#Free Foundation Inspection | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

foundationsolution1 · 5 months ago

Text

Concrete Caisson Foundations: A Comprehensive Guide by Foundation Solutions

When it comes to constructing sturdy and reliable structures, the foundation plays a pivotal role in ensuring long-term stability and safety. One of the most effective methods for supporting heavy loads and navigating challenging soil conditions is the use of concrete caissons. At Foundation Solutions, we specialize in providing top-quality concrete caisson foundation services, tailored to meet the specific needs of each project. In this comprehensive guide, we’ll delve into the basics of concrete caissons, their applications, benefits, and why Foundation Solutions is your go-to provider for exceptional foundation services.

What Are Concrete Caissons?

Concrete caissons, also known as drilled shafts, are deep foundation elements constructed by drilling a cylindrical hole into the ground and filling it with reinforced concrete. These structures are designed to transfer heavy loads from a building or structure to deeper, more stable soil or rock layers. Concrete caissons are commonly used in various construction projects, including bridges, high-rise buildings, towers, and other heavy structures.

The Construction Process of Concrete Caissons

The construction of concrete caissons involves several key steps:

Site Assessment and Planning: Before construction begins, a thorough site assessment is conducted to evaluate soil conditions, load requirements, and any potential challenges. This information is crucial for determining the size, depth, and number of caissons needed.

Drilling the Shaft: A specialized drilling rig is used to create a cylindrical hole in the ground. The diameter and depth of the shaft depend on the load-bearing requirements and soil conditions.

Installing Reinforcement: Once the shaft is drilled, a steel reinforcement cage is lowered into the hole. This cage provides additional strength and stability to the caisson.

Pouring Concrete: Concrete is poured into the shaft, encasing the reinforcement cage. The concrete is typically poured continuously to prevent the formation of cold joints, ensuring a uniform and strong foundation element.

Curing and Inspection: After pouring, the concrete is allowed to cure and harden. The caisson is then inspected for any defects or irregularities.

Load Testing: In some cases, load testing may be performed to verify the caisson’s load-bearing capacity and ensure it meets design specifications.

Applications of Concrete Caissons

Concrete caissons are versatile foundation elements suitable for a wide range of applications, including:

Bridges: Caissons provide the necessary support for bridge piers, transferring loads to deeper, more stable soil layers.

High-Rise Buildings: For skyscrapers and other tall structures, caissons offer a reliable foundation solution capable of handling heavy vertical and lateral loads.

Towers and Masts: Communication towers, transmission masts, and similar structures benefit from the stability and strength of concrete caisson foundations.

Marine Structures: In coastal and offshore construction, caissons are used to support docks, piers, and other marine structures.

Retaining Walls: Caissons can be used in the construction of retaining walls, providing stability and preventing soil erosion.

Benefits of Concrete Caisson Foundations

Concrete caisson foundations offer numerous benefits, making them an ideal choice for various construction projects:

High Load-Bearing Capacity: Caissons can support extremely heavy loads, making them suitable for large and complex structures.

Versatility: They can be used in a wide range of soil conditions, including soft soils, loose sands, and even underwater environments.

Reduced Settlement: By transferring loads to deeper, more stable soil layers, caissons minimize settlement and ensure the long-term stability of the structure.

Resistance to Lateral Forces: Caissons provide excellent resistance to lateral forces, such as wind and seismic activity, enhancing the overall safety of the structure.

Durability: When constructed with high-quality materials and proper techniques, concrete caissons are highly durable and require minimal maintenance.

Cost-Effectiveness: Despite the initial investment, caissons can be cost-effective in the long run due to their durability and minimal maintenance requirements.

Why Choose Foundation Solutions for Concrete Caisson Services?

At Foundation Solutions, we pride ourselves on delivering top-notch foundation services, including concrete caisson construction. Here’s why we stand out from the competition:

Experienced Team: Our team of professionals has extensive experience in designing and constructing concrete caisson foundations for a wide range of projects.

Advanced Technology: We use the latest equipment and techniques to ensure precision and efficiency in every project.

Customized Solutions: We understand that every project is unique, which is why we offer customized foundation solutions tailored to meet your specific needs.

Quality Materials: We use only the highest quality materials, ensuring the durability and longevity of our foundation solutions.

Customer Satisfaction: Our commitment to customer satisfaction is unmatched. We work closely with our clients to ensure their needs are met and expectations exceeded.

Case Study: Successful Concrete Caisson Project

One of our recent projects involved the construction of a high-rise office building in an area with challenging soil conditions. Our team conducted a thorough site assessment and determined that concrete caissons were the best solution for supporting the structure’s significant load requirements. We successfully drilled and installed multiple caissons, providing a stable and reliable foundation for the building. The project was completed on time and within budget, with the client highly satisfied with the results.

Contact Foundation Solutions Today

If you’re planning a construction project that requires a reliable and durable foundation, contact Foundation Solutions today. Our team of experts is ready to provide you with top-quality concrete caisson services tailored to your project’s needs. With our experience, advanced technology, and commitment to excellence, we guarantee a foundation that will stand the test of time.

At Foundation Solutions, we are dedicated to providing superior foundation solutions for all your construction needs. Trust us to deliver the expertise and quality you deserve, ensuring the stability and safety of your structures for years to come.

Tagged Foundation Repair, Foundation Repair Santa Clara, Foundation Solutions

#Foundation Repair #Foundation Repair Santa Clara #Foundation Solutions #residential foundation contractors #affordable foundation solutions #foundation contractors #commercial foundation stabilization #commercial foundations #concrete and foundation solutions #www.get.hmicompany/concrete/leveling #industrial building basement waterproofing fremont ca #center valley restoration companies #ramjack cost #foam underpinning #on the level foundation repair #residential foundation repair los angeles ca #foundation companies near me #free foundation estimates #foundation repairs los angeles #bay area solutions #signs house foundation problems #basement foundation repair near me #signs of crumbling foundation #foundation failure #underpinning contractors #foundation estimate #foundation repair commercial #engineered foundation solutions #foundation inspection bay area #beach city concrete raising

0 notes

foundationsolution · 7 months ago

Text

1 note · View note

incorrectbatfam · 7 months ago

Note

Why did the batfam drop "that" class (as in dropped in the first week)

Tim: *walks into class with coffee*

Teaching assistant: No food or drinks allowed.

Tim: *turns around and walks away*

———————

Helena: *goes into a lecture hall*

*ritual cult sacrifice is happening*

Helena: Oh I am NOT supposed to be here.

———————

Cullen: *walks into gym class*

Cullen: *sees dodgeballs*

Cullen: I'll just take the F.

———————

Barbara: *logs into her Zoom class*

Some dude: *inspecting his nostrils in the webcam*

Barbara: *logs out*

———————

Duke, walking in: This the AP Chemistry lab?

Teacher: It's actually organic chemistry. But feel free to join, it's just as fun.

Duke: Ah. Um... thanks, but no thanks.

———————

Bette: Hi, I'm here for the rock climbing camp.

Camp counselor, pointing: That rock. Climb it.

Bette: But that's just a regular rock.

Counselor: So?

———————

Instructor: I need a couple of really tough guys to push this car out the garage.

Harper: *rolls up her sleeves, muttering about sexism*

Harper: *pushes the car home with her*

———————

Professor: Welcome to Russian Literature 101. I assume you all completed the summer reading of War and Peace in its entirety.

Jason, packing up: Nope, even I have my limits.

———————

Steph: *walks into the classroom*

Steph: *sets up her little cooking station*

Steph: I can't wait for Home Ec.

Selina, the teacher: Welcome to Rogue Economics, where we study financial ins and outs of villainy.

———————

Teacher: Welcome to woodshop.

Damian: I want to make a sword.

Teacher: I'm afraid I can't let you do that.

Damian: Tt.

———————

Carrie: Can I sit up front? I forgot my glasses and I can't see very well.

Teacher: No, I already assigned seats.

Carrie: Okay.

Carrie: Bye.

———————

Professor: Welcome to Engineering Foundations without lab.

Luke: I thought there was a lab?

Professor: You have to register for that section separately.

Luke: Oh, alright.

Luke: *tries to sign up online*

*classes are full*

Luke: *sheepishly raises his hand*

Luke: Can I be dismissed?

———————

Dick: *signs up for a community art class*

Dick: Man, I can't wait to surprise Dami.

Instructor: Welcome everyone. Today we'll start with some basic figure drawing. I invited a live model to help us and he's very excited to be here.

Alfred: *waltzes in and drops his robe*

Dick: *throws his paintbrush away*

———————

Bruce: Here's your training schedule for this week. I optimized it given our Justice League mission on Saturday.

Cass: *hums*

Cass: One note.

Cass: *leaves*

1K notes · View notes

thedevilspearl · 2 years ago

Text

awkward moments during sex — younger bros

a/n: a continuation of funny and awkward moments that happen during sex with the brothers, but this time with the younger brothers (older brothers here).

tags: 2.5k words. female reader x satan (edging, orgasm control), asmodeus (no warnings), beelzebub (manhandling, breeding kink, mating press, minor injury) + belphegor (mild somnophillia). minors do not interact!

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍

your fingers slip nimbly through his blonde hair, gliding through the strands as if they’re made of the finest of silks. satan leaves an entourage of nips and bruises along your neckline, each of them planted with more desperation than the last.

his hips roll against yours; not fast enough, and not slow enough. and yet, he seems to find the perfect combination of pace and rhythm which drives you crazy.

it keeps you in limbo, with hope on one side and despair on the other. a purgatory of sorts.

he loves to torment you like this; his teething grin tells you that. and with his head buried in the nook of your shoulder, he peeps up only to appreciate the overwrought look on your face. your brows furrow in such a way that he doesn’t know if you’re about to cry, or if you’re about to cum.

you suppose that’s why he loves it so much — satan has always been fond of a good mystery, always wanting to discover what comes next in earnest. he’s enthusiastic to say the least.

his rutting hips grow a little more fervent, earning a most dulcet moan from your lips. he captures it in his own, swallowing it whole and locking it away deep in the ravenous hollows of his body. you fill him up in ways he never expected, and he can’t get enough of you.

“satan,” you whimper, evoking a sadistic smirk on his face. “please…”

“please what, my dear?”

the endearment in his voice alone is enough to make your guts feel like they’re being rearranged — though, his cock is doing a perfectly fine job of that already.

“i wanna cum!”

every one of your senses tosses you back and forth over a very thin line. one second, you’re free to fall into a sea of bliss, ready to be washed away by the intensity of the orgasms he brings upon your body. and the next, you’re tied up in the confines of satan’s control. he decides when you finish, not the other way around.

the nerves in your body are working overtime, analysing each second and anticipating whether or not he will give you what you so desperately desire. your brain is moments away from turning numb from the overload of feelings, both physical and emotional.

so much that the creaks of satan’s old, wooden bed go unregistered.

he thrusts harder, faster with the promise that he’ll soon be done with you, and you can finally succumb to the ecstasy you’ve been reaching for.

“satan!” you squeal, locking your trembling legs around his hips. “i’m close!”

“me too, baby,” he grunts with each rut and grabs your cheeks, making sure of the eye contact between you. “we’re almost there.”

he makes a point of driving his cock to the hilt of your pussy, and his strength passes straight through your body into the foundations of his bed. all it takes is one more thrust to break apart the timbers of the worn out wood.

the mattress beneath you softens your land as the bed collapses, but the impact from satan’s body falling on top off you knocks the air out of your lungs. his limbs dig into you and you groan.

“shit,” he mutters, and his hands fly to your face, inspecting your pained expression. “are you okay?”

“not really,” satan rises with you, arms delicately holding your frame until you’re sat upright on the wreck of what was once his bed. “are you?”

“yes,” he chuckles, leaning his head against you before planting a kiss on your cheek. “because the sex was literally bed–breaking. and no, because lucifer is going to have a lot to say about this.”

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒

asmo has tonnes of attention and he loves to give it away freely, just as much as he loves to receive it. you’re special, though. he makes a point of that every time your insecurities begin niggle away at you.

whenever he feels you drawing away, he’ll pull you closer than ever before, never letting you out of his sight. with all the fame and love, most people tend to forget how lonely a person can become. and that’s why he chose you.

you took that loneliness from deep inside and destroyed it in the palm of your hand. you filled all the void parts of his body and soul with your existence alone; no one thinks about the demons a demon can have, and all it took was one smile from you to scare them all away.

you helped him in more ways than one, so he never wants you to feel alone or inferior — you’ll always be his number one despite his fans and fame and ego.

he must say, though, he is quite proud of how far you’ve come. asmo had immediately picked up on those small traits of yours, the ones that signal you spiralling into the pool of your greatest fears. the nervous fidgeting whenever he spoke to other demons at school, the daylight dazing out when you find yourself lost in thoughts, and the sudden silence when he’s livestreaming to his fans, like right now.

asmo was fully prepared to pepper you with praises and kisses as soon as he finished — he’s more than willing to give you attention. but the fact is, you stole it already, along with his breath.

he freezes for a second before licking his lips and glancing back and forth between your teasing and his screen. he mumbles and stutters whilst trying to hide his growing erection from his fans. meanwhile, you sway your hips seductively behind the camera, slipping the silk gown from your shoulders to reveal your naked body.

“today was really fun, my darlings,” he waves and blows a kiss to the screen immediately. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

he taps his screen rapidly before jumping on you, grabbing your ass and lifting you. your lips intertwine in seconds and he drops you onto the mattress with out breaking contact.

“someone’s feeling bold,” he teases between kisses. “i like it.”

“mmh, i figured i should be more forward with my needs,” you say with a daring smile. “i think it seems to be working, don’t you?”

“oh, it’s working,” asmo expertly removes his clothing, and occupies himself in the meantime by kissing up and down your body, burning patterns into your skin until he meets your lips again.

“asmo… hurry.” you whine and he heeds your words, aligning himself with your soaked entrance.

“i love you, my darling,” he feeds you one last kiss before pushing in, and the two of you groan in unison. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, asmo.”

you gasp loudly as his cock stretches your walls, and your clench around his length as if he was made perfectly for you to take. you’re seconds away from screaming his name when—

knock, knock, knock.

you freeze and the knocking is followed by lucifer’s commanding voice.

“asmodeus, you might want to end your livestream before continuing with your… activities.”

“what?!”

scrambling, you gather the blanket against your chest, tucking your legs underneath to hide your nude body. this can’t be happening…

“oh, my,” asmo tuts. “it looks like i pressed the wrong button.”

he makes his way back to his ddd set up on his desk, dragging a blanket to cover himself from the hips down. you expect him to turn it off immediately, but instead he starts reading the flying comments that you’re too embarrassed to even think about.

“hhm, everyone seems to be enjoying it,” he looks to you with a seductively intriguing glint in his eyes. “what do you say, honey? why don’t we give them a show?”

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁

“oh my goodness, beel!”

juices flow from your pussy and his mouth finally parts with it after bringing you to your umpteenth orgasm. your mind is foggy from the highs and beel rises, hands roaming your body and placing you exactly how he sees fit.

the back of your knees rest against his arms and his hands sneak under your body, locking you in place. he has you folded in half, literally. his feet are planted flat in the mattress and his immense weight pushes you down further.

you haven’t fucked in this position before, but you have a feeling beel is going to destroy your needy cunt. you take a liking to this inner beast controlling him right now; he must be so hungry…

his lips are coated with your essence, the one that works like a spell, entrancing him in such a state that he can only think about how much he needs you.

this is going to be good.

the tip of his enormous cock prods at your entrance and eagerly pushes in. hissing from his girth stretching you out, you wonder if it’s possible that you’ll ever get used to beel splitting you open on his cock.

“ngh,” you groan gutturally, unable to form a decipherable sentence. “s–so big!”

“i’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he growls and pushes in deeper. “gonna fill you with my cum.”

he slams into you, and an unbridled yelp escapes you before he raises his hips, only to slam them back down again. each of his thrusts rattle the entire bedframe and you’re afraid the brother next door might storm in with noise complaints.

a cacophony of sinful sounds fill the room — beel’s animalistic growls, your wanton moans, the obscenely lewd noises coming from your bodies, and of course, the shaking of everything around you.

he’s fucking you so hard it might cause an earthquake.

the mattress bounces along with both of your bodies, fucking like animals in heat. his cock drags in and out of your pussy and you’re losing count of all the orgasms he’s forcing you to endure. you’re extremely sensitive from him eating you out for hours and you don’t know how long it will take for beel to feel some sort of satiation.

being both starved and gluttonous is a dangerous combination, and this version of beel is a prime example of that. he pushes your thighs down further, allowing himself to explore deeper and you feel another orgasm creeping on you.

and it’s only a matter of time before beel finishes too, and he’s going to fill you to the brim with his cum before using it to fuck you some more, pushing his seed deep inside you. you can’t wait for the day he finally breeds you.

“fuck, beel!” you screech, not caring how ridiculously desperate you sound. “come on, stuff me full with your cum! want you to knock me up!”

“gonna fill you up,” he grunts with every thrust. “i’ll fill you with my—”

“aah, i’m so tired… wait, what’s going on here?”

before you can look in the direction of the door, beel literally flips you over and flings your body to the side, unknowingly using his full strength which causes you to collide into the wall.

“what the fuck?!” you yelps, tears brimming your eyes from the impact.

did he just throw you across the room?

but you have no time to yell at him because belphegor is standing in the doorway with his eyes locked onto your naked body. your hands fly to hide your private parts, but you are stark naked and daring not to move.

meanwhile, beel sits nonchalantly on his bed, covering his crotch with the sheets. “nothing. nothing is going on.”

belphie doesn’t seem convinced, which doesn’t come as a surprise and he slowly backs out, closing the door behind him.

not a second after he leaves, you throw the dirtiest, most disgusted look of betrayal at beel. “every man for himself, huh?”

“i’m so sorry, mc,” he glooms. “i panicked.”

“panicked? you threw me across the room!”

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑

“belphie,” you whisper, shaking the shoulders of his sleeping form. “belphie, wake up.”

a grumble sounds from his limp frame, and you roll your eyes, shaking him harder.

“belphie, please wake up,” and with a sigh, you add, “i’m horny.”

again, nothing.

chewing on your lips in thought, your hands mindlessly graze over your body — your breasts, squeezing them with a gasp; your hips, grabbing them exactly where belphie loves; and your thighs, digging into your flesh with desperation.

you don’t realise your pitiful actions, nor the broken moan that escapes you until belphie rolls onto his other side, his back now facing you.

a pout forms on your lips and you grab him again, shaking him with all your might. but your frustration passes right through his sleeping form.

“belphegor, wake up right now! i need you!”

“keep it down…”

giving up, you flop onto the mattress beside him, unable to remove your eyes from his peaceful face. as unsatisfactory as his response is, your body still needs to be put at ease. and you can’t do that without some form of relief.

before you know it, your fingers slip below the line of your underwear and a shaky breath escapes you. you make work of yourself, thrusting your fingers in and out while imagining belphie’s cock driving hard into your pussy.

what you would give for him to open his eyes and plant his fingertips into the softness of your hips, holding you in place beneath his sweating body as he slams into you, his cock making its mark all along your walls.

“fuck…” you whimper, with a hint of his name among your quiet moans as you cum.

belphie has yet to move an inch, completely ignorant to you and your orgasm. so much for quality time. with your eyelids drooping, you allow yourself to sink into the sheets and pillows, carefully snuggling into belphie’s body as to not wake him.

an hour passes, or maybe two, possibly more and belphegor finally stirs. he yawns with little energy and rolls onto his back, but his arm stays wrapped around you, tucking you into his chest. all it takes is one look for that swirling sensation in his stomach to come alive.

he looks down at his crotch and sees that the problem goes further than so–called butterflies; his hardened cock stretches the material of his pants. morning wood has never been so persistent since you came along.

every remnant of sleep is gone in an instant and he’s on top of you, lips pressed against your neck and hands sneaking up your shirt, squeezing your hips on their way to your tits.

“hah…” small gasps and moans escape him as his hips jut against you. “what are you doing to me?”

he hates that innocent look on your face, so oblivious to the effect you have on him and to what he is doing to you. but that innocence is also what turns him on. god, he could just devour you whole like the sick demon he is and you wouldn’t know a thing because you’re far to busy dreaming something sweet.

it’s almost like he can smell it, the dream. or, a more logical explanation would be the sweetness between your legs. your glistening slit has him drooling when he pulls your panties away and he soon makes work of freeing his aching cock from his own clothes.

“mc,” he whispers against you with a kiss. “wake up, i’m horny.”

your eyes open slightly, and as soon as you register his hot, naked body above you, you roll over to the side with a huff.

“not now, belphie. i’m tired.”

well, he supposes this is what he deserves. it’s a taste of his own medicine, after all.

3K notes · View notes

a-d-nox · 8 months ago

Text

what your tarot deck thinks about the place you are living

grab your tarot deck! ask your deck "what do i need to know about my home?" below are some ideas of what the cards you get could mean.

the fool

first time home owner and/or going without an inspection or walkthrough (site-unseen buying)

the magician

fixer-upper and/or in need of repair

the empress

fertile ground and/or having a good foundation

the emperor

you definitely need to get an inspection and/or a picky/tricky seller (needing to be aggressive with bidding)

the hierophant

seek financial counseling, to seek with your realtor more seriously, and/or needing to call in a specialist

the chariot

get ready to move

the hermit

the house is older; you might want to look at foundation, electrical, and/or insulation

death

remodeling

the devil

definitely look at electrical and ac/heating elements (duct cleaning may be needed) - or even the dryer vent

the tower

this is a tear down and start from scratch project

the star

PLEASE look into your plumbing...

judgment

you might be in over your head with the cost of where you live; its time to move to somewhere a bit more sustainable

3 of cups

house warming

3 of cups rx

a controlling HOA and/or noisy/gossipy neighbors

4 of cups

having a lot of big ideas for what you want your house to be and look like, but not taking the action needed for it to get to that vision

5 of cup

money pit house that makes you feel disappointed/depressed

2 of pentacles rx

not having enough time for everything you want to accomplish with the house between life, job, and house renovations

3 of pentacles

talking with architects, someone who does custom building, and/or who an interior designer

4 of pentacles

having a lot of clutter and/or hoarding that damages the house

5 of pentacles

needing better insulation and/or to upgrade windows (plastic wrap in winter or something)

7 of pentacles rx

not working towards your vision in terms of housing expectations

ace of swords

making an offer on a house

2 of swords

having to make a difficult decision about what project to focus on

5 of swords

disagreeing with your family about what should happen with a project and having an argument

6 of swords

needing flood insurance

7 of swords

taking pieces from old projects or from what already exists

2 of wands

putting in an add-on

7 of wands

the place as a lot of unforeseen issues

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic" button if you want to see a specific pac/pile next. if you'd like my input on how i read a specific card or what i like to ask my deck, feel free to use the ask button for that as well.

click here for the masterlist

click here for more tarot & intuition related posts

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices

#astrology #astro community #astrology tumblr #tarot art #tarot witch #daily tarot #rider waite tarot #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarotdaily #house

205 notes · View notes

seth-shitposts · 1 year ago

Text

Kallus, Ezra, Sabine, and Kanan get put on what's supposed to be a purely diplomatic mission, a civil chat over fancy tea party. In kallus spent half of his prep time researching proper etiquette and the other half researching the people they're supposed to be dining with. Sabine helps him with the etiquette portion, having some experience. Kanan is tasked with the debriefing and being Kallus’s second set of eyes. They do a lot of preparation for this mission, while Ezra, with the assistance of either Kallus or Kanan, spent weeks creating a friendly foundation with the other group.

Anyway, the four of them are at the teaparty and right at the beginning, as they're sitting down, the host and his partner have to be pulled for an emergency.

Host: my apologies, lady and gentlemen, we must attend this emergency swiftly. While we're dealing with that, feel free to chat amongst yourselves and please, fill up on the snacks. There's plenty more the kitchen will be sending.

As soon as the host leaves, Kanan begins inspecting the tea carefully, as well as the pot.

Kanan: nothing seems to be poisoned concerning the tea. Alex, did you grab the eval- Alex what are you doing-

Kallus, who is already on his third berry macaroon: no one touch any of this. They used a diluted mixture of cyrptberry in the paste.

Ezra: how can you tell? I don't see any of the indicators you said to look out for.

Kallus, moving on to a tarte: I can taste it. It's usually quite distinct, but it's so far diluted with much more overpowering sweet fruits that it is drowned out in both colour and taste.

Sabine, reaching over to slap the sweets out of his hands: stop eating it!

Kallus, holding the sweets out of her reach: I'm fine, I have a resistance. Besides it's best to make them think we aren't on to them so we can at least by time to get out of here. Kanan, when they get back, tell them how delicious the cannoili is- the ricotta is perfect, tangy taste, dense texture. Say how you love the berry mix supplement.

Ezra, reaching for said cannoli: wait they made it the right way too?

Kallus, swatting at Ezra’s hand before he can touch the poisoned dessert: Ezra, don't touch. The ricotta has traces of Erami.

Kanan: Erami?!

Kallus: Sh! Yes, voice down.

Sabine: How are you fine with all the poisons you're putting in your body??

Kallus: I survived both lower levels of coruscant and ISB training this won't do shit to me-

Kallus: oh and Sabine when they get back, excuse yourself to the restroom. Chopper will be looking for you.

Ezra&Kanan: you brought Chopper?

Kallus: yes, who do you think has been keeping our gracious host too busy to tend to the guests he's trying to poison?

#star wars rebels #swr #star wars #alexsandr kallus #ezra bridger #kanan jarrus #sabine wren

105 notes · View notes

scotianostra · 11 months ago

Text

On February 25th 1888 a conference advocated the adoption of leaving certificates in Scottish schools.

Scotland has long enjoyed an international reputation as historically one of the best-educated societies in the world. The foundation for this reputation was laid in the 17th century and was the result of Calvinist emphasis on reading the Bible. Putting men and women in touch with the word of God was seen by the Scottish authorities and clergy as of paramount importance. To achieve this goal schools paid for by the Church of Scotland and local landowners were established in all rural parishes and burghs by an Act of Parliament in 1696. These educational establishments were run by the Church and were open to all boys and girls regardless of social status.

The democratic nature of the Scottish system so impressed the 18th century writer Daniel Defoe that he remarked that while England was a land ‘full of ignorance’, in Scotland the 'poorest people have their children taught and instructed’. The openness of the Scottish system ran all the way from the schoolroom to the university. A talented working class boy the 'lad o'pairts’ through intelligence and hard work and by utilising a generous system of bursaries was able to gain a university education, something largely unthinkable in England in the 18th century.

That’s not to say it was perfect on further inspection I found out that even in 1892 when all elementary and most secondary education became free, and scholarships were more widely available, few working-class children were able to take advantage of the opportunity. Only just under 5% of pupils attended a secondary school in Scotland in 1897. The real priority for children from working-class backgrounds was to find work and begin earning a wage.

For a small nation Scotland was particularly well-endowed with universities, boasting five in the 19th century - a figure which included Aberdeen’s Marischal and King’s Colleges. The universities were considered to be national, public institutions and, therefore, less elitist than Oxford or Cambridge in England. Because of this they were said to be more open to working people and, indeed, over 18% of the student population of Glasgow university in 1860 was from working-class backgrounds, quite a high number considering the low percentages of working class children who were educated.

The existence of a substantial number of working class students has given rise to the view that universities in Scotland were more democratic and based more on merit than the class-ridden universities of England. The wider implication was that Scotland was a less class obsessed society than England.

Again all was not as it seemed, and while we had a working class getting into University, the system was somewhat broken in a way. At Glasgow University in 1889-90, out of 225 students taking the junior Latin class 200 failed. The quality of university education in Scotland was generally poor and inferior to that offered in England. The low quality was mainly due to the fact that there was no university entrance examination and, therefore, children could enter the system as early as fourteen or fifteen, the 1888 act would possibly put this to rights.

As a result, philosophy, which had previously formed the core of the arts degree, was made optional. Students were also forced to compete for bursaries and this acted as an unofficial entrance examination. The setting up in 1901 of the Carnegie Trust Fund, set up by the great philanthropist Andrew Carnegie, provided a further source of assistance and by 1930 70% of university students in Scotland were receiving awards from the fund.

The numbers of students in higher education institutions increased from 4,400 in 1830 to 6,000 in 1900, to 10,000 in 1938. At Glasgow University, working-class students increased as a percentage of the total, from 18.6% in 1860 to 24% in 1910.

The period from 1900 to the outbreak of War in 1939 did not witness the same degree of change in the educational system as had occurred in the 19th century. However, there were important developments in the sphere of primary and secondary education. These changes did little to alter the class bias of education, but collectively they made important contributions to the

creation of an all encompassing modern educational system in Scotland.

Education in Scotland has been the subject of much myth-making as regards the openness of the system and the quality of provision. In the 19th and the first half of the 20th century, the educational system catered mainly for an elite section of Scottish society. Although the door to higher education was more open than in England, workers and their families, women and Catholics in general were excluded. For these groups, education was sparse and the quality poor.

Legislation gradually improved the access of all groups to better education, but it was only after the introduction of comprehensive education in 1965 that attempts were made to provide adequate standards for all children in Scotland.

#scotland #scottish #history #education

59 notes · View notes

azucarmorena97 · 9 months ago

Text

Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.7)

Pt.6 || Pt.8

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

Recap: "Jungkook," Your shocked expression is no match for the expression on his face: serious yet gentle eyes, lips parted slightly as he catches his breath, leaning lightly on the door frame. "What are you doing here?" You ask. He bites his bottom lip and just stares at you for a second, "You didn't come tonight." "You never came back last night," You say, not missing a beat. He nods, "I know..." You rest your hand on the door for a bit, considering whether or not to let him in. "Come in," You say finally, stepping aside to let him in past you. You suppose the rain can wait for you...

You close the door behind you, and then slowly turn. You're not sure why, but your heart is pounding- so loud, you can almost hear it. Can he? He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets. Usually, one might expect for a guest to look around, inspect the unfamiliar place- then again, his parents literally own the hotel. You don't even want to know how many of these rooms he's seen...how many of these rooms Lisa has seen...

"Please, sit." You say, motioning to the seat where your dress was previously draped on. He nods, footsteps silent on the carpet as he walks over. You sit across from him on the end of the bed, hands in your lap as you try desperately to think of what to say. What does one converse about with their fake fiance? "What happened?" He asks, finally breaking the silence. "I...I just was feeling sick so I originally said I'd wanted to rest." He shakes his head, "No, not just tonight. Even this morning, your mom rushing me to go home and rest- not even letting me say goodbye. You're lying." "I don't know what you want to hear, Jungkook," You don't mean to sound so harsh. "I want to hear the truth," He leans back, exasperated. The truth. Hm. Ironic.

"Who's Lisa, Jungkook?" You ask. You'd first asked him this question the other night after dinner, though this time, the question is really more of a statement. He sinks into the chair, "A friend." "Lie again." "I'm not lying," He looks away. "Keep lying, Jungkook. I hear it's the perfect foundation to a marriage." You cross your arms, looking away as well, letting your eyes stay on the rainy window. Maybe if you count every raindrop like sheep, you'll fall asleep and then wake up to realize this has all been one big dream. Wouldn't that be nice? To have been dreaming this whole time...to not have this giant weight on your shoulders. "Do you think these are signs from the universe?" Your voice is softer than a minute ago, more like you're talking to yourself than to him. He furrows his brows, "What?" "All of it..." You keep your eyes on the window, "Our first encounter, I literally slapped you. My dad and I got into the biggest fight we've ever had over this contract and..." "And what?" "And you never came back last night," You say, repeating your statement from when you'd first opened the door. "Y/n, I wanted to. I really did. I was just-" "Just what, Jungkook? Chopping it up with your ex-girlfriend?" "It's not like that, Y/n. I promise. She's just been having a hard time." "A hard time?" You snicker, "Jungkook, she's got you wrapped around your finger and you don't even realize it." "You don't even know anything about her," He snaps. The way he defends her...if only he'd heard what you heard. "Jungkook, you don't know her. Yesterday, I was in the bathroom and-" "You know what, I'm not gonna go back and forth discussing Lisa with you." The way he says 'you', like you're some random person. You. Maybe that's just what you are. A random person.

You look down, nodding silently. The silence between the both of you is so loud. Deafening, even. "Y/n, I- I'm trying here," He sounds almost as broken as you feel. Though you're sure the cracks run deeper for you; after all, you've sacrificed much more to be here than he has. Your entire life has been in preparation for your union with this guy, meanwhile, he's pining after the one who got away. "Yeah, I know," You clear your throat, "We don't have to pretend anymore, Jungkook." "Pretend?" He echoes, utterly confused. "Like we're friends or...whatever. Like we're anything more than two people obligated to our families. Shackled to each other by contract." "Shackled to each other...as that what we are?" His voice sounds more and more pained by the second, though it's like you're completely deaf to it. "From now on, we'll just do what we gotta do. We'll meet with our families, plan the wedding, and go through the motions. I'm sure in a year or two, Lisa will be waiting for you with open arms." Tears are beginning to form in your eyes, though you do everything in you to keep them in their place. You don't dare let them spill now. Not when you need to be your strongest. He nods, pursing his lips, "Well, alright then..." He gets out of the chair and walks past you, though as he's about to walk down the short breezeway leading to the door, he turns back to you, "I'll...see you tomorrow morning to start the arrangements for our..." His breath catches a bit. He's also determined not to break down here, "...the wedding." "Alright...see you tomorrow." You don't even look up until you hear the door finally click closed, and by that time, the tears have already begun pouring out of you- and you sit there cursing - and counting- every single water droplet on the window.

B/f/n comes stumbling in- her loud steps and giggles, an indicator of her drunkenness. She's never been one for grace when inebriated. Your back is turned to her; maybe if you're lucky, she'll assume you're asleep and try not to disturb you. "Y/n," She whispers. Maybe if you don't answer, she'll leave you alone. "Psst, Y/n. You awake?" "Mm?" "I'm back." Obviously. "How was it?" "Oh, it was amazing- I gotta tell you, this rich people stuff is just so...right for me," She sighs, "Ugh, and that Namjoon. He's really something special, isn't he?" "Yeah, totally," You try to sound normal, just sleepy enough for her to eventually stop talking. You can't bare to have a full blown conversation with her. Not after the night you've had. "You know, I honestly thought for sure you'd make an appearance at the banquet after all. I hoped you would, but then it started pouring outside so I guess it's good you didn't. Can you imagine? Getting all dolled up just to get rained on?" "Yeah, it's good I decided to stay..." "Anyway, alright. I'm gonna go to sleep. Sweet dreams," She says. "'Night," You respond, turning even further away so that she doesn't see your tear-stained face.

"Early bird gets the worm," Your mother's voice draws you out of your slumber, and you blink a few times. "What- how did you even get in here?" "Mmm..." B/f/n groans from right next to you. "One of the perks of being old family friends with the hotel owner," Your mom says smugly. Violation of privacy, you're sure, but who's going tell your mom that? She goes over to the black-out curtains and throws them open; the harsh sunlight is a reminder of the day ahead. "Mom, what are you doing?" You grab your pillow and press it down tightly against your face, wanting to block out the light. "Get up now. Both of you," She lightly shoves B/f/n's foot, which is hanging off the end of the bed, "We're meeting the Jeons in an hour and a half for breakfast. I will not be late on account of your laziness and your...hangover," She says, a disdainful look on her face at B/f/n's disheveled hair and makeup-stained face. Good Lord, she must've been really drunk last night- she didn't even get ready for bed; she slept in her undergarments, her dress haphazardly tossed onto the seat...the seat where Jungkook sat last. You shake your head, trying to get the image of him out. You don't want to spend a second more thinking about him than you have to.

You both drag your feet around the room, lazily getting ready; you throw on a pair of light blue jeans and a nice sweater, adorning yourself with a nice simple silver necklace and small silver hoops. You can't be bothered with frivolous decoration; not when your heart is in shambles. B/f/n, on the other hand, has scrutinized every single piece of her breakfast outfit, as she hasn't shut up about Namjoon all morning. "Y/n...you okay?" Her questions comes as a bit of a surprise, "Yeah, why?" "You just seem really quiet this morning," She shrugs. "Oh, yeah- my head's just hurting a little bit, that's why." "Oh right, the concussion," She says, leaning into the mirror to put on her last bit of lipstick before you all leave together. "Yeah, the concussion." Good timing of that concussion; you might not have known what other excuse to use, otherwise.

"F/n," Mr.Jeon greets your dad with a bow and a warm hug, and Mrs.Jeon follows suit with your mother, and then with you. Jungkook tries to smile, though you try to look at him very minimally. Of course, you're careful to keep your tone polite and cordial. No use in making a fuss in front of your parents. Everyone sits down, including B/f/n and Namjoon who are sat next to each other, leaving just you and Jungkook to take your spots. You clear your throat as you both settle into your spots. You're sat so close, you can feel his body warmth.

"We're so happy you're all here," Mrs.Jeon says. "Ugh, us too. We've wanted to visit for so long and just haven't had the chance to." "Well, what better time than the present, right? Especially now that our two kids are entering into the most holy covenant," Mr.Jeon cuts in, throwing his heavy arm on Jungkook's shoulder. Jungkook is taller than both his parents, but he always manages to look so much smaller than them. "Of couse- we're so happy for you two," Your dad says, looking over at you. You completely avoid eye-contact with everyone, opting to bow instead. Jungkook does the same. "Now, let's talk wedding!" "Oh yes- so, I was thinking of an elegant forest theme. Maybe like uhm- what was that movie, honey? The one with the monsters?" Your mom asks, turning in your direction. "Twilight." "Yes! That's the one- have you seen that movie?" "No, I don't think I have," Mrs.Jeon responds. "Oh it's really good, we'll make time. Anyway, there's this wedding scene-" They go on about the planning, and then it's like everyone goes off into their own world; your fathers, B/f/n and Namjoon, and then there's just the two of you. It so often happens this way. The world just dances in circles around you and you both just have to sit there and wait for the spinning to stop.

"How...how are you?" Jungkook asks, palms already sweating. You make him nervous. "I'm fine, thank you. Did you...get home alright?" "Yeah. Well, it was raining pretty hard so I just crashed in one of the suites." "Oh, right..." You take a sip of your water. "I'm sorry about how things went last night, Y/n. And about the night of the party-" "It's okay, Jungkook. Really. Nothing to be sorry about," You finally look at him- really really look at him- and you notice the bags under his eyes. The tired expression on his face. Even so, he's so handsome... "We just gotta get through this, okay?" You say before going back to avoiding his eyes again. "Alright..." "Okay, yeah I think four weeks should be good." "Me too- might be a tight schedule from now until then but the sooner the better right?" Mrs.Jeon says in agreement with your mother. You and Jungkook snap your heads in their direction. Only a month? So soon? "Will that be enough time?" You ask. "Oh, of course. We'll have it here at the hotel," She reassures, "Only our closest family and friends on both sides and a nice, intimate reception." You and Jungkook both exchange a quick glance. "That's...soon." Jungkook breathes. "Well, honey- no one here is getting any younger, so." It's interesting how this is supposed to be yours and Jungkook's wedding, but no one has even asked for a single opinion from either of you. Not a color request, favorite flower, flavor of cake... Though maybe that's better- it'll make it easier to...dissociate from it all. "What are we even doing here?" Jungkook mutters, though as per usual, you're the only one to notice.

"Okay, so the groomsmen will be Seokjin, Taehyung, Hoseok, Yoongi, and...Felix," Mrs.Jeon sips on her coffee, eyes glued to a small notebook she's showing your mom, "Do you have your bridesmaids in mind?" She asks you. You shruh, "Uh yeah, B/f/n is my maid of honor and a few friends from college will be my court- although, we don't have a fifth." "Oh, that won't do..." She mutters, deep in thought, "Aha! Jungkook, why don't you ask Lisa to fill the spot?" Jungkook looks at you and then back at his mom. You're much too stunned at that suggestion to even react- surely she knows Jungkook snd Lisa were together at one point, right? And if she does, why suggest her? Of all people? "Uh, no. I don't think that's a good idea- she doesn't even know Y/n." "No, but she knows you. Come on, she's your best friend- I'm sure she wouldn't mind." "Seriously mom, I'll just remove Felix. It's not a problem, he'll understand." "Jungkook, don't be ridiculous. Just ask Lisa." "But mom-" "Jungkook." Her stern tone makes both you and Jungkook shrink. This is your nightmare.

You're practically catatonic for the rest of breakfast; your mind far removed from your present suffering. In fact, B/f/n has to tap you on your shoulder for you to even realize everyone is standing and ready to go. You feel trapped. Utterly and hopelessly stuck, and all you can do is just wait for it to pass. All of it. "Thank you so much for breakfast, it was lovely," Your mom says, hugging Mrs.Jeon. Your fathers shake hands and B/f/n gives Namjoon a "casual" hug. While they all say their goodbyes, Jungkook steps closer to you. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I'll try to talk her out of picking Lisa. I'll- I'll look for someone else." "Don't bother," You say, your voice like a flat line. "What? Why?" "Because none of it matters anyway." "What are you talking about, of course it matters," He says, looking into your eyes and trying so hard to connect with you- but you're not here. You're somewhere else- somewhere so deep within yourself that nothing can bring you out. "Good bye, Jungkook."

You're quiet on the ride home, though no one seems to notice. When you get up to the room, all you have the strength to do is throw your clothes on the floor and crawl into bed. You've felt a sort of...stuckness all your life; unable to really move forward or backward- but right now, you feel the most stuck that you've felt in years. Barely able breath. How will you be able to pull this off? You've only just truly realized that you're marrying someone you know nothing about...

How do you know he won't just go running around behind your back at the drop of Lisa's hat? Could you really handle that? "Y/n..." B/f/n's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn to look at her, "Hm?" "What's going on?" "With...what?" "You've been weird since we saw you at the hospital yesterday. I thought it was because you were just tired or something but I don't think that's the case anymore." "I-I don't think I know what you mean." "Y/n, come on. Just tell me. I came all the way here for you. I wanna help." You chew your bottom lip for a long while, though she doesn't waver; she leans back on the dresser that thee TV is sitting on. She's never been one to back down. "The other night at his birthday party...I couldn't find him. I waited for a long time and...there's this girl. Her name is Lisa- I'd noticed her picture on his Instagram during my first night here in Seoul. At the time I didn't really care- I was curious to know more but I didn't wanna ask because it was a pretty old picture. When we went to dinner, I asked him about her and he got all weird and said she was just a friend. And then at the party, I just asked Namjoon flat out." "And...?" "He's been in love with her for years and they dated for a while...and she dumped him." "She dumped him? Oh God," She lightly slaps her forehead. You both know exactly what that could mean. Your eyes start to water, "Yeah...apparently he wasn't mature enough for her, so she dumped him. But the problem is that later on, I went to the bathroom and I heard her and her friend talking about the whole situation. She said that she didn't care about our arrangement and that she could have him whenever she wanted after he inherits the company." "That bitch," She hisses, "Why didn't you tell him?" "I was going to but then I saw him dancing with her. I saw them with my own two eyes- she was laughing all hard and they looked like- like..." You look down, "Like a real couple."

"And then last night after you left, I got ready and was gonna go to the banquet but then he came and I let him in and... I tried to tell him about Lisa but he just defended her. He doesn't want to hear what I have to say about her..." The tears are gently dropping from your eyes now, and you don't even try to wipe them, "So, I told him that we'd just act like what we are- business partners and nothing more. Clearly that's what he wants anyway. His heart is still with her and it was completely pointless and stupid of me to think otherwise." "Y/n..." B/f/n's voice is soft as she walks over to sit next to you, "I'm so sorry..." The softness in her voice coaxes for your tears to finally spill over. "What are you gonna do?" "What can I do? It's clear that all that's expected of me is to just sit there and let everyone else decide for me and him." "It did seem like everyone was just making decisions..." She agrees. "Yup..." You sit in silence for a moment, just mulling over those odd moments at dinner.

You look around the room: items of clothing litter the floor of your room, the desk on the opposite wall is full of papers from when you were going over the contract... "I need some air." "Okay, want me to open the window?" "No, I mean- I mean I need to go home." "...home? Like HOME home?" "Yes. I need to get out of here. It's too much." "Oh- Okay, I suppose I can get myself packed up again so we can leave tonight-" "No, don't be silly. I can go back alone." "Y/n, come on it's not a big deal. I wanna be there for you-" "B/f/n, no. You came here to have a good time and I want you to enjoy your time." "But how can I enjoy my time without you?" She asks, her face contorting into a pout. "Oh, I can think of quite a few ways," You smirk, causing her to blush. "What are you implying, Ms.L/n?" "Oh come on...Namjoon's pretty handsome, isn't he?" "I hadn't really noticed," She lies, a smile spreading across her face. "Whatever," You chuckle, though it quickly fades as you mentally return to the original subject, "I just need air..."

"It's only for two weeks," You say, leaning back in your chair. "But I don't understand why, Y/n," Your mom says exasperatedly, "We only just got here." "You can't just leave us and B/f/n twiddling our thumbs here in Seoul while you're off doing God-knows-what," Your dad says sternly. You let out a deep breath, "Oh trust me, there will be no sitting around- mom and Mrs.Jeon are already going at top speed planning everything. You hardly even need me here- and B/f/n knows already and she's supportive of my decision. She'll be perfectly fine." Your dad remains in pensive silence, though your mom continues in protest, "You're the bride, for crying out loud. How can we plan it without you?" "I'm sure you'll manage," You say with an eyeroll. At this point, your mom's just finding reasons for you not to go. "Y/n-" "Mom...You know I wouldn't be doing any of this if it weren't because I really need it. I need to clear my head, I need to get myself mentally prepared." "Mentally prepared for what!?" "M/n," Your dad gently rests his hand on her shoulder, "Honey..." Immediately, your mom is quiet. Your dad turns to you, "If you feel like this is something you really need to do then...go. We'll be here." Instantly, it was like a weight lifted off of your shoulders. "We'll tell the Jeons at dinner tonight. You get two weeks and that's it." "Yes, of course." You lean over and hug your dad, "Thank you."

You sit anxiously at the dinner table, looking around at everyone sat inside the restaurant- it's the only way to keep yourself from staring at the doorway. You'd all arrived to the restaurant a bit earlier than the Jeons. Both your parents are on their phones, checking emails, you assume. B/f/n leans over, "You okay?" She's always been able to read you like a book....or maybe you've just always been bad at hiding how you feel. You nod, "Yeah...I just need to get it over with." A few minutes go by (though, of course, it feels like an eternity), and the Jeons finally arrive. "So sorry we're late," Mrs.Jeon says with a bow. "Oh, don't worry about it." The parents all greet each other, and finally, you get a full look at Jungkook... even in your anger, he somehow manages to make your heart flutter.

Food and drinks have been served and everyone is in conversation again, much like they'd been at breakfast. Jungkook sits there quietly, occasionally bringing his glass of wine up to his lips to take a sip, his fork stabbing into bits of food that never actually gets eaten. He's mentally absent and you can't blame him, as you're feeling quite the same way. Or at least, you would be if you weren't so nervous about bringing up your trip. You glance at B/f/n, who looks back at you, giving you a soft and reassuring smile. Alright, it's now or never.

"Uhm, I have something I'd like to share with the table," You pipe up. Everyone immediately stops their conversations to give you the floor, including Jungkook, who is looking at you for the first time tonight. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you practically feel your face burning under Jungkook's gaze. You clear your throat, "So, I have some things I need to wrap up back at home and with the wedding so close, I think it's best to go back and take care of that and then come back in time for...everything." The silence remains as Jungkook's parents exchange glances between themselves and your parents. Jungkook, however, stays staring at you. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, but he definitely doesn't look pleased. "But there's...so much that needs to be done," Mrs.Jeon says gently, clearly quite confused. "I know but you and my mom seem to have everything pretty much covered. I trust you both to do a fine job." "But the fittings for the dress," She adds. You nod, "I can send my measurements to you and come back to do the alterations later."

"Jungkook?" Mrs.Jeon turns to her son, who has yet to say a single word. "She says she's got things to do, let her do it," He says dryly. Mr.Jeon furrows his brows at him, clearly annoyed by his callousness. "Look, it's just a short trip. Everything's fine, Jungkook and I are fine," You lie, though they seem to buy it, "and we'll continue to be fine. When I come back, we'll have the wedding and it's smooth sailing from there." "Well, alright then. We'll take care of everything," Mrs.Jeon smiles, lifting her glass. You pick yours up and tilt it toward her, "I know you will."

From there, the conversation picks back up and it's as though you'd said nothing at all. Before you know it, dinner's over and you're all on your way out the door and on your way home...well, not home...not yet.

When you and B/f/n get back to the room, you both debrief for a bit as you get ready for bed, peeling and cleansing away the day from your skin- if only there was a similar process for the mind. Jungkook didn't say anything to you after dinner, not even a goodbye, and maybe that's for the best. No need to make anything more difficult and once you're back home, you'll find some clarity about the situation.

You try closing your eyes but you can't will yourself to sleep. Soft moonlight spills in through the open curtain, drawing a series of straight lines across the walls- the frames of the tall windows to the balcony. If it weren't for B/f/n's gentle breaths, you'd swear you were completely alone right now...not just in this room but even in the whole world. Your mind can't even conceive people existing beyond these four walls. Not tonight.

That is, until you hear your phone softly vibrate against the nightstand. You squint your eyes against the harsh light, quickly unlocking it when you realize it's a text from Jungkook.

𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔: 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛. 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔.

You're frozen for a minute, your eyes stuck on the text message as you debate on whether or not to go. Why should you? He said absolutely nothing at dinner and now he wants to talk so he expects you to just come to him? Screw him.

You slowly walk into the bar, your mind in complete opposition to the fact that your body walked you down here to meet up with Jungkook. Your heart is beating and your legs feel like Jell-O as you walk over to where you see him sitting. He's leaned back in his seat, staring at the glass in his hand as he whirls the contents around and around gently. "Hey," You say, your voice small and mousey. You wish you could act nonchalant but you really just don't have the energy to keep masking your feelings.

"Hey," He says, his voice equally small. You sit down next to him and motion for the bartender to get you the same as Jungkook. Silence lingers in the air between you for a few more minutes, though it's not exactly awkward. It's more of a...pensive silence. Neither of you knows what to say, you suppose. Best to stay quiet until you've sorted yourself out.

"Why did you come down?" He finally breaks the silence. You furrow your eyebrows, "What?" "You heard me. Why did you come down?" "Because you asked me to?" You say, annoyed at his tone. "That's it? That's the only reason?" "Is there something else you want to hear?" You look at him, crossing your arms over your body. He shakes his head, "No. Just curious..." "Jungkook, what is this? Why'd you ask me to come?" "Because I wanted to see you, Y/n."

His answer makes your cheeks heat up and you quickly turn your attention to the glass that the bartender just sat down in front of you. Another long silence, though this time, your mind is racing for what to say, "Well, I'm here." "Not for long." "Jungook, I don't really understand you...I don't get what game you're playing." "Game? What game?" "At first, you're a complete asshole to me, then you say you're willing to give this a chance, then you're defending this girl who, by the way, was saying some really nasty things about you on your birthday. Are you still in love with her? Because I'd like to know about if you are." "I'm not..." "Very convincing," You roll your eyes, "I don't even know why I'm here if you're not gonna be honest with me." You abruptly hop off the bar stool and start walking out. This was a mistake.

As you've only just made your way out of the bar room, you feel a hand wrap around your bicep, gently pulling you back, "Y/n." You turn to see Jungkook there, a solemn expression on his face as he begs, "Don't go." "Jungkook, all I want is the truth. I'm...I'm still going to marry you, regardless of what the truth is. I'll- I'll still go through with it...all of it. I just don't want to be the only one in the dark about how you feel." He shakes his head, "There's nothing to tell, Y/n. All of it is done and over with. Please believe me." He lets go of your arm and instead, reaches for your hand. His gentle grasp makes you your body relax a bit, "I don't want you to go." You don't acknowledge what he's just said. You didn't even take a single sip of your drink at the bar and yet, you feel as though your head is spinning. Emotions are whirling in your heart and when you notice more people passing by the both of you to get inside the bar, all you can think about is how much you just want to get out of the hallway. "Can we talk somewhere more private, please?" "Alright," He says, immediately looking left to right as he thinks of where to go. "Come on," He says, pulling you gently behind him and leading you into the elevator.

The elevator ride is quiet, the both of you stuck in thought- the only sound is the loud ding of the elevator with every passing floor. Finally, the doors open up and he takes you down the hall and around the corner to a room. "Are you okay if we talk in here?" He asks right before sliding the key card in. You nod, "Yeah, that's fine." He swipes the card and opens it up to a big room- much bigger than yours. It's decorated similarly to yours, though it has more pieces of furniture, as well as a small kitchenette and a bar of its own. "Wow...this is nice." "Yeah, we don't really rent this one out since it's a little outdated. I'm the only one who uses this place regularly," He says, tossing the key card onto the counter. He motions for you to sit on the small couch in the living room area, and then he walks over to the bar, "Beer?" "Sure." He walks back to you, handing you the chilled bottle with the cap already off and sits down, leaving just around two feet between the both of you.

You take a sip of your beer, grimacing slightly at the pissy taste. You've never been a beer person but you need something to calm your nerves. "I'm scared too, you know..." He says in a low voice. "Of...what?" "A lot of things...what if we get married and you regret it? What if I screw this all up and it all goes to shit. No marriage, no company, nothing left..." "I'll be there with you. You don't need to carry it all on your shouldrs." "In theory, I know you're right. I know I don't have to...but I've been living with this for years. That's why I was initially so resistant to all of this," He says, motioning to you and himself, "I was in a loop of self-sabotage for so long...it's hard to embrace a good thing." "I can understand that...but if you don't break that loop, how is anyone gonna be able to come in?" "Some times I feel like I'm too ruined to not mess it up again later." "Well, let's say you do screw up again, I don't think you could screw things up that badly." He snorts, "I already almost have a few times...don't have too much faith in me." "You talking about the rehab?" You ask. He tilts his head at you, momentarily stuck on the fact that you knew about that, "Ah, I see Namjoon's been filling you in." He nods bitterly, taking a swig of his beer. "Only because you wouldn't." "Y/n, that's not exactly small talk." "I don't want small talk..." You're not sure what comes over you to cause you to do this, but you reach over and lift his head up so that he's fully looking at you, "I want to know the man I'm marrying."

For a moment, you both sit there staring at each other. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and you notice his chest heaving slightly, his breathing picking up as well. In this moment, you know you both feel it. That thick tension that's been lingering in the air from the moment you first looked at each other- anger, curiosity, bitterness, longing- it's here in this room right now. Every logical thought your mind would normally throw at you to stop you from indulging, is completely crushed under this desire...the desire to know one another fully. Somehow, the two-foot space has closed to an inch. So close, you can feel the heat radiating off of his face and onto yours; his eyes almost completely closed. He's ready...are you?

A/N: Sorry that this installment took so incredibly long. I had a lot going on in my personal life so this story sat untouched in my drafts for a long time. Hope you all enjoy! And don't be shy, send me what you wanna see happen with Jungkook + Y/n later on in our story <3

#bts #jungkook #suga #jin #namjoon #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook x reader #jimin #kookie #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts angst

39 notes · View notes

hiddenincommand · 28 days ago

Text

The Ceremony of Dressing – Ritualizing Power

For the Alpha, dressing is far more than a mundane necessity; it is a ceremony, a deliberate ritual that transforms his body into a vessel of authority and his presence into an undeniable force. Every button fastened, every crease aligned, every piece of his attire polished to perfection is an act of control, discipline, and dominance. The process is not hurried—it is purposeful, exacting, and imbued with meaning. Dressing becomes a ritual of power, a daily affirmation of the Alpha’s supremacy over himself and his environment.

This essay explores the profound significance of dressing as a ceremony of transformation, its historical roots, and its role in projecting the Alpha’s commanding presence.

The Historical Roots of Dressing as Ceremony

Throughout history, rulers, warriors, and leaders have approached the act of dressing as a sacred ritual. In ancient Rome, the donning of the toga praetexta symbolized political authority and moral virtue. Medieval knights meticulously assembled their armor, each piece representing their readiness for battle and their place within the chivalric order. In the imperial courts of Europe, ceremonial dressing was a highly codified process, reflecting the wearer’s rank, status, and power.

For the Alpha, this legacy serves as both inspiration and mandate. His approach to dressing mirrors these traditions, transforming the simple act of clothing oneself into a demonstration of control and refinement.

The Ritual of Dressing

The Alpha’s ceremony of dressing is a meticulous process, performed with the precision and gravity it demands. Every item is chosen and prepared with care, each piece contributing to the projection of his authority. Nothing is accidental; every detail is intentional.

The Steps of the Ritual:

1. Preparation of the Garments

Before the ceremony begins, the Alpha’s attire is inspected and prepared. His uniform, impeccably tailored, is pressed and free of imperfections. Boots are polished to a mirror-like gleam, belts and leather straps conditioned to exude their rich luster. Medals and insignia are arranged with exacting precision.

2. Layering of Authority

Dressing begins with the foundation—flawless undergarments that ensure comfort and functionality. From there, the Alpha layers his power: breeches tailored to emphasize his physique, shirts starched to a crisp finish, and jackets adorned with insignias that declare his rank and achievements. Each layer amplifies his commanding presence.

3. Fastening Control

The Alpha takes his time with buttons, zippers, and belts. Each fastening is deliberate, a reminder of his mastery over himself. The click of a belt or the snap of a glove is more than sound—it is the sealing of authority.

4. Final Adjustments

Standing before a mirror, the Alpha inspects himself. Every crease is smoothed, every medal aligned, every hair in place. His reflection is not merely an image—it is the embodiment of perfection and dominance.

5. The Ritual Concludes

The ceremony ends with the final touches: gloves pulled taut, a riding crop or swagger stick grasped firmly, a monocle adjusted to precision. The Alpha is no longer a man preparing for the day—he is an unstoppable force, ready to command, conquer, and control.

Dressing as a Statement of Power

The Alpha’s attire is not just clothing; it is a weapon, a tool of psychological domination. His uniform, medals, and accessories project an image of unyielding authority, silencing dissent and commanding respect without the need for words.

The Impact of the Alpha’s Attire:

• Inspiring Awe

Subordinates are struck by the perfection of the Alpha’s appearance, awed by the attention to detail and the sheer presence he exudes.

• Commanding Respect

His uniform is a badge of rank, a declaration of his right to lead. It leaves no room for doubt as to his authority.

• Intimidating Opposition

The sharpness of his attire, from the gleam of his boots to the precision of his medals, serves as a visual reminder of his dominance. To face him is to face perfection, an enemy that cannot be shaken.

Sir Cedric’s Reflections

“When I stand before the mirror, fastening the final button of my jacket, I am not merely dressing—I am preparing for war. Each piece of my uniform is a weapon, each accessory a declaration of my authority. I do not wear clothes; I wear command, dominance, and discipline.

Every crease, every polish, every medal tells a story of mastery. My reflection does not show a man—it shows an Alpha, a force that bends the world to his will. Dressing is not a task; it is a ceremony, a moment of transformation that elevates me above all others.”

Dressing as the Alpha’s Daily Commandment

The ceremony of dressing is a ritual that reaffirms the Alpha’s power each day. It is an act of control, a declaration of dominance, and a reminder of his perfection. Through this deliberate process, the Alpha ensures that he is not just seen—he is felt, feared, and revered. Dressing is not preparation for the day; it is the first conquest of the day, the foundation upon which all other victories are built.

11 notes · View notes

karpowskaja · 24 days ago

Text

Too long ago...

I want to use more ideas like that to write without rereading and correcting it for two weeks. I want to have fun while writing and I had. So last night I thought: What if Elgar'nan had someone he cared about before he was imprisoned. Someone that wasn't Mythal or the other Evanuris.

He stood there, surrounded by the sound of rustling trees and the silence of the night. Golden eyes stared down long, overgrown paths that had once shimmered in the moonlight. Someone - probably those humans or his own slowly dying kind - had long since stolen the lyrium crystals that had adorned the paths, lighting them up during the night.

He walked silently through the long-forgotten gardens. If he hadn't visited this place so often eons ago, he probably wouldn't have recognized any of it. But he had. To one side stood the crumbling walls of his temple, the once glorious monument built by his own followers. It had been a place where he had found worship, devotion, and something else he knew he had lost the moment Fen'Harel had imprisoned him.

Fen'Harel had forced him to endure the darkness, with only thoughts of vengeance and anger to keep him focused. Even when the first of the Evanuris had begun to wither and die, after their Archdemons had been killed by those pesky Grey Wardens in the past, he had endured. Now he was free again. Too late.

His robe billowed behind him as he continued his silent walk through the wilderness, stopping under a tree that hadn't stood here when this had been the sacred gardens of his sanctuary. Then, no trees had been allowed to block the sun - his gift to his children.

It had been the duty of his followers to tend the gardens, to keep the flowers blooming in vibrant colors and filling the air with the sweet perfume of ancient times.

Now the trees cast shadows around it, and he could barely find any kind of flora he recognised. There was nothing left of the glow and the sweet scent. No trace of the elves who had once lived here. He'd already inspected the interior of the ruin, but whatever had survived the centuries of abandonment - and whatever hadn't been stolen by the Tevinter savages thousands of years ago - had been lost in other ways. Either it had crumbled to dust, or it had become a decorative piece in some home of the creatures who considered themselves above the Evanuris. Above him.

Elgar'nan stepped deeper into the underbrush, following a trail he only remembered, but which had long since disappeared. When he found the crumbling foundations of the well that had once graced this garden, he stopped. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stepped closer.

He had not thought he would find traces of their past here. And yet, as he approached and the silvery moonlight illuminated the engravings in the ancient stone, he couldn't help but shake his head. Memories came back of a time when this fountain had been glorious, its water providing a background noise that added to the atmosphere of the temple's life.

He would always remember that night, and the mere acknowledgement of the memory brought a pain to his chest that he thought had long since died.

He stared down at the water that filled the ruins of the well. It reflected the dark blue sky above, just like her eyes.

Yes, there had been a time when this temple had not only been the sign of his divinity and power. It had not only been the place where his faithful followers had thanked him, worshiped him, and loved him. It had been her home, and she had been his. His Vhenan. A long time ago.

Despite himself, he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the well and looked over to where he had first seen her. She had been tending the flowers - her hands nimble and so delicate. Her skin was like the finest marble, her hair a silvery blonde. He hadn't noticed her at first - he had never paid much attention to the lower inhabitants of his temple. But she...

He looked up at the moon, feeling bittersweet emotions swirl in his chest. Sadness at losing the one thing he had never wanted to lose. Wrath about the fact that Fen'Harel had destroyed the only pure thing in Elgar'nan’s existence without even knowing. And yet, memories of soft hands and sweet words remained - words that had been truly caring. Words that had never demanded anything, never touched him with anything but the purpose of deep devotion, acceptance, and unconditional love.

Until her, he hadn't believed in such a thing. He hadn't thought it could be something a divine being like him was allowed to feel, to have, or even to be capable of. But he had. Once. A long time ago. Traces of it he still felt. Whispers of memories buried deep beneath the anger, the weight of being imprisoned with only despair and madness for company.

He reached for a wildflower that grew near the well, its leaves reflecting the silver moonlight. He plucked it and looked at the white flower, the shape of it. It was not a flower he had ever seen before. In a way, it was just like her.

Memories of her soft voice came back, like a whisper carried by the trees, offering to help him with his anger. Back then, he had been stunned by the realization that he didn't have to lash out, hurt, or destroy to let the anger subside. She had shown him gentler ways to temper that searing anger.

But now, the rage tore at his insides, relentless and consuming. Without her, he couldn't let it subside. He would need her to silence the rage, to quench the fire within.

But she was gone.

Like this temple. Like his glorious empire. Like the future he had promised her. Only anger and vengeance remained.

He stood and the flower fell back to the ground, left to wither now that he had torn it out. Left to die, like the memories in his heart, for there was no place for them anymore.

It had been too long.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #elgar'nan #arlathan au #what if #lost love #soulmates #Maybe I will write more #evanuris #Elgar'nan headcanon #dragon age headcanon

12 notes · View notes

fantasticsandwich · 3 months ago

Text

Stockholm in Oslo

au/short story from a series I have

tw: suggestive content, implied drugging

You keep running the numbers, re-tallying the sums, but all the signs point to the fact that somehow, you're barely scraping by. Well, more accurately, Kit is. Not you; you don't pay a dime to live here. In this tiny apartment at the heart of Oslo, your days begin atop crumpled sheet in your shared bedroom. The other side of the bed is always cold. The floors are cold on your bare feet, and the halls are arctic maws spitting you out into the kitchen, where an even colder breakfast awaits you in the fridge.

Shoving articles aside, you find a plate balanced atop another. A sticky note attached to the top designates it as 4 AM's omurice. Kit finds cling wrap redundant, so instead of removing a filmy sheet, you set the other plate aside and dig into the meal, too tired to bother to heat it up. What have you done to be so exhausted? Yesterday, you'd completed your household chores early, so your day consisted of channel surfing and intermittent naps, snacking on prepared meals. Even if Kit insists you don't lift a finger, you're ashamed that you can't even bother to wash the dishes most days.

As you sit and spoon cold leftovers into your mouth, your phones pings, alerting you to an email, from someone from another life. Kiko must be doing well these days. From the message's contents, you learn that he has a foundation now, offering aid to underprivileged minds in Haiti. He has contacts across the globe to make their dreams possible in the same way you almost let yours. If only you hadn't fled the States, then Spain...

But it isn't too late for you; he dangles an opportunity like fertilizer, bonemeal to your mincemeat soul. One of his dream-making contacts wants your creative spirit to thaw on a residency where it all began. A summer-long retreat to the wilderness of New York, just you and a handful of peers, if you can still call them that. Maybe if you could, you would've jumped at the chance, but now, the prospect of leaving your new life and return to a fragmented version of the old is obscene.

Can you leave for that long? Survive or thrive? Kit won't be there to make your breakfast. You'll dine on instant meals, peel the cellophane, then wrap leftovers in cling wrap. In your search for something beautiful to paint, you'll trail a bird to your demise.

Your finger hovers over the reply button. Before you can even dream up a draft, your phone pings again, this time, with a message from Kit. He wants you to take inventory of the produce. He'll go shopping on his way back from the office today. Maybe you can ask to join him.

Yawning, you close out of your email. Somewhere, in a corner of your mind, the concept of a draft lingers, waiting to be ensnared by cobwebs. Drawing up the notes app, you inspect the barren pantry and hastily type a list. Before you can permit your tiredness to make you forget, you promptly take a screenshot and send it to him. Bored again, you fish a feathered fan from a cupboard beneath the sink to do some dusting, but there isn't much surface area to clean. In the city center, everything is compact, apartments included. An Ikea bookshelf houses an array of trinkets that gather dust.

Staring at those exotic destinations, you think about going outside, but the winter is far too cold. The room is cold, too. Shuffling to the thermostat, you crank up the heat. Feet padding across the frigid surface of the laminate floor, you venture to your shared bed to swipe the comforter. With it bunched into your arms, you plop onto the couch. When the day began, you'd thought about all the productive things you'd do, but even washing the plates leaves you feeling groggy.

The remote has been consumed by the cushion. When you finally wrangle the device free from its plush depths, you mindlessly flick through channels, all spluttering in a language you haven't even began learning. Still, you see glimpses of the world you're hiding from. Some type of festival is going on downtown. Do you want to go? Before you can decide, you hear the lock turning, the jingling of keys. The door slides open and gently shuts. You hear the sound of shoes being toed off, then the impact as they hit the hardwood floor.

His voice calls out to you, beckoning, "Love? Where are you?"

Summoned from your linen doom, you arise as a gauzy-eyed phoenix. With the blanket draped over you like a shawl, you peel off the couch enough to turn and face Kit. Hefty bags dangle from his arms. Ignoring their weight, he approaches in three quick strides and snaps over at the waist to press a chaste kiss to your lips. Winter frost clings to him faintly, like a prostitute's perfume. With him leaning over the couch, you grip the canvas handle for purchase, fingers tracing each fiber.

He only goes shopping on Fridays. Ever proud to advertise, he only uses bags with your designs. Imprinted with your most recent surrealist portrait of him, this one is fresh from the manufacturer, still stiff and fresh. Your usual vibrant colors are muted and monochromatic. You painted him blue, the same color as the walls and sky. In the city center, there is only sky and its reflection on the window.

A waxy slip of paper juts out from one of the bags. Snatching it, your eyes widen as you scan the list. Only fresh produce and ingredients, your limited Norwegian tells you. Kit has made your household one of ingredients only. If you want a snack, you'll either have to muster the energy to make it from scratch or call upon him and squander his precious free time for your own selfish desires.

"How much are you spending on groceries?"

He quickly snatches the receipt back. "You don't need to worry about that," he pointedly says, crumpling the paper into a ball before tucking it into his pocket.

"But I'm hardly contributing anything to help cover the costs," you lament. Flopping over, you crush your ribs against the couch's bony spine. "I only get a few commissions here and there. I'd make more with a part time job."

You miss feeling like you were doing something with your life. Instead, you've become a glorified maid, and even then, Kit does all the shopping, deals with the paperwork, and prepares the meals most days. Your energy expenditure isn't enough to warrant lunch, so you've never touched the stove. The seasoning rack is coated in a layer of dust. Damned Kit, who has a palette becoming of someone from the British Isles. Your days are blander than his food. Your soul is empty. Simply existing is brutal and unfulfilling. Sure, you're able to pursue your hobbies. Yet while you were never a social butterfly, you sincerely miss interacting with others. You never thought you'd be one of those people, longing for those hazy college days, when you worked three jobs, only to have to take out another loan to pay your remaining fees. In a sick way, you wished you were still stuck juggling it all, barely managing to scrape by.

Unable to find the pit from which these sentiments arose, you'd never tell Kit about these strange beliefs. He works too hard for you to be ungrateful. Instead, you'll pretend to enjoy your bleak days, how the world beyond the window is a perfect, unchanging snow globe. His steady hands will ensure your vision is never clouded. Here, you are safe and protected.

From who? From what? You no longer remember. You resigned your fate and faith to him long ago.

"When you add it all up, I'm sure it covers our groceries," Kit quickly dismisses. His voice tapers as he disappears into the kitchen. You hear rustling bags, then cupboards slamming as he crams the dry groceries into place. You don't like how he organizes the pantry. He stacks boxes as if he's trying to make paper skyscrapers.

Briefly, you envision that drab outcrop as a gleaming skyline. Another diorama. Made from his toil, of course. If you can manage to sneak out of his grasp during the night, you'll reorganize the pantry, reaching your arms into that thin space, fingers brushing the edges, prying into the dark to dredge sense of the chaos.

"Could," you correct as he shuffles into the living room. "You only let me pay if we go out together, and only if it's a place I want to go."

"It's teatime," he says, setting a saucer down on the coffee table. His thigh rubs against yours as he settles onto the couch beside you. He tries to press the porcelain into your grasp, but your fingers skim the side. The heat seeps into your chilled fingers, restoring warmth.

You wrinkle your nose. "Too hot."

"Alright, but drink when it cools. You've been having trouble sleeping."

Your several micro-naps and incessant exhaustion beg to differ, but you don't want to tell the breadwinner about your pitiful qualms. "And you have trouble letting me do things for myself."

"Your money is yours. If you feel bad about it, then just get me flowers. Or keep painting for me. Paint me. You never used to do that."

Who or what else could you paint when he is all you see? He has become the anchor to your ship, your sky and horizon, the bringer of dawn and daylight. You'd go mad without him. You're going mad at his side. He floods your head with sweet, gentle delusions.

"But I want to be useful, too. I could... I could make and sell more art," you offer. Cold and unfeeling, you'll transform into an industrial machine. You need to be useful before you break and are discarded. "Or I'll apply for a residency program. Kiko sent me the information to one, and I'm sure I'll get it if I apply. In the meantime, I could get a part time job bagging at a supermarket or even cleaning—"

"Y/n," Kit sharply says, bringing a hand to rest on your shoulder. His touch is gentle, almost a caress. He slides his hands down to cradle your elbows. In a single, swift motion, he draws you closer until your chest presses against his. You feel his heart beating in tandem with yours. "If this is something you want of your own volition, then by all means, pursue it. But if you're trying to find a reason to leave me, then I simply cannot allow it."

Your voice sounds leagues, lifetimes away, like you're a ship rotting at the ocean floor.

"It'd only be over summer," you say, shivering as his hands clamp over your thighs. "I'll come back to you."

"You have to," he says. "I fought to have you at my side, so don't you know that I'll do anything to keep you here? If money's such a concern, then let's review our budget."

"But..."

What if you're just a burden? What if having you here is ruining his life? Keeping him from being successful? You couldn't even support yourself working two jobs back home. You crashed and burned, and in the fallout, paralyzed your taste for life. Kit is still young and lively. He should be out on a Friday night, not consoling his pathetic girlfriend because you can't cope with your own incompetence.

Fortunately, you don't need to speak. He hears the implications in your implicit silence.

"Y/N, I chose to make you my priority. If that means that I need to pass on things, then I don't care as long as you're taken care of. Missing a few meals here and there won't do any harm, but if I don't have you..." Drawing in a sharp breath, he pins a piercing gaze to you. "To me, that simply isn't an option. You came here, knowing I'd be taking care of you as long as you stayed."

"But did you know I'd be such a mess?"

"Yes. And I still accepted you because I want to love you. Now, you'll just have to keep your end of the deal and let me do just that."

Tears sting the corners of your eyes. Kit has already done so much for you. Removing you from that wench's clutches, rescuing you, sweeping you off to a foreign land where the painful memories of what she did couldn't follow. He is permitting you to be free.

"But..." Blubbering, you wipe at your face, unable to meet his gaze, "how could you still want me? I can't ever repay you for everything you've done for me. I'd still be in a terrible place if it weren't for you. I wouldn't be here without you. That's impossible to repay."

Kit sighs, fingers ghosting across your cheeks to wipe away your tears. Once satisfied, they dance lower and lower, slipping down your sides, eventually intertwining with your frostbitten hands. His smile is innocent, but the thoughts it conjures should be enough to condemn you to hell. You feel an unwelcomed heat flood your face, a gentle lurch in your stomach when his head plops onto your shoulder, hair tickling as teeth rake across your neck. The low rumble of his sultry tone echoes against your collarbone, melodic with your heart as a metronome.

"It isn't about transactions, but if it makes you feel better, I'd be more than glad to show you one way."

His words rouse something fearsome in you, sending a chill down your spine. But you look up and accept that manic gaze, the pleading, linen-clad look. Your eyes are circled by rings of cotton as you caress his cheek.

"I love you."

Pleasantly surprised, Kit momentarily relents control as you kiss him, but not for long. Pressing you down into the cushions, he quickly regains it, looming over you. Your heart thumps furiously in your chest. His eyes bear into yours as his hand crawls beneath your shirt, up your torso.

"Good. Wanna see how badly I need you?"

an: again, unfortunuately not cillian, but I'm a bit out of practice and needed to write something. and although i love writing him, cillian isn't the yan i'm most fond of, so i wrote about kit, a character from my other series. the lore is heavy with this one, so i won't explain it, but i hope that doesn't stop y'all from enjoying it.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere male #pigmo #x reader #reader insert #tw dubcon #suggestive #cw suggestive #cw dubcon

10 notes · View notes