#she had all of these hypotheses she had to ~~~prove
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Yes i haven't watched yet i know i know.
But here's an analysis no one asked for about why the wilds needed to have boys.
It Could Not Have Continued without the introduction of the boys. Very bold of me, i know.
But ultimately...gretchen is a scientist. A really shitty human but she's trying to prove a point. She's trying to say girls are better than boys. And in doing so, she created this entire social experiment to show that when faced with the worst, girls will band together and have a community. If it were girls in lord of the flies, none of that would have happened!
I would be very surprised to learn that people have taken a psych class and not heard of milgram and zimbardo but let me explain briefly anyway. Big names in social psych and two of the reasons why we now have institutional review boards with the standards that they have aka people who have to approve research to make sure it protects humans. Zimbardos prison experiment never should have gone on as long as it did because of the disastrous conditions that arose. Boys were randomly assigned guard or prisoner and very quickly the guards dehumanized and abused the prisoners because of their authority and power. Milgram also tested the role of authority but having someone in a lab coat tell participants to continue to administer shocks to someone even as they complained of heart pain. Suffice to say, many people complied, even going all the way to the death shock.
What's the point of me hashing out these experiments? Gretchen would know them. Gretchen would have learned about them. Hell she might even know zimbardo. And the thing is, as egregious as these were, they also majorly contributed to the field and THAT is why it matters. Gretchen is breaking so many ethical rules but she doesn't care because she thinks this is groundbreaking research and that she's gonna be commended for it. ( ofc she's going to lose absolutely everything when she tries to publish. As she should. I am by no means saying we should be doing anything like this. Most researchers would be like yeah we'd learn a lot but that's gonna harm humans so no. Gretchen said yes ❤️ ).
So what's the point of the boys? If Gretchen's entire thesis rests on this idea that girls are better than boys and will be more cooperative...she needs to compare them. I can get into all the other methodological issues like the fact that she self selected all these participants so she quite literally could have picked people that would give her the results she wanted ( and i would not put this past her ) or the fact that there was no randomization etc. But at the end of the day Gretchen needed a "control" group. The boys are this group. She needed to be like see!!! Look at how awful they are!!! Look at how much better the girls are!!! And without the boys that would be impossible. She won't let her life's work go down like that!!
#gretchen is the literal worst gjdjkesk#she said groundbreaking research does not require ethics!!!!#i will torture and destroy teenagers bc i want to ❤️#but anyway do i want my show about my girls on the island? yes ofc#do i understand why the boys were necessary for the plot. yeah#gretchen said i will commit crimes against humanity but i am a SCIENTIST#ooc.#tbd.#she had all of these hypotheses she had to ~~~prove#also @ cj i knowwww. i need to watch i WILL#i have A Lot that needs to get done for work and naturally am in the first round of presentations for my class next tues so hitting#the ground running#so i do not have the brain power for the wilds rn but i WILL
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Most exciting part of the trailer for the next TADC episode for you?
More so an Analysis rather than things I'm excited about X3
I watched the sneak peek on loop I can process everything! Waahh!! I'm so excited for episode 2 💞 only a few weeks away! 💕
youtube
I wanna get this out of the way, I love Lizzie Freeman and Alex Rochon's Improv work on this promo 😭 they were really put in a booth together, were told to say things to promote episode two, and came up with that 😭 Genius.
The environment work is GORGEOUS! I love the look of everything, the world-building, the colors! It looks like a full-fledged movie guys! Absolutely beautiful and WONDEROUS work from the Glitch team-- it's so beautiful for half a year of work??? God damn!!
Haha! As an in-universe creation, Despite his little gags, Caine is genuinely such a good AI to make something so cool!
You'll also notice that Ragatha is taking charge of talking with the princess! That would make sense for such fellow beautiful well-mannered women!
More on them later at the end! :3
Dream sequence theory
Also, we all agree that these ones are all part of a dream right? Pomni is panicked, the strange sort of "slow woozy wobbly" animation exactly like a dream... even the dolly zoom!
Then she is sent to the cellar with a an abstracted arm, but that shouldn't be the case since Caine could easily fix an abstracted arm with a snap of a finger.
And then she wakes up, freaked out!!
Wahaha! Shout out to the Showtime server for pointing this out while we were discussing!
This is either and "end of episode prize" from Caine, or he jumps in mid-episode to hand them a helpful item, ooorr he's telling them that that's their objective for the adventure :3
also!! people have pointed out that Zooble isn't with the carriage with the others! Either this means that Zooble was given a surprise roll in the adventure, or she's off to have a fun solo adventure with Caine! Ohh! How exciting!
Zooble is a favorite character of Goose's, so to learn more about him and why Goose loves them so much would be so exciting!!
Whats up with Jax?
hunched down, writing in the sand, hugging his knees, this topped with Goose's two-word description of the next episode to be "I"m nothing"... Oh Jax is gonna have a MOMENT...
We all know that no one likes the dude and he's going to get worse. I'm unsure if this will make me like the guy, but I'm optimistic!
I'm open to understanding and seeing another side of him that would make me like him! I already quite like how this scene is framed, how lonely he looks, the acting in these few seconds already tells me what kind of guy he is.
...despite one of the gummis being tied up in the corner
If i had to hypothesize, this probably stemmed with Jax acting out, you know, the usual "being a nuisance" to make everyone miserable,
Then It escalates
This gets on Ragatha's nerves, first starting out as a silly "haha cute interaction" between them and it escalates while the episode goes on where Ragatha genuinely gets mad at him and tells him to stay put while they do the work.
Speaking of Ragatha, She seems to be quite fond of the Princess! There is a part of me that wonders if she wants to sort of-- "prove" herself in a way, as a leader or otherwise. Ragatha does give me the "smart yet nice kid in class that everyone copies off of" energy... TwT This poor woman.
I don't know, just the way The Princess bends down and holds her hand, it's sort of sweetly mentorly or motherly in a way. I'm not saying this to infantilize Ragatha, I respect her so much as a mature 30-year-old adult, I say it as a testament to The Princesses' character. Princesses, Queens, and any sort of royalty have been characterized as the sort of "mother/father of all" sort of character type, which is sweet! And would be quite interesting!
I know that people are quick to do the shipping with these two, but I kind of like the idea of Ragatha wanting approval and validation.
BUT THATS JUST A THEORY!! A FILM THEORY!!! ANDDD CUT!!
#The amazing digital circus#Pomni#caine#zooble#gangle#kinger#Ragatha#Jax#The amazing digital circus Pomni#The amazing digital circus Caine#The amazing digital circus zooble#The amazing digital circus gangle#The amazing digital circus kinger#The amazing digital circus ragatha#The amazing digital circus jax#tadc Pomni#tadc caine#tadc zooble#tadc gangle#tadc kinger#tadc ragatha#tadc jax#GIF#gifs
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[ Subject 002
Cheerilee
Subject 003
Iris Spellbound
I sent word to Canterlot about the situation we were dealing with, requesting aid in anyway they could provide. I suspect they sent Iris- Subject 003 to help but he was caught on the way into ponyville. He was stumbling about the forest mutter words under his breath, non of which I could make out. His chest was heaving as if he was struggling to breathe and he had several glowing bumps on his skin that seemed to pulsate. I have not observed the early stages of the Sun Fly Virus (the name I have come up with for the illness) but I can imagine this is what it looks like. To further prove my theory the bite on his ear appeared to only be a day or two old, compared to Fluttershy’s Subject 001’s bite, which has only gotten worse.
Unfortunately I was not able to contain Subject 002 or Subject 003, I was only able to capture this photo before Subject 002 became aggressive and tried to attack.
If only I knew were the infected hid during the day, then maybe I could more efficiently stop their spread. They only seem to attack at night (for now) so I have instated a curfew. Everypony should be in their homes by sundown or else they risk infection. I hypothesize that this is how Subject 002 became infected, as she typically walks home after sundown from the school.
I will have to warn the rest of Ponyville to avoid her at all cost. There are far more than I thought]
- Twilight Sparkle
Log : 03
#art#digital art#mlp infection au#mlp au lore#mlp au#mlp fanart#mlp fim#mlp friendship is magic#mlp oc pony#mlp oc art#horror story#horror#Sun Fly Virus AU
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SJM: I thought it was obvious??
AKA - No analysis needed. The clues are there. Things are already happening.
Please keep your 80 page PowerPoints and highlighted words from your “8 books of canon” (none of which are actually from ACOTAR, btw) to yourself.
“I thought it was obvious” = no deep dives needed. No extrapolation or analysis necessary. The words are already on the page. You don’t have to work harder than SJM to come up with your own theories (*cough* see HOFAS crazy hype theories vs actual book)
“I thought it was obvious”
The ONLY couple currently mutually attracted to each other is Elriel. They have had moments since ACOMF. ACOSF did not end them, it gave them the setup for the next book. They are set up for the greatest tortured forbidden romance of the series, how can you dispute that? Why would you WANT to dispute that love story? I don’t want ACOSF 2.0 which was all physical and no substance. I want an angsty, slow forbidden romance. I want to fall in love when the characters fall in love. Elriel will give us that.
“I thought it was obvious”
The other ships do NOT exist on the page at the moment. Elucien, I will give credit to because they are still mates so that COULD happen still. But right now, where ACOSF ended, they had barely even seen each other in a year. The only romantic coded interactions have been between Azriel & Elain thus far.
“I thought it was obvious”
Elucien & Gw*riel have not shared any romantic moments. There is no romance between them at this current time in the series. I am not talking about “what could happen” or “what could Sarah be setting up” because she said it was obvious. That means it’s there already. There’s no reason to hypothesize and theorize about ships that don’t currently exist in the book. Because - and say it with me-
“I thought it was obvious”
What is obvious about elucien? Other than the fact that they are mates. That’s it. That’s all they have. Not even a conversation on the page. Not even a shared shy glance or brush of their fingers. It’s the equivalent of an arranged marriage neither of them seems to want. Analyzing 20 sentences about flowers and sunlight, going out of your way to prove feyre is an “unreliable” narrator when she questions the bond (but Cassian, fashion police of Velaris, is a very very reliable narrator)-Why? Is any of that obvious to the casual reader? No.
“I thought it was obvious”
I’m not even going to spend many words talking about Gw*nriel, as I don’t see it as anything more than a crackship. They have like 4 platonic interactions. Friendly. Banter, sure. But not all banter is a clue that people are predestined soulmates. Most people who read their interactions are not going to overanalyze spark and glow and shadow behavior. They shouldn’t have to because - again - none of that is obvious.
“I thought it was obvious”
Shy glances and subtle scenes in the background wasn’t enough for those who claim to be reading experts. So SJM released a bonus chapter where in clear black and white text, you see both Azriel and Elain desperate for each other. This man is willing to BEG on his knees for a taste of her/ the end. Why would you even want him with anyone else after that?
“I thought it was obvious”
All these characters I’ve mentioned have been supporting characters this entire series. Nothing concerning them is going to happen in someone else’s book-but the seeds have been sewn. Any scene with Elain could have been written with Lucien or her sisters instead of Azriel - but it wasn’t.
Ex: when majda says, “if anyone can figure out what’s wrong, it’s a mate”
Lucien is THERE. Feyre is THERE. Nesta is THERE. But who figures it out - not her mate, nor her sisters - Azriel.
Lucien could’ve shown her the garden, feyre could’ve sat with her and listened to Elain’s garden plans till 3am - but no - it was Azriel.
And this man is the only one in the NC I’m convinced that has an actual job and responsibilities. So he is choosing to spend what little free time he has with ELAIN. What’s not clicking, folks?
“I thought it was obvious”
Sarah-we love her-but she is Queen of cliches. Her writing is not some insane thriller level that has you gasping every page turn. She likes threes, she likes happy endings, she likes her male LIs desperate for their female counterparts. The answer to Amarantha’s riddle was LOVE. CC had “through love all is possible”.
You really think she wrote the line “hoped love would trump even a mating bond” and it meant nothing?
SJM doesn’t do anything easy. But she said it was obvious- because it IS.
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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖘
sinopse:The curious case of the prefect of Ramcharcke raises theories and hypotheses, and each has a basis for it. Which one will be right? What do you believe in?
Characters: NRC Staff,Dire Crowley, Divus Crewel, Mozus Trein, Asthon Vargas, Sam.
“𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙”
Crowley completely agrees with the said philosopher, as a director of a renowned school built on the controversial values of historical figures. He KNOWS that every NRC student is a place full of angry, arrogant, hormone-bombed teenagers, which is why he is so magnificently kind to Yuu. Who would give a complete stranger a place to sleep without magic? Who would do everything to make Yuu return to her beloved world even if it cost hours of work? Oh, how generous the director is, right?
For some reason, Yuu is managing to keep well. Survival is the word that would best define this situation. Now how she is managing to do this is difficult to talk about. At some point the director thought of carefully analyzing the case of the strange student without magic. In a school with cruel students, you, Yuu, are the only one with altruistic thinking and no magic. Why would the carriage that has never made a mistake in all these centuries of power bring a person like that with no aspect other than the basics? Unless…
Yuu has the potential to be evil in her own world, but not in this one where she is in a clearly vulnerable position, Crowley concluded and fell deeper into his reveries. So to survive you will have to adopt a good and pure image until you have enough strength to overcome your enemies, little by little, until you reach the top of the chain. Like every human being he has ever encountered in his secular life, Crowley feels that the thirst for power and blood is deep inside in Yuu. That's why he sends her to do various dangerous jobs and jobs, disguised traps. It's like a challenge: How far the wolf in sheep's clothing go? Roll your dice and place your bets, as Director Crowley will be keeping an eye on you.
“𝙈𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚, 𝙨𝙤𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙪𝙥𝙩𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙢”
Perhaps in the analytical mind of the cruel chemistry teacher, Crewel, he had gone through the stages of denial and finally surrendered to the illusion. Yuu is a sweet and hardworking girl. That's it. Period. They had some time to develop a complicated relationship of father and daughter, mentor and student, but when Divus accepted his “fated role” according to him, it was a one-way thing. He will not allow any rowdy cub to offend her with repulsive lies. Did Yuu poison the students? Yuu blew up old bullying rooms? Did Yuu cheat on tests and manipulate students? LIES! She was just defending herself. His precious little puppy would never submit to such a low attitude.
His “filhota”, a term he learned from her, isn't like that, is it? So stay away from these disobedient puppies Yuu, they tarnish your image, dear.
“𝙈𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧”
Trein not only agrees with this theory, but he could prove it from a very practical experience: Yuu.
Having raised his own family, two daughters, a cat and being an experienced teacher at school for years, he knows how to masterfully recognize each type of student in his class: The nerd, the clown, the teacher's pet, the one who doesn't know anything about nothing, the one who knows everything, the one who pretends to know everything, the lazy and many others….but what about Yuu? How does she characterize herself in this group of characters?
What a curious case, a student without any kind of magic, with few memories, and in a school of arrogant boys without any support? How did she survive for so long? How does she adapt so easily? One day she's a nobody, and the next she has contacts with important princes and shady merchants. One day she knows nothing about the world that has stopped, and the next she knows more than Trein himself in his years of apprenticeship. In some way or another the stranger knows every secret of every hallway in the school, and holds them in the palm of her calloused hand.
The blank figure has immense potential for creation and destruction, and something tells Trey that the foreigner's innocent look and sharp tongue have dangerous odds.
"𝙈𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣"
Vargas could not agree with this theory more truthfully! The human body is designed to be challenged every day, and what would be the limit? As the trainer of every type of creature, from beastmen, fairies, merfolk, humans, hybrids and everything in between, he can say with certainty that there is nothing more rewarding than seeing a student overcome their obstacles!
The chest was filled with pride when he closely analyzed Yuu's case. He clearly remembered the student's first days at school, her steps were so light that the wind would carry her away, so weak and malnourished that she wouldn't walk a complete circle around the field without fainting, her look scared, her breathing heavy. She couldn't fly any higher than Azul and every time she spoke, her voice was shaky, like a kitten learning to meow.
Just look at the overcoming! Not only are her steps firm and determined, but she runs very fast as well. And even when an envious person tries to push him in a competition, she pushes him harder, making him fall to the ground. 12 eggs a day. 12 EGGS PER DAY. A diet that the trainer himself follows and just look at the results. The prey body has evolved into that of a hunter. Big, strong, fast and adaptable. Perfect.
Maybe you should be worried about the way she beats the past bullies who tormented her blue and purple? The way she hunts them is different, it's personal, it's physical, it's animal.
It seems like the game has changed, doesn't it?
“𝙈𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙣’𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙛”
The friends on the other side tell every secret and gossip that leaves the salesman, Sam, astonished. Sometimes it's hard to believe, other times he has to check it out with his own eyes. But for Sam, it's much more fun and engaging to analyze the situation like a grotesque soap opera. Each “little thing” is a sign for the next chapter. One day, among the hygiene products that are intended just for her, Yuu bought a different knife, an enchanted amulet and cans of a different type of fish and also a bottle of rat poison. Would it be for the rats of Ramshackle?.... No, the friends on the other side said that Yuu made an alliance with the rats, and so, she gets more information from the school. What type of information? who knows? For what? What will she do with the poison then? Pay attention to the next chapters.
A shadow wandering around in the morning once commented that on one of Jack's morning walks, he commented to Yuu that she "seemed to adapt to Twisted Wonderland fairly quickly.." And as soon as he found out, he ran as fast as his ghostly figure allowed him, so determined to be the first to tell Sam a hot piece of gossip that he didn't stay until the end of the conversation, and consequently left the merchant and his friends on the other side curious to know what Yuu's answer is.
Is Yuu letting her changes show to her troublemaking first-year friends, or has she tried to keep a mask on for a while? We cannot deny that her “strange” behavior is commendable for analysis. The one who enters the lion's den and comes out intact, the one who melts the heart of an evil icy queen, the one who entered as a sacrificial lamb and came back as the leader of the pack. Ohhh~~what interesting character development! More and more shadows surround Yuu now, watchful and thirsty for her next steps.
(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥
#twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst#disney twisted wonderland#twst yuu#malleus draconia#ace trappola#leona kingscholar x reader#twist x reader#malleus x reader#crowley#twst divus#divus crewel#mozus trein#vargas twst#sam twst#divus twst#yuu#twst mc#twst grim#twst wonderland#teories#disney#reader insert#teorias de yuu#twst incorrect quotes
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hi! i wrote an essay about rosy ronkey and her clothes, and i hypothesized what time period i think shes from/inspired by ^^ below if you wanna read more :))
ive been fixated (or had a special interest or whatever you want to call it) on rosy ronkey for a YEAR today. i've always been pretty interested in her outfit from an aesthetically pleasing point of view, but recently i wanted to see if i could find any trends and time periods in the inspirations of her clothes, which is what this essay is about! it’s going to be an explanation of most of her clothes, top to bottom, from what i can assume with the research i've done. i say research, but i probably don’t have the best sources? they’ll be linked below, but it was really more cross-referencing than anything else lol
i reached out to annie montgomerie for comment/criticism, but she’s obviously very busy and i enjoyed my research from a subjective point of view :)
basic specs on rosy (no one else but me cares): looking at rosy, the only zoomorphic, or animal looking, aspect of hers is her head. judging by proportions and cross-referencing, she looks to have the body of an american girl doll. this is just what i’ve noticed, but annie’s most recent stuff is way less anthropomorphized compared to rosy and the group she was made with. looking at annie’s most recent exhibit, hand me downs, every single piece is completely animal, with hand-sculpted claws, paws, wings and hooves. some of these dolls legs still look like american girl doll legs, but most everything else is animalistic. this isn’t important, but i just thought id mention it because artists’ growth over time is cool!
starting with her coat, it looks like a double-breasted red childrens’ coat with two rows of two buttons each. these kinds of coats are still available today, but i could find the closest matches by looking at 1920s childrens’ coats, specifically rothschild coats. the rothschild family has a long and complicated history, but all that’s important to know is that they are new york based (which doesn’t totally fit my assumptions about her; in general i assume all of annie montgomerie’s dolls are british because of her nationality) and they’ve been in business for over 100 years. by cross-referencing the growing style of double-breasted coats in the 1920s, and the style of rothschild childrens’ coats in ads from the time, i feel like it’s easy to assume rosy's character has this coat, or at least was very heavily inspired by it.
a theory i’ve seen before is that the ticket on her coat is a luggage label. these were used during WWII to evacuate british children during the blitz. the history press site says luggage labels listed “name, school and evacuation authority,” and is also where i got most of my information. i want to tentatively deny this theory. i'm pretty sure the ticket is an annie montgomerie staple opposed to a part of rosys' character. she's shown with the tag in the yorkshire sculpture park video, and on gerard way’s website, but she’s missing it in all the photos posted by annie montgomerie herself on facebook and instagram. almost every single annie montgomerie piece on display or for sale has a tag as well. i love this theory, and it’s probably what got me interested in researching her outfit in the first place, but i don’t think i could prove it if i tried.
other than the ticket, she has white roses on the left side of her coat and some smaller twigs? sticks? pinned to her collar. white roses symbolize purity, youthfulness, innocence, and in some contexts, respect for the departed. i couldn’t find any historical photos of children with roses in their outfits, but across the board that was the result i got for their meaning. i can’t discern what she has on her right collar for the life of me, if someone else can figure this out, PLEASE tell me
her dress is pink, with a cinched embroidered waist and a peter pan collar. peter pan collars became popular in the 1920s, and have been a staple of childrens’ dresses since (sources for this one were a few blogs and wikipedia, but also some ads, so i feel pretty confident with it.) some ads for girls’ dresses in the 1920s had the same soft pleats and embroidered waist as seen on rosys’ dress. i don’t think there’s a meaning behind the color, except that it compliments the red coat and her fur.
her stockings are standard, I couldn’t find much special meaning behind them, british children have been wearing stockings forever, and for girls especially, stockings became more popular in the 1920s as dresses got shorter. usually they were sheer and nude, and rosys’ look like the gray kind kids wear today, but i think it’s still period appropriate to an extent. her shoes look like red mary janes for american girl dolls, just more scuffed and dirtied. mary jane shoes themselves have been around for a while (called “bar shoes” originally,) but they got their name in 1904. in one of the first drafts for this, i read the fairy tale “the red shoes” to see if it offered any insight. i thought it’d be fun to relate, but it’s just a popular danish fairy tale, and it was hard for me to entertain the idea for long.
TLDR: i think rosy ronkeys outfit is inspired by british 1920s fashion!
that’s all I have! i apologize if this was underwhelming or overwhelming or whatever, i had no model to base this off of and the only tumblr essays i read are from my friends <3 i hope you enjoyed! i love rosy ronkey!
link to my dumbfuck google doc with all the links and braindump on it :)
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pretty in pink
tutor!robin x bimbo!reader
synopsis — in which robin is tasked to help you out with your grades, something that proves to be challenging as you subvert her expectations.
cw : nsfw 16+; fingering, praise kink, inexperienced reader, slight dumbification, a bit of degrading cos robin can be a meanie when she gets carried away :(
a/n : this is one of my fave pieces ever i love love love the idea of tutor robin it was so much fun to write i hope u all enjoy <33
when robin was asked by your professor to help you out with your grades, the initial thought that popped up in her head was that these tutoring sessions were gonna be a pain.
you had quite the reputation; being part of the clique who walked around the school like you owned the place, always dolled up in coordinated outfits and never seeming to think of school as more than a fashion runway. you, the most clueless one in the group, who was notorious for borderline failing your classes if not for the support your parents give to the school.
everyone (except for you, probably) knew that there was no helping you, and that it would take a miracle for you to even comprehend first grade math. robin found more hope in teaching a cat to play dead than tutoring you.
this led her to two hypotheses — either you were going to be an insufferable popular girl who would make fun of her the whole time for being a nerd, or you wouldn't take anything seriously and just end up wasting her precious time.
but that all flew out the window when you came up to her with a doe-eyed gaze instead of a scrutinizing look — for the first time in her entire life, robin felt like she was wrong. you weren't snobby, no mean words came her way, no malice in your tone as you greeted her warmly.
with her assumptions debunked, she suddenly didn't know how to act around you. not with you sitting so close to her that at some point your perfume was all she could inhale and the twinkle in your eyes each time you batted them was all she could think of and her own thunderous heartbeat was all she could hear.
this was nothing like she prepared for.
“...did i finally get it right?” the tugging of your fingers on the sleeve of her dark denim jacket pulled her from her thoughts.
“robin, is there anything distracting you?”
uhm yea, just you being practically pressed against me that all i can feel is your body heat and your face is merely inches away and i can't stop looking at your glossed lips—
“no!” she'd blurted out a bit too loudly, her hand immediately coming up to cover her mouth in embarrassment. “everything's —uh — i'm good.”
“what were you saying?”
“here,” you reached out a manicured finger to point towards an equation, the one robin remembered you'd been stuck in. you extended the hand opposite from robin's side, the action causing your arm to press against your chest and emphasize your cleavage in the low cut pink shirt you donned. robin swore the room just got smaller.
“is it correct?” you asked in that sweet tone, brows furrowed delicately and pen resting between your teeth as you waited for her approval.
the paper sat on the polished wood of your study desk, a glaring reminder of the reason why robin was in this situation in the first place. your answer, a bunch of numbers boxed with a glittery inked pen, was painfully wrong. so far from the question that robin had no idea how you even came up with it. the poor girl, however, didn't have the heart to tell you that and risk seeing your pout at the disappointment of your effort going to waste. she'd just have to ask for your homework later on and change the answer herself, not like you'd notice it anyway. plus she was in dire need of a moment to recollect herself.
“good job, you got it!” robin said rather stiffly, voice high-pitched and squeaked, but that didn't stop the proud giggles that filled the room from her praise.
the tension in her shoulders melted away when your laughter resounded in her ears, a heavy breath she didn't notice she was holding puffing from her lips.
“i think we can take a break now,” she mumbled incoherently like the words were bricks weighing down her tongue, picking at her nails with the most concentration you've seen on her face that day.
“sorry what did you say?”
“let's take a break. we've been at it for too long and that's not good because you're probably overwhelmed by now and you won't be able to retain any of the information.”
“finally! i didn't know if i could take another second of staring at those numbers any more.” you sighed happily, clapping your hands together softly before placing them down on your lap.
robin only hummed in response, still focused on her nails like she was a spy set out on a mission her life depended on. you both shifted in your chairs at the uncomfortable silence. figuring she wasn't going to speak any time soon, you decided to shoot your shot, however in the dark it may be.
“so i thought of something, uh, fun we could do to pass the time.” you paused hesitantly when all you got was a noncommittal nod. “i mean, only if you want to.”
it's taking everything in robin to distract herself and keep her mouth shut, knowing herself enough to be sure that uttering even a single word would lead to her ruining her life, so she simply turns to you and raises an eyebrow. what she doesn't expect to see is you chewing your bottom lip and fidgeting with the hem of your skirt nervously.
you could barely look her in the eye as you continue but you muster all the courage you have, “i've seen the way you look at me.”
“what? what do you mean? i—”
“i know i can be a little slow sometimes—more than enough people have told me that— but i'm not entirely stupid.”
you place a hand on her knee tentatively, and the simple action almost makes robin stop breathing entirely and combust on the spot. she finally got your message, but she was still too unsure to act on it, afraid she might overstep a boundary.
you take the next step, moving closer to her til your legs find their place between hers.
“can i kiss you?”
robin's eyes flit down to your lips at the question before she whispers a soft “yes please.”
you place your glossed lips on her slightly parted ones, staying still for a while as sparks literally erupted in you.
robin sensed your hesitation in the way you meekly moved your lips against hers, barely even kissing her, so she grabs your hips firmly and moves you onto her thighs, turning her head sideways to kiss you properly. your arms wrap around robin but in your flustered state flail helplessly, not knowing where to hold her.
god you were a pretty thing, but it was painfully obvious you had no idea what you were doing.
robin's lips never leave yours, stealing your breaths and tasting the sticky sweet gloss on your lips til all you could think about was her tongue sliding against yours and her grunts and hums as she tastes you. she pulls away when she realises how lightheaded you became from the kiss, only clumsily moving your lips and letting her do all the work, still not used to it all. a soft smile graces her lips, covered in spit and gloss, when you look into her eyes with little hearts taking the place of your pupils.
“so pretty,” she speaks against your mouth, eyes half lidded and breath erratic. her thumb rubs across your swollen lips, the coldness of her rings on your heated cheeks causing you to shiver. a tight knot had begun coiling in your stomach, the feeling unlike anything you've experienced before. it was foreign, you couldn't name it, all you knew was that it felt good and was making your body heat up.
“more,” you whimper impatiently as you grab her hand and lead it down to your throbbing pussy, over the place you needed her most.
“are you sure about this because—”
“please, robin. touch me.”
she didn't have to be told twice, her hand immediately sliding under your skirt and feeling you through your lace panty. you gasp and writhe in her arms, legs wrapping tighter around robin's hips as she draws circles over the cloth on your sopping cunt.
she moves your underwear to the side, muttering a so wet as she feels your slick on her fingers before finding your clit and flicking it slowly, the waves of pleasure making your hands tangle themselves in her dirty blonde hair to ground yourself. she groans deliciously in your ears as you tug on it, reveling in the way you react to her touches.
she readjusts her hand so her thumb can continue playing with your clit while her finger prods your hole, eyes scanning your face for confirmation. you allow her breathily, nerves tense in anticipation.
robin pushes one finger into your fluttering cunt, planting kisses on your throat as she waits for you to get used to the stretch.
“you're taking me so well,” she speaks against your skin, the tightening of your hole causing her to chuckle. you were practically an open book in her hands.
“robin,” you rut your hips in desperation, wanting to feel her fingers do magic once more. “do something.”
“alright, i've got you.”
she curls her fingers and starts slowly, ingraining in her memory the way your eyes glaze and your lips fall slack with each thrust. not feeling satisfied with the pace, you grind your hips on her fingers and nearly jolt off her lap once she quickens the pace and fucks you harder with her fingers.
“ssh, you're too loud,” she says, reminding you of the compromising position you were in. but honestly, you could care less when she was making you feel this good.
despite being in the privacy of your study room, robin still wasn't one to take risks, and the chances of someone else hearing your sounds stirred something in her. she brings three fingers to your lips, and your mouth is quick to open and accommodate them. you gag lightly on her hand, the cool feeling of her rings on your tongue making your eyes water.
“you like that, don't you?” the blonde taunts, not missing the way you clench. you try to respond, but her fingers in your mouth only muffle the sound. not that your mind could come up with a coherent thought anyway.
“bet none of the words i'm saying right now are getting through your pretty head, huh?”
robin's eyes darken at the sight of you grinding on her fingers while you look at her with glossy eyes, never in her wildest dreams imagining you like this; a writhing, oversensitive puddle on the palm of her hands.
you grip onto her shoulders for dear life as you feel yourself getting closer, the bright color of your gel nails glowing in contrast to the dark denim of robin's jacket. the band in your abdomen snaps, white stars flashing in your eyes as you bask in the pleasure. she pulls out her fingers as you come undone, letting you take in the air you very much needed.
robin's pretty sure she'd just literally emptied your brain as you slumped in her arms, burying your head in the crook of her neck while you tried to steady your breathing.
“you were so good for me,” robin whispers against your head as she holds you close, rubbing circles on your back soothingly. a hazy smile beams on your face.
this wasn't the way robin planned your tutoring sessions to go, at all, but hey, she could get used to this.
#cake roll 🎀#cream pies 🎀#stranger things x reader#stranger things smut#robin buckley x reader#robin buckley smut#robin buckley oneshot#robin buckley x you#stranger things imagine
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Chen Gong with tanjiro!fem!reader headcanons
warning: ooc, manga spoilers, violence
The long anticipated collab work with @praisethesuuun is finally here! Guys, go check out their amazing blog if you wanna read more Chen Gong content! Here's a link to some more romance headcanons with this ball of sunshine! :)
With that being said y'all, sit back, relax and enjoy these headcanons!
Whether it was Brunhilde’s twisted judgment or it was simply because she wanted the best for the soul she guided to Valhalla, Chen Gong was extremely grateful to the Valkyrie placed the soul in Lord Lu Bu’s care.
The soul in question was [First Name] Kamado, a swordswoman who centuries ago alongside like-minded individuals, secretly protected the public from the demons that prowled at night to devour human flesh. Yet in exchange for the knowledge of learning the art of Sun Breathing, she had paid it with her life and died at the tender age of twenty-eight.
Those who had possessed the Mark of the Demon Slayer were cursed to perish. It seemed like a myth originally intended to scare off anyone from becoming a Hashira was not simply just that; it had been a truth, one that the Ubuyashiki family had known and shared with very few because it would discourage Demon Slayers who wanted to the Mark just to prove that they were the strongest within the organization. A badge of honor paid in blood.
It did not take much effort from the swordswoman to win over his heart. She was kind, empathetic, and extremely helpful around the camp. She’d do any task that was asked by himself or another soldier without complaint: laundry, polishing armor or weapons, and preparing meals.
The soldiers grew to like her and were often bewildered at the tales she’d share with them over the fire about her days as a Demon Slayer. They all laughed when she vehemently said she’ll never step foot in the entertainment district again because she feared it’d crumble in a single night like it had when she went undercover as an oiran-in-training. In her defense, the demons she’d faced were incredibly powerful, and she almost died from that fight!
However, Chen Gong remained oblivious to [First Name]’s strength until Lu Bu had received orders from the higher-ups to investigate a peculiar situation: there was new territory to be explored, and all of the expedition teams were never seen again. The only clue of what actually happened was a half mutilated corpse of a soldier, the top half of his face removed…yet the army could see a blissful smile stretched across that rotten cadaver.
As if he’d died a happy man and not in fear of the unknown.
[First Name] took a single whiff at the corpse and immediately confirmed that the culprit is in fact a demon. She asked Lu Bu to allow her to handle the situation. She hypothesized that this demon targeted only men, or used their Blood Demon Art to immobilize them long enough to be devoured. Whether it was through their honeyed words or another method, she was not sure.
But please allow her to go so that no one else would be killed.
Lu Bu simply looked at the swordswoman and nodded, grunting to bring back proof that she carried out the deed. The demon’s head would be sufficient. [First Name] thanked him profusely, pressing her forehead against the floor before departing the tent.
Hours before nightfall befell upon the skies of Valhalla, [First Name] was prepared to leave the camp, her sword strapped to her right side and fitted in borrowed, dirty armor. She surmised that the scent of a man would lure the demon out from its hiding place to hunt and conceal her own odor.
Chen Gong did not like this strategy, not at all. But Lu Bu’s word was the law. He had to follow the commands of his lord. He wished [First Name] to come back safely, preferably not in critical condition or nearly comatose like in her stories of fighting against demons in the Taisho era.
She smiled brightly and said she would come back. Squeezing his shoulder gently, her form disappeared beneath the covers of the night. The longest night Chen Gong had experience thus far since he’d arrived in Valhalla.
He wanted to have faith in [First Name], to trust that she will keep her promise…but should he have given the Demon Slayer his most prized possession so she would be reminded to come back? No, that wouldn’t be right. He was the great Lu Bu’s genius strategist, not a fair maiden worried about her lover!
Yes, he might have known her for less than six months but damn it all he wanted to marry her! Who wouldn’t?!
Night passed before Chen Gong realized it, the faint orange-red rays of dawn approaching over the horizon. Just when the men were about to move out, however, a soldier noticed someone walking towards them. [First Name]. Covered in dirt and blood, and smiling at them tiredly as she slowly, steadily, headed in their direction.
She made it back. She’s alive.
Chen Gong broke into a run, passing the soldiers and embraced her tightly in the grassy fields. When he pulled away he did not hesitate to chastise her for worrying him and Lu Bu, pressing kisses around her dirty face. When he realized what he’d done, the swordswoman’s cheeks were flushed dark red as she stammered an apology, holding up a single amber eye in the air.
She did try to bring back the head like the general wanted, but a demon’s body immediately disintegrates when the head is severed from the neck. The eyeball was the only piece of the demon she was able to salvage.
Chen Gong didn’t give [First Name] another chance to apologize before he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the infirmary tent without a second thought. When he saw it was empty, he grabbed some supplies to start treating the most superficial wounds on his own until the doctor arrived. Once he’d gone outside though, some of the soldiers teased him about how he acted earlier. Realizing what he’d done made his face burn with embarrassment.
Gods, what would [First Name] think of him now after acting like a barbarian?! He didn’t mean to act like that, but how can she be so reckless?!
His troubled thoughts were shortly shattered when the doctor informed him that aside from having some deep lacerations and a broken rib, the Demon Slayer was in good health. She just needed to be on light duty and get plenty of rest. Chen Gong was relieved…yet at the same time, nervous.
He needed to tell her. He needed to let her know that he was in love with her, and soon.
So that was exactly what he did once she woke up three days later in the infirmary tent. He lightly scolded her for making him worry to death as he held her in his arms. When she asked about the eyeball, he informed her that he personally took care of it.
Lord Lu Bu wasn’t all too happy that she didn’t bring back a head, but something was better than nothing. Now that he knew demons existed in Valhalla, he’d consult her if they ran into unnecessary trouble again.
A silence between them before the strategist took a leap of faith and sealed it with a light kiss.
[First Name] grew flustered from his actions, stammering and wiggling as he continued to place smaller kisses around her face. He only stopped to look her in the eye and solemnly asked her to become his wife, if she’ll allow him to court her.
Wide-eyed and with a pinkened face resembling a plum blossom, [First Name] nodded in acceptance. Chen Gong grinned, hugging her tightly again before she released a pained yelp.
He quickly apologized, loosening his grip around her hips as he embraced her once more.
Upon arriving at their designated military base, Chen Gong did not hesitate to begin the courtship immediately. Horseback riding, exploring the marketplace, and cuddling were some of the activities they did together.
He did try to spoil his soon-to-be-wife with hairpins and perfume bottles, but she was insistent that she didn’t need it at all. He still bought it when she wasn’t looking, anyway. The marketplace was also where she’d reunited with her blacksmith, Lord Haganezuka….and he had a very violent reaction to seeing her chipped sword.
By ‘violent reaction’ he chased them both around the vendor booths with knives in either hand, two more were wrapped around his head with a black cloth. It took a good while for the man to be calm enough to agree to fix the blade.
In less than three months, Chen Gong was a happily married man and obtained a new ability that would greatly benefit him in the next war: complete immunity towards all forms of seduction.
In summary, Chen Gong is a loving, committed man who will not hesitate to simp over his spouse just as much as he fawned over Lu Bu.
Bonus Content:
Ordinarily, Chen Gong would celebrate the New Year with the soldiers at the barracks, eating and drinking until the following morning. But this time, he will not be joining them. Instead, he would be secluded in a forested area within the territory’s borders, mesmerized by his spouse dancing bare-footed in the middle of pillars of ignited torches. Her face was concealed by a white veil, tiny bells jingling from the red sash that wrapped around her head.
The sleeve of her ceremonial robes billowed in the wind, twirling a decorated wooden blade between her fingers. For generations the Kamado family have performed the rite to please gods, and recently, to pay their respects to Yoriichi Tsugikuni, the man who had founded the Breathing Styles and saved their ancestor’s family from demons. It had been passed from father to son, and in [First Name]’s case, from father to daughter.
Yet after her father passed on, she persisted in carrying out the tradition, even when some of the villagers believed bad luck would happen if a woman carried out the sacred dance. Nothing happened….until that fateful winter morning.
But she never believed her family’s demise had been because of ‘bad luck’. Muzan attacked her mother and siblings simply because he wanted to see if a demon could withstand the sunlight. Her and Nezuko’s survival would be considered merciful in his perspective.
Remembering the tragic tale behind the dance brought fresh tears to Chen Gong’s eyes. His wife had been through so much, and she is still kind to everyone even in death. Above all else…she was simply divine in that celestial garb.
How did he get so lucky?!
From dusk to dawn, he watched [First Name] perform the rite with jugs of wine sitting by his feet, a warm smile stretched across his face, marveling at this spectacle.
It is said amongst the soldiers that at the start of each new year, the strategist’s simping for his wife increases tenfold and he acts like a lovestruck fool around her for the first three weeks…and progressively gets worse.
Taglist:
@zodiacs-web
@onecantsimply
@kiannas-stuff
@yellow-snark
@justamegafan
@thatstrangesheep
@deathmetalunicorn1
@enryegotrip
@dance-till-the-death
@myrisan-melodies
@staticradiotv
@recreationalfanfics
@nixes-noxes
@mortemorii
@seijuuns-fantasy
#an idyllic novelist#ror headcanons#ror x you#ror x reader#snv x reader#record of ragnarok chen gong#snv chen gong#chen gong x reader#shuumatsu no valkyrie#snv#record of ragnarok#collab work
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＃OVERWATCH !! ♡ — VIOLET AND SANDALWOOD (MOIRA X READER).
#. synopsis! — the four times you didn't ask moira to stay, and the one time you did .
#. characters! — moira .
#. warnings! — light angst, mentions of alcohol consumption, implied/referenced sexual activity, slightly suggestive material .
#. word count! — 6.3k .
#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .
#. others! — navigation & masterlist .
#. a/n! — happy new year, i'm in love with moira so pls have this <3
The first time you ever found yourself alone with Moira was fleeting, —but it’s a moment you’ll never forget. You were a new addition to her research team, still a newbie barely able to navigate the twisting halls of the lab’s building, a rather sudden replacement for a worker you’d heard had gone missing amongst the turmoil of the outside world. It wasn’t unusual given the chaos that waged on endlessly; but it was unnerving to fill their shoes.
Moira wasn't particularly sensitive to that, but she provided you with a sense of comfort, though she likely didn't know it. She was formidable in spite of her slender build, —a woman made of sharp angles with a stare that could turn enemies to ash. She moved with the kind of grace and precision you'd expect from a noble, always with an air of elegance about her that positioned her a cut above the rest. Her staggering height made her a sight to behold, with fiery locks to match her often scorching personality. Either you got along with her, or you found somewhere else to work. . . The laboratory was her castle, and it was in the best interest of everyone else to stay far out of her way.
You were particularly good at that. Matching her strides was an impossible feat, both physically and within a work setting, so you learned how to tiptoe around all of her imaginary boundaries. Though she didn't seem keen on acknowledging it, a part of you really liked to think she took note of it. . . Took note of you, like you were special.
She frightened you, but all the same, she intrigued you, —pulling you deeper into her waters with nowhere to seek refuge but in her arms. Maybe that's the way she wanted it.
Dancing around her proved to be the easy part. It wasn't until you were alone with her that you truly recognized how masterful a force she really was.
Moira often stayed late, even for days at a time, sneaking away to the break room for a few hours rest before others made their way to work. No one else on the team was quite so dedicated, —yourself included. You weren't opposed to working overtime, and you often stayed an hour or so past your typical shift to wrap up notes or finalize projects. But it boiled down to very little in comparison to Moira’s never-ending cycle of work and repetition. That night, overtime would have been an understatement. It was edging on midnight as you scribbled away, comparing a week's worth of well-taken notes, weighing formulated hypotheses against the true results at hand.
The lab had been empty for quite a while, even Moira nowhere to be found. You chalked it up to luck. When she arrived, however, you're not sure you would have ventured to call it unlucky. She stood in the entryway, her lithe frame outlined in the contrasting light from the hall just outside.
"I thought I might find someone else here," she said, —no discontent noticeable in her tone.
It was an observational statement more than anything else, but you couldn't help feeling that you were intruding on time never meant for you to take up.
"Sorry," you apologized, "I'll wrap up quickly."
Keeping yourself together was none too easy a task that night. Moira seemed indifferent to your presence on the surface, but you feared overstaying your welcome. Your heart thundered away in your chest, loud enough to make you think it was trying to escape your body. Loud enough to fear that Moira might hear it from several feet away.
"No need for apologies," she assured you, brushing your concerns away like they were nothing. "It's just not often I find someone else lingering in the lab so late."
You swallowed down another apology as it crept up the back of your throat, scared that repeating yourself would only prove to annoy her. If nothing else, you knew Moira was the type of person you'd much prefer to stay on good terms with; so the prospect of upsetting her was something akin to horrifying.
She continued as she made her way across the room in long strides, shoes tapping against the pristine floor in rhythmic clicks. Even the way she walked was entrancing, as if every step she took was perfectly planned. As much as she intimidated you, Moira captivated you all the same.
“Between you and I, I’d much rather you be here than any of them,” she said unabashedly, busying her hands with a half-filled beaker not far away.
This was likely the closest Moira would ever get to engaging in idle workplace chatter or gossip, though you struggled to call it the latter given her pointed delivery. She spoke like she was plainly uttering another lowly fact of the universe, not throwing subtle shade toward her fellow colleagues (you excluded, apparently.)
You said nothing in reply, but she didn’t seem to mind. Where others might have been uncomfortable with your silence, she simply moved along, plucking another test tube off the desk before her to examine it in her hands. Even the way she held objects was done with such an air of refinement. Her long, slender fingers wrapped around the glass with a surprising amount of care, those long, ever-purple nails jutting past the tips.
A prolonged period of silence followed, your eyes often drifting to the place she stood. It wasn’t the first time you’d ever noted her appearance, but there was something about her tonight that really stole your breath away. With her typical lab coat draped over the back of her chair, she was left in an ill-fitting white button up and a pair of tightly fitted black pants. Shirt loosely tucked in and the two top buttons undone, paired with hair slightly messy and much less styled than you were used to seeing her with, —you couldn’t help but gawk a bit. She was so effortlessly attractive that it made your heart throb.
Moira caught sight of your gaze, but didn’t seem perturbed by it. She made no mention of it, instead asking: “Do you mind if I light a candle?”
“No,” you quickly shook your head in reply, “not at all.”
Even if you did mind, it’s not like you would have said it. Still, she seemed pleased enough by your response and took you at your word.
“I prefer to work under the right ambiance,” she explained. “Scents that stimulate the brain and an atmosphere adequate for concentration.”
There was even something special about the way she lit the wick of the candle that sent shivers across your body.
“Violet and sandalwood,” she pointed.
The little flame seemed to move in time with her, as if even nature had no choice but to subjugate itself to her will.
You didn't say it, of course, but the idea that Moira would care about something as simple as the scents surrounding her came as a surprise. Such a mundane thing crossing the mind of someone so ingenious seemed. . . Jarring, almost.
Still, it was demystifying in its own right. Moira often came across as so robotic that you tended to forget she was even human, and subsequently, it often slipped your mind that she might pay just as much attention to the smaller novelties of life as anyone else. Her grand ideas often outweighed her sense of humanity, but in the moment, it was all too easy to catch a glimpse of her gentler, more everyday nature.
“It’s nice,” you said softly when the wafting scent began to properly fill the room.
For such a small candle, it was particularly potent. Hints of musk from the sandalwood were accented by the lighter scent of floral violet, creating a lovely harmony. It crossed your mind, if only briefly, that it was a nice allegory for you and her. . . Moira, perhaps a bit cruel at times; certainly the deeper of the two. Someone difficult to understand, but all too easy to be intrigued by. And then there was you, —not necessarily passive, but much more adaptable than the former. Softer and likely kinder, but a standout in your own right.
“I’m glad you think so.”
Really, Moira just seemed glad to be in like minded company. All too often she had been subjected to the harsh criticism of others, —criticism of her personality, of her methods, of her appearance, even. But you looked at her like she was something to behold, and not in the monstrous way that she’d become far too accustomed to. She got the sense that you saw her for what she truly was: a woman of science. Nothing more, nothing less.
Working in silence with her was surprisingly pleasant. If she caught sight of the peeks you stole at her in between notes, she didn’t make any mention of it. It really couldn’t be helped though, —especially when she ran those long, slender fingers through her hair, pushing loose strands away from her forehead. God, she was so pretty when she moved like that, when she leaned over her desk and her back arched ever so slightly.
You stayed much later than you ever planned, gaze flickering between the work at hand and her. It was teetering on two in the morning when Moira finally stood herself upright again, announcing that she needed to tend to the live test subjects a few rooms over. She didn’t explicitly invite you to come along, but the implication was certainly there. . . Still, you didn’t have the nerve to follow, nor did you have the guts to ask her to stay with you in the main lab, as if sitting with you in majorative silence for another hour would really prove to be useful in the slightest.
You went home that night with a lot on your mind.
Moira invited you to drink with her a few weeks later, hoping to vent some of her frustrations over glasses of whiskey. The past few days had been none to kind to her, leaving her exhausted and a thread away from snapping. It was clear by the subtle bags under her eyes that sleep had been all but eluding her, and her brows seemed permanently creased that night as you sat across from her, listening to every word that spilled past her lips.
“It’s infuriating,” she practically growled, tipping her head back to swallow some more of the amber liquid down with startling ease. “I couldn’t care less if they like me or not, —but halting my work like this is making me think they’re all more trouble than they’re worth.”
It wasn’t hard to see why she was so upset. Conflicts were common in the lab, especially when it came to Moira’s methods, (which were admittedly unethical on a number of occasions) but nothing had ever gotten this bad. At least, not since you’d been working under her, anyway.
One argument had led to another, and before Moira knew it, she was being pulled aside by a number of the high-ranking personalities, all of which seemed to agree that she was the one in the wrong. And maybe she was, but you still couldn’t respect the underhandedness of your colleagues. In fact, you struggled to even refer to them as such in the aftermath, and your loyalty to Moira made you the target of hapless gossip amongst them rather quickly. For such well-educated individuals, they hadn’t a clue how to whisper, and it was frankly embarrassing beyond words.
“They’re certainly making a show of it all,” you quipped, taking a cautious sip of alcohol just to see what the flavor was like.
“You’ve noticed it too then?” Moira questioned, reaching out to place one of her steady hands on your thigh.
The touch was nothing more than a casual gesture, but it set your heart aflame. She was so painfully unaware of what she did to you, —how she made your pulse stutter, how she invaded your thoughts at the most inopportune times. Her heterochromatic eyes glistened under the pale laboratory lighting, her fine, white coat slipping off her angular shoulders.
“It’d have been more shocking if I hadn’t, honestly,” you answered. “The things I’ve overheard the past two days have been completely ridiculous, and I’m almost convinced they’ve wanted at least one of us to catch wind of it. Either that or they’re so completely incompetent that they probably shouldn’t be working here in the lab to begin with.”
Moira chuckled at your bold reply. It was the first time she’d ever heard you speak your mind in such an unfiltered way, —and she liked it. There was a certain zest to your annoyance, one that she sort of wanted to sink her teeth into just to see how far they’d go; like the fangs of some supernatural creature of the night.
You love it when she laughs like that, but it’s a sound you’re not often privy to. It’s low and leathery, if a little cruel from time to time, and it’s nothing short of music to your ears.
“It’s one thing to disagree with my methods,” she noted. “I’m not naive to the morals of most people, nor do I deny that I don’t tend to stick to the unspoken roles they set for us as people of science. But really, they’re grasping for straws at this point. Questioning what I do in my personal life is a bridge we need not cross.”
Your eyes widened. Of all the things you’d overhead, nothing had been speculation into Moira’s personal affairs. That was a dangerous line to toe, —even for you, and you’d venture to say you were on quite pleasant terms with her.
“I hadn’t realized they’d gone that far,” you noted. “Talk about inappropriate. . .”
Moira liked the way you don’t pry into the details of what they were saying, and swiftly rewarded you with the information she assumed you were itching for. It involved you anyhow, so she reasoned it as killing two birds with one stone.
“A curious rumor, certainly,” she said, “that you and I are secret lovers rendezvousing in the lab when everyone else has gone home.”
You couldn’t help the way your face dropped. Unlike Moira, you often wore your emotions on your sleeve, and if not for her being so out-of-tune with her own, you’ve long feared she just might have picked up on your little crush. She snickered a little at your reaction, taking another drink before she spoke again.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she remarked. “Is the idea of it really so sinister?”
She was joking with you, and you knew that. No matter what way this ended, —you were winning. But you found yourself looking away in shame, as if Moira could see right through you and into the deepest recesses of your mind where you’d agreed to bury your feelings for her the minute they began to sprout. Searching for a way to prolong the inevitable reply you’d have to muster up eventually, you tipped your head back and let the glass of whiskey she’d poured you slide down your throat.
“I was just surprised,” you said finally. “I hadn’t expected anything like that to come up in their conversations.”
Ever one for being cruel in subtle ways, Moira had to admit that she liked the way you squirmed around the question. She leaned in just a little closer, as if tempting you to make a move. You could have sworn you saw her gaze dip down to your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes.
“I was quite flattered, really,” she admitted. “It was nice to know they thought I could have managed wrapping someone like you around my finger.”
God, if you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought she was flirting. Your heart was left a throbbing mess, and in a moment of complete and utter weakness, —you kissed her.
It was quick and Moira had little time to return the gesture before you forced yourself away, realization washing over you like a tidal wave. You wished you’d had a bit more to drink, maybe to drown out the hurt from the rejection that followed, or maybe just to have given you the nerve to pull her back in for more.
“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, “I’m really sorry, Moira, I didn’t—”
You cut yourself off, uncertain of what to say. She didn’t seem angry and she hadn’t pushed you away, but you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over your lashes.
She cleared her throat, tugging her lab coat up and pulling herself to her feet.
“There’s some tasks I should be attending to,” she explained, although you didn’t really buy that completely. “I’ve got another bottle, so feel free to drink as much as you like.”
Watching her walk away was hurtful, but you couldn’t muster up the courage to ask her to stay. Even if you had, you’re sure the right words wouldn’t have come out anyway. You downed some more whiskey at Moira’s approval before making your way home, —fighting tears back the entire way.
Nothing much changed after you kissed her. If the taste of whiskey on her sweet lips hadn’t seared itself into your memory, you just might have convinced yourself it was a dream. Moira never broached the topic, and you were scared that doing so yourself might upset whatever semblance of balance you’d been able to find within your tattered relationship with her, —so you simply left it alone. Maybe that wasn’t the right way to go about things, but all you were really certain of at the time was that you didn’t want to lose her. And if that meant you could only love her from a distance and keep yourself at arms length from her as a colleague, then you were going to have to learn to be okay with that.
That was a lot easier said than done, though. . .
She invited herself over to your quaint little apartment about two weeks later, insisting that comparing notes would make for a smoother transition onto the next stage of your largest project yet. You didn’t really understand why that couldn’t be done in the lab after hours, —but you didn’t feel you were in the position to be questioning her after all that had happened.
“Would you like some tea?” You inquired, “—Or coffee, maybe?”
You didn’t have much to offer in terms of snacks, unless she was keen on eating some (likely stale) saltine crackers or a (likely freezer burnt) frozen waffle. It wasn’t often that you had guests over, so your hospitality game was sorely lacking, but Moira didn’t seem to care much one way or the other. She declined your offers for a drink, instead making herself at home on your worn-down sofa, placing a binder full of notes on the cheap coffee table you’d purchased not too long ago.
As she waited for you to join her, she rested her back against the faux leather, crossing one long, slender leg over the other. Even doing something as mundane as sitting, she looked so refined and elegant, —like she was posing for a magazine photoshoot. Maybe you were giving her too much credit, but looking at her in that position made you yearn for her all the more, though you knew very well you couldn’t have her. Not then.
The best you could offer her was to light a candle, —so that’s what you did. It was the only thing you could do to make the impromptu meeting in your home feel less stuffy.
“That scent,” she said not long after, breathing in deeply to catch the rich undertones of the aroma, “is that violet and sandalwood?”
You were almost hoping she wouldn’t notice. Candles weren’t something you ever felt the need to keep a stock of back at home, but after she had lit that one of the same scent all those nights ago, you found yourself seeking out the feelings she evoked back then on that fateful night. Eventually, you invested in a few violet-sandalwood candles, and you’d burned up one within a span of three weeks, so they clearly weren’t going to waste.
“Uh, yeah, it is,” you nodded in confirmation. “If you don’t like it, I can always just blow it out.”
You reached for it preemptively, only for Moira to catch your wrist in her grip. It was a bit rough at first, but she quickly loosened it as if suddenly recognizing her own strength.
“I like it,” she assured you firmly, her eyes practically shouting out you remembered.
Moira wasn’t really one for sentiments, but that touched her. It made her already confusing feelings for you all the more complicated.
Her thumb glided gently over the skin of your wrist, —a silent apology for having grabbed at you so crudely just before. You practically gulped as she moved closer, thinking there was no way you weren’t misunderstanding something. But all your worries were put to bed the moment her lips captured yours, —so fervent and tender. It was so sudden that it left you delirious, but you didn’t dare to pull away. That first kiss with her had haunted you in a number of ways, but you could never forget the comfortable slide of her mouth as it fitted itself against yours.
In that way, Moira wasn’t much unlike everyone else. She had a gentler side that you didn’t often get to see, but when it briefly came out to play you liked to bask in every moment of the glory it waged.
When she finally pulled away, clearing her throat as if doing so would restart the moment entirely, she was back to her usual self. And you, as you so often did, found yourself being swept along by her ocean, letting her pull you out into the middle of her sea.
The sun had long since set by the time she felt you’d gone over enough for the time being. It was late, and you thought so sincerely about asking her to stay for the night, but the fear of pushing things too far and shattering the illusion left you clammed up, offering her little more than a small wave and a tiny smile at the door.
She was back in your apartment the next night, her hands all over you, exploring wherever they pleased. Moira regarded you like some kind of porcelain doll, —as if squeezing too hard might leave you in pieces. That was the gentlest you’d ever known her to be. Her lips trailed like fallen petals across your open skin, so warm and thoughtful. You’d been putty in her hands the moment you stepped inside.
And then you laid alone, Moira sat on the side of your bed. Her bare back bore the remnants of your excitement, and a part of you thought it might be best to apologize for marking her up like that, —but another couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad about it. If nothing else, it was proof that she’d been here, like this, with you. . .
You watched her slide her slim, lengthy arms inside her white dress shirt, fiddling carefully with the buttons before rising to her feet. Under any other circumstances, you’d have been sure to look away, but you couldn’t imagine she’d care much about what all you’d see of her then after what had just happened on your mattress. For the millionth time, reaching out crossed your mind. You considered the possibility that reaching out, pulling her in, kissing all the apprehension away, might ease her enough to let her sleep next to you (if only for the night.)
Yet again though, you couldn’t find the courage to go through with it. Despite what had just happened, you feared that the gap between you and her was gaping all the same, —maybe even more so now than it was before.
Resigning yourself to silence, your gaze traced along every curve of her body, memorizing every detail you could get your sights on. As you watched her fully redress, you thought about the sharpness of her, —in both body and personality. You thought about the softer nooks and crannies she had to offer, about how she’d managed to swallow all your anxieties whole only to regurgitate them right back into the festering pit of your stomach.
Words itched at the tip of your tongue, begging to be spoken into the air. If you could just talk to her, everything would be okay. . . Right?
Somehow, you doubted it. Falling for her was one thing, but her loving you in return was another. And being in an actual, committed relationship with her was yet another. But fuck you wanted it, —wanted her late nights and her early mornings, every drowsy afternoon and hyperactive midnight. You wanted to catch all the murmurings just under her breath, wanted to be the only one at the lab who could slink up behind her and press kisses to her temple without getting ousted in a second.
You just wanted her to think you were special.
And she did. If she didn’t she wouldn’t have been there at all. . . But one night cut completely short just wasn’t enough, and you began to worry that nothing would ever be enough when it came to Moira. It’s not as if you could crawl inside her skin and be with her at all times, —but the thought of it was nice somehow. The idea that she wanted it just as badly as you was exhilarating.
Still, you remained silent as she ran her fingers through her hair. You sat up as if to get a better view of her in all that she was, holding your blanket up to your bare chest. Moira glanced back then, knowing all too well what you wanted to say. A part of her even yearned for you to do it, even if she hadn’t figured out how to answer it. She didn’t want to hurt you, —someone younger, smaller, and much less scorned. Roping you in would have consequences, and they were the sort of repercussions she wasn’t sure she’d be willing to let you face for her sake.
Even if you begged for it.
You were in her hands then, like one of her trembling lab rats.
“Moira. . .” you uttered softly, in a voice just barely loud enough for her to hear.
Please don’t go.
She looked your way, but avoided your eyes, as if she was scared of what she’d find there. She seemed nervous.
Please. . . Please don’t go.
In the end, you couldn’t find the strength to continue, and she didn’t press for a finish. Moira left without saying a word, the door closing softly behind her. Her kisses scorched your skin, invisible marks burning all across you in the wake of her absence. Maybe it was foolish to have assumed that she’d stay. . . Maybe it was foolish to have tried. But you suppose it couldn’t be helped.
It’s not that she’s been avoiding you since that night. No, she fills the same space she always has in the lab, —she speaks to you when it’s necessary, and you answer, because before anything else, you and she are scientists, and you know much too well that nothing matters to Moira more than her work. Not even you.
And you don’t expect her to care more about you than that. It’s her life’s work, —the craft she’s dedicated practically her entire existence to. She’s known you for three months tops, and just because you’ve come to feel so strongly for her in such little time doesn’t mean she’s in any way obligated to return it.
You’re a little hurt by the distance that’s plagued your relationship with her in recent days, but your feelings aren’t her responsibility. . . You know that. Still, you’d like the chance to just talk with her. Outside the lab, after hours, in a way that doesn't feel so forced and robotic.
When the rest of your colleagues have filtered themselves out of the office, you approach her. It’s clear you’re nervous by the way your hands shake, and while Moira would have found that increasingly amusing less than a week ago, it stings now in a way she doesn’t quite understand.
“Hey,” you say to her, voice low in spite of being alone with her, “can we talk?”
She knows what it’s about, but seeks to avoid it.
“No need,” she tells you, “your handwriting is neat, —leave your notes on the table and I’ll use them for further reference.”
“Moira—”
“I’m quite busy, actually,” she interjects, “and I work best alone.”
It’s a rare occurrence that Moira feels guilty, but her heart wanes at the sight of your dejected expression. She feels horrible for being the cause of this, but she’s just not ready. It’s only natural that you’d want to talk about it, but for once in her life, Moira’s at a complete and utter standstill. There are no alternatives, no ways of getting around this other than pretending it doesn’t exist, and for right now, that’ll have to do. She can only hope you understand her well enough to manage your expectations accordingly.
“Alright,” you mutter softly.
You’re gone before she has the chance to change her mind, like you’re running from the possibility itself. Holding back tears doesn’t quite go as planned, and you find yourself crying on the walk home. Evening winds nip at your skin, and when you reach your final destination, you decide you’re done trying to hold yourself together. Days of pent-up frustration, sadness, —even anger— burst forth, and you let it all wash over you. There’s almost something cathartic about it.
It’s your fault, really. . . Workplace relationships are a dangerous line to toe to begin with, and your silly little heart just had to go and choose her, didn’t it? The woman so devoted to her career that any relationship she’ll ever have will only prove to be an illicit affair. . . The woman who seems so intimidating, but is capable of caressing you in the way one might tread their fingers along novel pages in evening light. The woman who kissed you so deeply that it spurred your heart to new heights.
She’s horrible. And you’re in love with her.
Moira doesn’t find the sense of peace she’d been hoping for in your absence. The lab feels much too big now, —large enough to swallow her whole. It’s true that when it comes to love, Moira has often been indifferent to the ideal. Humans are curious, and she’s no exception. But you were so good at pressing all of her buttons, good and bad alike. You, with your innocent stare and that pleading look on your face, —the one she’s sure you didn’t even know you were wearing.
You, with the uncanny ability to slip under her skin and make her think about all the what ifs of her late night brooding sessions.
Burying herself in work doesn’t work quite go the way she’d hoped. Nothing stuck, and she avoided your notebook like a plague, worried that even seeing something of yours would throw her even harder off track. It was hours before she caved in, whipping herself around in spite of her better judgment. Edging on midnight, she sat herself down in your seat, —the one perfectly positioned for optimal Moira viewing throughout the workday. Ever the observant woman, she took note of such right away.
If you’d been there, she could only imagine the bashful look you’d take on, eyes flickering about, refusing to meet her own.
Your notes sit neatly on the table, but she disregards them for the moment, one arm covering the edge of the desk before resting her forehead against it. Moira was the type to keep her questionable decisions to a minimum, —but you were testing her patience.
“Grand,” she mumbles to herself, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.
With a heavy sigh, her keen eyes catch sight of something barely jutting out of your desk drawer. A candle, —violet and sandalwood— with a thin piece of twine wrapped around the top cover. A little gift tag hangs off of it, your handwriting scrawled along the off-white surface.
Saw yours was burning a little low. —Y/n
She didn’t have to ask nor wonder who it was meant for. Pulling it from the drawer, she twisted the covering off and breathed in deeply, nose barely nudging the wick. The exhale that followed was long, and all too sobering.
It’s late, but Moira has a sneaking suspicion you haven’t gone to bed just yet. Leaving her unfinished work for tomorrow, she places the candle’s lid back on, repositioning the twine and the tag before slipping it back into your desk, —closing the drawer fully this time. She thinks about what to say on the walk to your apartment, but by the time she stands in front of your door, all of the preparation has gone out the window and she resigns herself to the fate of winging it.
As she wraps her knuckles against the door, doing her best to keep it down, you perk up from inside. As expected, you’d yet to turn in for the night and were instead sitting on that worn-down sofa, nursing a pair of puffy eyes with a wet rag and sipping on some poorly brewed tea in between sniffles. The sudden knock left you flinching a bit, but you sat your tea on the coffee table nonetheless and made your way over to answer it.
Stealing a glimpse through the peephole, you knew that neckline like the back of your hand. In a way, you’d been expecting it to be her, but your eyes widened at the sight of her anyway.
“Moira. . .” you utter her name like a prayer when you slide the door open.
“Can I come inside?” She asks, and you all but stumble over yourself to make way for her.
It’s clear you’ve been crying, and she wants to apologize for being the cause of it, but the right way to do so eludes her. Now that she’s here, she’s not sure what to say.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” she says instead.
“No, I. . . Wasn’t really able to sleep,” you reply.
“I see.”
Silence falls, and you yearn for her to break it. You consider reaching out to touch her, maybe crumple in her arms like you always seem to, hoping that loving her alone might be enough to bring her walls down all the way.
“You mentioned before that you wanted to talk,” she finally notes, “—I thought I’d stop by to give you the opportunity.”
It feels like everything is coming down on your shoulders again and you hate it. It isn’t fair, —but nothing is ever truly fair with Moira, you suppose. Still, all the emotions you’d been fostering in the hours prior burn like hot coals in your chest, spurring you on just enough to speak freely.
“This distance is killing me,” you say. “I don’t understand it, and I don’t understand you. It feels like you pull me close just to push me further away than the last time, and it’s driving me insane, Moira. I can’t tell what you’re thinking, can’t tell how you feel, and I just wish you’d turn me away and let me heal from this. Or at the very least, —I wish you’d just let me know that you don’t really want me so I can figure out how to cope with that.”
The way she stares at you makes you slightly regret your choice of words, but you make no move to take anything back.
“Who said I didn’t want you?” She questions in reply. “You made that assumption all on your own.”
Well. . . Yeah. You did make that assumption by yourself, didn’t you. . .
In your defense, though, it was a fairly reasonable thing to assume. When one thing leads to another and in the wake of it you’re seemingly pushed to the wayside, there’s only so many conclusions you can draw.
“You do then?” You question. “Want me?”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t go anywhere,” she responds evenly.
You sigh in obvious frustration. Moira doesn’t really understand why you’re so worried about this, but makes no move to leave.
“I’m just gonna. . .”
The words die in your throat, but you take in a quick, sharp breath, steeling yourself for whatever is to come after.
“I think I’m in love with you, Moira.”
Her expression doesn’t change much. She’d likely worked that out long before now, but you’re too high off adrenaline to feel embarrassed about it now.
“I don’t feel dissimilarly.”
That wasn’t exactly the love confession you’d been hoping for, but somehow, it felt better. You had to stifle a laugh, though whether at her roundabout speech or your own expense was another question entirely. Looking up into her eyes, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you reached out to tug at her dress shirt.
“Kiss me.”
It wasn’t often that Moira chose to follow the orders of others, but that was a request she could live with. Her hand finds its way to your cheek as she lowers her face to your height, pressing her lips against yours. You grip a little tighter at her clothing, like you’re scared she’ll disappear if you let go. Time seems to suspend itself for the two of you as you stand with her, holding your breath.
When she finally pulls away, you rest your head against her chest. Her hand smoothes over your hair.
“Stay,” you say, finally finding the courage to request it.
She does.
#moira#overwatch#moira x reader#moira o'deorain x reader#moira odeorain x reader#moira o'deorain#moira odeorain#moira overwatch#overwatch x reader#moira reader insert#moira x you#moira o'deorain reader insert#moira odeorain reader insert#moira x y/n#overwatch imagines#moira imagine#overwatch x you
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Boomer is surprisingly agile.
It's not a new thought for Barry, who's sitting in one of many boring JL meetings. Hal, sitting on his right, is chatting silently with a few of his fellow Green Lanterns, who decided that they wanted to be briefed into the mission, while Booster, who came only for the man, is sitting on his left and trying his best not to look miserable. And failing.
Batman's answering the seventh question asked by Plastic Man and by now, Barry's brain is going so fast that he fears he'll jolt and run through the place just to be occupied by something, anything! Yet he stays still and lazily lets himself get lost in his thoughts about the Rouge.
Digger wasn't big on stretching, above the basics, always kinda grimacing when he mentioned or out right asked him if he did Yoga. Normally, before he got his hands on the Speed Gauntlet, it didn't show half as much - normal people just didn't have the means to create enough space that this type of movement needed. Boomer, on the other hand, was natural enough with the Speed Force, that not only he made it look easy, but he also made it look so good.
His body almost moved naturally, twisting and sliding through the air like he was born for it. Few of the people closer to him, that knew about their relationship, asked about it - what's his routine, how can he do that or, usually only asked by other speedsters, how much does he know?
Which was his personal favorite, because how do you say to them that "he knows so much and nothing at all."? He can instinctively know where you'll end up before you know that while speeding, but he has no idea what exactly Speed Force is, he knows about phasing and about how you do it, he has no idea if you can run normally. He's the smartest idiot you've ever met, and he's so adorable while talking about it all, that Flash listens through his stupidest hypotheses.
He'd actually fight the Gotham's Condiment King and his goddamn old mayo shooter just to see Boomer stretch. He wonders if that'd make him even more agile or would it do nothing, since it'd be easier than his normal stuff. Can Digger do splits? Fuck, that'd be a view - he usually wasn't big on exercising or doing anything alike near him. Shame was how Harley called it teasingly, but they both knew by the way his red cheeks would give it away, that she's saying the truth.
Is there a deal to be made here? If he could get him to exercise near him like that...
Fuck maybe he didn't even need to make it a deal, maybe if he'd just say that he doubts it's a possibility for the man, he'd do it just to prove him wrong? Or maybe being sweet was the better option, if he'd get his lover comfortable enough, maybe he could help and what wouldn't he give to lay his hands on those thick thighs and-
"Flash!" a hand landed in front of him, on the table, shocking him from his thoughts. He grimaced when he noticed whose hand was it.
Slowly, he looked up at Batman, ignoring Hal's snickering on his side and the amused stare Diana tried to hide.
"Yes..?" he said, trying his best not to show how he wanted to just run, get away and jump his lover the second he was let go.
Bruce, with a heavy sigh, looked at him with enough disappointment to make him wiggle in his seat. After a few seconds of this torture, he looked up briefly and just gave up.
"Okay, this briefing was... worse than usual. At the end of this week, I'll send you the message with a new date for it, since it's not anything needing our attention immediately... You all are excused." his voice was stoic, but slightly tired, and before Flash could feel bad about it, he sent him a thankful look and bolted. Hal and his friends be damned, he will catch up with them later.
Right now he had to catch up on something else with his dear Rouge.
#idk#probably bad english#bsing trough life#<3#ssktjl#boomerflash#flash x captain boomerang#flasherang#flasharang#fan fiction#writing#bad writing#lowkey spicy#but its mostly flash drooling while bat tries to brief these idiots#he is failing#“hey why is he just kinda jumping from one subject to another so quickly?” SHUTSHUTSHUTSHUTSHUT#thats how thinking works trust
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Comforting the Reader after a nightmare.
Mastermind, Spirit, Doctor
Mastermind
It's not that he's a light sleeper, he's just very alert.
So when he hears you mumbling and whimpering in your sleep, he knows right away that something is wrong.
Were you hurt?
No, not that.
No abrasions evident.
Feeling sick?
Not that either.
You acted different when you felt sick.
Then he realized it.
Your eyes were closed.
It must be a nightmare.
He'll pull you into his chest and start stroking your hair.
"Wake up dearheart."
He might even shake you a little.
You'll wake up to his eyes piercing into you with unfathomable concern.
"Dearest. You were having a nightmare."
It's also fair to tell you the situation that led to this.
He's very calm and reassuring.
His voice barely above a whisper.
He won't ask you to talk about it unless you really want to.
But he will keep you in his arms.
And he'll keep gently petting your hair.
"It's alright dearest. Just a little nightmare."
Weaker will whisper quiet words of affirmation to get you to relax.
And he's already gotten you a glass of water.
If going back to sleep proves too difficult, he'll still keep you laying down.
"Is something troubling you dear? Or, someone? Was it that pathetic Kruger?"
He's very protective when he believes someone is hurting you.
If it is Freddy, Wesker will leave, and return in about an hour covered in blood.
Otherwise, he'll want to speak to you about this.
He isn't upset; he's really worried.
You don't want to talk if you don't want to, but he would like it if you did.
"It might help you release your tension so you'll be able to sleep again."
And he's right.
Because talking about it, while getting your hair stroked, put you at ease enough to fall back asleep.
Spirit
She's a very light sleeper.
So as soon as you whine or whimper, she's awake.
She knows what's going on too.
Rin's had her fair share of nightmares.
Most are flashbacks of the day she died.
But they vary.
The first thing she does is make sure that when you wake up you won't accidentally hurt yourself.
She'll hold both of your hands together tightly, making sure that you won't be able to move your shoulders too much.
And making sure there aren't any obstacles that you could hit your head on.
She would prefer to let you wake on your own.
But if you aren't, she'll shake you awake.
"Hey, hey. Wake up. It's just a nightmare."
She'll let you catch your breath before speaking.
"Breath, in and out."
She isn't going to force you to talk about it, but she knows that's the best way to calm down.
After the talk, she'll get you a cup of tea and urge you to go back to sleep.
If you can't, she'll lead you in a meditation session.
Even if that doesn't relax you, you might be able to come to a moment of clarity as to why you're having this nightmare.
Don't be embarrassed either.
"You've seen me have a nightmare. So we're equal now."
Putting a fun little spin on it helps ease tension.
If none of that works, she doesn't mind staying up with you and doing something.
Maybe watching a little TV
Read a book.
But no snacks.
Eating at that time of night isn't good for you.
She's just looking out for you.
Because she loves you.
Watching you go through those nightmares breaks her heart.
She'll do anything to help you sleep better.
Doctor
Unlike the others, he doesn't really need to sleep.
It's also impossible with all the wires that are keeping his eyes taped open.
But he does get focused with his work.
So much so that everything around him is invisible.
It might take him a moment to realize that you're yelping in your sleep.
Interesting.
He's going to be popping theories and hypothesize through his mind.
What could be causing this nightmare.
He won't wake you up.
It's actually a very dangerous thing to do.
But he will be next to you when you wake up to hold you.
If you try to speak, he's going to stop you.
"Breath in and out."
After you've caught your breath, he'll sit you down on the bed.
He sits on his office chair adjacent to you.
"What was the nightmare about?"
Like he's a psychologist.
He's not very good at the whole comforting thing.
But he will find the root issue.
"Did you eat sweets before bed? Too much sugar can mess with the brain."
It may sound forceful, but really wants to help you.
Has someone been bothering you?"
"Has something frightened you recently?"
"Is it Kruger? If it is I can solve this problem right now."
But it probably isn't.
He can't force you to talk.
But he will strongly advise you to.
That's the only real way the heal.
And he wants you to heal.
#dbd huntress#dbd imagines#dbd ask blog#dbd x reader#dbd killer#dbd doctor#dbd spirit#dbd mastermind
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A Builder, a Researcher, and a Rooftop, Ch. 19: Laceration
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Qi sat on the roof with his hands in his lap, antsy fingers twitching idly.
The builder was late. Significantly late. And he’d gotten no word from them.
A part of him chastised himself for thinking about it so intensely. They were just busy. They were more than capable of handling themself. There was no need to obsess over their every activity.
…So why was his stomach so unsettled?
He already knew the reason.
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“You went to the fireside?”
“Yeah, it was, uh…well. Let’s just say I wanted the ground to tear asunder and swallow me whole at least once or twice,” the builder said as they sipped their tea.
“Ah, yes. Most social engagements are like that.”
“Heh. Well, this one felt even more like that.” They sighed. “I just feel bad for Trudy. She makes these huge trips out there all alone, and when she doesn’t get anything right away, everyone just dogpiles on her.”
Qi hummed. “Well, the complaints of the townsfolk are not totally unfounded, I suppose. Trudy has been making these expeditions for longer than I’ve resided in this town, and every time has been fruitless.”
“Even so,” the builder grimaced. “Wouldn’t kill anyone to at least show a little appreciation for her efforts…”
“Efforts are one thing. Being able to produce data is another. Such as it is in the scientific world. No amount of ‘hope’ can be an adequate substitute for results,” Qi shrugged.
The builder bristled. “Wh– Okay, but still. Even if something fails, it’s still useful to know, isn’t it?”
Qi raised an eyebrow at their tense expression. “It is in a sense…but nowhere near as valuable as a tangible result.”
The look on the builder’s face twisted a bit more as they stared at him for a moment. Then they let out a huff. “Sure. Next time one of your experiments fail, don’t come crying to me, then.”
There’s no such thing as a failed experiment, only hypotheses you fail to prove, Qi almost said. But he clamped his tongue down at the near-scowl threatening to break out onto their face.
The builder took one last sip of their tea and stood up. “Well, I gotta head out. Thanks. Bye.”
“O-oh, um. Right,” Qi said weakly. “See you later.”
The door to the research center closed behind them.
Qi felt a shift in his stomach.
They hadn’t even finished their tea.
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That was two days ago. And Qi hadn’t heard from them since.
He still stood by what he said. It was backed up with years of experience in dealing with the sometimes-cutthroat nature of research publication. But even so…drawing their ire had more of an effect on him than he realized. Even though he really shouldn’t have been surprised. That wasn’t the first time that happened.
He’d been hoping for them to at least stop by a little later and have an insightful follow-up conversation on the topic, but—
His thoughts were suddenly cut off by the sound of footsteps from below.
His head snapped over to the rooftop landing. The weight was familiar…but the rhythm sounded a bit sluggish and uneven.
Suddenly, the builder’s head poked up from over the roof’s edge. A bruise darkened their cheek.
“Hey,” they waved with a sheepish grin. “Sorry I’m late.” Their steps were heavy and plodding, dragging them up slowly. Their hand had several bandaged cuts. Their forearm was bandaged.
Qi sucked in a sharp breath, pushing himself up and moving to meet them halfway. “What happened?!” he hissed, putting steadying hands on their shoulders and scanning the rest of their body. Their other arm looked just as scuffed. It looked like there were some bandages on their legs, too. Their eyes looked tired, but otherwise okay.
“Wellll…” they hummed, almost oblivious to their injuries. Not a symptom of shock…right? “Technically, I’m not supposed to tell anyone yet. But I trust you so…you know that massive sub ruin thing out past Gecko Station?”
“…The inaccessible one? The one the Civil Corps hasn’t scouted out yet?!”
“Yeah, that one. Well, me, Trudy, and Mi-an all went exploring it, since Trudy saw a bunch of algae growing in it. And there were a ton of monsters in there. Little bastards were pretty tough. And I had to fend ‘em off in a bulky hazmat suit.”
Qi had no words.
“And guess what? We got some cool old algae growing machines from it. Well, after beating up a giant octopus bot.” They let out a haggard chuckle. “You see? Trudy got results!”
Qi’s hands tensed, squeezing their shoulders. “And…was it worth it?” he muttered.
The delirious smile faded from the builder’s face. “Huh? I mean, yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
Qi sighed, his head drooping. “How did the mayor get you to agree to this…secret expedition?”
“Oh, well, she showed up to my workshop yesterday and told me about it. She had a diagram ready for the hazmat suits and told me to keep it a secret between us.”
“And you agreed.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Immediately.”
“Yeah?”
“Despite the obvious and indeterminate danger.”
“Uh-huh…?”
Qi let out another huff, turning to help them sit down. “You’re not normally this reckless.”
“Aw come on, I don’t go down that easy. Were you worried about me?” The cheeky lilt in their voice was back as they leaned their head against his shoulder.
“Of course,” he said, shoulders and voice tense. “Of course I was, I…” He trailed off, feeling a familiar twist in his gut.
I always am.
He felt the builder pick their head up, looking at him blankly.
They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. Qi could feel their gaze trying to prod at the depths of his emotions.
“Oh…” the builder whispered. They looked down. “I…I’m sorry.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Um. It was stupid. I would’ve gone with Trudy either way, but…a good part of it was because I wanted to stick it to you.”
“Er—‘stick it to me’…?”
“I wanted to prove you wrong. Show you that Trudy’s expeditions aren’t pointless at all. …Didn’t realize you already felt a bit torn up about it.”
“I…I’m just glad you’re alright,” Qi murmured, gently rubbing their shoulder. “And…I never said—I never thought your point was invalid. It wasn’t. Truly.”
The builder shrugged, glancing back with a half-hearted smile. “I mean, neither was yours. All the effort is great and all, but when you actually get something…even if it’s just a tiny little bit…it feels so different.”
Qi felt his mouth quirk up just a little. “And that’s the wonder of science.”
“Yeah. Again…I’m sorry. I was just so sick of everyone just glossing over Trudy’s work.”
“No harm done.” Qi shook his head. “I believe I can assist her efforts now, as well. I assume you’ll want me to take a look at that machine?”
“Oh yeah. Zeke’s got it down at the Moisture Farm, so whenever you’re ready…”
Qi nodded. “First thing tomorrow, then.”
“Sounds good.” The smile on the builder’s face brightened a little. Qi felt the knot in his stomach loosen up. He simply nodded, not sure what else to say.
The builder turned to look up at the stars, but Qi kept his gaze fixed on them, and the bandages dotting their hands.
“You…should rest,” he murmured. “You’re still injured.”
“I know…but I can rest here, can’t I?
“I wouldn’t feel confident letting you sleep like this on my couch.”
“Well…I don’t need the couch, do I—?”
“And my bed is not large enough to accommodate both of us while you’re injured.”
“Awww,” they pouted. They snuggled back into his side, one arm wrapped around his back. “Ten more minutes, at least?”
Qi was no stranger to this kind of closeness by now, but it still made his stomach flip and his heart race nonetheless. Somehow, even this close emotionally, the builder would always find a way to pull him even deeper into their irresistible gravity. A singularity with no end.
Well. If he was resigned to falling head-first into the black hole of their affection, he might as well embrace it.
He reached his arm out and wrapped it around them. His lips brushed the top of their head.
“Alright,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Ten more minutes.”
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A/N: in this house we love and respect trudy
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this trial is a clown show
Not only does our defense consist of us inventing theories on the spot for what could've happened without providing any physical supporting evidence whatsoever (lyney says he has an alibi plz believe him ur honor), the guards keep walking into the courtroom with new evidence that changes the case because the preliminary police investigation isn't complete yet!
And while solving cases as you go is a hallmark of the kind of game this case is aping, those games also usually go out of their way to provide physical evidence that could be used to support our theories, or witness testimony that we can dismantle or question.
In Ace Attorney's first case, the culprit was discovered because his testimony contradicted evidence the player had in their inventory - spoilers, the culprit claimed the crime took place at 1:00pm, the crime actually took place at 4:00pm (per the autopsy report), we figured out the criminal got the time wrong because the murder weapon (in the inventory) was a clock that says the time it is set to aloud and was set to a different timezone (proof: the victim had been on holiday prior to this and the clock had been set to that country's timezone; she hadn't had time to change it yet). It is entirely possible to have figured this out using evidence that is on-hand and witness testimony.
If you've paid attention to all the evidence you have, you should be able to notice inconsistencies and logically hard-counter faulty testimony as you go with physical proof.
Here, not only is there no testimony because there are no witnesses (just the defendant who promises he's not lying about his alibi, which is accepted as solid refutation of Furina's assessment of the crime somehow), there is also no physical evidence for us to use to prove our hypotheses or refute Furina's. No "here's something that could be used as physical evidence Lyney was where he says he was", or "oh yeah, there were weird gouges in the magic trick box, it would make sense if they were made by the hook we found in the corridor", something like that - again, case-changing evidence keeps showing up during the trial, so forming a plausible hypothesis is impossible!
But no, we're just going to like... recreate the crime in the mental simulations, we promise our client isn't lying, here's absolutely no evidence whatsoever
also there is magic water that dissolves people
#ac plays genshin impact#fontaine spoilers#i have not finished this trial yet but i am already endlessly frustrated in its construction
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Love the Couples Counseling AU. They are so unhinged I almost feel bad for Sheari for having to deal with them! Chapter two was excellent, lots of delicious angst from Obi-Wan. My heart hurt when he described himself as an obligation and wrote about Anakin spending his free time where he wants (as in, not with Obi-Wan). I cannot wait to read about what is going on in Anakin's brain. It's going to be so Extra.
But seriously, they are dealing with so much shit from the end of the war and their own, just, them-ness. Really loved how Obi-Wan had a nightmare and needed to completely disassemble his light saber to make sure it couldn't happen before their big fight.
Honestly this poor counselor has to deal with so much like obi-wan is traumatized by the war and the possibility of having failed anakin, anakin is traumatized by the war and how its ending proved that he’d failed obi-wan, and neither want to actually deal with their own trauma because they’re very busy ok
they’d both set themselves on fire if it meant warming the other but the other one keeps blowing out the match first
And the counselor has to witness all of it and she’s just like. “Ok. Ok none of this is healthy. There is so much love here. You’re reaching levels of codependency only ever hypothesized about. If I had less morals I would want to study you. If I promise to change your names, can I write a report about this? Willful blindness meets soulmates meets you couldn’t emotionally and honestly communicate your way out of a paper bag.”
#asks#couples counseling au#obikin#honestly I think obi-wan’s nightmare and saber checking was one of the reasons for the fight#he was already very on edge because of it#and then anakin is a) leaving (which is FINE)#and b) thinks he can’t do a mission by himself??#that’s too close to the issues from the nightmare
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WHOO!
I get to teach Forensic Sciences again next semester! With a prof I really like and have previously TA’ed for! It’s a super fun course - Intro to Criminalistics - so it’s a little bit of everything. Prints, bones, blood, DNA, drugs, mapping, and more. She’s also researching Forensic Anth, so we can dork out about bones.
AND I’m teaching Crim Theory, too, which is a designated writing-intensive course. I have not worked with the prof for this course, but I hear she’s awesome. Not only do I get to dive into the history of Criminology again, but go absolutely ham on essay-writing technique and tips. (YOU WILL LEARN TO STACK AN ARGUMENT. I can’t guarantee you will learn to love APA, but you will come to grips with it and develop a personalized checklist with samples of in-text citations and title page contents, in order.)
Lesson 1: Who Are You? (Who who? Who who?)
[Text ID: An antique parody of a double mug shot, in sepia tones. A 23-month-old infant with curly light hair sits in a plain wooden high chair, a winsome expression on his face. He is dressed in a typical child’s white frock of the period with a frilled collar, sleeves and skirts. The first panel is in profile, with the child facing right. The second panel is face-on. The inscription reads: François Bertillon, âgé de 23 mois. 17 - oct - 93.]
This infantile mug shot, now in the MOMA collection, is commonly known as: “François Bertillon, 23 months (Baby, Gluttony, Nibbling All the Pears from a Basket)”
Alphonse Bertillon, a French police officer from the late 1800s, sought to revolutionize criminal identification by statistical means. He developed a system, which he called Bertillonage, of body measurements - anthropometry - that could be tabulated and compared with others, under the assumption that no two people would share the exact same measurements.
Now, this idea was an offshoot of biological determinism, a theory that the body itself predicted behaviour and the state of the mind. Biological determinism was actually a revolution in its day: it represented a split from the previous belief that aberrant behaviour and physical infirmity were proof of demonic influence and a directly-involved God. However, biological determinism, itself an offshoot of Platonic essentialism, led to such notions as Lombroso’s “atavistic”-bodied criminal with a hulking body, a lowered brow and a “stupid stare”, as well as pseudo-science parlour fun like phrenology. Not to mention the blatant eugenicism and superior-more-developed-race blather that still persists in many branches of social sciences.
But two hundred and some years into the European Enlightenment, empirical science was moving slowly towards the acceptance of provable, testable hypotheses based in reason and repetition. So Bertillon reasoned that, if you went about the task scientifically, with enough detail, you ought to be able to prove that no two people had the same bodies, and could therefore be told apart. (And just maybe prove that you could tell a criminal from looking at them.)
But no. The collection of Bertillonage data was incredibly painstaking. Subjects had to have a long series of measurements taken, in the exact same postures, using the same equipment. Then, the subjects were required to have photographs taken, from specific angles: the first mug shots. Bertillion spent years perfecting his photographic system. The above photos of his little nephew François are just one example of Bertillon bringing his whole family into the process - an excuse to combine his work with his hobby of photography and his love of his close-knit family.
(Note the implication here: “My family is the control group, the ideal specimens. Normal people look and behave like us.” When thinking about data, always ask yourself: who’s taking the photographs? Who’s collecting the samples, and from where, and how, and why those samples in particular?)
Bertillonage didn’t take off. People have too many similarities as well as differences, and the human error involved in the measurements and photography was too great. But he did create a stunning longitudinal study of his family and friends over a couple of decades, as well as of local criminals. Here’s François a few years later. Can you see details that persist through out his aging? How would you describe them?
You can see here some of the prescribed measurements in the Bertillonage system - and they didn’t have spreadsheets to look up and compare cases!
Bertillon’s underlying idea had merit. No two people are exactly alike. Even identical twins develop epigenetic differences over time. Fingerprints form in the womb, with randomized development due to the uterine environment. We can only measure these things with technical tools - low tech like magnifying glasses, high tech like digitized pattern recognition and molecular amplification. But we’ll get to that later.
Before you leave! Your homework this week is to write a description of yourself that is detailed enough that it would help investigators identify your remains. Under 500 words please. Point form is fine. Post to Canvas by midnight Sunday.
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What Now?
@flashfictionfridayofficial for the prompt
I might actually do a follow up for this, flesh some things out
Anyway, Enjoy!
---
The multiverse was real.
He was right.
He was right, and his theory was correct, and there were rifts and portals everywhere, and, and...
And what now?
He was right, but what did that leave him with?
He should be happy. He should be ecstatic. Months of research, and trial and error, and failures, and leaps and bounds, and running out of leads, and finding more, and then, finally, success? Most scientists dreamed of proving a theory built on what was essentially nothing.
But he wasn’t happy.
Honestly? He felt empty, hollow.
He had put everything into this, and now there was nothing left.
God, why did he do this again?
Why in the world did he ever think he’d even find an answer to his stupid theory? Why did he put himself through the sleep deprivation, the stress, the fear that his mother was right-
Oh.
Right.
He... wanted to prove her wrong.
They had had an argument. They had been having arguments for a while. There was a rift between them, and they kept drifting apart, just because she couldn’t accept a simple truth. He wanted her to understand that she had a son, not a daughter. He wanted her to understand that nothing would ever change that. He would always be a man. That the girl she knew was a façade he had used as protection, as cover, for years.
She, to put it simply, did not take it well.
She had yelled.
She had screamed.
He wanted to cry.
He told her he loved her, because he never meant for this.
She told him to leave.
So, he left, with her parting words of “The only universe I could love you in is the one in which you are still my daughter” ringing in his ears.
And that had planted the seed.
Which, as all seeds do, it grew.
So, he researched and hypothesized and experimented and tested.
And he was right.
The multiverse was real.
But what was there to do now?
His father was never around, he worked and worked and worked and worked.
(He doesn’t blame his mother for divorcing him.)
His siblings were too young. They still depended on their parents.
(He wouldn’t go to them. They were too young to be burdened with harsh realities and had brains too small to deal with multiple harsh realities.)
(And if a part of him resented that they were normal, and that they were still loved? Well, no one needed to know that.)
And his mother? Well, he would not apologize. He had nothing to apologize for.
But he didn’t exactly have proof that he would never be her daughter to prove her wrong with, and despite how she had hurt him, his mama hadn’t raised no quitter.
She didn’t raise a half-asser, either.
And that only left him with one option, didn’t it?
He grabbed a bag, filled it with water bottles and protein bars and clothes and soap. He grabbed his watch, his key to the universe, and walked to the rift in the corner, nestled between a shelf and a corner.
He took a deep breath and took the first step.
He didn’t have time to waste.
He had a theory to prove.
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