#Automated face tracking

[rydotinfotech]

Empowering Students and Teachers: The Role of Face Recognition Attendance System in Educational Institutions 

Introduction: 

The education sector is undergoing a transformative shift, integrating advanced technologies to streamline operations and improve learning outcomes. In India alone, there are over 14 lakh (1.4 million) schools and colleges, yet a significant number still struggle to provide efficient educational facilities. According to the Ministry of Education, only a fraction of institutions have access to advanced technological tools, leaving many reliant on traditional, manual processes. 

Educational institutions often face administrative challenges that impact the quality of education. One such challenge is attendance management, which remains a time-consuming, error-prone manual task in many schools and colleges. The inefficiency of manual attendance can lead to reduced instructional time, administrative burdens, and data inaccuracies. 

With the rise of smart technology in education, the Face Recognition Attendance System (FRAS) is revolutionizing the way institutions operate. Using biometric facial recognition technology, these systems verify the identity of students and faculty, automatically recording attendance data into a database. This automation not only reduces human errors but also enhances the security and efficiency of institutional operations. 

The Growing Adoption of Facial Recognition Technology 

Facial recognition technology has witnessed a significant rise in adoption worldwide. According to MarketsandMarkets, the global facial recognition market size is projected to grow from $5.43 billion in 2022 to $6.28 billion in 2023, with a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 15.5%. Another report by Statista estimates that by 2028, the market will reach $12.92 billion, indicating increased reliance on AI-driven identification systems across industries, including education. 

What is Facial Recognition & How Does It Work? 

Facial recognition is a biometric technology that identifies individuals by analyzing unique facial features. It's widely used in various applications, from unlocking smartphones to security systems, and is now being adopted in educational settings for efficient attendance management. 

How Does It Work? 

The process involves three primary steps: 

Detection: Capturing an image of the individual's face. 

Analysis: Mapping unique facial features to create a digital template. 

Recognition: Comparing the digital template against a database to verify identity. 

By utilizing Automatic Facial Recognition (AFR), attendance tracking becomes seamless, minimizing human intervention while ensuring accuracy and security. 

Embracing the Future: Why Educational Institutions Thrive with Facial Recognition 

The Ed-Tech sector is experiencing significant growth, with institutions worldwide adopting smart attendance systems to enhance operational efficiency. A facial recognition attendance system simplifies attendance tracking and streamlines administrative tasks, allowing educators to focus more on teaching. 

By leveraging AI-driven attendance solutions, institutions can achieve real-time tracking, reduce administrative burdens, and improve security, thereby fostering a smarter and more efficient educational environment. 

Read More: How Artificial Intelligence is Transforming Business 

Discover the Astonishing Advantages of Face Recognition Attendance Systems 

Adopting facial recognition in educational institutions offers numerous benefits, including automation, enhanced security, and improved operational efficiency. The use case and benefits of facial recognition in schools for educational purposes is one of the best decisions you can make.  

Because it helps you in various ways, such as… 

7 Benefits of Face Recognition Attendance Systems for Schools & Universities 

#1. Real-Time Attendance Tracking 

Automated facial recognition enables real-time attendance tracking, ensuring accurate data collection without manual intervention. Institutions can access attendance records remotely, facilitating better management and transparency. 

#2. Increased Teaching Efficiency 

On average, teachers spend 15–20% of class time on administrative tasks such as taking attendance. Automating this process allows educators to focus more on teaching, leading to better student engagement and learning outcomes. 

#3. Cost-Effective Administration 

Hiring administrative staff for attendance management can be costly. By automating attendance tracking, institutions can save on administrative expenses, increasing their overall return on investment (ROI). 

#4. Enhanced Accuracy and Data Security 

Manual attendance methods are prone to errors, manipulation, and proxy attendance. With AI-powered facial recognition, accuracy is significantly improved, ensuring genuine attendance records and reducing discrepancies. 

#5. Improved Student Safety and Parental Assurance 

Beyond attendance tracking, facial recognition enhances student safety by monitoring access to school premises. Parents can receive real-time updates about their child’s attendance, ensuring greater transparency and security. 

#6. Streamlined Institutional Workflow 

Aside from student-wise attendance with class management, task management, course management, payroll calculation for college staff and administrative employees, tracking the exact working hours of in-house as well as guest lecturers, streamlining the duration of courses, and so on, administrative staff have many other important tasks. But with the help of a touchless face recognition attendance system, one can easily automate all their tasks and can generate reports as well. 

As a result, the attendance system helps teachers and staff to focus on what’s important. 

#7. Automated Report Generation 

Traditionally, attendance reports required manual compilation, making it difficult to track patterns and trends. Facial recognition systems automate report generation, providing instant insights into student attendance trends, faculty punctuality, and academic performance correlations. 

The increasing adoption of AI and biometric technology in education is paving the way for smart campuses. According to Research and Markets, the global smart education market is expected to reach $702.6 billion by 2028, driven by the demand for advanced learning solutions and automation. 

Join Us in Creating a Brilliant Smart Face Recognition Attendance System: Let’s Shape the Future Together! 

At Rydot Infotech, we are committed to transforming the education sector with cutting-edge AI-powered attendance solutions that enhance efficiency, security, and accuracy. With over five years of experience, our dedicated team has tackled some of the most complex challenges in education technology trends and delivered smart education solutions that empower institutions to streamline administrative workflows effortlessly. 

Our flagship application, TURNOUT, is a revolutionary face recognition attendance system designed to automate attendance tracking, enhance student security AI measures, and optimize school management software. By integrating deep learning attendance monitoring and biometric student tracking, our solution ensures real-time, error-free attendance management, eliminating manual inefficiencies and enhancing overall productivity. 

A Dream-Come-True Application with Extraordinary Features Such As: 

Student & Department Management 

Class & Lecture Management 

Leave & Shift Management 

Course Management  

Library, Seminar Hall 

Computer Labs Attendance Management 

Comprehensive Reports (Subject-wise, Student-wise, etc.)  

Generate real-time analytics for informed decision-making. 

Our cloud-based TURNOUT– Time & Attendance Solution integrates seamlessly with biometric attendance education systems to provide a secure school attendance system that also supports visitor management and access control. By leveraging contactless student identification and automated attendance solutions, our platform eliminates administrative bottlenecks and enhances institutional efficiency. 

Whether you're a school, college, university, or enterprise, our AI attendance system adapts to your needs, ensuring seamless integration, reduced errors, and real-time attendance tracking. 

Join the growing number of institutions embracing education technology innovations to revolutionize attendance management! Schedule a demo today or reach out to us at info@rydotinfotech.com to discover how TURNOUT can transform your institution. 

[narxcisse]

★ — General yandere Viktor headcanons

Yandere!Viktor x GN!Reader

CW: Obsession and yandere behaviors, surveillance and control, manipulation, forced proximity, Vik pretends to depend on you occasionally, isolation(?), takes place in s1

English isn't my native language

Viktor’s analytical nature extends to his obsession. Once he’s fixated on someone, they become the center of his world, overshadowing even his work.

He memorizes every detail about you—your habits, preferences, quirks, and routines. This knowledge is meticulously stored and analyzed to "understand" you better.

Rationalizes his possessiveness as care. He believes he’s the only one who can protect you, especially from the chaos of Zaun and Piltover.

He subtly manipulates circumstances to keep you away from others, framing it as concern for your safety.

Any perceived threat to you triggers his protective instincts. He can be dangerously calculating when dealing with rivals or anyone who might harm you.

He uses his Hextech knowledge to develop devices that monitor or safeguard you—tracking bracelets, automated sentinels, or surveillance systems disguised as gifts.

Viktor uses his calm demeanor to guilt-trip you into compliance. He’ll lament how much he sacrifices for you, subtly steering your choices.

He’ll portray himself as overworked or burdened, implying that your support and closeness are the only things keeping him going.

Viktor impresses you with his intelligence, subtly reinforcing the idea that he’s irreplaceable.

He ensures you rely on him emotionally or practically, making it difficult for you to leave.

He might push himself to the point of exhaustion and subtly blame you for not being there to stop him, saying things like, "If I had you by my side, perhaps I wouldn't push myself this far."

If you ever try to distance yourself, he may consider using his technology to "fix" you, claiming it’s for your benefit.

Viktor’s obsession is methodical. He won’t lash out irrationally but will quietly remove obstacles or manipulate situations to keep you close.

Around you, Viktor shows a softer side that no one else sees (Maybe Jayce sees it sometimes too), making it hard to view him as a threat.

Viktor may mark his territory with small, easily overlooked gestures—insisting you wear a scarf he gave you or leaving his inventions in your home.

Don't underestimate his cane, if you try to run away, he will easily knock you out with it.

If pushed too far, Viktor can become dangerously unhinged. In rare moments of desperation, his calm facade may crack, revealing just how far he’ll go to keep you.

It starts innocently enough—or so it seems. Viktor’s health has been deteriorating more visibly over the past few days. You notice the way he winces when he moves, the increasing reliance on his cane, the exhaustion written across his face.

He brushes off your concern at first, but one night, you find him sitting in his chair, his head resting heavily in his hand, looking utterly defeated.

"I thought I could endure this alone," he says quietly, his voice hoarse with fatigue. "But... I fear I cannot."

You freeze. Viktor has always been stoic, resilient, unwilling to admit weakness. To see him like this sends a pang through your chest.

"I didn’t want to burden you," he continues, his amber eyes meeting yours, glassy with an emotion you can’t quite place. "But it’s becoming harder... to keep going without someone to rely on. Without you."

He doesn’t explicitly ask for anything, but his words hang heavy in the air. You feel his unspoken plea.

"Perhaps it’s selfish," he murmurs, leaning back in his chair as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. "But... your presence eases the pain. When you’re near, I feel... stronger."

The way he looks at you—so "vulnerable", so "dependent"���makes it impossible to say no.

"Stay tonight," he says after a pause, his voice almost a whisper. "Just for a while. I need to know you're here."

You hesitate, but his hand reaches out, brushing yours lightly. His touch is cold but steady, grounding in a way that feels both comforting and suffocating.

"Please," he adds softly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I... don’t want to be alone tonight."

Against your better judgment, you agree. He guides you to sit beside him, his arm brushing against yours. For a while, it’s quiet. Then, almost tentatively, he leans closer, his head resting against your shoulder.

---

After some time, he shifts, feigning discomfort. "Forgive me," he murmurs, his voice strained. "The pain... it’s worse tonight. Would you... hold me? Just for a moment?"

You blink in surprise, but before you can respond, he adds, "I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t unbearable. I just... need to feel that someone cares."

You reluctantly oblige, wrapping your arms around him. He lets out a soft sigh, almost as if in relief, and his own arms tentatively encircle you.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "You have no idea what this means to me."

Even as you sit there, his hold tightens subtly, possessively, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

As the night wears on, you start to feel a creeping realization that this might not have been as innocent as it seemed. Viktor, however, seems content, his gaze soft but calculating as he holds you close.

"Perhaps... you could stay again tomorrow?" he murmurs, the faintest smile playing on his lips. "For my recovery, of course."

[spookyrea]

You Can Wrap Me 'Round Your Finger...

You’re having a crisis trying to pick the perfect moment to tell Loki you love him. Loki is having a crisis, too, except his is decidedly way more embarrassing. Also, your pillows keep disappearing.

(aka - frost giant biology is weird and Loki has to suffer the consequences.)

a companion to Love at First Sight (or should I walk by again?) - can be read on its own!

Chapter 1 / 2 -- read it on AO3 here

Word count: ~5k

Warnings: fem reader; Loki is CLINGY

You could just make out the rosy hue of a late-season snowfall from your vantage point behind the cockpit; it blanketed the city, turning the streets a pale orange where streetlamp light reflected off of a crisp, white coat. For a city that never slept it was strangely quiet; at just past three o’clock in the morning, not even the snow plows were out yet.

Your team was returning from a four day long deployment to San Francisco – a retrieval mission where you were tasked with tracking down and seizing off-world cargo. It had gone over surprisingly well - zero casualties, a handful of actual combat incidents, and a scant few million dollars worth of petty property damage. It did require a proper cargo plane, though, which meant that the team had to rely on a local airplane hangar to get back home. 

(Despite his truly unparalleled complaining, Tony’s choice to put the Avengers tower in the centre of a busy New York metropolitan block meant that there were certain restrictions - namely, the laws of physics - that limited the size of plane they could have on-site).

An unfortunate consequence of it all was that you were freezing. You made a face and folded your arms over your chest; you were dressed for a late February chill, in tac-pants and a knit sweater, not a snowstorm. As romantic as the snow looked, the cold was settling over you like an ache and, coupled with the early-hour and a tender bruise on your left side, your mood was only souring. You cast your eyes to the ceiling and prayed that a car was already waiting for you on the tarmac.

The quin-jet touched down a little roughly; you felt Wanda’s wince without looking at her, but Tony immediately came to her defense. “No, that was because of the snow. Poor visibility. Out of your control. Definitely. I’m passing you with flying colours - hey, get it?”

The loading ramp slid open with a pop and a hiss; your ears felt funny now that you were on solid ground, like they were full of cotton. Natasha tugged on her earlobes, then reached over and tugged on Steve’s too to be a pest. He swatted her away with a scowl. 

Moments later, attendants began to climb the loading ramp in groups of two. You scowled. They were at least dressed for the weather.

You pulled your hands from between your thighs, trying to focus on anything other than the way your core muscles were tensed against the chill, and thanked whatever powers-that-be that you could finally go home. You were half way through unbuckling your seatbelt when an automated voice warned you from overhead not to leave your seats.

“Sorry, everyone,” Tony called. “Safety or whatever. All cargo has to be removed before we can get up. Just a few minutes. You’ll be warm and in bed in no time.”

You sank low in your seat, arms crossed, and focused very hard on glaring a hole in the quid-jet floor. Who knows -- maybe you could spontaneously develop heat-vision. It would look good on your resume.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to go collect you myself.”

Crossing the jet in long strides, tall enough to peer over most attendants' heads, was Loki. Your boyfriend.  

Dressed in civilian clothing, Loki was something resplendent. His pale skin, warmed by the cool twilight haze outside, was a stark relief against his mop of riotous dark curls, and his green eyes caught the light in a mysterious way. A pair of neatly-polished shoes rattled the grated floor as he approached, weaving in between attendants, until he came to a stop at your side. With a wave of his hand, Loki manifested a fine wool cloak to drape over your shoulders. His long fingers drew the golden hook at the collar through its eye and smoothed it flat against your sternum.

“Can’t have you freezing to death,” he murmured.

You thumbed the stitching along the hem of the cloak; the thread was such a dark green that it almost blended in with the black fabric. “I would have been fine.”

“Well, if you’re too warm, I can certainly help cool you down.” Loki slid into the seat next to you and blew an icy breath across your neck, making you shriek. The grin he shot you was lecherous - truly vile , you mumbled - and sent a hot thrill from your nape to the pit of your belly.

“You are evil.”

“You should have me locked up.”

You pulled the collar of his cloak up to your face, pressing the velvety edge to your mouth. “I’m putting in a request immediately.”

Loki offered you his wrists, that sticky grin growing even wider. “Why wait?”

A flash of green seidr crackled suggestively, implying where a set of handcuffs might bind him. Your eyes snapped to the whirlwind of snow outside, cheeks hot. 

Tony gagged obnoxiously from the pilot’s seat. The comms system crackled to life overhead. “Get a room, you two.”

Loki scoffed, mock affront dripping from his lazy posture, and poured himself over your shoulders, even though the armrest was in the way and was without a doubt digging into his side. He plucked your hand from your lap, lacing his fingers through yours and drawing it up to his mouth. His lips idly traced the edge of his signet ring on your thumb while you watched the cargo roll by, box by painstaking box. 

You had only been dating for a few months, having finally confessed your mutual attraction after a tumultuous, alcohol-fueled evening together. It turned out that the entire time that you had been harbouring a monumental crush on Loki, he’d been just as gone on you - a fact you hadn’t known, since his idea of showing interest was to give you shiny rocks and hand feed you foods, and yours was whatever Tinder had going on.

Once the two of you had gotten over your - admittedly pretty embarrassing - communication barrier, you fell into a nice routine. You found that you were more confident without the weight of an unrequited crush looming over you, and Loki was eons more likely to finish his paperwork as long as you were there to play footsie with him under the table and let him ramble every fifteen minutes. He still flirted with everything that moved, but you recognized the nuances of his affection now. He never touched anyone, but he hung off of you like a limpet; he might smile and schmooze at parties, all lecherous grins and innuendo, but his eyes always sought your approval out after every punchline; and he only ever called you pet.

(And on one occasion, master. But that was a different story.)

Once the attendants had unloaded the last crate into a van, Tony gave everyone the OK to exit the plane without worrying about being trampled. Steve was the first out, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Natasha, Bruce and Tony were quick to follow, all stumbling into the first car they saw, while Wanda stayed and fiddled with a few switches from the co-pilot’s seat. Under Natasha’s suggestion, she was trying to get a proper license to fly - mostly for paperwork-related reasons, because the insurance company charged a fortune every time an Avenger ‘borrowed’ a vehicle without permission.

Before you could protest, Loki scooped up the duffle bag at your feet and started down the loading ramp into the storm, leaving you and Wanda as the last on the plane. You rapped your knuckles against the ceiling and sent her a questioning look. Decked out in her oversized headset and a fuzzy quarter-zip sweater Tony had commissioned for the team, she looked right at home behind the quinjet control panel. She shot you a thumbs up, gesturing for you to go on ahead. You blew her a quick kiss and then hurried after Loki, fighting to keep the cloak shut against the blustering wind. 

Wet snow crept under your pant legs, clinging unpleasantly to the strip of skin left exposed by your socks. Loki had already packed your belongings away in the farthest van and was waiting by the back door, held open for you. You jogged - as best you could given the weather - the last couple of feet and slid into the backseat.

Loki hauled himself through the other door a moment later. The driver - a bored looking man with a dark beard and greying temples - pushed the stick shift into gear and turned off the runway. 

You shivered, brushing clumps of snow off your ankles. Dark stains were climbing up your shins where the it bled through. Loki leaned across the seat to help you, running a shimmering hand over your shoulders to dry you off. 

Mostly satisfied, you sank back and watched the city roll by, the empty streets cast in shades of neon as the snow reflected billboards and store displays. It was a beautiful sight, the kind of morning you would normally want to commit to memory for the postcard-ness of it all – except you were exhausted and a little cranky, so you turned your eyes to stare at your boyfriend instead. 

(You made it a full three minutes without looking at him - a new personal record.)

You admired him the way an owner might creep up on a beloved pet in a sunbeam; you didn’t want him to know you were looking, in case he spooked and moved, so you kept your cheek turned and watched from the corner of your eye. He was deep in thought, luckily, which gave you some leeway to admire his profile. There was something decidedly boyish about him when he was relaxed, a softness you so rarely got to see; it made you want to kiss every inch of him just for the sake of kissing.

He drew an aimless pattern with his thumb across your upper thigh. His pinky finger was stretched comically far from the rest of his fingers, as if willing your hand to reach out and intertwine but too stubborn to ask. For a silly, love-sick moment you were overwhelmed by the need to tell him you loved him - and then your brain caught up with your heart and bludgeoned it into submission.

The knowledge that you were in love with him and the nebulous un-knowledge of how he felt about you was starting to wear on your nerves. You understood logically that he liked you - enough to court you, under different circumstances - but what you felt when you looked at him was a hurricane of emotions, a self-sustaining cycle of hot air up and cold air down, whipping the sea so hard that it formed storm clouds unbidden by the laws of nature. You knew that he felt things differently, had lived a dozen of your lifetimes no doubt filled with pretty things. Would this change your relationship? Would you breaking that last barrier make yourself less desirable somehow?

You wanted to tell him. To share the inherent joy of being in love.

It just scared you to death, was all. No big deal.

His mouth twitched; his eyes caught yours in the window’s reflection as the car entered the dark parking garage. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you squeaked. “Just tired. Sorry.”

The car dropped you off in the underground parking of the Avengers’ tower. Yours was the last of the convoy, so you and Loki slipped out of the car into an empty lot where only a few strangler attendants were unloading and taking inventory. You held one corner of the cloak in your hand, worried it would drag through the slush puddles tracked in by the cars. Loki’s hand came to rest on the small of your back while he hoisted your bag over his shoulder.

“After you, pet.”

You led him to the elevators, where you leaned against the railing and let your eyes slip shut. Loki selected a floor and then joined you, draping one arm around your shoulders to draw you into his chest.

You leaned your cheek against him. Now that you were home, the full weight of your exhaustion was bearing down on you. The pattern of knots Loki was drawing across the back of your neck wasn’t helping. You were suddenly grateful for the support of Loki’s body under you, solid and steady; you slid your hands under his jacket to hug him… then paused.

Something was… off.

You pulled back and gave him a once-over. Nothing outwardly betrayed him as different. He wore a pair of simple, straight-leg tac-pants and a white t-shirt under a brown vintage-style bomber he’d no doubt swiped from Bucky or Steve; the cut of each item flattered his narrow build exceedingly, a fact you knew he was aware of by the way he kept glancing at you during your drive home. His hair was wild and unstyled in a hopelessly endearing way - a look he’d taken to wearing often after you made a passing comment about liking it that way.

The jacket though… 

He filled it out well. Too well.

“You’re bigger,” you blurted out.

Loki raised one eyebrow in a perfect, mocking arch. “Excuse me?”

“You’re,” you waved your hand up and down his body, “bigger. Like, broader. Have you been working out more?”

Loki glanced down at his chest. “No?”

You pushed the jacket off his shoulders to get a better look at him. The white cotton of his t-shirt puckered across his chest, wrinkling under the strain of an extra inch or so of muscle, and the side seams were pulled so taut that you could see the thread. You poked him right over his heart, admiring a new, plush firmness.

The tips of Loki’s fingers wormed under your shirt. His smile took on a wicked edge as he soaked in the sight of you in front of him. When you shot him a look, he screwed his face up into something resembling innocence. “If you’re going to ogle me like a piece of meat, I think it’s only fair that I get to admire you, too.”

You hummed and slipped his jacket back into place, smoothing your palms down his chest to rest just above his waistband. Loki’s evilness washed away to something sticky sweet; he slid his hand up between your shoulder blades, his fingers splayed wide to admire the shift of your muscles under your skin. His other hand twined with yours to lift your knuckles to his mouth.

The doors slid open on his floor. With a flourish and a fleeting kiss, Loki stooped to collect your bag. His free hand trailed behind him, outstretched for you to take, but you lingered with a smile and a shake of your head.

He came to an abrupt stop under the threshold, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He wiggled his fingers, as if you were refusing because you’d missed his offer to hold your hand. “What are you doing?”

You pressed the button for your floor. “I’m going back to my room.”

“No,” Loki whined, his hand still outstretched. “Please, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and attempted to pull your bag from his hands. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Loki.”

“But you’ll miss out on my new, broader body. Your bed will seem extra empty now in comparison. You should just skip the trouble.”

“Loki, I’m tired. And all my stuff is in my apartment.”

“You can wear something of mine.” Loki, exasperated, threw your duffle down in front of the elevator door and cornered you against the railing.

“Just for the night, Loki.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, one he didn’t return… and then seemed to regret, because only a heartbeat after you pulled away he was on you, cupping your face between both his hands and swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You huffed out a sigh and pushed on his stomach; he managed to get two more kisses in before you finally won and put some distance between the two of you.

In a perfectly Loki-fashion, Loki sulked. He stomped out of the elevator and then turned to you, his hands firmly on his hips. “You vex me. Understand that I will be taking you out for breakfast tomorrow, no exceptions.”

You hooked a finger through your bag strap, dragging it back into the elevator. “Make it a late lunch. If you wake me before noon there will be punishments.”

Loki’s eyes twitched with the briefest hint of a smirk. His voice dropped an octave. “Promise?”

The elevator doors slid shut on his leering expression. You spent the rest of the ride valiantly trying not to fall asleep. The low hum of its engine was terribly soothing.

When the elevator opened to your floor, you weren’t surprised to find PAL - Tony’s Paperwork Assistant Lite robot, who usually helped organize and retrieve files in the office downstairs - waiting by your door. Measuring just under two feet tall, PAL could navigate the halls and elevator just fine as long as FRIDAY was willing to unlock the doors for him, but your manual lock-and-key front door was an insurmountable obstacle for him.

“How long have you been here, buddy?”

As soon as he recognized you, PAL trilled with delight. His metal chassis vibrated with the effort of waiting by the door. He rounded your feet while you dug through your pants pockets for your keys, narrating the week to you in his language of whistles and beeps, and raised his tiny paper tray, straining to try and take over the weight of your duffle bag. You huffed out a laugh, leaning ever-so-slightly to the side to set it on him but not to smother; the LED display on his face narrowed, as if he was concentrating very hard on not dropping your belongings.

As soon as you were through the door, you threw your bag by your shoe rack and toed off your sneakers, leaving them in a pile on the floor. PAL set to straightening them, sweeping them to the wall with his tray ahead like a snowplow. He tried to do the same to your bag, but his treads could only pinwheel against the weight. 

You stood in the living room for a moment and folded Loki’s cloak over the back of your couch, contemplating skipping your whole routine and going straight to bed. You settled on missing a shower but washing your face - everything else could be dealt with in the morning. You made your way to your bedroom in search of clean pyjamas, then continued to the bathroom to brush your teeth, PAL close on your heels.

You had just exited the bathroom when someone knocked on your door. You tossed your washcloth into a bin on top of your washing machine and rounded the hallway to answer it.

Loki stood on the other side, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and an oversized AVENGERS TACTICAL UNIT t-shirt. “Please, darling.”

“You have your own bed.”

“It’s too big without you.”

“You’re even bigger now. You’ll fill it out just fine.”

Loki stepped into your personal space; he hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes, wearing only a pair of grey wool socks. His hands curled around your hips as if to steady himself. “I’m afraid of the dark?”

“Try again.”

“My room was taken over by starving wolves while you were away and I only narrowly escaped.”

You sighed. You had to admit that it felt nice to have him in your arms like this, even if you knew giving in would only encourage him to lord over more of your time. “Absolutely no funny business, Loki.”

An incandescent grin split his face in two. He swooped in to kiss your cheek, then sauntered off toward your bedroom. You locked the door, made sure PAL was settled into his charging dock for the night, and then followed after your boyfriend.

You found him curled up on the side of your bed closest to the door, facing you, and holding one of your pillows hostage. He buried his nose in the fabric, a pleased sound rumbling through his chest, and watched you approach.

You swatted at him, not even bothering to round the bed, opting to crawl over his body to reach your side. Loki unfolded, abandoning the pillow to gather you up instead; his arms circled your waist and tugged you into his chest in an awkward collision of limbs, legs tangling in the comforter. You squirmed while he maneuvered you to his liking, tucking the length of his body around you tightly and nosing at the junction of your throat and jaw.

“Loki,” you chided. “I said no funny business.”

“This is a perfectly serious matter.” Loki untangled himself from you just long enough to pull the comforter over your body before sliding in beside you. One hand returned to your neck, tipping your chin back so he could press a loud kiss to your pulse point. “You don’t have enough blankets.

You stifled a yawn and pushed him to lie on his back, draping one leg over his. “Why’s that?”

Loki continued to rearrange the sheets with a scowl. “You’ll freeze to death under this thing.”

Already, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. You hummed. “I feel like I had more pillows than this. Maybe I’ve finally lost it.”

A small voice in the back of your mind whispered that you loved him, you loved him, you loved- 

You settled with tracing a heart over his collarbone, over and over until you fell asleep.

You woke to the sound of FRIDAY’s voice through the PA system. “Mr. Laufeyson, your presence is being requested on the thirty-first floor. Mission briefing in fifteen minutes.”

You peeled your eyes open. You could tell by the slant of the sun through the curtains that it was past noon - a small victory, really. Behind you, Loki burrowed deeper into the fabric of your t-shirt, nosing along the ladder of your spine while groaning his displeasure. He drew the comforter around you tightly, trapping you under one muscular arm with a vengeance.

His voice, still deep and rasping with the last threads of sleep, rumbled through his chest. “Good morning, dear heart.”

Lovesickness bloomed like a bruise in your chest. “Morning,” you said, instead of I love you. 

You half-turned and pecked the side of his mouth before sitting up. Loki made an affronted sound and reeled you back in by a fistful of your t-shirt, sending you sprawling halfway across his chest. He kissed you soundly, licking into your mouth with a low groan.

You blinked up at him once he pulled back. “Um. Good morning?”

“I was a perfect gentleman all night and you reward me with a peck. ” A scowl twisted his pretty face, petulance dripping off him in droves. His hands slid over your ass possessively, kneading the soft flesh with purpose. “I should have you flogged for that. Put over my knee.”

“Patience is a virtue,” you mumbled.

“Wrong faith, pet. Now- wait, where are you going?”

You paused, halfway through peeling yourself out of his arms (again), and pointed at the ceiling where FRIDAY’s voice reminded him that he was needed in thirteen minutes, Mr. Laufeyson . ”You have a debrief and I have a date with my coffee pot.”

“Not after you so callously rejected me. Come down here and make it up to me.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned in to kiss him again, slowly but deeply. Loki chased your mouth when you pulled away, frustration evident in the heavy way he sighed. Lifting you by the hips, Loki deposited you in his lap and held you there, digging his thumbs into the plush of your sides. Using the resulting sigh to his advantage, Loki cradled the back of your head and bullied your lips apart, pulling a sticky kind of want from your chest, leaving you dizzy and aching all at once.

When FRIDAY gave him a five minute warning, blinking the emergency strobe in the corner of your bedroom for good measure, Loki finally drew himself away and let you catch your breath. His head tipped back against the pillow, his throat on display in a long submissive line, and his shiny mouth parted in a groan. He mumbled something in his mother tongue, your name nestled right between lilting consonants.

“What was that?”

“Nothing important.” 

“One day you’ll teach me what you’re saying,” you grumbled. “And then I’ll know all your secrets.”

Loki lazily arched one brow, smothered behind a curtain of riotous curls. “Is that so? All of them?”

“Mhm. All of it. Every last one.”

You traced a finger down the line of his nose. If ever there was a moment to tell him you loved him, now was probably it. Here, on the laziest of saccharine mornings, while the city outside was muted by a thick wall of snow and you were both ignoring responsibility to enjoy the other. And yet– doubt wove its way through your ribs, tying knots in the hollow spaces in your chest; you rolled off of him and sat up, pulling the hem of your shirt down where it had ridden up. “FRIDAY is going to bring the appliances to life if you don’t leave soon.”

Loki poised himself on the edge of your bed and snagged your wrist when you rounded it. There was nothing to the gesture – no comment, no complaint to make. He held onto you for the simple joy of owning a second of your time.

As if one cue, PAL rolled through your bedroom door, his little paper tray aloft. He chirped in greeting, then ran head-long into one of the bed frame’s legs. 

You tamped down a lingering disappointment. Later. You would tell him later.

“Pest.” Loki swatted at PAL, who had taken to repeatedly bumping into Loki’s shins to convince him to get dressed. You gasped scoldingly when Loki shot a warning green spark in the robot’s direction; PAL, undeterred, narrowed the LED display on his face and wound up, knocking the god extra hard for good measure.

“PAL, go sit in the living room. You can pick something on Netflix for us to watch. And you,” you pointed a finger at Loki. “No threatening the robot.”

You left him to dig through your closet for something to wear; the far corner was steadily developing a growth of black, Loki-sized clothing. While you busied yourself with the coffee machine, PAL chirped at the TV and then parked himself in front of your window with his face pressed against the glass. Once your coffee was poured, you left out the gaudiest mug you owned – chipped, declaring you were Thor’s Number One Fan!, which Loki hated with a burning passion – and a spoon for when he joined you.

PAL beeped distractedly when you joined him by the window; there was a tender tilt to his little head as he gazed out, studying a pair of birds who had built their nest just below. His body shuddered, as if sighing, and his LED display blinked one long, slow blink.

It started as a tiny bundle of twigs a few weeks ago, trembling in the wind but shielded from the elements in the nook between a metal support beam and the windowsill. Then a few pieces of long grass were woven in, and a handful of fresh green branches, still flexible in their newness. They must have finished their home while you were away; two mates were deep under the spell of a snowy Sunday morning, bundled up under a layer of down and straw.

A solid pair of arms wound around your waist, drawing you backwards into an equally solid chest. Loki’s hair was damp where he’d run wet fingers through it, no doubt trying to contain the curling mess of bed head he woke up with every morning. It clung to your cheek a bit, the crown of his head pressed up to your face while he nosed at your shoulder. “Oh, hi– hello.” 

“I don’t want to go,” Loki whined. He rocked you gently from side to side, resting his cheek against yours. “We should feign illness. It’s dreadfully contagious. And then we can—” a kiss, just under your ear, “stay in bed all day. To recuperate, of course.”

“As lovely as that sounds, you really do have to go. You know how Steve gets when you’re late.”

“As soon as I can I’m coming right back up here to ravish you. That’s a promise.”

PAL cooed, excited by some small movement from the birds. One of them had woken to preen the other, sweetly running its beak through its feathers.

“Look at their little nest. How cozy,” you said quietly. “Maybe that’s where my pillows went.”

The longer Loki considered the birds, the deeper the furrow between his brows grew. He seemed to be having a revelation of some kind. “I… have to speak with my brother about something.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. Just a thought. Don’t worry.”

PAL rolled backwards into Loki’s shins with purpose. He chirped sternly, as if chiding Loki in his machine-speak, who, in return, toed PAL’s chassis very gently in warning. 

You laughed. “He’s coming, buddy.”

“Actually,” Loki muttered darkly. “On the contrary. My problem is that I’m not-”. You suspected the next words out of his mouth would have been incredibly inappropriate, had PAL not rolled pointedly over Loki’s foot.

You exited the elevator on the 31st floor a few hours later. A far cry from Tony’s party, the room was empty and mostly tucked away; chairs were stacked on tables and the bar was cleared of bottles; bright, unfiltered sunlight poured through the enormous lofted windows, allowing you an unobstructed view of the skyline and the meandering streets below. A couple of interns were having lunch on one of the couches in the corner. They must have been part of the newest wave of college recruits, because their eyes lingered in a starstruck kind of way that made you feel a little embarrassed. 

You shot them a playful salute. Both startled, turning away in a rush.

Oh well. You couldn’t look Steve in the eyes for your first week on the team– you got it.

You found Loki in the farthest conference room, sat at the end of a long, round table between Steve and Bucky. You watched their fingers walk across its surface, handing a piece of folded paper between the three of them. Steve wrote something while the speaker was turned, then slipped his hand surreptitiously under the desk. Bucky coughed; from your vantage point, you saw his and Loki’s fingers unravel the note so they could read it discreetly.

Some executive droned at the other end, gesturing to a dreadfully laid out powerpoint. Matching manilla folders were spread open in front of the agents; you had a sneaking suspicion that whatever the speaker was saying was also written down and could have been read in half the time this meeting took.

You tried to catch Loki’s eye through the window but his attention was aimless, lost in some faraway place. A thought came to you; you rearranged your belongings to clasp your hands in front of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed - albeit poorly - to the god sitting a few dozen feet from you.

You peeked through one eye to see if it had worked; through the glass, Loki shot you a private smile, so sweet that it was practically a kiss. You waved him over, jerking your head toward the conference room door.

You watched him interrupt the speaker, his lazy posture rolling forward until he was sitting straight. Steve and Bucky nodded sagely, immediately following whatever story Loki had spun. Bucky pointed exaggeratedly to his metal arm, rubbing it as if it was tense.

The door opened and Loki slipped out into the hallway to meet you. Your grin bordered on becoming painful. Both your hands were folded behind your back. “You didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

“Observant.” He plucked a loose thread from the collar of your shirt and flicked it aside before leaning in for a quick kiss. You decided, even if you couldn’t say you love him, to treat him no less lovingly; you chased him when he pulled away, pressing your lips to his jaw. His grin was dazed, like you’d turned him dumb with the simple act of wanting him. “You’re even lovelier than the last time I saw you.

“I brought you something. Pick a hand.”

Loki walked his fingers down your left arm and pulled; you let him have it, your palm open – and empty. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Hmm. Terrible luck.” His knuckles dragged down the length of your other arm. In that hand was a take-out container from your favourite coffee shop, defaced with a smiley-face and cute message from the barista, Yvonne. It was his usual order, nothing special, but when his eyes tipped up to meet yours, there was something uncharacteristically open about his expression, a shy edge to the tilt of his smile. He leaned in and kissed you, soft and sweet like honey. “Do you think they’ll notice if I’m gone much longer?”

“Absolutely.”

Loki groaned, tipping your hips until they were flush to his. He kissed you hard enough to bend you backwards.

“I’ll come by your apartment tonight and we can get dinner?”

His fingers stilled where they were kneading your sides. “Yes, about that. Let’s… Let’s stay at yours tonight. The wolves that chased me out last night haven’t been evicted yet.”

Loki's answer confused you – he’d spent the entire night complaining that you wouldn’t go back to his room, then insulting your blanket choices, and now he wanted to stay at yours? “Ok. That works. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he said quickly. “Perfectly fine. You’re so tired though. Easier to stay where your belongings are. I won’t– won’t make you commute.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Behave today.”

Another groan, this one pitched low; Loki traced your cheek with his nose. “I love it when you order me around.”

“Loki! Be-have.”

“Just one more, nymph. To tide me over.”

You sent him off with three more kisses. You were starting to wonder if you were too lenient with him; he delighted in taking advantage of your weakness to weasel more affection out of you. He returned to the conference room with his little box, opened in his lap under the table. When Bucky made to swipe a grape, Loki flicked his hand away with a glare.

When you returned to your room that evening, with Loki hot on your heels and his hands already halfway up your shirt, you were baffled to find your bed down one more pillow.

“PAL, did you do this?”

He shook his little head, LED screen blinking wide doe eyes up at you. It was the strangest thing, but when he thought you weren’t looking, you could have sworn that he shot Loki a pointed look.

[niki-phoria]

https://www.tumblr.com/niki-phoria/776310441091694592/hii-lovely-do-you-still-write-for-chishiya

hii, it’s me again!

If I’m not bothering you, you wrote to Chishiya "his types of kiss", do you think you could write a "his kind of demonstrating that he cares through gestures" (gn reader)? Thank you so much 🩷

그런 널 ���면 i'm dyin' to hold you now / 밤은 또 어느새 날 깨우려 하는데

pairing: chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 580

notes: wasn't sure how i wanted to write this so it isn't super romance focused (chishiya's love languages is similar but more romantic), haven't written for aib in a while so sorry if the game doesn't really make sense lol, thank you so much for the request !! i hope you like it <33, not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes, title from bae173 - annoyed

the air feels sticky against your skin; the night breeze does little to combat against the humid summer air. beside you, aguni crosses his arms across his chest. he lets out an impatient sigh as he leans his head against a white pillar. your eyes scan around the group. your competition. 

a businessman nervously fidgets with the cuffs of his suit. beside him, two women stand side by side, clinging onto each other. they whisper softly to each other even though you’re too far away to hear any of their words.

CHISHIYA SHUNTARO nods his head along to a rhythm you can’t hear. his hood has been pulled up over his head, leaving only a few stray strands of blonde hair visible beneath the night sky. when chishiya glances upwards, his gaze meets your own. he smirks softly behind his jacket hood for a few seconds before returning to silently analyzing the other players. 

the chime of the announcement system comes as a welcome change. a familiar automated voice plays over speakers you can’t see. “game: tag.”

at first, the minutes tick by without any events. you keep your footsteps quiet as you slip through the stairwell. aguni walks with confidence but you don’t miss the way he subtly sticks closer to the shadows lining the walls. you take the opportunity to slip away, walking through the eerily empty apartment’s halls. 

chishiya is already standing near the roof when you arrive. without the jacket’s hood protecting his face, the wind blows stray strands of blonde hair across his face. he leans against the white half-wall, watching the other players wander around from above. 

“anything interesting?” you ask, stepping closer to stand beside him. the bricks feel cool against your hands. a thick layer of paint has smoothed out any texture they used to have. 

chishiya simply hums. “nothing yet.” he shifts slightly, brushing his shoulder against your own. it’s an otherwise unnoticeable gesture, but it makes your heart skip a beat nonetheless. “does aguni know you’re here?”

you shrug. as the beach grew, it became harder to keep track of each member individually. the games only added to your anonymity, making it easy to slip away from the crowd under the guise of ‘being afraid for your life.’ “does it matter?” 

he remains silent. your lives depended on your social skills just as much as your physicality. the beach had only become another challenge, demanding careful navigation and care to survive. aguni was smart enough to survive. he wasn’t vengeful like niragi or observant like ann. he wouldn’t pose any real risk. at least, not while hatter was still in charge. 

chishiya glances at you. he shuffles ever so closer, resting his hand just beside your own. the heat from his knuckles is a welcome change from the otherwise cool night air. after a few seconds his hand dips lower, fingers now tugging at the edge of your beach-issued bracelet. chishiya’s fingers run along the braided thread holding it together. 

you flinch slightly when yet another round of gunshots echo throughout the apartment. they’re much closer now; you can hear the click of another round being loaded into the chamber. chishiya reaches over, tentatively taking your hand into his own. his thumb runs along the grooves of your knuckles. he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t need to. the gentle circles he rubs against the back of your hand say more than words ever could. don’t worry. we’ll be home soon.

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my aib masterlist <33

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Home.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (Spiderverse).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Spiderverse Spoilers, Non///Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Nonconsensual Touching, Emotional Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, and Blood.

A Spiritual Continuation To This Drabble.

You were probably starting to blister.

It was hard to tell. Your body felt strange, your head filled with cotton and your thoughts still blurred into one foggy, vaguely panicked haze. You were numb, and aching, and wide awake, and waiting for the moment you could lie down on a cold, hard surface and curl up until you felt like yourself, again. That man – Miguel, you reminded yourself, the desperation in his voice as he’d muttered it to you still echoing in your mind – said it was a side-effect of traveling between dimensions, that you’d be fine as long as you didn’t mess with the ring of metal around your wrist, but you couldn’t seem to tightness in your throat, couldn’t seem to forget the glimpse of a bruising puncture mark you’d caught before forcing yourself to turn away from the bathroom’s only mirror.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been there, slumped against the tiled wall of a stranger’s shower stall, trying to make sense of what little you’d learned. It had to have been an hour, if not more, but the water was still as hot as it had been when you’d half-consciously gotten in, when you decided you could burn yourself out of this situation. A benefit of being dragged into the future against your will, you guessed. At least you’d never run out of hot water, while you were trapped here.

You sighed, letting your head lull forward, but you didn’t have much time to wallow in your self-pity. You heard the automated door slide open (there wasn’t a lock, you’d checked, and then checked again, and then checked again), and snapped up just in time to see Miguel stepping past the threshold, still wearing that strained, manic grin. It looked unnatural. If you hadn’t been so scared, if you didn’t already feel so vulnerable, you might’ve asked him to stop.

Reflectively, you scrambled for a towel before remembering that you weren’t in your own bathroom, that you weren’t even in your own dimension, and shrinking into yourself, doing what you could to hide yourself away from him without the aid of a proper barrier. “I— I’m not done, just give me—”

“Relax.” His tone was calm, but strict, only slightly muffled by the shirt he was already pulling over his head. You caught the edge of a jagged scar, an expanse of tan skin, before jerking away and training your eyes on the floor. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. We’re married, remember?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before stepping in front of you, momentarily cutting off your supply of scalding water. Unlike you, he seemed to want you to see him - standing just a little too close, holding himself just a little too tall, revealing just a little too much a little too quickly. You made a point of keeping your eyes on his face – or, as much as his face as you could see, anyway. The room you’d woken up in (his bedroom, you figured, despite how blank it’d been, how uncomfortable its bare walls and empty shelves had made you) had been dark, and his bathroom was no better. The lights had been dimmed to the point of near-total darkness, and you were starting to miss your apartment’s constantly flickering lights, your office’s blinding phosphorescents. You could only hope the rest of his dimension wouldn’t be so dark. You didn’t know what you would do if you had to spend the rest of your life stumbling around in the dark.

“We were married, you mean,” you mumbled, then shook your head. “Or, you were married to another version of me, I think? I’m sorry, I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around…” You paused, gesturing to your meager surroundings. “…around this.”

His smile took on a softer lull. “In another world, a version of me was married to a version of you. When that version of me died, I did what I could to fill the gap. It didn’t work out, but…” A hand on your shoulder, then your jaw. You flinched at the unearned contact, but he didn’t pull away. “It was good, for a while. We had a daughter, Gabriella, and we took care of each other.”

You managed a weak laugh. “It’s hard to believe I’d take meeting my husband’s doppelganger that well.”

“Yeah, it is.”

There was a short lapse of silence. You chose to ignore the bluntness of his response, the bitter taste that spread over your tongue. “Maybe I’ll meet my own version of you when I get back home. It seems like we can’t stop running into each other.” And then, with more than a note of genuine excitement. “I will be able to go back to my own dimension, right? No offense, but I’m already starting to feel a little homesick.”

“Eventually. We’re looking for another solution as quickly as we can, but for now, it’s important that you stay where you are.” The pad of his thumb ran over your cheek. “Just your presence here is saving millions of lives.”

With no small amount of hesitation and a pained smile of your own, you reached up, taking him by the wrist and pushing his hand back down to his side. In his defense, he didn’t put up a fight. You could’ve missed the way his grin wavered, the carnal shade of scarlet that flashed across his eyes, if not for the way the shadows flickered at the slightest disturbance. “But I’ll be able to go home when you’re done?”

“Eventually,” he reiterated. “I’ll be taking care of you, in the meantime.”

Slowly, reluctantly, you nodded, letting out a shaky breath.

It wasn’t like there was anything else you could do, right?

~

You felt like you were going blind.

Miguel had been paranoid – making excuses, offering half-baked explanations, changing the topic every time you found the confidence to push – but even he couldn’t keep you in his dark, empty bedroom forever, lest you grow bored enough to throw the fate of the multi-verse aside and start messing with the bolt of silver latched onto your wrist. You could see why he’d wanted to keep you locked up. The rest of his society (organization? foundation? glorified playground for anyone with a spider-aesthetic and a seemingly endless supply of bad one-liners?), unlike its founder, was a beacon of color and noise, of friendly faces and helpful people. You could see why it might’ve made the thought of going home that much more difficult, for someone who’d had a much gentler introduction to it than you.

You could see how it made the time you spent alone with Miguel seem that much darker, in comparison.

Currently, you were in a room you’d once heard one of the more brash Peter Parkers’ refer to as ‘Miguel’s Cave’ – the makeshift lab where he spent most of his time leering over holographic screens and growling at constantly malfunctioning technology you couldn’t so much as pretend to understand, sitting cross-legged next to a collection of well-beaten consoles, squinting at a book you could hardly make out in the dim light. You didn’t know much about him or his society, every detail pried out through either sheer force of will or gleaned from a combination of different half-explanations, but he seemed to be the default leader, the one responsible for making sure this operation didn’t fall apart at the seams. He was stressed, obviously, but you couldn’t seem to find it in yourself to feel bad for him, not when every new setback led to a new hole in the wall, another chair broken over his knee (hence why you were sitting on the floor). It was hard to feel pity for a man who could snap your neck with a flick of his wrist, no matter how often he promised he wasn’t going to hurt you.

When your vision started to blur and the knot of tension in the back of your skull turned from uncomfortable to aching, you let your attention drift to his constantly revolving screens, all showing another incomprehensible piece of another incomprehensible dimension. For a moment, your gaze caught on a scene that seemed out of place, featuring a girl no older than ten running happily toward whoever was holding the camera, but you moved on quickly. You’d already seen a few preteen spider-people, around the society. You wouldn’t be surprised if Miguel had a way of watching them after they’d returned to their own dimensions.

Your eyes fell on Miguel, next. He was in the state he seemed to revert to whenever he thought your back was turned – shoulders squared, eyes set into a stern glare, the points of his fangs just barely visible against his bottom lip. He looked angry, but then again, he always looked a little angry. You could only assume that whatever spider he’d gotten his powers from didn’t have a sense of humor, either.

Eventually, he glanced in your direction, his scowl immediately fading. You didn’t try to look away. You caught him staring at you often enough. If you were lucky, he’d realize how awful it could feel to know you were always being watched. “Need something?”

You shrugged, letting your head lull to the side. “Just wondering if you’ve made any progress.”

“Depends on what you want to call ‘progress’. Technically, we’re bringing in another dozen requites every day, but I don’t see the point in handing a watch to every—”

“Progress in my case, I mean,” you cut in, trying to keep your tone light. “Not that I don’t like it here! I’m just… a little anxious to get home, I guess. I’d just like to be able to check in – preferably without the multi-verse collapsing.”

It was quick, but you caught it. A quirk of his lips, a glint of annoyance quickly drowned out by schooled stoicism. He didn’t like it when you brought up leaving, but then again, he didn’t seem to like anything.

Rather than answer you, he sighed, pushing himself away from his consoles. He gestured for you to stand and, somewhat reluctantly, you pushed yourself to your feet, taking a tentative step close to him before a strong arm lashed out, wrapping around your waist and hauling you into his lap. You chuckled, shoving playfully at his shoulder, but when he didn’t relent, you didn’t tell him to let you go. It was just a habit, you told yourself, doing your best to brush it off. It was just a holdover from a past life, from the time he spent with another version of you. It was the least you could do to let him live out a few old, relatively innocent fantasies.

He moved to touch your cheek, but managed to hold himself back, opting to toy with the fabric of your collar, instead. “Have you ever thought about kids?”

You did what you could not to look at him, but when he was so close, when he’d made himself such an unignorable part of your now-limited world, it was hard to find a way past him. “Not really, no. Never had the time for it, and I was never in the right place.”

“That’s how I felt, before I met you.” His lips against your forehead, then the curve of your jaw. It was just a habit, you reminded yourself, more forcefully than you really had to. He wasn’t trying to make you this uncomfortable. “I never thought I’d stay up until sunrise icing cupcakes for a third grader’s birthday party either, but you made me want that kind of life. I would’ve gone to a million soccer games just to see you and Gabriella smile like that again. To me, you were always home.”

“Your version of me, you mean.” This time, you couldn’t make yourself sound anything but irritated. “You might’ve changed your mind, but I’m really not the little league type.”

You heard him mutter something in Spanish, low and throaty and entirely incomprehensible to you. There was sharp nip to the curve of your throat, a broad chest pressed against yours, and then, he was kissing you, his mouth crashing into yours before you could even try to protest. You tried to scream, to pull his hair and pry him off of you, but he only groaned in response, only forced himself closer – his tongue forcing its way past your and his hand wrapping around your neck as you thrashed against him. Frantically, desperate to just get him away from you, you lashed out blindly, racking your nails across his check with enough force to break the skin, to draw blood. That earned a reaction, but not the one you were looking for. Rather than release you, his hold on your throat only grew tighter, his breathing more ragged he picked you up and slammed you against his console, a dozen golden screens shuttering under the force of the collision. It wasn’t a groan, now, but a growl, deep and throaty and wanting. His fangs pierced your lips, the taste of metal and rust spilling over your tongue as—

“Miguel.”

Finally, he tore himself away from you, baring his teeth at Jesse where she stood in the lab’s doorway. She didn’t flinch, only crossing her arms over her chest and meeting his aggression with a deadpan stare. “There’s a situation on Earth-241.”

Blunt, snipped, pointed. Miguel’s response was no better. “Why didn’t you have Lyla alert me?”

“She couldn’t. Apparently, she’s been ordered not to bother you when you’re with (Y/n).” Her attention drifted to you, panting and bleeding and still pinned underneath Miguel. Jesse stiffened, then went on. “You sure this is safe, man?”

“Trust me. I’ve run the simulations, done the math, taken all the necessary precautions. The canon won’t be affected.”

“The canon’s not what I’m worried about.”

She didn’t offer any further explanation, exiting as abruptly as she’d appeared. Miguel waited until she was out of sight, out of earshot before sighing and letting go of your neck. With no strength left to hold yourself up, you sank to the floor, fighting the urge to tremble, to shrink into yourself, to cry until you weren’t choking on the taste of your own blood. Miguel only sighed, running his fingers over the red lines you’d carved into his cheek before typing something into his watch. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, a kaleidoscope of bursting color and blinding light spiraling into existence in front of him. A portal, one you’d see him disappear into a hundred times. A portal that could that you home, if you ever dredged up the courage to throw yourself into it. “Stay out of trouble until I get back.”

Blearily, as if in a daze, you watched from a distance as he stepped out of this dimension and into another, the portal spiraling shut a moment later. When he was gone and the lab had gone dark, you lowered yourself to the ground, curled into yourself, and shut your eyes, willing your heart to stop beating so quickly before it stopped beating altogether.

It was pathetic, but you couldn’t seem to think of anything else to do.

~

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you couldn’t feel anything at all.

You weren’t numb, because numbness would’ve meant there was still a tether between your mind and your body, a link between spirit and flesh. It didn’t feel like you were floating on air, or consumed by static, because it felt like nothing. The void was all-consuming, swallowing you whole and keeping you suspended in that space of unliving consciousness, awake but inactive, aware but unable to do anything more than lie there, breathe, and wait for it to be over. You felt nothing. You never wanted to feel anything again.

Except, Miguel’s venom wasn’t so merciful as to leave in that void permanently. You could already make out a bruising soreness in the side of your neck, the harsh sting of his nails burrowing into your thigh, the seating heat of his body against yours as he rutted into you like a wild animal, like a man crazed. Your body had been bent in on itself, your knees pressed into your chest and your ankles thrown over his shoulders – anything that might’ve stopped him from thrusting as deeply, as harshly as he wanted to forced and manhandled out of his way. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the words ‘mating press’ resurfaced, but you buried them as quickly as you could. You didn’t want to think about that. You didn’t want to think about anything.

But, you didn’t have a choice. He was talking again – in Spanish, at first, a breathy string of curses you’d picked up during your time with him, then your name, low and drawn out, distorted by low growls until it’d been reduced to a near-incoherent mantra that would only be broken when his breath hitched, catching as his cock twitched and throbbed inside of you. One of his hands fell away from your thigh, landing next to his head and supporting his weight as he brought himself that much closer to you, as his mouth found yours in a clumsy, messy kiss. You could taste your own blood on his tongue, his fangs. You could taste the venom that’d left you so vulnerable to him. It burnt more than it should’ve.

“Mi cielo.” The words were muffled, spoken against your as he fell lower – to your collarbone, struggling to speak between haphazard love-bites to your chest. “My love, my light, my—” A sharp breath, a violent thrust. “I love you. We— We’re going to be happy together, this time.”

It was all you could do to lift your head, to force your lips to move against the weight of his waning paralysis. Your voice was barely audible, cracked and fractured in all the worst ways, but it was clear. Even against the sound of his skin crashing against yours, against the screaming agony of your own violation, it was clear.

“Am… am I ever going home?”

For a moment, Miguel paused, his eyes flickering towards you.

Then, you felt him smile against your skin and, the first time, it didn’t seem quite so pained. “You are,” he muttered, straightening his back. “And you’re never leaving again.”

Then, without hesitation, without mercy, he drove his fangs into your throat. You tried, weakly but desperately, to dislodge him, to claw at his back, to dig your nails into whatever you could reach and tear, but it was futile. His venom was already in your blood, coursing through your veins, rendering you as helpless as you’d always felt, around him. Soon enough, your arms were limp and useless around where they’d been strung around his neck, and you were pulled back into that unmoving, unfeeling, uncaring state. You didn’t try to resist it, this time.

It wasn’t like there had ever been anything you could do to save yourself from Miguel, anyway.

[sakkiichi]

HERE COMES THE SUN.

They comfort you while you’re having a difficult time.

ft. Childe, Lyney, Albedo, Shikanoin Heizou x gn! reader.

cw/genre: hurt/comfort.

for my dear @https-furina I know you’ve been going through trying times lately, so I hope this can comfort you a little <3 I also struggled a lot with Heizou’s part, so I apologize if it’s no good at all…

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ CHILDE

Linen sheets feel like ropes on raw skin against the morning chill.

Its warm cream color, ashen, nothing like the mirror sunrises you were used to witnessing right after you opened your eyes.

What’s the point in opening them anymore? You wonder.

You bury your face against the pillows. In any other occasion, you would have been grateful for the coolness of its silk.

Now it’s just an iceberg. Like a missing shard of your shallow beating heart.

“Someone’s sleepy today.” A familiarly perky voice greets, the mattress dipping slightly with new weight.

You rolling in the other direction is all the greeting that meets him.

“Hey, love! It’s time to wake up!” Childe chuckles, his hand gently shaking your body.

Yet something already tells him this is not right; you usually would have already shoved him away by now.

But today you’re just… unresponsive…

The dull oceans of his stare rise in dangerous waves at your state.

Hesitant, he calls your name, his tone more like a question.

And this time, he does get an answer.

Familiar arms he adores wrapped around him loop around his middle, your face burying against his chest.

You’re warm, yet you feel so… faraway… as if the pain of past memories was seeping out your light.

Ajax is no stranger to the despair palpable in your strong grip around him, he’s endured it himself, through years robbed of him by an abyss that turned him into a master of all weapons.

So because he’s known the cold of endless nights where all he had was a tattered red scarf to remember the warmth of a distant home, he now holds you.

And for someone whose hands were tainted in the filth and bloodshed of a lifetime of slaughter, Ajax is undeniably gentle.

His fingertips ghost over your skin, easing the burning anguish of bed covers that felt too rough, too suffocating, too wrong.

When your lover’s hands get lost in your hair, combing it, you swear sun rays filter through the deep sea you’re falling through.

And then, suddenly, the choice to swim upwards presents before you, scarred sun-kissed hands extended towards you.

You take them.

When you open your eyes, russet sunsets and constellations over your beloved’s skin greet you.

His lips find yours, a bit chapped but gentle; not his usual playfulness, but soothing aquamarine waves.

You swear Childe’s kiss tastes salty. And that’s when you realize the dry tear-tracks down your cheeks.

He made them dry, sunlight evaporating puddles after grey days.

You break the surface, the waters now turquoise beneath Ajax’s light.

He won’t let you sink again.

✧ LYNEY

A whole audience’s cheers fill the Opera Epiclese. Lights shine upon every smiling face, every vigourous clap of hands after the magician’s grand finale echoing through the theater.

However, the illusionist’s gaze of amethyst is focused on the sole grim expression amongst millions of joyous others.

Yours.

Your hands move, clapping together, as if automated; your eyes stare at everything, seeing nothing; your mouth is a taut line, your lips devoid of their usual vibrant tint.

Lyney doesn’t like that being his last memory before the curtain closes.

When you step out of the Opera House, an infinity of starfields is abloom across the crepuscular skies.

What a mockery; a cruel jinx on display, for you to see the unfulfilled sparks dimming inside your heart.

A sigh escapes your dry lips, a small cloud forming when it meets the late night chill.

“You’ll catch a cold there, mon coeur,” Someone you know, tricks and all, utters behind you.

Welcome warmth tinted in lavender envelops you the instant your eyes meet the magician’s starry ones.

A small smile tugs at your lips, the curse of melancholy still clinging to you through it.

“Lyney…” You start. The twilit breeze picks up around you, your arms instinctively wrapping around yourself for some semblance of a warmth you haven’t felt in days.

“That won’t do, ma chérie.” Your lover chuckles.

Then, with a wave of his hand, a piece of the night sky itself seems to become tangible in his grasp.

“Here,” he offers, draping it over your shoulders.

Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s a shawl; the cloth feels delicate to the touch, quite fine too, and yet, you feel the warmth of a thousand suns. If you had to describe its color you would come up empty. Silver glitter seems to be embedded in the fabric, but at the same time, it looks like multiple tiny lights had been stitched to the material. You suppose you’d call the hue, dark; a myriad of indigoes merge into violets, threaded together with navies and cobalts. And yet, when you move it, the colors seem to shift, almost like the clouds drifting across this midnight.

“I take it you liked it.” Lyney smiles, softer than his usual cheshire-like grins, when he observes your wonderstruck features.

“Very…” You muse, awestruck at the magical silk.

“It’s a châle de ciel,” your beloved explains, “It will change depending on the state of the sky at each time of day.” He pauses, eyes, the color of lumidouce bells and rainbow rose petals merged, glinting as he admires how the garment fits you. “But I can guarantee,” your illusionist steps closer to you, plucking something out of your hair. “That it will always keep you comfortable… warm or cool, whatever you need.” He finishes, handing you a pluie lotus.

You take a few seconds to appreciate the second gift of the night. The flower’s petals are the same color as Lyney’s eyes, yet not as vivacious.

“Shall we go, mon amour?” Your boyfriend inquires, already offering your arm to him.

Together, you leave the opera house behind.

You hope for light blues on your new cape tomorrow morning. And somehow, you know that’s what you’ll find.

You squeeze Lyney’s arm gently. The sun will rise soon.

✧ ALBEDO

When he sets foot on his camp in Dragonspine, Albedo finds the heater already on.

Strange.

The sun hasn’t even quite awoken yet, the snowy peaks outlined against skies still clinging to dreamless cloudy nights; shards of ice, embedded in the softness of dawn clouds. An accurate representation of the region of freedom’s snowy mountains: menacingly beautiful, brimming with lethal charm, for one step in the wrong direction, and the cold might as well consume you for good.

At this hour, no one was ever already working at his lab, making of these moments calm sunrise-tinted memories in the alchemist’s mind, before the day’s hustle and bustle began.

However, today, the running heater is not the only out of the ordinary salutation to greet the chalk prince.

The acute sounds of clicking vials, books being rearranged and crunching snow are confirmation enough that he is, indeed, not alone.

With silent steps, Albedo advances, keeping one hand hovering over his trusty sword. Then, he finally lays eyes upon the cause for the commotion, and despite the lack of danger, the sight doesn’t calm him any better.

“My dearest?” He calls. The instant your gaze meets his, your condition scares him more than any bandits ransacking his research material. Your hair is messy, falling on your face; dark circles are etched beneath your lower lashline, darkness clinging to you like remnants of turbulent nights; and you’re shivering, whether from the cold or because you’re distempered he can’t quite discern, although it’s most likely due to both.

“Hello, ‘Bedo…” You mutter, the flesh of your lips bitten, flecks of Dragonspine’s freeze coating them, the cold lacing with your bones, chilling you to the core. Your eyes widen when you notice your lover’s teal gaze scrutinizing you. You quickly busy yourself with classifying some potions, by color and texture, whatever takes the longest for him not to worry about your less than ideal condition.

However, perhaps you underestimated his attention to detail; for he has a skilled artist, after all.

“My love, are you feeling alright?” He questions, gloved hands gently taking the crystal vial-filled wooden box you were carrying off your trembling hold.

And in that instant, you don’t know if it’s the warmth of your prince’s hands on yours; or the comfort of his voice, like honey on bitter tea, but you find yourself taking a deep breath, the fresh air of a midwinter’s sunrise filling your lungs.

And then you talk. You spill every worry and bad dream, your shadows opening up to the gilded starlight of him.

And through it all, the alchemist’s hands warm yours, fingers interlocked, very much in the way your souls are undeniably so too.

Because no matter how daunting the river seemed when you faced it alone, when you were with Albedo, its typhoons calmed down, stone bridges and his outstretched hand painting safety and comfort in hues of gold before your eyes.

While the kreideprinz grounds you, the sun reaches its peak, a canvas of aureate and cornflower blue grazing the mountaintops.

You would be okay.

✧ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU

Emerald eyes read through you as if you were made of clear glass.

The way you worry your lower lip between your teeth; your fingers almost going white at the knuckles as you clutch a pencil, its wood creaking in your grip; and the general absentminded state you’re in, papers scattered over your desk, several case files stacked in disarray.

Something is clearly weighting on your mind.

“I think a break’s in order, wouldn't you agree, sweetheart?” Heizou suggests, standing up, those striking eyes of his fixed on you.

The detective’s voice is enough to stop the quickening clock ticking in your mind, regrets and dark spirals momentarily coming to a halt.

When you rise your furrowed brow, shades of maroon and viridian flood your sight, vivid as summer and warming your up just as much.

Nodding, you stand up too, limbs feeling heavy despite the comfort of your lover beside you.

The brown shades of your office turn into blue skies and soft pink sakuras not long after, the scented tree branches swaying above you, like fragments of dreams someone had given up on, waiting to be picked up by another soul who dared to imagine.

Your back rests against your lover’s lean but strong torso, the sweet smelling breeze combing through your hair, as Heizou’s chin rests on your shoulder.

“So will you tell me what’s wrong, darling?” Are the words of his that break the birdsong-filled calm.

A pang settles on your chest, you didn’t want to take away that cheeky grin that most of the time decorated his quick-witted lips.

“I…” You hesitate. “Well, it’s- it’s complicated, Heizou…” Your lids flutter closed, a shaky breath raking through you, as you turn around in his embrace, your hands bracing on his shoulders. “I don’t want to bring the mood down, you know…”

The detective places a thumb on your lower lip, smoothing over the bite marks you left there earlier.

“You never, ever, bring the mood down, dear. Never.” He leans in, brushing a soft kiss over your forehead. “My intuition told me right away there was something up.” He takes a stray cherry blossom petal from your hair. “So, why don’t we take the rest of the day off, love?” Your partner proposes, as he takes your chin in between his fingers, mischief flashing in his features.

And perhaps your lover’s smile was more infectious than you had ever given it credit for; and maybe the way he flashes his green eyes at you has your heart trembling in ways that have nothing to do with the fear and guilt you’ve been festering, but you find yourself retorting back, with a grin of your own:

“Don’t you have cases to solve, detective Shikanoin?”

This time, he takes a full sakura flower, delicately placing it behind your ear.

“I have something more important to solve right here…” He smirks, cheekily, as he admires your now flustered expression.

When you lean the side of your head against his chest, he cradles it with one of his hands, the other playing with the ends of your hair.

It would be unfair, if gloom were to take your soul captive when spring seems to linger through Inazuma’s breeze.

With a last look at you, the detective’s maroon lashes flutter closed too. He hopes, at least for today, he managed to protect precious you from the crimes of cruel sorrow.

He leans his head on top of yours.

The case is solved.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Tuesday! Ugh.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s nearly midnight in Norway by the time you’re free of the airport. The train station isn’t far; it’s part of the airport. You wait on a bench between the rails as your boarding is two hours away. You sit with your luggage and mope. This new land only adds to the gloom clinging to you. 

You shiver as a draft flows down the tunnel. Not only is grey and grim, but it’s cold. It’s almost June but the weather is more akin to the cusp of winter and spring back home.  

Your weeks of research couldn’t prepare you for the real things. All that anticipation could never compare to that moment of desolation; alone in this far land, away from everything you knew. Everything around you is new and foreign and unwelcoming. 

When the train pulls up, you wait in queue with the other passengers. Some are native, speaking in lilted English or indecipherable Norwegian. Duolingo hasn’t done much for you as you catch only scraps of pronouns and verbs. Others are new arrivals like yourself but they seem much more certain of themselves. You feel utterly lost. 

You show your ticket and board. You tuck your bag away with the larger pieces kept at the front of the carriage and hug your carry-on in your lap. You stare out the window as the train begins to roll on the tracks, screeching as it pulls out into the black night of this strange land. 

The subtle rumble of the locomotive lulls you into a half-sleep. Your head is wrought with the ache of your building hangover and twisted visions of the life left behind. You hear Steve’s final goodbye, you feel the hug that was snugger on your end than his, and you feel the razor of Peggy’s spiteful eye. Even in a stupour, you can’t forget it. You hope Sam is right and that it will fade with time, yet you fear it might all be gone for good. 

You wake as the automated voice announces your stop as the next one. You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. You’re trying to be optimistic. Just focus on work. That’s what this is all about. Everyone keeps saying it and you haven’t heard any of them. This is a great opportunity. What you’ve been hoping for all these years. How did you forget that?  

You disembark and drag your bag behind your heavy feet. You’re exhausted but you still have a trek to go. Everything looks so different than back home. Small differences but enough to reinforce your displacement. 

You find the rental car kiosk at the other end of the station and show your reservation. Work is paying for that too. Apparently, you’ll need it to get to the site. Another harbinger of desolation. 

You hook up your phone to the built-in bluetooth and tap the address already saved in your maps. The app takes a moment to recenter and finally, you’re off. You wonder if you should even be driving. You’re definitely not drunk anymore but you’re barely awake. 

It’s only an hours ride across the city, just along the ridges that look off onto the coast. It’s beautiful. You can see that even through your melancholy.  

The morning rises as you get your key to the blue paneled townhouse. You should try to stay up to reset your clock but you’re jet lagged to the bone. The moment the door is locked, you let your bags fall to the floor and stumble through to the first piece of furniture you see. You collapse face first onto the couch, unable to feel the impact as you plummet into a deep sleep. 

Time, space, and all your pain disappears. There is only the endless void of fatigue. Your mind is too tired to summon nightmares or nonsensical visions. Your body is so drained that even your brain is empty. 

You wake on your arm, fingers tingling painfully as your shoulder muscles burn. You hiss and sit up. The bend of your fingers and a shaky attempt to move your elbow make you whine. Ugh. You rub feeling back into the limb as you lean against the back of the couch. 

You look around, finally able to take it all in. The house is neat and sleek. White plaster and pale wood finishes. The couch you sit on is a sectional and there’s a match ottoman across from you. The TV mounted on the wall reflects the shadow of the archway behind you and the tall lamp in the corner and the stone and marble ornaments. 

You rise, wobbling on your legs, and put your arms out to get your bearings. You meander through the townhouse. You can hardly admire the furnished interior as it underlines your loneliness. All this space for just you. 

There’s a kitchen at the rear of the house, a large wooden island standing center to a fridge with a glass door and polished counters carved in granite. The tiles are pristinely placed diamonds in hexagons and a large window looks out into the rain-soaked yard. It’s night again, or maybe that’s what the daylight looks like here. 

Upstairs, there’s a bedroom and a bathroom. A full tub and separate shower, two sinks set into a sparkling counter, and a wall of mirrors above them. It truly is a dream but why doesn’t it feel like it? 

You amble down stairs and fish out your phone. The battery is at eight percent. You have several texts. All from Sam. You only remember then why you don’t see any from Steve. No, you won’t check. 

You quickly type that you’ve landed safely and set the cell down. You’ll let it die before you plug back in. You need time. You need to get yourself straight. You need to accept that this is all real. You made this choice.  

You’re starting over. It’s a new life and there’s no room for your heart here. 

💟

You have the night to unpack, more than just your luggage. Still, there are things you can’t let out. Not yet. As much as the blade twists in your chest, taking it out will mean a deluge you can’t quell. For now, you just won’t think about it. 

You sleep a few more hours and wake just before six. You have your bag ready to go for the day. You tie on your boots and pull on a lined jacket before braving the Norwegian summer. You lock the door behind you and yawn into the brisk air. 

Before you head for the site, you stop at a cafe you see along the way. You get an egg biscuit and a coffee with extra espresso. You’re sure to add on a snack to eat between your work. 

You drive towards the greater mountains and turn onto the road that angles up the side. You follow the curved ledge as the GPS guides you through the car speakers. The drive is two hours up, maybe a bit quicker on the way down. Suddenly, a ping sounds from the system and you glance at the screen; ‘signal lost’. Shoot. It’s okay. You think you’re almost there. 

You pull over, not that there’s much space to do so. You have the physical maps you’ll use for the work itself. You find yourself amid the lines and symbols and memorise the path forward. You continue on cautiously, reassured as you’re met with a sign that delineates the site. The plot has already been closed off with a fence. 

‘Grant land. No trespassing.’ 

You park just outside the fencing and grab your bag and your breakfast. You sit on the hood and eat as you look over the muddy site. You read the grant report. It’s here they think there was a settlement. Not a very big one but an important one.  

The rock wall hugs the site in an almost perfect basin as the slick land is barren of almost any growth. You’ll start with gridding it all out, both with string and on paper. You clap your hands off and get up to begin. The process will keep your distracted. 

You put your earbud in and set to task. You pause to sip coffee and mark the paper between planting the stakes and the string the twine to divvy it all up in squares. You watch where you put each step, the mud sucking at your treads. A wet site is never an easy one. 

It takes the first day just to prep for digging and you don’t even think you’re done. You’re tired and achy and ready to go home. It’ll take you nearly three hours back by your guess. The night will be a short one as you figure you’ll need to head out earlier, especially if you hope to take advantage of the fleeting sunlight. 

As you get back to the townhouse, it’s night again. You walk down to a fish restaurant just a block away. The faces are friendly and the food is good, but it all seems so bland. You eat and go back to your accommodation. Not home, just a place to lay your head. 

You check your phone. Back amid the world of the living, you have a dozen messages; Sam, Bucky, your mom, Arturo. You respond to each of them in turn, assuring them that all is well. You don’t have the energy for much more. 

Yet it isn’t up to you. Your phone chimes at you as you near the bed, sitting on the edge as you answer. You know with Sam that ignoring him will only make him worse. 

“Hey,” you answer with an unrestrained yawn. 

“Yo, how ya feeling?” he asks. 

“Erm, tired,” you lean forward, crossing and arm over your knees. “How are things there?” 

“Eh, usual. So, uh, did that paradise punch knock you on your ass too or am I getting old?” He chuckles. 

“Heh, yeah, no I’m feeling it still,” you mutter. 

“Mm, it’s late there...” he says, “sorry, if I’m keeping you up.” 

“No, it’s fine. Just... a lot of driving.” 

“Oh? You worked today?” 

“Wanted to get a head start,” you shrug as you play with the fold of your pajamas across your knee. 

“How is it? Is it bleak? Cold? Are the men gruff?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess. Grey. Bit chilly but it’s not bad around noon,” you say dully, “haven’t seen much of the locals. With how long it takes me to get up the mountain...” 

“Oh, a mountain,” he echoes enthusiastically, “that’s exciting.” 

“I guess. Eats away the day.” 

“I’m sure,” he agrees glumly, “hey, don’t forget to treat yourself. Take a weekend off and hit that spa.” 

“I will. I just got here.” 

“Well, we all miss you,” he says. “Bucky especially. We got in a huge blow out the other day over the string in his hoodie.” 

“Of course you did,” you can’t help but laugh. 

“Really, I didn’t do anything. I was trying to fix it and it just... slipped inside, I don’t know. I don’t think it was about the string,” he snickers. “Probably having to deal with Steve and his--” Sam stops himself, “sorry.” 

“What? No, it’s fine. Really. I came out here to get away but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist.” 

“I know but you’re tryna forget him. Like you should,” Sam insists. “And he’ll realise soon enough what he missed out on all these years. And you need to do the same. Go out, explore, enjoy it. You’ll need to have some good stories to bring back to us here, we’re dying of boredom without you.” 

“Yeah, uh, I’ll try,” you grumble, “anyway, I gotta head out early for the dig so I should let you go.” 

“Right, of course,” he agrees, “don’t be a stranger.” 

“I won’t. Promise.” 

“Night,” he says. 

You return a ‘good night’ and hang up. You toss your phone onto the pillow and heave as you clutch your head. You hate this. Why did you come all this way just to suffer? You should have just stuck it out. Sat on the sidelines like you always did and just swallow it all down. This is worse. Being so alone.  

There’s no going back. Not now. So you just need to get through this and after... after you’ll just have to face Mr. and Mrs. Rogers with a fake smile and broken heart. 

💟

The next week goes by much like your first days there. You wake up, drive up the mountain, plot, dig, clean up, and drive back. You sleep almost as soon as you sit down. You don’t have time to mull over what you left behind, not as you catalogue every bone and bead you come across. 

You check in with Arturo when you can, just to confirm that everything is going according to plan. Often, you’re asleep when anyone else calls. You wake up to notifications from your mom and Sam and even Bucky. You should call them back but you just can’t. You can’t put on a fake voice for them. Not yet. 

You take a day off. Only after Arturo insists. You know you should. You may as well have a proper grocery shop. You can’t keep living off the cafe and fish shop.  

The shop feels more like a market. You pick through produce and meats, and get what’s easy. You’ll cook it all and package it up so you can just heat it up later. Some muffins to eat on your way up the mountain and maybe a few protein bars. 

As you trawl the grocery store aisles, you pull out your phone. You have a pile of unread notifications from Insta. You don’t often check it anyway but your curious and a little homesick. 

You see your mom’s post about her trip to the vineyard with her book club pals and Sam’s story with a very agitated looking Bucky. That makes you laugh. You scroll by some crafting videos and the pages you follow of castle curators living your aspirational goals. 

Then you stop. You pull the cart still and go rigid as you stare at the screen. The image of Steve and Peggy burns into your retinas like a blinding light. It’s there engagement announcement. He has her in his arms, kissing her, as she holds out her hand to the camera to show off the diamond. 

You can’t breathe. Your chest is on fire and your ears are ringing. It’s like salt in the wound and you don’t doubt it's intentional, at least on Peggy’s part.  

Your hands shake as you grip the phone tightly and tap on Steve’s username. You ignore the rest of his profile and the pictures you know will only add to the turmoil brewing in your stomach. You hit the button in the corner and tap again and again. ‘You are about to block ‘starsnstripes18, are you sure’. Yes and yes! 

You lock the screen and drop the phone into your purse, nestled into the basket of the cart. You grasp the bar and push the cart forward, steadying your steps with it. You look between the shelves and exhale. 

You need to go cold turkey. No more Steve, no more Peggy, no more New York. You stood still so long, it feels good to run away from it all. 

[doujindungeon]

summary: even with his high profile, alex wasn't above or against using the tube to get around london. this time however, your ride together was a lot more different than usual. rating: nc-17 pairing: f!reader/alex content warnings: established relationship, smut, exhibitionism, sex in a subway (the transportation system not the sandwich franchise !) word count: 0.5k previous one-shot - george r. | next one-shot - fernando a.

“Alex, you’re not minding the gap.”

Though quiet and rather labored, there was a teasing mirth in your voice as you spoke. With the subway car packed to the gills with local commuters and gallivanting travelers from abroad, along with the usual hum of the Tube speeding beneath the nightly bustle of London, you anticipated your words to be drowned out by the surrounding noise.

However, as you continued to face the somewhat worn poster denoting proper public etiquette on the London Underground that was plastered on the wall, your boyfriend proceeded to intrude further into your space in response, eliciting a hushed gasp from your lips while you found yourself ushered further into the corner of the subway car.

“Well, I have to keep close, unless you wanna give a show to everyone on board, darling.”

While you couldn’t look back to face him, you knew fully well that there was a grin that was as wide as could be on his face.

Even as his teeth were clamping down onto his bottom lip in pleasure.

After all, with some sneaky tugs at the front of his jeans and discreet yanks at the hem of your dress, he was happily plugging your cunt full with his cock from behind, his thrusts subtle, slow, yet divinely deep. Paired with the turns, bumps, and stops along the track of the Tube, you were left enthralled in sheer euphoria as you felt his hips rock against your backside.

Tucked away in your own little section of the subway car, locked and engaged together in your own personal debauchery.

Willingly at that.

Though Alex was of mind to dress accordingly–a plain fitted cap tugged down as lowly as possible to shadow over his eyes, a facemask to obscure his trademark smile, clothes that bore not a single designer brand logo–he was still very much the Alex Albon.

Risking the chance of getting caught being intimate with his lover in such a public setting within the capital city of the country he was born in seemed too absurd to even consider in the first place.

However, since recently earning your forgiveness after a nasty spat that saw him accidentally pointing his frustrations from the season towards your direction, he was utterly determined to make things right.

Fulfilling one of your long-harbored fantasies was just one step to achieving that.

Besides, he was more than happy to put his tall, towering stature to use, hiding you behind his frame with ease as he continued to sink his cock deep into the slick heat of your core.

As he choked back a groan as he felt the sweet squeeze of your cunt clamp around his dick, Alex matched your amused tone as he leaned forward to utter out,

“Though, if we had to give everyone a show, we should at least get paid for it, yeah?”

It was then that the automated announcement for the next approaching stop played throughout the subway car, with some passengers preparing their belongings to soon leave while others shifted over in anticipation of freed seats.

For you and Alex however, the two of you weren’t getting off until he successfully got you off.

-----------------------

that's the second stop on the "pole positions" express !!! 🚂💃

maybe i write about running a train with some of the drivers next--

stay tuned for spanish ossan appreciation tomorrow at 11 am est !!! 🙆‍♀️💚

[anarcho-masochist]

Don't they already do AI-controlled drone strikes? I remember news about it 1-2 years ago. Give me a second to fact check myself.

Here's an article from npr posted June 1, 2021

There are several others from around that time frame.

So after looking up your article, what the US is doing is arguing against new laws to regulate AI weapons. They're already using them, they just don't want their usage to become restricted at all, so, as you say, a very bad sign.

This and multiple other articles in the same search mention continued development and plans to increase numbers so that's...great (sarcastic).

america is an evil-fucked-up-beyond-words-dystopia like actually this is the premise of psycho pass more or less what the actual fuck we need a revolution

[captain039]

The 2029

Old man Logan x reader

Warnings: AOB dynamics, age gap, angst, swearing, mutants, intimacy, eventual smut, claiming, heats, ruts, needles, drug usage, dystopian world, plus size reader

Mutation: Telekinesis, energy manipulation, telepathy

The wards alarm wakes you. The sound blaring and ear piercing, you hear the loud sound of boots and your door opening.

“Up omega 332” the guard says and you’re forced out your bed. You keep your back to them as they inject your neck making you bite your inner cheek. You feel your powers die with it like they were never there. You force your body to relax so the guard knows it works. He leaves your door closing heavily and the lock clicking. You rub the small spot on your neck where the needle went in.

“All omegas are required to wear outfit 3 for presentation today” the female voice rings out over the PA system and you sigh heading to the small closest. You grab the outfit, a tight white tank top, white underwear, white bra and nothing else. You put it on feeling uncomfortable in it already, it sticks to your skin the material isn’t soft either. You brush your hair and put in a pony tail as instructed before brushing your teeth and taking the enhancers with the breakfast slid through your door flap. You hate how they make you feel, your mind goes hazy everything that makes an omega gets enhanced by ten times, scent, submission, weakness….

You hate it.

When you’re lined up with the other omegas you hate the almost attacking smells from the alphas in the other room. You scrunch up your nose slightly before a small frown is on your face. You take a subtle breath finding one scent sticking out from the others, mutant, older. You shake your head a bit as the doors open your body going rigid. Though there’s a barrier between you and them you don’t feel any less safe. The roaming eyes heavy gazes, heavy scents alphas close to rut.

This world was a fucked up place. Omegas forced into wards made perfect for breeding, taught how to be a proper omega since presentation. Alphas close to rut are brought in if they aren’t mated, made to pick an omega so they don’t cause havoc on the street, as time went on so did alphas feral state, when it seemed to be getting better four years ago turned into something worse, alphas began to kill their mates from brutality, they’d go on a rampage and not stopped unless put down. So the government sought to protect the betas seeing as they take up most the population while the alphas and omegas were forced into a new heavily caged way of life, though alphas still lived there life as normal they were watched heavily, tracked as well.

You keep your head down knowing that you’re most likely not to get chosen. A bonus if you think about it, you’ve always been a bigger woman your whole life no matter what sort of diet and forced exercise they made you do, you stayed the same, you’ve got muscles, your body’s healthy too, you have to be here other wise you get sent to the other facility, the one where the ‘useless’ omegas go.

You catch the mutants scent again but don’t dare look up. All mutants have been marked and taken control of as well with the changes, a mutant alpha on the loose was worse than a human, one caused a whole town to go extinct. So they forced the omega and alpha mutants to get a weekly injection to dull their powers and branded with a small M on the back of the neck.

“Exit” the automated voice calls and you follow the line back to where the rooms are and head to yours. You let out a sigh of relief thankful that’s over ready to claw this damn singlet off.

“Omega 332 you have been chosen” the automated voice makes you freeze, panic running through your whole being.

“If you do not calm down you will be injected with an easer” the voice adds and you take deep breaths calming your heart, you hated those too, an Easer something to make you high and easy. Your door opens and your afraid too look around till you catch the mutants scent. You take a small breath his scent not unpleasant like the others, its laced with Cigars and whiskey, somehow not harsh on your nose. You keep your back turned waiting for the alphas command.

He doesn’t speak though he grunts softly and sits down on the love seat in the corner of your room sighing softly. You’re confused as he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move either, you can see him out the corner of your eye but don’t look without permission.

“How can I serve alpha?” You ask.

“Jesus” he mutters voice deep and rough.

“Sit on the bed” he says, he doesn’t command or use his alpha tone but you listen anyway and sit down.

“Get comfortable” he grumbles and you shuffle so your backs against the wall and you sit comfortably. You see him now fully, he looks old, greyed hair, wrinkles, his eyes are closed and his head is leaned back showing him your throat. It’s strange for an alpha to do that but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s in a suit, no tie, a plain black jacket unbuttoned. He doesn’t speak, he just sits there and you’re highly confused, you can catch the slight smell of rut in his scent but it’s subtle. You’re unsure of what to do, fiddling with your hands silently cursing this shirt. You shuffle a bit trying to itch your back against the wall. The alpha lifts his head with a slightly raised eyebrow. You freeze forcing your eyes down.

“Something wrong with your shirt?” He aske quietly, you struggled with how to answer.

“It’s itchy, the fabric isn’t nice” you answer honestly expecting a backlash.

“Do you have other clothes?” He asks and you nod pointing to the white cupboard. He stands with a small sigh going to the cupboard with a limp. He opens it stares for a moment before pulling out your grey shirt and shorts.

“Here, these ones feel better” he hands them to you and nods before sitting down. You hold the clothes in your hands baffled at the gesture as he sits back down again.

“May I get off the bed to change?” You ask.

“Don’t have to ask” he shrugs.

“You’re the alpha I have to ask” you say.

“Right” he grumbled sighing.

“You can change in the bathroom” he says and you nod heading to the bathroom wondering why he picked you if he didn’t want to see you naked. You change and come back out.

“Is this ok alpha?” You ask.

“Just call me Logan kid” he sighs.

“I’m required to call you alpha” you say feeling more confused by him.

“Right, yes that’s ok you can sit down again” he grumbles out. You sit down again in the same spot happy to be out of those clothes.

That’s how your first meeting went with Logan. He didn’t do anything the whole time during his rut, he sat there took the meals provided, let you do what you wanted, well when he asked you to. He asked you what you liked and then asked you to do that. It was strange to say the least. He had a few showers you heard a few times of him relieving himself in the shower before he came back out and sat back on the chair. He hardly slept max two hours a night or during the day, the older alpha did nothing to like what you’ve been taught and told would happen. When he left you were confused for a while, wondering why the hell he didn’t do anything wondering if he didn’t like you or you weren’t a good omega. You’d asked more than once if he required anything but he got angry with a growl and shut you down so you never asked again. You’d never seen an alpha with so much restraint or maybe he genuinely didn’t have the urges due to his age.

It became a routine he’d come in for his ruts and you catch his scent in the other room your heart picking up before the automated voice said you’d been chosen before the alpha would come in and sit down. You got brave asked simple questions, how was his day, if he worked or not, he’d answer in short simple answers and you got that he wasn’t a talker, so you’d sit in silence, you learnt not to ask to do thing even though it went against every fibre of what was drilled into your head since your presentation. His scent was becoming familiar and you found yourself enjoying it, you found yourself sitting on the chair lying down so your nose was close to where his scent laid, left wondering how he’d act if he’d been younger or let all restraint go, he’d be rough you could tell by his exterior, the gruffness, hardness in his voice, he’s been through a lot you just don’t know what and it always left you wondering and wanting more.

Next part ->

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

I’m Stuck! | Ettore Crackfic

Summary: Ettore happens upon you, completely stuck in the doors of the Box and will help you out on one condition | Word Count : 1.1k~ | Warnings below the cut~

A/N: you should all completely blame @ewanmitchellcrumbs​ for this bc this is...something man (but also loved that u peer pressured me into this). I’m not even gonna put my taglist here, saving you all cos truly idek what to say lol, this is going deep on the masterlist <3 ily 

Warnings: terrible dialogue, porn-level sex, stuck!trope, ass slapping, p in v sex, creampie

Nobody told him that being stuck on a weird prison spaceship would make a man indecently horny 24/7.

 The last few times Ettore had ventured down to the Box, it had been occupied. So he was made to wait to have a wank.

 What decent man has to wait just to tug the flesh snake? he thinks, as he makes his way down the ladder, huffing a sigh, knowing that it’s likely to be occupied again.

 He swings his arms as he walks towards the device nestled in the corner of the dark hallway, his eyes on his feet. It’s been probably a solid…few hours since he last had a tug, so he’s likely to be pent up again.

 He stops right in his tracks when his eyes meet the funniest fucking thing he’s seen in a while.

 It’s just a body without a head and shoulders, an ass poking out of the Box’s doors. He barely even recognises her without seeing her face, but her annoyed sounds give it away.

 “What the fuck are you doing?” he laughs, probably the first genuine smile he’s cracked in a while.

 Her hands struggle with the sides of the automated door that are pressed against her middle, “What does it fucking look like! I’m stuck, you idiot!”

 A half-restrained chuckle leaves him, before it evolves into genuine hysterical laughter. The kind that makes tears cover his eyes and makes his stomach hurt.

 "Will you shut the fuck up and help me?" She says, annoyed. He can imagine how embarrassed she must look, though he can’t see her face.

 He wipes his eyes, composing himself, "You know what? I'm tempted not to. This is too funny"

 She grunts annoyed, still trying to pull her top half free from the doors. God, it’d be so easy to help her. Push one button and the doors would open. It’s like those horrible pornos he used to watch where some girl would be stuck head first in a washing machine or something. And her ‘step-brother’ would happen upon her.

 He bites his lip at the thought. And feels his dick get hard.

 Maybe there was an alternative to the Box.

 A more, fulfilling one.

 She tenses up notably, when he presses his clothed erection against her ass, “That better not be what I think it is”

 He laughs, “It’s certainly not a fucking rocket, I can tell you that”

 She pushes her hips back in an attempt to make him go away, but it only encourages him further as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of her sweatpants.

 “Hey, if you let me have some fun, I’ll help you out. Deal?” he says, taking advantage of the fact she can’t see the shit-eating grin on his face.

 She huffs, annoyed at the situation she’s been put in.

 Then again. Would it really be so bad? Ettore isn’t bad on the eyes. There are definitely worse prisoners to happen upon her in this horrendous scenario, she can’t complain much that it’s him.

 “Fine” she huffs, “But no funny business”

 He grins, “Funny is my middle name”

 “Yeah right, somehow I doubt tha-ow!” she’s cut off her sentence as he pulls her sweatpants over her ass and delivers a wide firm slap to the skin there, “I didn’t say you could do that!”

 “Too bad” he snickers, “Guess you can’t do anything about it”

 He drags two digits through her folds, finding her already wet. He can feel how she tenses up at his touch and can imagine how she’s holding her lips between her teeth, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing she likes it.

 “All this for me?” he grins.

 “You wish. I just used the Box, you idiot”

 He shrugs. A pussy is a pussy, he supposes. Better than his fist.

 He plunges into her, filling her to the hilt with his cock and moaning loudly when he reaches her end, completely burying himself inside her. God when was the last time he fucked a woman? He genuinely couldn’t remember. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of a woman’s pussy, he thinks. And now he’s had another taste of it, he really doesn’t want to let it go.

 But hey ho, he might as well have fun with it while he can.

 With most of Ettore’s sexual knowledge coming from porn, unreliable mates and a…not so great past, he doesn’t really know how women work. Just put your cock in a move it around right? There’s supposed to be an orgasm involved somewhere as well, but like fuck if he knows how to do that.

 If they can’t cum from that, how else are they meant to?

 Oh well.

 He fucks her quickly, he’s so beyond pent up and his hands venture higher to grip her waist underneath the shirt she’s wearing, pulling her body back onto his cock as quickly as he’s railing her.

 He can’t deny, it does feel damn good to have a woman.

 God, I sound like such a fucking virgin when I say that, he thinks.

 Ew. Feelings. No. Back to fucking.

 He can hear her small little whines and breaths echo into the Box, muffled somewhat by the door that is stuck around her ribs. And he can tell she’s trying not to be too loud.

 Was this the elusive orgasm? She sounds like a bird in pain or something.

 He feels his own orgasm creep up on him sooner than anticipated, having not wanked for a good few hours before this happened. So with a pitiful moan and the twitching of his hips, he cums deep inside her. He kind of hoped he wouldn’t cum too quick, partly because he was enjoying fucking her so much and also because he hopes she won’t make fun of him later for it.

 After he’s done and all tuckered out, the poor thing, he pulls his softening cock out of her, mourning the loss of her warmth for a moment, before tucking himself away. He feels his heart going so fast in his chest he has to brace against a wall to keep himself standing, with his eyes closed, replaying what just happened in his head, keeping it for the wank bank later.

 Almost so entranced he doesn’t realise that she’s turned her torso, so she can easily slide out of the door she was previously ‘stuck’ in, slipping out without so much as a complaint.

 She smoothes down her clothes with a content sigh and pulls her sweatpants back up over her hips, using her palms to make sure her hair doesn’t look awry.

 He looks at her, mouth open in shock, his dick still warm and his blood running cold. But she simply shrugs and gives him a smile.

 “Thanks. Washing machine next time, yeah?” she says before turning on her heel and sauntering off, looking far too pleased with herself. She leaves Ettore utterly speechless in the hallway next to the Box, with the doors now shut without her stuck in them.

 What. The. Fuck.

 Next time?

 It really is like those pornos.

dividers by firefly-graphics

[gatitties]

Heyyy, I was wondering if you could do Dad! Sanzu x teen! Daughter! Reader where she has an eating disorder due to not feeling any control over anything that happens in her life since Sanzu is addicted and stuff and Sanzu finding out and how he reacts and what he does to help her! Tyy

─Dad!Sanzu x teen!daughter!reader (platonic)

─Summary: your life begins to fall apart because of your father's addictions, but it's never too late to get back on track.

─Warnings: drugs, alcoholism, a little angst?

Part two

─ Your bad eating habits began just as Sanzu began with his addiction, a spiral of unfavorable events in which you found yourself dragged.

─ At first it wasn't that noticeable, since you were able to control some aspects of your life without a father present, however, it was too much pressure for a teenager.

─ You didn't have to be the one to pay attention to payroll and housing payments, to electricity, water, and food expenses, even though Sanzu brought an exaggerated amount of money, if he didn't know how to distribute it it wouldn't be of any use.

─ Not to mention that you had to take care of cleaning the house and the studies, counting on helping your father whenever he came home drunk.

─ Stress and lack of attention made you change all your life patterns, insomnia and nutritional deficiencies, you felt that you were only living so that your only family would not fade away, since despite everything you loved your father and you always tried to get him to at least leave the world of drugs, it was too late to leave crime, especially if it was his main source of income.

─ And honestly, Sanzu wouldn't have realized how emaciated you looked until some of your uncles, more specifically, the Haitani brothers, pointed it out.

─ It was a slap in the face for your father, all the drunkenness left his body when he came home and saw you awake just a couple of hours before your classes started, you were doing the homework that you had not been able to do because you were busy with other things.

─ You were scared when you felt him hug you, crying on your shoulder while he apologized between incomprehensible babbling due to his condition.

─ You consoled him with a few pats on the head, making it clear that you didn't hate him but the bad habits and environments he moved through.

─ He promised you to control himself, he promised you to take care of all those things that you shouldn't take care of at this age, he promised you to be a better father for you.

─ Although the change did not happen immediately, and the absence was still noticeable in the house, you did not have to control the money again to keep everything in order, you did not have to make the purchase on your own.

─ Sanzu began to leave notes around the house, since because of his work he couldn't always be with you, he made sure that you were well fed, if he had time before leaving, he would leave you breakfast or lunch prepared, if he couldn't, he would ask Kakucho to stop by the house to give you some food and ask you how you are doing in class.

─ He cut short his time in brothels and cut off some bad relationships to spend more quality time with you.

─ He made sure you rested properly, even forbidding you from doing tasks as simple as washing the dishes.

─ He doesn't want to see you as bad as that time again, it seemed like you didn't even think, that you were an automated robot to do essential things, the drug was not only consuming him, but also his loved ones and he didn't want to experience that again.

─ Of course, quitting an addiction is not something he can do overnight, but he would take the time he needed so that at least you could live a normal adolescence and life, away from all the shit he had at his back.

[yanpoetry]

College Classes for Yanderes and the Reason!

Ever wondered what skills a Yandere might need to truly care for their Darling while keeping them under absolute control? Whether you're a Yandere in training or just curious about how some of these intense personalities manage to weave their devotion and obsession into real-life skills, here's the rundown on the college classes that could make you the ultimate protector (or controller) of your Darling. These aren't just any classes- these are the practical skills you need to master the delicate art of love, obsession, and devotion.

1. Medical Science (Doctor or Nurse Program)

Why? Every Yandere needs to ensure their Darling is in peak physical condition, right? Whether it's tending to minor injuries, ensuring constant health surveillance, or subtly administering sedatives, a Yandere with medical knowledge can provide the care their Darling "needs" while keeping them dependent on their expertise.

Classes to Take: Anatomy & Physiology, Emergency Medicine, Pharmacology, Mental Health and Psychiatry.

2. Private Investigation and Surveillance Techniques

Why? You can't love what you can't keep track of, can you? A Yandere who knows how to investigate, track, and surveil will always know where their Darling is, what they’re doing, and who they’re doing it with. Perfect for ensuring no one—no one—threatens their perfect relationship.

Classes to Take: Surveillance Techniques, Criminal Investigation, Digital Security, Behavioral Profiling.

3. Criminal Justice & Personal Security

Why? Protection is at the core of a Yandere's job. You need to protect your Darling from threats—both real and imagined. And let's face it, a Yandere who's good with security can easily lock down any potential escape routes, set up surveillance cameras, and make sure their Darling’s environment is as safe (and controlled) as possible.

Classes to Take: Personal Security, Risk Management, Crisis Intervention, Firearms Training (optional but... effective).

4. Culinary Arts & Dietetics

Why? A Yandere knows that food is not just for nourishment—it's for control. Whether it's preparing meals laced with aphrodisiacs to increase the bond or sedatives to keep the Darling docile, culinary skills are a must-have. And nothing says "I love you" like a perfectly crafted dinner that keeps your Darling right where you want them.

Classes to Take: Nutrition, Advanced Cooking Techniques, Food Safety, Food Chemistry, Meal Planning.

5. Psychology (Therapist or Psychiatrist Program)

Why? To understand your Darling’s mind is to control it. Psychology classes will teach you how to read and manipulate emotions, break down resistance, and keep your Darling dependent on you for emotional stability. Plus, with psychiatric knowledge, you'll know just how to manage meltdowns, moods, and delicate situations.

Classes to Take: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, Behavioral Science, Abnormal Psychology, Psychopathology.

6. Electrical Engineering (Or just Electrical Technician)

Why? Want to keep your Darling locked in both physically and emotionally? Knowing how to set up cameras, monitoring systems, and even electric fences (if you’re feeling extra) will ensure you always know where your Darling is. Bonus points for making sure no one can ever interrupt your time together.

Classes to Take: Circuit Design, Home Automation, Surveillance Systems, Electrical Safety.

7. Engineering (Mechanical or Civil)

Why? For the Yandere who likes to design their Darling’s world literally. This isn’t just about making your Darling’s environment comfortable—it's about making it escape-proof. Whether it's building secure rooms, automated systems, or setting up barriers to keep your Darling from running away, an engineering degree gives you the tools to create your own perfect world.

Classes to Take: Structural Engineering, Robotics, Systems Design, Automated Systems.

8. Art (or Interior Design)

Why? A Yandere doesn’t just control the body; they control the mind. And what better way to keep the Darling in the right mood than to craft an environment that feels simultaneously safe and inescapable? The right design can manipulate emotions, create a sense of security while subtly reinforcing control. It's all about aesthetics... and power.

Classes to Take: Interior Design, Visual Arts, Architecture, Color Theory.

9. Surgeon (Trauma or Cosmetic Surgery)

Why? Want to make sure your Darling never forgets who they belong to? A Yandere with surgical skills can leave permanent marks, whether it’s through tattoos, cosmetic alterations, or more extreme procedures that make the Darling more physically reliant on them. These skills also come in handy when it’s time for “repairs” following an altercation or “accident.”

Classes to Take: Surgery (Plastic or General), Trauma Medicine, Aesthetic Surgery, Post-Op Care.

10. Therapeutic Massage & Physical Therapy

Why? Sometimes, you just need to show your Darling that you can heal their body and mind. A Yandere with physical therapy knowledge can not only care for physical injuries but also manipulate the Darling’s body into a state of dependence. Plus, there's something incredibly possessive about touching every inch of their body while “helping.”

Classes to Take: Massage Therapy, Body Mechanics, Rehabilitation Techniques, Neuromuscular Therapy.

[johntayjinf]

i caved in and bought renoise

also sorry tumblr i constantly delete this because i have way too many mixing hiccups to fix... was being too hasty haha

for a tracker with daw features like track mixers, vst support, automation, filters etc., it's pretty impressive what you can do with it. finally i get to do hq music without having to wrap my head around more conventional daws; i like the inconvenience of modern tracker interfaces myself, actually.

the first time i had to arrange for something hq like this, the biggest obstacle and wake-up call i had to face was the fact that uh, my mixing skills weren't up to snuff. fixing it was a nightmare. biggest thing i didn't know at the time of arranging was that sidechaining the bass was really important, otherwise the bass drum (kick) wouldn't be heard and be overpowered by the bass. this was pointed out to me by a server member of ours, lolwe. they've been mixing for about 7-8 years and counting so they understand it pretty well... and actually the final mix was made just this morning to actually fix the entire mix lol.

other more minor mixing issues were ironed out with eq-ing, which i have a bit of experience of, though it was pointed out by dinebon_, yet another (new!) server member, who was primarily a bassist. they also pointed out some unwanted dissonance i had put in for the arrangement.

i understand that mixing is pretty much subjective and everyone does it differently, but it should be worth pointing out that there are some rookie mistakes that someone like me _can_ make. i may be a good arranger but this mix wouldn't have sounded better if it weren't for people giving me advice and pointers on how to fix things. i definitely think that getting input from a variety of artists who have different strengths helps to put a mix together and give listeners a more comfortable listening experience, so from now on, i'll be at the very least, sidechaining my basslines with the kick for better mixing. sorry if this doesn't sound great for everyone lol

the vst i used on the other hand, has _a lot_ of technical problems.

i think we all here love the sound canvas series of midi synthesizers, but i unfortunately do not have the money to buy the physical hardware (yet), so i stuck to the roland cloud sc vst. god, it is a terrible technical mess...

obviously the sc is sampled beautifully, and is iconic in the video game music world, but how the hell do you mess up a vst _this_ badly? it has _inverted stereo_, which is, a fad from waaaaaay back when. i'm happy i got to simply fix this through audacity but good grief, man. i had to export each instrument one by one just so i could identify which instruments were cancelling themselves out on mono and which ones weren't. genuinely horrifying stuff. there are also the in-built low-end and high-end boosters, but what about the mids? i'm going to assume that it's just a feature of the time but god i honestly wish they added middle frequency knobs. not that i can't fix that with eq post-production, but i'd rather not do that (especially for the main melody) unless if the problem really is a big deal. again, i love the sound canvas, but i wish that the vst were better; the technical problems i had to work with ended up souring the experience. i wish people could actually fix it some day and turn it into something greater. i'll likely use the vst again but i also want to mix in other instrument and sample libraries as well!

in the meantime, this arrange gave me a crave for kirby again. i love kdl3 sm, it is my favorite game of the gb - snes era of games. idk how but jun ishikawa writes these intoxicating songs for kirby and i am just left to rot listening to them. they are waaaayy too good.

[achromatophoric]

Here’s a peak at my next inane animation project. I actually should be super busy with other responsibilities this week, so progress on this will be slow. 😬

Each of those little diamonds in the timeline (bottom panel) is a keyframe, in this case containing changes to layer properties like XY coordinates, rotation, and scale. Blank space between diamonds on a row indicates where the app will automate the transition.

Those diamonds in all over Wednesday’s face? The layer’s center point, manually tracked to actual Wednesday’s nose. 😅