demeanour.

To summarize, Pyro's disconnect from reality becomes more powerful when in the presence of fire/destruction, and this causes a divergence in Pyro's perceived and presented personalities. Moving on to in-game lore, it is stated that Pyro built/improvised the majority of their weapons (mainly out of stuff found in a garage.) This is immediately clear if you look at the individual components of their flamethrower:

The primary exception to this is their shotgun, which is a standard weapon they nonetheless operate with a trained familiarity:

Building a flamethrower is no easy feat. Besides being extremely complicated and dangerous, all information regarding flamethrower construction and schematics are strictly controlled by the U.S. government. Therefore I'd say it isn't much of a leap to suggest that Pyro's ability to construct and operate improvised military-grade incendiary weaponry must have been the result of formal training.

This is further supported by the fact that their flame-retardant suit is not equipment provided by Mann Co, as they continue to wear it even after being fired. All this together implies that before becoming a mercenary, Pyro had a job that provided them with both the knowledge and tools of an incendiary specialist. This more-or-less confirms that Pyro was not ALWAYS so insane, as at some point they were considered stable enough to be trusted with such a dangerous job. Since Pyro seemingly hasn't taken the suit off since that job, it can be deduced that whatever triggered or inflicted the madness they now suffer from must have occurred during their service. It would also explain why all of Pyro's incendiary weapons are homemade while their suit is standard-issue. After being fired they obviously weren't allowed to keep any weaponry, meaning they had to construct their own.

There are a lot of ways to interpret all of this, but my personal theory is that Pyro was at one point part of some Cold War experiment. One that sought to disconnect soldiers from the reality of their actions during combat, while ALSO allowing them to operate with brutal efficiency. Considering this was the era of the Vietnam War, a way to make soldiers not feel guilty or resentful while being ordered to commit atrocities would have been an invaluable tool for the USA's military. Pyro being a highly trained candidate for such an experiment is the only explanation I can think of for how they could be simultaneously highly trained in incendiary weaponry AND be too blatantly insane to ever justify such training. This would ALSO explain why Pyro is both so frighteningly dangerous and unstable, yet still somehow employable as a mercenary. While extreme, they remain capable of understanding and following instructions from superiors. Even if said instructions have to be delivered in a slightly different manner:

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #headcanon #tf2 pyro #pyro tf2 #pyro #tf2 comics #tf2 lore #Youtube

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noroi1000 · 1 year

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Kawaii Sensei

part two

paring: Student Gojo (18) x sensei reader (22)

Summary: You are their new teacher. You are young, and they consider you very loving and kind. You're considered cute by one student. You are his kawaii sensei. And he loves you...

Warnings: short NSFW

"Good morning everyone. My name is (y/n) (l/n). From today I am your new teacher." You said with a nice smile, looking at the three people in front of you.

Were you expecting a little more enthusiasm...

At least a little smile...

Meanwhile, you were standing there looking at the short-haired brunette who looked like she hadn't slept at all. On the other hand, they were dark haired in a bun with a neutral looking face (at least he looked nice), his face was neither serious nor smiling, so you consider it a good sign. The other boy with white hair looked like he wanted to leave here. As if he didn't want to be in this class at all...

"So..." You started clasping your hands together.

You're not much older than them... This is your first day as a teacher at this school.

You graduated from this school some time ago, but your skills weren't very high, so you couldn't count on being higher in the hierarchy. And since you like children, you chose to teach at the Jujutsu school.

Besides, teachers are very much needed in such a school.

Few people can teach in a school like this, and you were a sorcerer, so you had the opportunity. So you chose to teach kids instead of doing missions all the time.

"...Want to know something about me? Or tell me something about yourself?" You gave them a nice smile.

But the principal of the place came to the room. The man who just a few days ago became the principal.

He was the man you took over teaching this class. And you still did not expect what adventure awaits you while you teach this one white-haired boy.

He was practically your teacher a few years ago.

You even remember him well.

And he agreed to let you teach at least one class so that he would have a little less work.

He ran for the position of principal and succeeded.

Therefore, he will have a little more responsibilities. Now at least you'll do it for him a bit.

He's always liked you, that's why he let you go, and he believed you could do everything and look good.

However, you don't understand why he finds these three students troublesome...

Okay, even before you came here, you heard that the white-haired one is sometimes a problem. And sometimes with him his best friend.

You wish you had come here as their teacher now and not from their first day of school.

They are now in their second year. So they know more than the basics.

Besides, these two are already a higher grade than you...

It doesn't bother you because you don't care where you are on the level that much. Sometimes these divisions don't make sense...

You're semi-grade 1 and they're grade 1. And Yaga told you that their skill is still increasing so he's sure they're capable of going into special grade.

Therefore, you are not to save them.

You probably wouldn't be able to murder them in training... You don't want them to experience the same as you in training...

But they still look like well-built young men. So you can guess that Yaga has exhausted them already.

You're not a fan of 24/7 non-stop training.

Poor guys... You don't want to know what they went through before you were their teacher.

Now you're going to make sure they don't hate classes with you.

As far as you know, the white-haired one is Gojo Satoru, who possesses both of his bloodline's powerful techniques. Character description by Yaga: conceited, selfish, inconsiderate, irritating, but very capable and trustworthy. Addicted to sugar and sometimes childish.

The dark-haired boy is Geto Suguru. They both are best friends. He comes from a family of non-sorcerers and possesses the technique of manipulating curses. You are not to be nervous when you sense curse energy, because his cursed energy is just like curses. Character description by Yaga: more composed and calm. He can be like Satoru sometimes. A talented boy who will always get used to the situation.

And the girl is Ieiri Shoko. She's not often included in teddy bears because she's here learning to master the reverse cursed technique.

So far you've only received them. I guess you should make it.

"This is your new teacher. I have more responsibilities than looking after you, so I'm assigning you to her. Don't embarrass me in front of my former student." You looked at the man with a small smile and nodded that he might leave you.

As you stood in front of them, you began to get more nervous.

"I don't know where to start... I know you're training outside today... Sorry, but it's my first day as a teacher..." you said nervously. "The only thing I know about you is something from Yaga-san...your names as well as your skills. I'd like to get to know you more since we spend the next few years together. And who knows, maybe one of you will want to become a teacher later?"

You met the eyes of the white haired man.

You blush with shame. It must have been a bit visible, right? Since none of them even responded...

You hoped that someday you would be able to get close to them and start working with them normally.

It used to be. Half a year ago.

It was completely different now.

You were like a real teacher to them.

They did not expect that they would be able to be so close to the teacher.

They felt like you were their friend and not their teacher, even if you were giving them assignments or teaching them in class.

And there was something no one expected either.

According to one of them, you were adorable.

Cute sensei.

Of course you blushed when you found out. Because no one ever thought you were cute before.

But well, you didn't expect such a comment from anyone...

You were very protective of them.

You knew that your students liked you very much.

You got chocolates from Satoru on Valentine's Day. You don't know if it was a coincidence because he also ate his, or if he gave it to you on purpose.

You couldn't feel anything for the student... It was probably forbidden... You didn't want to take it badly.

So you stood on tiptoe and stroked his soft hair, enjoying the white stripes under your fingers.

You saw his blue eyes widen slightly as you did, and his cheeks flushed a nice pink.

You smiled at him, thanking him with all your heart.

It was the first time you got something for Valentine's Day from someone.

And you felt so good about it. Even if he was your student.

You didn't know that right after that he went to his friend with a big smile.

"Why are you smiling like that? And why don't you ever knock when you enter my room..." he muttered seeing the white haired boy sit down quickly on his bed and lay down with a big smile like an idiot.

It was as if he had overdosed on sugar even more than ever.

"Something happened to make you so happy?"

"She took the chocolates from me!" He said happily.

"Wait... Did you really give it to her?" he asked, his eyes widening slightly.

"Yeah! And she smiled! It was so cute! And you know what she did then?!"

"She's probably touched you somehow or said something nice... But there's no way she's kissed you... You'll have to wait until the grave with that fantasy...

"She stroked my head!"

"He often does this to us..." he replied.

He didn't want his best friend to get overexcited that you might let him in.

Geto knew very well that his best friend fell in love with you.

First they talked about you, and then he started to think you were cool. Until the end, he thought you were pretty and charming.

You never did anything they didn't want. You were still their teacher, but your teaching was so much better.

You weren't that strict, and you asked what they wanted.

You were kind and so soft.

It was cute.

And Geto might have expected Gojo to be attracted to you.

Someone who likes your behavior and enjoys your company.

Until one day he told him that he must have fallen in love with you.

He couldn't stop thinking about you.

He didn't like to see you walking next to anyone other than him.

He was even jealous that you gave him less attention than usual. Then he would come to you asking for an explanation of something he knew very well or wanted to ask for help with a non-existent problem. Those were his excuses to meet you to give him more attention than others.

"But she did it to me with such a cute smile!"

Geto didn't want him to be disappointed by unrequited love...

You were older than them. Perhaps you already had a boyfriend or husband. It would be very difficult for him to dissuade Gojo from loving you. But for the sake of his psyche, he wanted to do it.

He didn't want his friend to be heartbroken.

"What if (y/n)-sensei got other chocolates, like from her boyfriend?" He asked.

He preferred to gently show him that it may turn out that there is already someone in your life.

They didn't know exactly how old you were, and they didn't know much about your private life either.

There was no wedding ring on your finger, and you didn't talk on the phone often, which you basically would if you had a boyfriend or a husband.

It might also be surprising that you had a house near the school and when they were there because you invited them to dinner, they didn't see anyone but you there.

It's like there's no one else in your life.

Sure, Geto doesn't prohibit Gojo from having a happy relationship. However, he didn't want his heart to break if it turned out otherwise.

"I've never heard that she has anyone."

"Satoru, we don't even know how old she is."

"She's a little older than us. She's only just qualified to become a real teacher."

The dark-haired sighed.

"I don't want you to react badly, but we don't know what she thinks of you. She might as well consider you a nice student. I'm sure she would never play with your feelings, but I don't want you to be disappointed with your feelings." He said calmly. "This is probably the first time you fell in love with. You're happy, I get it. But..."

"I know. What do you say we ask tomorrow how old she is? I doubt she'll refuse to answer us."

That's how you ended up walking between them as you headed to the field to practice.

You felt more and more squeezed by them. Why did they have to be so tall?

You felt Satoru getting closer and closer to you.

Until you finally heard the first question you didn't expect.

"(y/n)-sensei, may we know how old are you?" he asked suddenly coming very close to you.

You looked at him questioningly. But you felt so small and intimidated by his eyes.

"I'm just asking out of curiosity... I've heard more than once that you're only a little older than us, so it's just curiosity."

"...Um... Satoru-kun... I'm actually 22 years old. Soon 23." You said calmly.

You couldn't stop thinking about the warmth of his touching your skin.

Satoru-kun is handsome, but you can't think of him other than as a student. It is true that your young mind is speaking here, telling you that you are of similar age and you could at least try. Because he seems to be interested in you somehow.

You like him a lot. Maybe if you weren't as a teacher...

He's 18. I'm sure he'll find someone better than you.

You were snapped out of your trance of thoughts by his next personal question.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He asked looking at you.

You blushed and jumped back slightly at the question.

"S-Satoru-kun, I-I don't think it should matter, right...?" You said nervously.

Suguru didn't answer.

"I just wanted to know. A cool sensei like you doesn't deserve any asshole."

Your distraction made you really careless.

That's why you didn't even notice that you were about to come down the stairs. You were all red because of his words. And you didn't notice the dip under your leg.

"Wah! Be careful!"

You heard just that and felt him pull your arm back, wrapping his arms around you.

When you realized that you had almost fallen down the stairs, you were pressed against your student's chest.

If only you were older, he wouldn't even want to be so close to you!

You could have skipped a few more years until you were in your thirties!

Maybe then your mind wouldn't rather take vengeance to heaven when you look at your student you could practically say you love...!

You wanted to burn yourself with shame...

You were supposed to look after them, not them you.

"Wow, be careful, kawaii sensei." He said, pushing you away gently.

What did he call you?!

"Umm... What?"

"What?"

"Um..." you murmured.

"What "What?", Sensei?"

"...Nothing..."

You tried to leave to join Suguru at the bottom of the stairs.

But he grabbed your hand.

"Is it what I called you, sensei?" He smiled.

It was a cute but slightly cocky smile.

But with something like this on his face.

Maybe you can quit your job here before your face catches fire from the heat?

This was your second such situation.

First chocolates, then you hear a student call you cute, then he practically asks you to pat his head like you always did and now he hugs you, asks if you have a boyfriend and also calls you "kawaii sensei"?

What is this?!

You were nice to them because you wanted to. But you didn't expect that someone who didn't seem to mind having another teacher at first would suddenly start to be so close to you.

You are friends???

Are you any closer than you should be???

You are four years older than him!

And he is already an adult! You didn't expect him to act like that, he should be doing that to his girlfriend, not to the teacher!

He suddenly leaned lower to your face.

"You are kawaii sensei. My favorite teacher I've ever had." He chuckled and his lips curved into a kind smile.

Teachers can be close to students. And there is nothing strange about it.

But should it be that you feel butterflies in your stomach when he does something like that?

Should it be that he feels butterflies in his stomach when you're next to him?

You tried to forget about this situation.

But he didn't know how long he would last.

You gave them a completely different job than usual. It was an art class.

You didn't feel like doing anything, neither did they.

So you wanted to teach them to do some origami. It can be very relaxing if you have to talk about it.

A change from those activities that even you get tired of sometimes.

You're also fed up with the fact that you feel so warm in this classroom, and your bed at home is often cold and empty.

Their energy here is nice. And there's only you in your house.

It would be a nice change if you ever had any visitors there.

Why don't you invite them to dinner sometime?

You practically didn't answer Satoru's question he asked earlier. What could you say? You don't have and have never had a boyfriend.

When you went to school here, you were alone in the class. Turns out your year didn't have that many sorcerers. However, there were more people in classes older than you and younger.

You tried your best to be a warm and kind senpai to the younger ones.

That's why you liked the idea of becoming a teacher.

You calmly ran Suguru's fingers over the paper, showing him how to fold the paper properly.

Satoru wondered how nice your hands felt...

He wanted you to show him that too. And she touched his hand.

He was jealous of his best friend.

"Sensei! Can you also show me? I think I ruined it." He said, raising his hand to get your attention.

Honestly, you didn't expect them to be interested in doing this at all.

You walked over to the white haired boy.

He showed you a piece of paper in front of him.

"How do I start?" He asked looking at you.

"Bend the corners of the paper inwards." You said pointing to the right and left corners.

"How?" He asked.

He knew, but he wanted you to guide his hands.

You took your piece of paper and showed him how to fold it.

"Sensei, from what I can see, you folded the bottom corners of the paper."

"You have to do it with the upper ones." you said.

"will you show me I don't want to spoil it."

"What kind of origami do you even do?"

"I wanted from a heart template. It looks nice." He said calmly.

You also tried to stay calm.

"Fine, so bend like in the template I gave you, what to do step by step."

"Will you show me like you showed Suguru?" he asked with puppy dog eyes.

Until you finally gave in.

You stood behind him, grabbing the piece of paper in front of him. And you folded the paper.

You gave him a list of how to perish the paper.

"How am I supposed to hold it?" He asked.

You felt like you were with a child.

But you grabbed his hands and fingers, guiding them.

You smiled slightly. You were curious how big his hands are compared to yours. And that really was the difference.

And he smiled at the feeling of your warm hands.

He tilted his head back, looking at you.

Sending you a warm smile.

"How about I bring you cookies tomorrow?" You asked pleasantly.

You could somehow distract yourself from how cold it was in your house sometimes.

You were smiling all the time at school for them. But you really wish you had the same at home.

I think you need to find yourself a boyfriend...

Because it's probably impossible for Satoru-kun to be so interested in you.

I was making cookie dough when he came home. Until suddenly you heard a knock on the door.

You quickly went to see who it was.

You saw Gojo who said earlier that he can help you prepare the cookies.

You appreciated his help.

But he came with other intentions.

Either you reject it or you accept it.

You either you reject him , push him away, or hit him back.

The moment he kicked off his shoes and the door closed, you felt his lips on yours.

When his body pressed you against the wall in your house.

He wanted to at least enjoy this one moment. Even if you could have rejected him.

However, you never behave the same at home as you do at school.

You are such a nice and sweet person. And such people who care for someone else cannot be neglected by being home alone. With no one around.

You could have pushed him away, punched him in the face.

But you didn't.

Especially after he mumbled into his declaration of love.

You didn't push him away. You didn't hit. You didn't reject his feelings.

You just accepted it.

He's young, but his heart doesn't lie.

He loves you and doesn't want it any other way.

He wants you to be together.

That's why...

That's why you didn't reject him. Because you started feeling the same.

Especially by his behavior.

The warmth he gave you.

You finished the cookies with him. With his arms around you.

With his mouth on your face or neck while you had your back to him.

Your house has become pleasantly warm. Thanks to him.

You waited for the cookies to bake, kissing without saying a word.

Was it really okay?

It was fine...

You weren't much older than him. He's an adult and he's decided he wants it.

Your bed hasn't been this warm in a while.

It got hot as you lay underneath him, your legs spread wide for him, as his oversized cock for a young man rammed into your virgin pussy. By ridding you of any illusions that he loves you.

His hands held you tight as he moved faster and faster, hitting your wet walls.

Your first was your apprentice. And you don't regret it. Because he is someone you love.

You're 22, and now you've found happiness.

You might not even have left Jujutsu High. You could have stayed there and watched him first appear there.

It would leave you a little more room for imagination.

You could see his whole body now. When naked, he hovered above you.

His muscles rippled with his every move.

And you can't stop thinking about how handsome he is.

Your back arched as he made you moan for him.

He beat against your body at a steady, hard pace as you got used to the new feeling of his cock stretching.

"Several times I've thought how nice it would be to have you like this..." he groaned. And his words mixed with his breaths and your soft moans as well as the sounds of skin slapping against skin.

Dirty scenes flashed through your mind as your student jerks around in his room saying something he would say to you.

And so it was.

He did it by imagining you underneath him.

That he was cumming on you instead of the sheets.

And now his erotic dreams have come true.

Because he could bury his cock in your tight pussy and touch your body. See you whole.

Hear you moan his name.

So your red face that contorts in pleasure.

After all, he had his kawaii sensei the way he wanted.

And he will no longer share your attention.

Because he is your warmth at home.

You are his happiness.

You could spend as much time with him as he wanted. You didn't have to worry about the cookies burning.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #jujustu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo #gojo smut

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positivelyprime · 8 months

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Eisenstein primes (and integers)

You've heard of integer primes, but have you heard of different kind of primes? One of the most beautiful pictures in mathematics I've recently seen is this:

This is a picture displaying the Eisenstein primes and the rest of the post will be me explaining where this comes from.

Firstly, to understand what Eisenstein primes are, we need to know what Eisenstein integers are! An Eisenstein integer is a complex number of the form z = a + b w where a,b are integers and w = e^(2/3 pi i). Normally a small letter omega is used instead of w. Notice that w is a third root of unity, i.e. w³ = 1.

Appending this complex w to the regular integers has some consequences. In particular, we can now view the eligible numbers on the complex plane to get this picture:

The Eisenstein integers correspond exactly to places where two dotted lines cross. As such, where normally one can view integers as laying on a 1-d line, we can now view Eisenstein integers as laying on a 2-d lattice!

Now one may start to wonder if, just like in the integers, one can have Eisenstein integers which are not divisible by other Eisenstein integers. In more mathematics: We call a number p an Eisenstein prime if p cannot be written as a*b where a,b are Eisenstein numbers which are not +-1, +-w, +-w² (the units in this system).

It turns out that some regular primes are still primes in the Eisenstein integers. For example, 2 can still not be decomposed. However, 3 can! We may write 3 = -(1+2w)(1+2w) which means that 3 is not an Eisenstein prime. One may investigate this further (using abstract algebra) to arrive at the picture at the top of this post. The 6-fold rotational symmetry is due to the Eisenstein integers having 6 units.

Of course a natural question is why take a third root of unity and not an nth root? This is a very interesting question and leads to the study of (integer rings of) cyclotomic fields! This concludes fun math fact tuesday

#math #mathblr #mathematics #prime numbers #primes #integers #maths #fun math fact tuesday

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akkivee · 2 months

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A Sweet Yellow Curry You Just Can't Stop Eating!: Hypmic Curry Drama Track TL

Ramuda: Okay! ☆ It’s great to see everyone has been serious in making some curry!

Gentaro: Well, though this event feels capricious by nature, it’s still a battle I do not wish to lose.

Dice: Can we hurry up and eat already? I’m so hungry I could pass out!

*beeping noise*

Ramuda: Ah, rice is done! Plating time~!

Gentaro: Oh, and you’ve prepared our curry to go with it. Then shall we try Ramuda’s curry first?

Ramuda: Okaaaay! Eat up everyone! ☆

Gentaro: Let’s see. *throws it up*

Dice: *loud eating noises but also spits it back up*

Gentaro: What in the world…??

Ramuda: I call it, “Sweet Like Honey Curry!!!!!!☆”

Gentaro: Y-You say sweet like honey, but I think I’ve been assaulted by the amount of sugar…

Ramuda: That’s because I used honey instead of water!

Dice: M-My throat is on fire…W-Water… I need water…!!

Ramuda: So I was thinking of how to stand out from the other divisions and decided to try something completely original! What do you think??

Dice: What do I think?? Is food just a game to you??

Ramuda: That’s so mean!! I thought long and hard about this!

Gentaro: There are still other curries to get through. So, let’s eat mine next.

Ramuda: Uh, it looks like yellow soup… Is this really okay to eat?

Gentaro: Since we, as a team, have a pop image, I thought it would be remiss to not incorporate that in the curry.

Dice: …But I don’t see any actual food in it.

Gentaro: Because of anticipated mass reproduction in the pursuit of commercialization, I have decided a liquid only curry would be most suitable. And to compensate for the lack of ingredients, I used butter for richness in taste.

Ramuda: That’s such a lonely sounding curry…

Gentaro: What ever is the matter? Please, eat up.

Dice: *loud eating noises* …??

Ramuda: …Mmm, it’s gross… I really don’t wanna say it, but I don’t like this…

Gentaro: Is that so? Do tell me why; however, if I find your reasoning lacking, I simply will continue to serve you this roux.

Ramuda: Nooooo!! I don’t want anymore of the yellow stuff!!!

Dice: How dare you treat food like it’s a joke!! …Geez, obviously neither of y’all know what you’re doing. Curry is meant to be paired with rice!! None of your flavours helps elevate the taste of white rice!! Now this is real curry! Eat your heart out and understand that this is what it means to be one with the flavour of rice!!

Ramuda: *eats*

Gentaro: *eats* …Hm.

Dice: How is it?? Doesn’t it make you want to eat more??

Ramuda: I mean I could but… it’s just a normal curry? Like how is this any different from a regular chicken curry?

Dice: Are you blind?? If you looked in the pot right now, you could clearly see a huge amount of locally raised chicken went into this!!

Gentaro: Well, I can certainly see how many chicken bones are in the curry.

Dice: Hahaha! haaa… Weeeell, I guess I did get hungry and ate some while making it!

Ramuda: *eats* …hm?? Wait, you gotta try this!!

Gentaro: ? You mixed mine and Dice’s curries together…? *eats* …Oh my!

Dice: It’s so good!! Who would have thought my curry and that yellow junk actually combined really well??

Gentaro: Then perhaps… Let’s try adding some of that absurdly sugary curry to this!

Ramuda: Sweet Like Honey Curry coming right up~!

Dice: Hey, this actually looks really good!

Posse: *eats* !!

Ramuda: Woooooow!! I’ve never had curry like this before!!

Gentaro: I can’t believe we’ve stumbled upon creating such a masterpiece…!

Dice: *excessively loud eating noises* This spoon’s not stoppin’!!

Ramuda: Aaalright, then that settles it! ☆ Let’s combine all of our curries!!

Dice: Looks great!! There’s no way we’re losing with this curry!

Gentaro: Precisely! On that note, what shall we name it? “Posse Curry” possesses little impact…

Ramuda: Hmmmm… How about, “The Sweet Yellow Liquid You Can’t Stop Eating!”

Dice: Sounds good to me!

Gentaro: However, I made a curry, not a mere liquid.

Ramuda: Oh yeah? Sowwies☆ Then we’ll call it, “The Sweet Yellow Curry You Can’t Stop Eating!”

Gentaro: It certainly has a nice ring to it.

Dice: Heh heh, it sure does!

Ramuda: And with this curry, our victory is guaranteed!! ☆

#ramuda amemura #gentaro yumeno #dice arisugawa #fling posse #hypmic #hypnosis mic #this was the curry i was most excited to try and then i did and lmao #me: oh that’s just butter chicken curry with a hint of sweet lmao #i poured it out of the pouch it came in it was all soup and like four pieces of chicken #me: oh!!! so they were serious about gencha’s soup curry and dice eating all the chicken LOL #it was an experience lmao #it’s my fav out of the two I’ve had so far tho lol such a high bar ik lol #lol and i like how even in this blurb track #ramuda desires originality gencha is projecting loneliness and dice’s high class bg as a sneak were included LOL #apologies again if the character voices feel off 🙇‍♀️#curry tl

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beyondthisdarkhouse · 1 year

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Disclaimer: I love and use the Metric system and am in NO WAY advocating for its abolition

However,

I really fucking love old, bizarre, hard-to-calculate measurement systems. Sometimes they're fairly simple, and sometimes they evoke a world for me where people got very into one particular realm of expertise and did not worry much about the minutiae of others. Because if they did that profession's guild would send around enforcers to stop them from encroaching onto their turf.

Practical example: Eggs! I've always bought eggs in the dozen. But the dozen is itself a unit of measurement, and it blew my mind when I first learned of places that sold eggs in units of 10.

Meanwhile, horses only make sense in Horse. They're measured in hands, half-hands, and quarter-hands. One hand is 4 inches. The decimal system works in base four, so 14.2 hands means 14 hands and 2 inches. (That's 58 inches, measured from the hump just before a horse's neck begins. It's also about the size of a large pony or small horse.)

Carats. In ye oldey dayes, a troy ounce (1/12 of a troy pound) was made up of 24 ounce carats, which were divisible into 20 grains troy, or, four ounce grains (a totally different thing from grain grains) which could then make four ounce quarters of 1.5 grains each. What the fuck. Wheels within wheels.

(Yes, that's why we talk about "24 carat gold", meaning that as close as is humanly possible, all 24 carats of the ounce are pure gold. It's a great fineness for a ring that will get the absolute shit beaten out of it if you work with your hands.)

Nautical miles should bother me more but honestly they make way more sense than the other miles do because I've read Longitude. It's 1/60 of 1/360 of the circumference of the earth. The earth is a giant sundial. I can't explain it any more clearly than that.

Bushels. Bushels don't make sense anymore but we still pretend they do. "A bushel of oats weighs 34 pounds," we say. "A bushel of barley is 48." Back in MY day, a bushel was 8 dry gallons, 4 pecks, or 2 kennings, and that's the way we LIKED it.

Board feet. My brother handles lumber for a living and he's explained it to me half a dozen times but I still don't and maybe never will understand board feet.

#well he HANDLED lumber for a living #but he hacked the work computers until he could see how much everyone was being paid #and how much money the ceo was funnelling into his private accounts and ventures #and told a coworker he was being underpaid #and he claims it's probably unrelated but I find it SUSPICIOUS TIMING that he got laid off a week later #ANYWAY

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weeb-polls-with-pip · 5 months

Text

Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Group 3

Propaganda:

Gene -

"Has a special interest in film and almost works himself to death because he doesn't think his film is as perfect as he wants it to be. He completely botches a project on purpose, an action blockbuster, because he felt like it wasn't respecting the thing he loves the most."

Kei -

"It was the scene in which Makoto and Nao discover that he was able to stuff so many wild plants into his bookbag bc there was literally nothing in it that sold it for me. I can't put it into words. I just see that and I know. I know that boy is autistic."

Arthur -

"His powers are literally fueled by his special interest in knights and chivalry."

Euini -

"I relate a lot to his social anxiety, especially his performance anxiety that occurs when he's being watched by people, particularly due to his stress at needing to follow the plan/do things the "proper" way in order to not feel like he's a failure. he also stands like a lil autistic kid and i appreciate him so much for that.

(LIGHT SPOILERS) basically, he has a test that he needs to take in order to advance as a witch, and he keeps failing it because he cant perform properly while being watched by other people, even though he knows the "right" spells to use and why he's supposed to use them. on his third attempt of the test, he's prepared a "script" to use so that he can follow it and not worry about failing in the moment (in this case, his script is a hand-written book of the proper spells to use and the order in which he's supposed to use them), but when a part of the exam changes, he's no longer able to follow his script. because he's been taught all his life that there's only one proper way of doing things, his way of thinking is very rigid and he's not able to deviate from his plan without panicking. luckily, one of his fellow examinees (richeh from the autistic anime girls poll 💕) is able to convince him to try and change the way that he does things to something that is more attuned to his personal needs- basically change the way that he casts his spells and which spells to use so that he doesn't need to struggle with doing things in the way that everyone says that he should; the way that he cant seem to manage. but, even before richeh helped him with that though, he was still finding way to modify the "proper" spells a little bit to better suit his weaknesses. he was trying so hard to fit in to the mold that witch society gave him, but it just wasnt right for him and he was making it work however he could."

Westar -

"something something Westar's entire character is an anomaly amongst the other denizens of Labyrinth in that he's a big goofball in a world where everything is dictated to the extreme by its ruler. if that's not an autism metaphor of some kind I don't know what is."

Sousuke -

"Sousuke Sagara is an ex-child soldier turned teenage special ops who has to go undercover at a high school to discreetly bodyguard another student. The only problem is that he has no IDEA how to act like a "normal" teenager. Sure, you can say that a lot of his mannerisms come from the whole "raised as a child soldier" thing which, fair, you could make a decent case for (C)PTSD. However, he's also extremely serious and has notorious flat affect and does not understand when other people are joking at all. He's incredibly literal; there's several scenes where he misinterprets what someone says, like the time he asked the art teacher what a model was supposed to do and got a rambling flowery metaphorical response about "becoming one with nature" so he ran off to hide in the woods. Another thing, his social skills are… lackluster at best. He's very blunt, and also a terrible liar for an undercover agent, when the student in question confronted him his strategy was to repeat the same phrase over and over again. One time he's challenged to see if he can pick up any girls, and after a brief misunderstanding his "improved" flirting tactic was to jump in front of them and say "Hi! Would you like to know the names of defense agency spies?" Speaking of, Sousuke has an obvious special interest in the military tech and giant robots he works with. He reads their magazines for fun and was able to rattle off the specs for a model Russian tank. The first time he actually looks happy is when he accidentally starts infodumping in front of the class while introducing himself. One time he got distracted on a mission (and need I remind you, Sousuke takes his job VERY seriously) because he found someone who was also interested in the giant robots and got into a full-on conversation with them and completely forgot what he was doing. It is IMPOSSIBLE to read this boy as allistic. And sure, he might be a little stiff, but he's also very caring in his own awkward way. One time he gave a girl flowers as an apology gift…because they were poppies and he told the girl she could get rich by selling opium on the black market. The "picking up girls" challenge mentioned earlier ended with him helping a grandmother pick out a toy for her grandson. He agreed to pretend to be someone's boyfriend for a day (it went exactly how you'd expect, but it's the thought that counts). In conclusion: stan Sousuke Sagara. and vote for him too."

Katsuhira -

"His entire thing over the course of the entire show is that he doesn't feel pain or emotions like other people. He isn't 'interested in himself' or other people (low empathy) and doesn't realize that the things that happen to/because of him do effect other people, he doesn't realize when people have a crush on him or want to be friends, and all of this is stuff he kinda comes to realize as the show progresses. He struggles to care for himself physically because of the lack of physical and emotional input he experiences, and his friends canonically often cook for him and have to remind him to eat, and is a bit picky about what he eats. He cannot read social cues to save his life and is very blunt and honest when communicating with others, and doesn't talk with much tone or emotion in his voice."

John -

"Is very loud and passionate and says everything he thinks out loud, not understanding why others may see that as weird. Has difficulty controlling his volume, so he's almost always shouting."

Yuuri -

"So he models his entire life around the first celebrity he gets a crush on. He's takes up that celebrity's hobby, he gets the same kind of dog that his crush has, and he definitely has his bedroom wallpaper with his crush's face. But then, he actually meets his crush. And his crush likes him back. Naturally he panics over this and proceeds to deny it for months until his crush straight up kisses him. Then like a day later, he just, buys a ring and proposed to his crush on the spot. He's the guy ever. He's so socially awkward, yet somehow still incredibly cocky."

Yoshimori -

"Baking special interest but does Not Get math my beloved."

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