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twoidiotwriters1 · 10 months

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Actions they unintentionally do that turn on Ace... literally (Portgas D. Ace x GN!Reader)

Words: 1,188

Warnings: Cursing, suggesting smut. Hot, hot, hot Ace

A/N: If you have One Piece Requests... please send them! -Val

It’s been a while since they joined the Whitebeard’s crew. The good thing is that Y/N adapted very well with everyone on board, the downside was the extreme comfort they seemed to feel with certain member.

Ace knew immediately that they were innocent and naïve, Y/N’s face gave them away, and as time went on and he interacted with them, it only confirmed his theory.

There is nothing wrong with this; on the contrary, Ace finds them a breath of fresh air. They’re always excited for adventures, Y/N‘s a dreamer, a caring pure soul. The real problem is him.

He’s very proud that Y/n’s regained the confidence taken away, and he feels warm to know they feel safe by his side. But that doesn't stop his mind from thinking things... that he shouldn't be thinking, not about Y/N.

For example: when they sit on his lap.

Part of the crew is in a bar, drinking and laughing while they tell funny stories. At some point, Y/N arrives and finds the group. When they get closer, everybody greets them and offers them alcohol. As their drink arrives, Ace’s crewmate looks for a place to sit. Although Marco and Sachi offer their chairs, Y/N’s already have their preferred spot in sight. The pirate goes straight to Ace and sits on his lap with a hand around his shoulders for support.

It's not the first time they've done this, Ace has no problem with this, but he wasn't expecting it at that moment, let alone in front of the others.

Y/N rests their body against Ace's bare chest as they follow the conversation and swing their legs. All the while, Ace keeps his arms at his sides, itching to touch Y/N’s legs or grab them by the waist. He tries to keep his mind occupied with the conversation instead of the warm body on him. The very idea of getting hard seems terrible to Ace. All this happening under the curious gazes of the crew.

Sleeping with him:

At first, Ace heard about Y/N’s sleeping problems because of the constant nightmares, so he offered to sleep on the same bed to reassure them. Now his body tenses up when he hears the door to his room being opened, footsteps approaching and the movement of the mattress.

“Are you awake?” Y/N whispers. He wants to act asleep but... “I know you’re awake,” they giggle.

He turns to Y/N, ignoring the need to caress their cheek, to hug them and run his lips and tongue all over their body, to tell them things he shouldn't, to slowly remove each garment and—

“Ace!”

He blinks out of his daydream. “What?”

“Your fire!”

He frowns and the smoke reaches his nose, he turns and notices the flames peeking into his room. “Shit!”

Ace manages to put out the fire and returns to bed.

Y/N chuckles. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t see look up. “Uh, yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Noup.”

“You wanna talk about it?” He shakes his head. “You wanna go back to sleep?”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N snuggles closer. “Good night, Ace”.

And his ultimate downfall: caressing or pulling his hair.

Is it a kink? He’s not sure, but it did affect him. The worst part? Y/N does it all the fucking time!

One morning, he’s dreaming that he’s fucking Y/N like he’s always wanted. It feels so real, the touches, their moans, the heat... That’s why he doesn't notice that he’s grinding against their ass in the real world.

Y/N wakes up thanks to the movements and the feeling of something hard against them. They open their eyes and try to figure out what’s going on.

“Ace?” despite the strong grip on their waist, Y/N manages to turn around. “Ace!” Y/N shakes him by the shoulders, but he keeps moaning. They try their best but it’s always difficult to wake him up.

Then, they move Ace's body face up and sit above him. “Ace, wake up!” Y/N shakes him harder.

“W-What?” He opens his eyes startled, and he slowly comes to his senses. Y/N is on top of him, his hard cock, his body dripping in sweat. “What!?” He hears his heart pound in his ears.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asks him with concern.

“I’m…” His eyes travel all over their body. “I—”

“Were you having a nightmare?”

‘Holy shit’, he thinks. His body screams for sex and they think that he is having a nightmare. He can’t take it anymore. He doesn't know what to do.

Ace sits abruptly and Y/N yelps, feeling his boner. They frown and think that maybe they’re wrong, but…

“Ace, what’s going on?”

“You’re so naïve,” he says without thinking.

“Sorry?”

“No!” He grabs them by their waist. “I mean… I—” he sighs.

“Just tell me,” Y/N whispers.

Ace looks into their eyes. “You’re innocent and naïve and… there’s nothing wrong with it! But I… I can’t take it anymore!”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re killing me!” He laughs nervously. “Just think about it— you’re on my lap and I’m sure you can feel my cock.” They blush at his vulgar words. “Shit, now you’re uncomfortable— I… I’m sorry, Y/N,” he sighs, dropping his head on Y/N's shoulder.

“W-Why do you say that?”

“You must think I’m a pervert for thinking like that about you,” he explains.

“What do you think about me?” Ace frowns and comes out of his hiding place. “I-I mean, like what things? What kind?”

At that moment, Ace realizes that Y/N’s body’s telling him something too. They’re tense, skin flush, eyes on his lips and their hands… are caressing the back of his neck, dangerously close to his hair.

“I want you,” he answers. “I want… all of you. I want to be beside you, near you… inside you,” Y/N squirms at the last word, and he grunts. “You have no idea how much I’m starving for you and how I can't control myself when you sit on my lap, when we’re in bed— fuck, when you play with my hair...” he feels lighter telling the truth.

“Like this?” Y/N asks caressing the hair at the back of his head.

He tenses again and his length twitches.

“Y-yeah,” he almost moans. “When you pull it...” they do it and he grabs them harder. “Wait,” he stops, going back to reality. “You want this.” It’s not a question.

They look down. “I’m sorry for doing those things… it wasn’t my, I-I’ve never...” he grabs their chin gently to make them look at him.

“It wasn't your actions that frustrated me, Y/N,” he caresses their cheek. “It was the fact that I couldn’t do anything about it. Touch you like I wanted and needed, not without your permission.”

“Y-you have it.”

He smirks. “Are you sure?” They nod. “Use your words, I need you to say it. That this is what you want,” he leans closer, his nose tracing Y/N’s jawline.

“I want you, Ace. I want all of you too,” Y/N moans quietly when he kisses their neck.

“You won’t regret it,” he promises.

#twoidiots writing #one piece x reader #one piece #one shot #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas ace smut #ace x reader #one piece x you #one piece ace

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leebrontide · 1 year

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Best Practices for Communicating about the Climate Crisis

Communication Tips

Keep it local. Focusing on bringing local solutions. You can lean into community pride to help motivate community action. And while climate change may have global impacts, emphasizing local climate impacts and benefits of local policies will resonate with more people, and feel more approachable/doable.

Stay focused on solutions. While the consequences of climate change are dire, focusing too much on how bad things could get tends to make people feel overwhelmed, hopeless and cynical – which doesn’t help them get or stay involved. Try not to give more than 1 or 2 examples of local consequences of environmental issues, then dive into how this work provides solutions.

Include your audience. Instead of using “I” or “you”, talk about what “we” need to do to turn things around. This includes using “we” when you’re talking about the government, when appropriate - after all, the government is meant to be for and of our communities.

Lean into moral values. Most people agree that we have a moral responsibility to protect our environment’s health, stability and safety for future generations, so don’t be afraid to talk about that or other values that resonate with you about this work.

Focus on tangible gains. Things like “the economy” are important, but they don’t feel as immediate as combating rising costs, protecting their and their neighbors' health, and saving money. Paint them a picture of the prosperous, stable, livable city we can create.

Project a can-do attitude. A lot of people are feeling let down by leadership at all levels, and feeling hopeless and helpless about making change. So, it’s important that you show that you and others are out here willing to really do the work - and there’s room for them to join in. Also, be sure to talk about successes.

Don’t waste time on opponents. We can't get everybody on our side. However, there are enough people that are excited about the prospect of living in a safe, sustainable community, where everyone has clean air to breathe/water to drink and a family-sustaining job that we don't need to convert opponents.

Encourage investment. Rather than framing the changes we want in terms of the drudgery of having to adapt to a bad situation, try to build excitement in the possibilities we can invest in - together. Everyone likes to feel they’re getting in on an exciting, cutting edge investment. Relatedly, be wary of statements that make people feel like they’re going to lose, rather than gain, options. Remind people that our current systems are not only unhealthy, dirty, and dangerous - they’re also ineffective.

Create immediate avenues for action. Once you’ve built up some excitement about what we can do, give people an immediate step they can take to help. Give that positive energy somewhere to go and show them how good it can feel to get involved.

Focus on what you want people to do, not what you want them to stop doing. This helps people envision change, and makes them less nervous.

Communicate respect. Keep away from stereotypes and harmful words. And when you talk about other people, be careful not to put words in their mouths.

Remember, you're not just combating ignorance, you're combating hopelessness, helplessness, and burnout!

#climate crisis #climate change #green energy #activism #climate activism #Earth Day

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 1 year

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Annotations | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Just fluff! & a mention of child trafficking, but hey, what's different in the CM universe?

Author's note: I'm finally writing a season 1 Spencer fic! Wanted to add a bit of Elle in this one 'cause I do miss her! I actually also just love this one... I think it might just be my favorite Spencer Reid fic I've ever written.

Words: 3K

After a well-deserved day off, the BAU team was back at the FBI headquarters, ready to tackle another case. Spencer had enjoyed his Sunday at home, just reading and playing chess all day long, but he was happy to be back at work, too.

He was the first one in the office and decided to head into the breakroom for a nice cup of coffee. As he stirred in his mountain of sugar, he turned and took a seat at the table. The breakroom table was almost completely empty, save from the single book that was on it. Intrigued by the lonely item, Spencer reached for it. ‘Looking for Alaska’ it read on the black cover just above the cartoon of a daisy.

It was a book he hadn’t read yet but after quickly reading the back, he was quite interested to read the whole book. Seeing as Spencer had a little bit of time, which was probably enough for him to finish the entire book, he started reading it whilst enjoying his morning coffee.

As he went through the book, Spencer noticed the annotations in the margins and the highlighted quotes. Something he’d found even more interesting than the book in itself. There was so much you could learn from a person by just reading their margin notes and even their handwriting.

From the handwriting alone, Spencer could tell a lot about the owner of this book. The letters were of average size with a lot of space between them. They even slightly slanted to the right. They were well-adjusted and adaptable, they enjoyed their freedom and didn't like to be overwhelmed or crowded.

Whoever this person was, judging from their notes in this book, they were the smartest and most interesting person ever in his opinion.

“Everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow.”

They had underlined the quote and wrote “Everybody dies – Death is inevitable” in pink. Spencer fought the urge to write his own thoughts right next to it. This was someone else’s book, not his. He couldn’t ruin this person’s book with his scrawny handwriting.

Besides, his coworkers started to file in and JJ told everyone to gather in the briefing room. He left the book on the table and joined his coworkers on the case instead. Though his mind was preoccupied with the details of the case, it kept going back to the notes in the book.

He didn’t even know who this person was and still, he couldn’t keep them out of his mind. It even got to the point that he got weirdly excited when the book was still there when he returned from the case two days later.

This time around, he decided to write his own thoughts in the margins. They had used a pink pen, which allowed him to use his usual black one that made his notes stand out from theirs. It felt weird writing in someone else’s book, but he felt somewhat of a connection to this person reading through her annotations.

They had gotten halfway through the book, Spencer noticed. The annotations stopped when the ‘AFTER’-part started. Which was where Spencer decided to stop, too. He could read the entire book before their morning briefing, but he didn’t want to spoil the person reading this.

Besides, he secretly hoped the book was there again tomorrow with more notes for him to read.

Luckily for Spencer, the next day he got in, the book was still there. Or, upon further inspection, he found that the book was there again. The person had continued reading and continued annotating. When he went back to the notes he wrote down, he noticed more pink words.

“What’s your Great Perhaps?”

With a soft smile, Spencer grabbed a notepad with the FBI logo imprinted on it before scribbling down the answer to her question. There wasn’t enough space in the margins for all his ramblings, so this was his best option.

Once he was done, he stuffed the A6 page between the book in the right spot before continuing to the next part where new notes in pink lettering had appeared. They had underlined and highlighted a couple of quotes, written down some thoughts.

Spencer actually found her notes more interesting than the book itself.

For days, Spencer spoke to the book’s owner through their notes. At first, it was ‘Looking For Alaska’ for a couple of days. Even though they had already finished the book, they kept communicating through their notes. The next Monday, they had left him ‘Little Women’ by Louisa May Alcot. As they kept going back and forth, they kept changing the book they left. From old classics to poetry books to new releases, the two of them had their very own book club, even if he didn’t even know who this person was.

“What are you doing?” Elle asked when she entered the breakroom where she found Spencer hunched over yet another book.

It had been ten weeks since Spencer had first given his thoughts on Looking For Alaska and now he was reading ‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’. Or, in Spencer’s case, he was re-reading it. It had been Spencer’s favorite book since forever and it made him wonder if she knew that.

“Oh, I’m–” he let out a chuckle. “I-I guess I’m kinda book clubbing with someone I have never seen before.” He looked up to find Elle staring down at him with an amused smile on her face and an eyebrow quirked. Spencer chuckled before turning back to his book. “Yeah, I know how it sounds. But she’s been leaving me books in the breakroom and we’ve been leaving each other notes in the margins.”

“She?” Elle questioned, stirring her milk into her coffee.

A smile befell Spencer’s lips as he tried to hide the obvious red tinge that tinted his cheeks. “Yeah, I learned that her name is y/n a couple of days ago. She’s been writing to me in the margins in a pink pen.”

“Romantic,” Elle wiggled her brows, which didn’t help Spencer’s furious blushing at all. “Have you seen her around? I mean, she must work here, right?”

“I haven’t dared to look her up yet.” His coworker shot him an inquisitive look. “Yeah, I-I guess I’m kinda nervous? I mean– I got this pretty vivid image of her in my mind from her words on the paper and even her handwriting, I guess I’m scared she’s going to transcend my expectations.”

A teasing smirk tugged at Elle’s lips. “You’ve got a crush,” she pointed out.

“Who’s got a crush?” Morgan asked when he and Penelope walked into the breakroom, sending an even deeper red to Spencer’s cheeks.

“No one,” he mumbled before grabbing his book and coffee, and heading back into the bullpen.

The worst thing was that Elle was right. He did have a crush on someone he didn’t even know. He knew her thoughts on every single book that ever existed and he could tell a lot of things from her handwriting and her notes.

No matter who she was or what she looked like, she was already the most beautiful girl in the world to Spencer.

And that scared him.

Especially when he started noticing the books she was leaving him. At first it was ‘The Other Einstein’ then ‘Crime and Punishment’ and lastly, she left him ‘The Color Purple’. When she left him that last book, he knew she knew who he was. She wasn’t scared to look him up and find him.

By week eleven, she started leaving him notes on his desk, too. It surprised Spencer that she hadn’t pushed him to meet. It had come up once, but Spencer got too scared and dodged her question. He thought she would just stop talking to him because he didn’t want to meet, but when the next book came the day after, he knew she respected his decision.

“I think us here to wonder, myself. To wonder. To ask. And that in wondering about the big things and asking about the big things, you learn about the little ones, almost by accident. But you never know nothing more about the big things than you start out with. The more I wonder, the more I love.”

Upon reading the note, Spencer felt the tips of his ears heat up. He started to fall in love with the swoop of her ‘s’ and the way she dotted her ‘i’s and crossed her ‘t’s.

He reread the note a couple of times, each time even better and more beautiful than the last. And each time, he noticed more and more how the pink ink was fading at the very end.

That was when he decided to buy her a new pen. Two even. One with pink ink, the other with purple. He left them in the break room, slotted between his copy of ‘Love: Poems’ but not without underlining his favorite quote in the purple color.

“Does the one who always waits suffer more than the one who has never waited for anyone?”

When Spencer found the book again a couple of days later in the exact same spot he had left it, he wondered if she had found it and read it at all. The disappointment slowly built inside his chest, bracing him for the worst.

But when he opened the book, the pink pen had vanished and underneath the line he’d indicated with the purple pen was her answer.

“So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Til then my windows ache.”

The first five words were underlined twice as well as the last part of the line. She had even drawn little hearts in the margins. Spencer couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. He was probably crazy for thinking this girl felt the same way about him as he did about her. But seeing this, seeing the little hearts, he couldn’t think anything else.

“You seem happy this morning,” Penelope said as she and Elle walked into the breakroom for their own coffees.

Spencer quickly slammed the book shut and looked up at his coworkers. “Yeah, uh… I-I guess.”

The two women in front of him exchanged glances. It was stupid of him to lie to one of the best profilers in the BAU and the woman who thrives on workplace gossip. He knew that, but he couldn’t just come out and tell them he was falling in love with someone he’d never met.

“It’s her, isn’t it? Y/N?” Elle asked, her lips curling up on one side into a smirk.

Penelope’s eyes shimmered at the promise of some new office drama while the two women walked closer towards Spencer to take a look at the book in front of him. Though he held his hand tightly on the item, Penelope and Elle somehow knew how to pry it off and open it, causing the purple pen to fall out and fall on the carpeted floor.

Almost feverishly, Spencer picked it up and dusted off any dirt that had gotten on it.

“She’s drawing hearts,” Elle pointed out.

“Aww!” Penelope cooed. “She’s drawing hearts!” She clutched her chest as though her heart was going to pop out.

Trying to ignore the heat that rose to his cheeks and that probably tinted his skin a bright red, Spencer grinned sheepishly. “What d’you think that means?” he asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

“I think she’s into you as much as you are into her,” Penelope commented excitedly, which didn’t do much good for the blush residing on his cheeks.

“You think so?”

Elle scoffed. “Yeah! It’s very clear you guys are into one another. You should ask her out!”

Before Spencer could say anything, Hotch poked his head inside the breakroom. “Who should ask who out?” he asked, having caught just the end of their conversation.

“Spencer and y/n,” Elle replied without batting an eye, much to Spencer’s dismay.

It was one thing some of his coworkers knew, but having his boss know about his little crush. This was even more embarrassing than when Morgan had tackled him in a park in Illinois when they were hunting down an L.D.S.K. and they had to duck before they would get shot.

“Oh, y/n from the third unit?” Hotch asked, immediately capturing the youngest’s attention. He knew her? It surprised him a little that he didn’t know that. Neither did he know that she was in the crimes against children unit, though that part didn’t surprise him that much. “She’s coming in to help us with the case later today. We’ve got a child trafficking case.”

Spencer completely froze up. He was actually going to meet her and it wasn’t even on his own terms. Of course, this was bound to happen, seeing that they worked in the same building. But he’d hoped he could ask her to meet him away from work. When he wanted to.

“Seems like you’re gonna get your chance to ask her out, Romeo,” Elle joked as she smacked the book against his chest, holding it there for a moment until his hands got a hold of it, before passing by him.

Penelope and Elle followed behind Hotch, leaving Spencer in the breakroom. He looked down at the book for a moment. He wasn’t going to have time to underline anything as a message to her, so instead, he drew a quick purple heart right next to the pink one she had drawn. At least then she’d know that he had seen it.

During the briefing, Spencer couldn’t quite concentrate. His mind was a little too focused on the impending meeting. He was incredibly curious to know what she looked like and sounded like and if her perfume did smell of violets the same way her books sometimes did.

“We’ve got the agents of the third unit consulting on this case with us,” Hotch explained to them and the mention of the unit y/n worked at captured Spencer’s attention. “Let’s meet at the SUV’s in ten minutes.”

Hotch concluded the briefing and exited the room, having the others follow behind him. While everyone either went for a quick bathroom stop before leaving or gathered their stuff from their desk, Spencer made a beeline for the breakroom where he was hoping to meet her.

As predicted, there was a girl hunched over the book he had left with a pink pen in her hand, scribbling some of her well-thought notes on the pages, sprinkling a portion of her in his belongings. She clutched her pen, her thumb sticking out ever so slightly. It looked almost childlike, but it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

“You hold your pen funnily,” he pointed out, capturing the girl’s attention straight away.

Though at first, her brows were furrowed at the weird comment, her features quickly softening as her eyes landed on him. “Hi,” she greeted, her face breaking out into a big, toothy grin.

Spencer’s world started spinning. The girl he had been talking to had to be the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her smile, her bright, shimmering eyes, the freckles that were scattered across her nose and cheeks like a constellation… Everything was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. She was even more beautiful than he’d imagined.

He was proven right. She did exceed his expectations in every way possible.

“It always shocked me when I realized that I wasn’t the only person in the world who thought and felt such strange and awful things.” The quote rolled off his lips a little too easily. But it was the first thing that popped into his head once he realized he hadn’t said anything and he was just staring at her.

Y/N’s head tilted slightly, almost in confusion. Then, she stood up and slowly approached Spencer. “At some point, you just pull off the Band-Aid and it hurts, but then it’s over and you’re relieved.”

There was a double entendre to her words. On one hand, she was merely quoting the first book they’d read together, but on the other, she was telling Spencer that them finally meeting was like pulling off a Band-Aid.

Though in this case, it didn’t hurt.

Spencer let out an airy laugh as he looked down at her. She was actually right here. In front of him. He could touch her, if he wanted to. He could smell the hint of the violet perfume she used. He could look into her eyes and actually witness how soulful they were.

“I-I’m sorry it took so long for us to– I didn’t mean a-anything. It’s just–”

She placed a hand on his arm to stop him from stuttering and rambling, and chuckled. “It’s fine, Spencer. I get it. We were sucked up in our own world, communicating through these books… It was hard to break that bubble.”

“Yeah,” Spencer all but whispered. He then grabbed the hand of hers that was still on his arm and squeezed it. “But now we can–we can talk about books in real life?” The statement came out in a question, uncertainty dripping from his tone. “I-I know this really nice bookstore in the city. I-I’d love to take you there sometime.”

Her face lit up at his words. “Are you asking me on a date, Dr. Reid?” she asked.

An awkward chuckle rolled off his lips as he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, not wanting to let go of her hand just yet. “Yes? I-I mean, if you wanna go. You don’t have to feel like you have to say yes.”

Y/N squeezed his hand right back. “I would love to, Spencer.”

And just like that, their fairytale that started in the margins of her books, sprang to life.

Underlined quotes came out into longing gazes and sweet touches.

Annotations became sweet nothings whispered under the dim light of the bookstore.

The perfect romance you’d only read about in books.

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist:

@boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds

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ravenbloodshot · 2 months

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How Enhypen's Manager (Yuki) View the Members

Heesung

Positive traits: artistic, creative, passionate about his career, stylish, handsome and attractive, let's go of things that's not serving him, communicative, takes care of himself well, fun and loving

Negative traits: cowardly, doesn't stand up for himself, has a problem setting up boundaries, follower, doesn't think for himself, overworks, bad family situation, hardheaded, up in lala land alot

Sunoo

Positive traits: cute, sociable, creative, extroverted, receptive, melts when he's complimented, mood maker, good at showing his pleasant side, charming, talkative

Negative traits: (I don't think Yuki likes him very much) sneaky, conniving, has a hidden dark side, easily influenced, follower, constantly in toxic relationships, stubborn, pretends to be happy, overthinks, set in his ways

Sunghoon

Positive traits: manly, assertive, has firm boundaries, stands up for himself, stubborn, go getter, protective (like papa bear energy from the story goldilocks), open minded, perceptive, loving and attentive, good communicator (Yuki likes him)

Negative traits: stubborn, set in his ways, prideful, big ego, argumentative, intimidating, dismissive and aloof, always thinks he's right, too serious, pushy, self sabotage, overthinks, unsure of his future, keeps up appearances for the camera/fans (to the detriment of himself)

Jake

Positive traits: does what he wants, active at night, wanderer, Yuki trusts that Jake can take care of himself, looks like a cinnamon roll but can actually kill you, firm boundaries, cut off game strong, committed to his goals, not needy (self reliant), fun and playful

Negative traits: aggressive, too passionate, wants what he wants when he wants it, inconsiderate, leaves ppl behind (ghosts), too competitive, hypocrite, sneaky, manipulative with his charm

Jay

Positive traits: resourceful, works smarter not harder, clever, patient and calm, doesn't speak out of turn (seems like Yuki just thinks he has good manners), cultured, open minded, committed to his goals, lovey dovey, good communicator, says things everyone else is afraid to say

Negative traits: watches porn or scrolls through thirst traps a lot, aggressive, quick to fight/argue, prideful, lazy, too much of a loverboy, too perceptive, unsure of his future, finds it hard to put himself in others shoes, uncomfortable with change, doesn't like to get out of his comfort zone

Niki

Positive traits: passionate, his excitement is contagious, go getter, gives good advice, practical, popular, charming, attractive, introvert, good at keeping secrets, doesn't gossip, mysterious, lives a healthy life, competitive, sarcastic, takes good photos, nostalgic

Negative traits: defensive, doesn't speak when he needs to, bad communicator, holds grudges, too introverted, easily disappointed/saddened, keeps his opinions/ideas to himself, misunderstands others, jumps to conclusions, moody, everybody likes him but he doesn't see that (takes for granted the love he recieves)

Jungwon

Positive traits: smart, creative, grooms himself well, nice body, intuitive, perceptive, unique, asks good/deep questions, says things everyone else is afraid to say, stable, flirtatious, sweet talker, adapts to change well

Negative traits: aggressive, too traditional and conservative, has a temper, stubborn, petty, not able to admit when he's wrong, complains a lot, moody, not openminded when it comes to love, impatient, too prideful

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larluce · 7 months

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Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU

@dsabian , @theroundbartable , @theplatanitosqueal , @stressed-but-chill , a little more of bird Merlin ^^ ❤️

LINK TO THE OTHER PARTS: PART 1 , PART2 , PART 3 (You're here) , PART 4

Morgana: (puting a red neckerchief with Camelot's simbol on Merlin's neck) There you go! Now everybody will know you're the prince's royal pet and no hunter will kill you by accident.

Merlin: (turns from his bird form to his human form) I'm not a pet! (Pouts) But I like it. I always felt my neck empty in my human form. (Plays with the neckerchief happily)

Arthur: How did the neckerchief get bigger? (To Merlin) Did you do that?

Morgana: It was me actually. I put a spell on it so it'll adapt to Merlin's shape and it won't fall off when he flies.

Merlin: Awww. Thank you, Morgana 😊.

Arthur: Wait. You did magic here?! 😨 Morgana that's dangerous!

Morgana: I was careful. Besides, how do you expect me to learn to control my magic if I don't practice?

Merlin: She does have a point (turns around and exclaims happily when he sees a merlin bird landing in the window) Claws! (Changes into his bird form to greet him and flies to land beside him)

Morgana: (confused) Claws?

Arthur: (annoyed) That's the bird's name.

Morgana: I thought birds didn't have names?

Arthur: Merlin put him that name.(exclaims when Claws pecks Merlin's feathers) What is he doing?! 😡

Morgana: He's just cleaning his feathers, relax. There's no need to be jealous.

Arthur: I'm not jealous! And Merlin's feathers are always clean. He's doing this on purpose. He wants to... to mate with him!

Morgana: Right (rolls her eyes). Oh, there’s something in Claws' claws. (Watches as Claws gives Merlin a dead sparrow) Awww he brought Merlin food.

Arthur: See!

Morgana: He's just being nice.

Arthur: (mutters to himself) Merlin prefers larks anyways.

Merlin: (flies to Arthur and changes into his human form and says excited) Claws wants to show me his nest!

Arthur: (fakes surprise) Oh, really? (Looks at Morgana significantly)

Merlin: Yeah, is not far. Can I go?

Arthur: Absolutly n-

Morgana: Of course, Merlin.

Merlin: Yay! 🤗 I'll be back soon. (Changes form and goes flying with Claws through the window)

Arthur: (looks at Morgana with crossed arms) 😑

Morgana: Okay. Maaaaybe he does have other intentions with Merlin. But what is it to you anyways?

Arthur: It's wrong!

Morgana: Because is a male?

Arthur: Because Merlin is not really a bird!

Morgana: But he thinks like one.

Arthur: He shouldn't! What if that bird forces or presses Merlin to mate with him? Merlin's not ready! He told me that himself, but I doubt these animals know anything about consent!

Morgana: Arthur, Merlin is literally one of the most powerful magic creatures that exist. He'll be fine. (Sighs) Why can't you just admit you have feelings for him?

Arthur: (sighs suddenly sad) It's... It's not right.

Morgana: Because he's a man?

Arthur: No! Morgana you said it yourself, he thinks like a bird most of the time. I'd be taking advantage of him. And what kind of relationship can I give him? A life of hide and fear by my side? If he even wants a relationship at all, he doesn't even understand what romantic love is.

Morgana: Well, he did ask you to mate with him.

Arthur: Yeah, how romantic. 😒

Morgana: Mating for birds is not just sex, it's partnership. He may not understand the concept of "romantic love", but that doesn't mean he can't feel it.

Arthur: How are you so sure about that?

Morgana: Let's put it like this. Despite thinking like a bird most of the time, Merlin hasn’t felt attracted or comfortable enough to mate with any of the birds he met. Yet he asked you, a human, if you could mate with him. Not a bird, YOU, because he felt comfortable with YOU and attracted to YOU. Don't you think that means something?

Arthur: (Blushes) He... he trusts me more than them. That's all.

Morgana: Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merlin prompt #merthur fic #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merthur fanfic #merthur prompt #Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU

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ppeonppeonhan · 2 months

Text

So My Stand-In just ended, and We Are & Wandee Goodday end next week. We still got Knock Knock, Boys!, My Love Mix-Up!, The Rebound, Love Sea, and SunsetxVibes for a while, but...

4 Minutes (Action | Drama | Sci-Fi)

It took Bible almost 2 years to crawl out of that Build fiasco, and the fandom is primed to see him again with all of the ominous and sultry clips of the series they've been teasing us with.

Obviously, it looks promising 👀 but I'm most excited to see him in action again, and to explore another supernatural Thai drama -- this time about precognition (aka seeing the future). It'll be even more interesting to explore what it's like to be in a relationship when you BOTH have that ability. Does it prevent missteps or prove they're inevitable? We'll also get to see if Sammon, co-writer of the haunting Dead Friend Forever, will haunt us with every project.

Battle of the Writers (Rom Com)

Tutor and Yim of Middleman's Love are joined by not one, but FIVE other couples in this adaptation of a Chinese webtoon where one of them is accused of plagiarizing the other. I love a love-hate dynamic, but I can't imagine Yim resisting Tutor for long, so we'll see.

Century of Love (Action | Drama | Romance | Supernatural)

Boy meets girl. Boy falls for girl. Girl dies. Boy uses magic stone to stay alive and agrees to die a tragic death if he doesn't find his reincarnated girl after 100 years. The Gods said "Ally!", sent her ass back as a boy the last year of that century, as if to say: "Oh, are you really in love? Prove it!" Boy, understandably, doesn't recognize girl. Suspense and tension ensue.

Really enjoying how the supernatural genre is slowly becoming as prominent as the high school / college romance settings. Please give me more of The Sign. But I'm, honestly, not really a fan of the actor Daou, which made it hard to endure their last series together, Love in Translation. Mostly in it for cheeky and adorable Offroad -- and the plot, obviously.

This Love Doesn’t Have Long Beans (Rom Com)

So what I gather from the trailer is that a douchey rich guy hires a model to seduce a chef into making him his successor. Fuzzy on the why, but am far more interested in how that rich guy seduces the model's very aggressive bestie. Double the love-hate. Double the fun.

The Pit Babe writers wasted NO time capitalizing on the success of their series, and their pairings. Not only is this an answer to the Jeff and Alan fandom's pleas for more, it's also a response to the ghost ship of Kim and Kenta. We've never felt so seen. Also, I'm loving Thailand's Chef era.

The Trainee (Comedy | Drama | Romance)

A production intern slowly realizes the assistant director that everybody fears is low-key kindhearted -- and a whole ass snack. PAPI!!!

Love me some OffGun. Cooking Crush was meh but I have high hopes for this one. Per uje, their chemistry is immaculate.

DATE: Mid-July 2024

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philliam-writes · 2 years

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you are in the earth of me [01]

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Content: cot3 +1 (and kipps), canon-typical violence & horror, loss of family member (not just Lockwood), found family, touch starved Lockwood, childhood friends Kipps & Reader, childhood trauma, slow burn, rivals to lovers (if this stays a Lockwood/Reader), mature language (swearing), aged up characters (everybody's in their early 20s; Kipps is mid-20s), fem! Reader though pronouns are used sparingly and no use of y/n

Summary: “Ton—Anfonie ‘Ockwoo’.” You nod, and finally swallow your mouthful of food. “I’ve heard things about you.” Lockwood’s dark eyes slide over to Kipps for a second, glinting like a knife drawn out of its sheath. He gives you a nice, easy smile. “Only good things, I presume?” You feel your face scrunch up at the memory of Kipps’s curses, threats and very imaginative ways of what he’d do with his rapier and a very specific part of Lockwood’s body. “Yeah, uhm … things.”

Notes: [02]

Words: 5.1k

A/N: Words will never suffice how much Lockwood & Co. has carried me through some of the toughest parts of my life. To see it adapted to a show is SO EXCITING, I couldn't help but be a little self-indulgent and plan out a whole ass story for my favourite three (+ Kipps) ghost hunters. So here we go.

This could either stay a Lockwood/fem!Reader or I could easily change it into Locklyle or even freaking poly cot3 x Reader or just Locklyle depending on what people want to read. I'm fine with pretty much everything; I just want my silly little Reader joining 35 Portland Row because I am in DIRE NEED OF FOUND FAMILY AND JUST SELF-INDULGENT GHOST HUNTING

So yeah, I'm totally open to people requesting Locklyle or anything for this one, but it's still gonna be from Reader's POV and focusing on an original story with action and characters studies and personal growth. Also sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my first language and I'd be super happy if someone offered to become my beta-reader for this! Any feedback is super super appreciated!!

01: let the dead hollers hum

when i first saw you, the end was soon to bethlehem it slouched and then it must've caught a good look at you

—hozier: nfwmb

At almost two in the morning the streets should be empty of people and cars, yet you manage to nearly get hit by a night cab turning down Tredegar Road. Its ghastly horn echoes like the wail of a Banshee through the dark, disturbing the peaceful night. Across the street, a kitchen light flickers to life inside a building. A shadow moves behind the white curtains, pausing for a second to look out at the street.

Bracing against the cutting wind, you turn up your maroon trenchcoat’s collar and duck your head like a turtle trying to hide inside its shell. It would have been much colder without your gloves now that the early winter bite is coming, but it’s still very unpleasant to be outside after the sun has set. Today is a clearer night, despite the day of rain; the moon chases stray wisps of cloud across an otherwise unmarked black sky.

London turns in earlier than usual now that the nights grow longer and colder—and more dangerous as well. Just yesterday you heard two more night-watch kids have succumbed to ghost-lock down at the warehouses near Blackfriars when they got distracted trying to warm up from the freezing evening rain that had set in after eleven. They turned into easy pickings for a Drowner lurking beneath the docs—former scoundrels who ended their sorry lives in the water by drowning. They rarely make a pleasant sight with their bloated limbs and skin wrinkled so hard it is peeling off like layers of paint.

It makes you glad to feel the familiar weight of your rapier hanging from your hip holster, to know that just within short reach, everything you need to protect yourself is at your disposal. That and the salt bombs around your belt. It’s hard not to feel safe while carrying around something with ‘bomb’ in its name.

You find the meeting point you’ve been summoned to at the end of the street. The Green Goose is a two-floor building with the restaurant at the bottom and what you can only assume the storage and other facilities upstairs. All sun-blinds on the first floor are drawn shut.

Few London establishments are open during the night, and fewest of all in the dark hours before the dawn. But places like this, catering for agents or night-watch kids, are easily recognised by the additional fortification against possibly unwanted visitors. High up where the first floor meets the second, heavy mistletoe bushes run around the whole building like a gigantic garland. You imagine in summer this would be lavender blooms, plunging the whole street into their thick, sweet scent. The door and windows are laced with iron grilles, and overhung with battered ghost-lamps. A few wooden dining tables and benches remain vacated outside, left to their own until the warmth of spring returns.

After a first glance inside the premise through the grimy windows, you don’t spot your friend. How much easier this would be if you could carry a phone around, just to check if you are at the right place. Now all you have to go on is his cryptic call before your shift started this morning, and a vague sense of the kind of establishments he likes based to his tastes.

Good thing you have known him for almost a decade.

But that doesn’t really give you an idea what exactly Quill Kipps wants from you. Maybe help with a case? Or he has finally realised he has a crush on his co-worker, that lemony-smelling Kat or Kate, and now he needs advice. Not hanging out at the dead of the night would be a preferable start.

Small bells jingle when you push the door open with your shoulder, and a waft of warm air scented with grease and coffee hits your nose, bringing heat back to your face. It looks a lot smaller than from the outside, narrow and with the sitting area stretched in an L-shape around the bar and counter in the middle. Behind that a pair of slightly askew doors lead to the kitchen where you can hear a radio play.

The first row of tables line alongside the window, then disappear further into the back. In the corner, two night-watch kids sit huddled together, quietly snoring and drooling on each other’s shoulders with their meagre food spread before them. A waitress with short black hair and a chubby chin standing behind the counter looks up from a magazine, stares at you, and blows out a baby-blue bubble of gum until it pops loudly.

She raises an eyebrow.

You raise one back at her.

From the other side of the entrance, you hear Kipps calling your name. At that, the waitress gives you a single, polite nod which you answer alike, as though you are two cowboys engaged in a stand-off who don’t want to shoot each other.

Marching down the narrow aisle, you pass an occupied table and accidentally bump into it. Cutlery rattles against an empty plate. You mumble a half-hearted apology and move on, barely listening to the grumbled answer or really looking at the man clad in black sitting there. He gives of a sweet, heavy scent you can’t really place, and quickly move on.

Knowing you’d arrive in a foul mood, Kipps has already ordered your favourite midnight snack after a hard day’s work: coffee and a simple English breakfast with a fried egg, hot and greasy sausages, crispy bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms on the side.

“It better be important, Kippy,” you say in lieu of hello, manoeuvring over his lap to the unoccupied seat by the window, using elbows and knees to execute a complicated dance with him so you can squeeze into the narrow booth. He grunts and makes barely any effort to make you room. His outstretched legs take up a disproportionate amount of real estate. “I got a ten hour shift behind me and I’m desperate for my bed.”

“You certainly smell like after a ten hour shift,” he comments, wrinkling his nose. Of course he looks well kempt and neat as always with not a single ginger curl on his head out of order. But there are dark circles under his eyes as though someone put a charcoal pen to his skin, betraying his tidy appearance. His eyes flit over your face for a second, scanning it for any injuries.

You give him your best shit-eating grin and wolf down on your eggs when someone clears his throat from across the table—and that’s when you realise Kipps isn’t alone.

Nursing a cup of tea, opposite you sits a young man in a black suit, slender and tall, his short, unruly hair swept back elegantly. He watches you with mild interest, his thin lips slightly pursed, like someone would watch a flock of hungry pigeons plunge towards bread crumbs spread by tourists at Hyde Park—nothing out of order. Just another regular sight in the big city on a late afternoon stroll.

You hold his steady, dark eyes when you bite into your egg, feeling the yolk escape at the corners of your mouth and run down your chin. You didn’t even realise how much you were starving.

“Hwo’sh yor fren’, ‘Ippy?” you ask with your mouth full because you have absolutely zero shame.

Kipps swallows a groan.

“Yes, Kippy,” the young man replies with the most soothing, alluring voice you have ever heard, as though he’s eaten silk and honey for breakfast. “Why don’t you introduce us?”

Kipps makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. Annoyance radiates off him stronger than any other-light you have seen on apparitions. “Friend is a bit much,” he says slowly, as though he has to talk around the word ‘friend’ because it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “That’s Lockwood.” You recognise his tone. It sounds a lot as if he’s saying That’s the biggest nuisance of my life.

The effect is pretty much the same.

You nearly choke on your next bite and aim for the coffee to wash it down. When you jerk your head around to stare at Kipps in disbelief, your eyes stretch wider than the dinner plate before you. Kipps must read what’s written on your face: That’s Lockwood? Tony Lockwood you can’t shut up about? Your arch-nemesis?

Kipps rolls his eyes so hard it must give him a spectacular view of his skull. Just humour me, his expression says.

“Ton—Anfonie ‘Ockwoo’.” You nod, and finally swallow your mouthful of food. “I’ve heard things about you.”

Lockwood’s dark eyes slide over to Kipps for a second, glinting like a knife drawn out of its sheath. He gives you a nice, easy smile. “Only good things, I presume?”

You feel your face scrunch up at the memory of Kipps’s curses, threats and very imaginative ways of what he’d do with his rapier and a very specific part of Lockwood’s body. “Yeah, uhm … things.”

Lockwood seems to understand, for he doesn’t inquire further, but his smile seems to freeze a little at the corners. “And you are?”

“Kipps’s friend.” You stuff the rest of your toast into your mouth and give your name. Lockwood blinks and keeps a polite smile, and doesn’t ask even though you’re sure he didn’t understand a word you just said.

“I wasn’t aware Kipps has friends.” Lockwood’s eyes have taken on a taunting glint, and he leans forward as he speaks. “Certainly not friends at Rotwell.”

His eyes drop to the crest stitched onto the upper part of your sleeve on your trench-coat: a snarling lion holding a rapier in its front paw—the agency’s symbol—before he gives Kipps a pointed look as though that small detail would have been worth mentioning before they got up to whatever this is.

Kipps ignores him. “I called you because I need your help,” he says, sliding napkins over to you which you promptly ignore. “I need your Talent.”

You halt at that and give him a long, level look. Kipps doesn’t shy away from the weight of your gaze, and suddenly you become painfully aware of the tension surrounding them, thick enough you could cut it with your dull knife.

Slowly, you chew your sausage. “What exactly are we talking about?” you ask, voice quieter, matching Kipps’s. He’s doing that little wiggle in his seat, shifting his weight from left to right he always does when bracing for potential conflict. When he trails his eyes away from you, you follow them to Lockwood who is looking at Kipps as though seeing him for the first time.

From the pockets of his long, black coat, Lockwood pulls out a small wooden box. It would easily fit into the palm of your hand, and from where you sit you can’t see a particular design or anything on the surface. Lockwood slides the box across the table towards you, flips it over with his long, slender fingers, and opens the lid, revealing a small bronze key lying on a cushion surrounded by thin iron plates.

You stare at it for five, six seconds. Then reach out to take another big swig of your coffee. With no sugar, acidly bitter taste explodes on your tongue, just the way you like it.

“It’s a Source,” you say. “You just carry a Source around like that?”

“Exceptional observation skills,” Lockwood says with the mild tone of someone barely holding back his impatience. “I can see why you asked her to join us, Kippy.”

“I can see why Kipps wants to shove his rapier up your—”

“Trust me, I’d be the last one missing out on a chance to ridicule Lockwood,” Kipps interrupts, tapping a finger on the table in front of the box, “but Barnes wants results by tomorrow and I’d like to act like professionals for once, so can we please focus?”

Lockwood and you throw a mirror glare at Kipps that’s something along the lines of You’re one to talk. When you notice each other’s similar expressions, Lockwood quickly schools his features back to a neutral one. “It is secure inside its seal for now, but the Visitor contained in it is not particularly strong. If we’re quick, it won’t have time to come through,” he says.

You shake your head. “You’re mad. And you—” you knock your knee against Kipps’s—“what’s wrong with you for going along with this?”

“There’s just … not enough time,” Kipps says. Exhaustion seeps into his voice, strong enough to peel back layers of caution for he shares a quick glance with Lockwood and what they don’t say screams so loudly that you have to lean back and re-evaluate what you’ve known about their relationship up until now.

It seems that Kipps has missed out on filling you in on some crucial details about the past few weeks he has worked at Kensal Green Cemetery.

“Then why don’t you just tell me what this is about?” you say, looking over at Kipps sharply. “Why does Barnes need you both to work on it? Is it a Fittes job? Did Bobby get his greasy little hands on something and—”

“Actually,” Lockwood chimes in, “it is our case. Lockwood & Co. Kipps is … an associate. And we’re very short on time to solve this case. Let’s just say Kipps has a little favour to repay. We need someone who excels at Touch, and he said you are the best at it. You might be our last chance to find out more about this key.” He has switched from that arrogant drawl to a soft, melodic cadence with that maddeningly smooth voice of his. It has to be intentional—he is trying to play you like a fiddle with that charm he switched on like an industrial bulb.

“What’s there to solve? You got the Source, you sealed it. That’s all there is. This should be on its way to a furnace right now.” You fall back into your seat, eyes raking over Lockwood’s form. He doesn’t even wear a uniform for Christ’s sake. “And you call yourself an agent?”

And just like that the light goes out, the switch flicks off. Lockwood’s face is calm; the only sign of his agitation is a pulse hammering in his throat and a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Kipps shifts in his seat. “We can’t give it to Barnes yet,” he says in a quiet voice, wrenching your eyes away from the glaring contest you have engaged in with Lockwood. Kipps presses his lips into a thin line, and you can see the mental strain it takes on him to agree with something Lockwood said. His handsome face crumples as though he has bitten into a lemon. “We believe the murder of that Visitor is still out there.”

You digest that. Go in for some more food. It takes a lot more effort to swallow your bacon. “Even more reason to just leave it to Inspector Barnes and DEPRAC. Exactly why is this your responsibility?”

“Justice for the dead?” Kipps offers.

“Protecting the living?” Lockwood states nobly.

It sounds like a load of crap, but you are too sleep-deprived to bother figuring out what truly is at stake for them. Maybe another stupid bet, or whatever favour Kipps owes Lockwood from the last.

You run a hand through your hair, bobbing your leg up and down in a frantic rhythm. It isn’t your favourite thing to do, but you have always had a hard time telling Kipps no—and God knows he has done so much for you.

“You owe me,” you tell him. Kipps nods, and visibly relaxes with relief.

“Do you need me to—” he starts, sliding his hand across the seat and offering it to you. From across the table, you hear the seat’s leather creak as Lockwood leans forward to get a better look at what you are doing. It reminds you of a hound scenting blood in the air and going out on the hunt for its prey.

“No, I’m good. I’m not taking my gloves off anyway.” You don’t like using your Talent without anything to ground you, but there is something about the way Lockwood is looking at you two, hungry almost, as though he is categorizing a particular fascinating information to dissect it later and see what use he can draw from it. Best to just ignore him. Besides, without your gloves, you feel naked, vulnerable. This isn’t something for prying eyes—and Lockwood has an awfully piercing, scrutinising pair of unfathomably dark eyes you are not interested at all to get lost in.

You lean back into the seat and get comfortable first. It never works when you go in too tense because it takes more effort to peel away the wards of your consciousness. When Kipps takes the key and plays it into your open palm, you focus on its weight first—akin to a bird bone, you barely feel it through the thick fabric of your glove.

Which doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy. The energy radiating off this thing is like a physical force pushing you back into the backrest of your seat. You close your eyes and focus on the low thrum of energy—feelings and impressions wash over you in torrents, layer after layer. Your chest feels heavy. Your stomach clenches in a hard, tight knot—fear. Fear grips you in a tight, cold grip.

Something is lurking, far far back, something unfathomably dark and abysmal but you can’t get a hold od if through your gloves and as you begin to sift through the chaotic blur of emotions to find the source—so much darkness, so much death; good Lord the things people did to get their hands on—

Excitement. A lingering echo burning so bright it blinds; hope swelling after long periods of dread, like the first spring buds blooming after a cruel, cold winter. Agitation. The adrenaline-inducing last sprint towards your goal knowing there is nothing that stops you from reaching it. The smell of damp soil and coppery hijacks your senses, and then—

Pain explodes in your chest, knocking you back against a cushioned surface. Your knees slam against something hard, sending hot shots of pain up your legs. Your eyes snap open but the world spins when all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs and warmth spreads over your chest, liquid seeps through your fingers—but how? He could not. He would never—someone is screaming, a piercing, blood-churning scream. It takes a moment to realise the scream belongs to you; the wailing is drawn out from your raw throat, but how could anybody blame you; you are dying, shot in the chest by—

Someone is calling your name. Strong hands grab your shoulders and shake you hard as though trying to tear you away from a dream, a nightmare.

“Oh God, help me. He—he shot me—please help.” You gasp, trying to stop the bleeding by pressing your trembling hands against the wound.

“You’re fine. Listen to me, you’re fine. Nobody shot you!” A familiar voice—Kipps’s voice pierces through the wailing terror inside your head. You stare up at his green eyes which are paler than usual, widened in worry. “It’s just a psychic echo. You’re safe here.”

Another forceful inhale expands your lungs. The hot pinpoint pain in your chest subsides slowly with every shaking exhale, and when you look down at your hands, there is no blood sticking to your fingers, only coffee. When you hit your knees against the table, you knocked over your cup. Now the liquid is spreading across the table in a big puddle and dripping down its edges.

Lockwood is busy wiping the table clean with the leftover napkins while wildly gesturing with his free hand to the waitress looming over your table. “Just a long night, nothing serious,” you hear him say in haste. Either she isn’t interested or doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this; she shrugs and drags herself back behind the counter. You look around the establishment, ready to apologise for your outburst, but everybody has left already.

You turn around. When your eyes meet Lockwood’s, he grins, his smile so sudden and jarring as a thunderclap. “I have never seen anyone so sensitive to Touch. That was remarkable.” He beams as though you have performed an exceptional trick at the circus.

Something about the excitement in his voice sets you off—or maybe you are just still very raw from the experience, and the aftershock of such a gruesome echo is driving you up the wall.

“Oh yeah, it is so much fun! Feeling how people get killed every time is so worth it.” You grab your fork and stab your sausage with enough force you send tomatoes flying. On second thought, you are not hungry anymore. “Why don’t I get a gun and shoot you just so you can get an idea—”

“I’ve had my own fair share, thank you,” comes Lockwood’s flippant answer and for a second you imagine leaning over the table and smothering him with his own tie.

“So he was shot.” Kipps quickly steers the conversation back to its topic before you can follow your impulse. You slump against the seat, feeling pressure around your hand. When you look down, Kipps is holding your hand tightly, grounding you. You should have let him from the start. Weakly, you squeeze back. “We knew that already—”

“He … he never expected it to end like this,” you say slowly, gazing outside the window. Only your own reflection stares back at you. “He was shot by someone he knew. There was … genuine surprise. Before the pain, I mean. He couldn’t believe he would be hurt by someone he trusted. It was so absurd, he didn’t even have time to feel betrayed. That’s how unbelievable it was.”

“So it was someone very close to the victim. Who’s someone you’d never expect to betray you?” Kipps thinks aloud.

“Friends,” Lockwood provides.

“Family,” you say, quietly.

“A lover.” Kipps takes your fork and helps himself to some leftover mushrooms from your plate. When you look at the food, your stomach churns. “We should go back to the house tomorrow and see if you missed something, Tony. Wouldn’t surprise me if you managed to gloss over some obvious evidence,” he says to Lockwood.

“Why do you believe I would be the one—”

You shut out their bickering. A fine drizzle has set in outside, leaving small rain drops on the window. The street is a blur of black and faint white light from the ghost-lamps. When you look at your own face in the window’s reflection, your own eyes stare back at you—big, scared and haunted.

It always takes some time to get back after using your talent—to slowly build up the walls and distance yourself from the echoes of someone else’s life and the brutal way it ended. Deaths like these: sudden, violent, painful are always difficult to come back from. Which is why it is so important to have someone to ground you. Kipps has known you for so long, he is well aware how the psychic hangover drags your senses through the shredder and leaves your mind and body bruised and raw like an open nerve.

He had a few years training on how to handle it thanks to your brother.

The thought of Matthew shakes you awake and shoves you into full alertness, as if ice-cold water has been dumped down the back of your neck. You feel a sharp ache in your chest as you shove the ghost of his memory out of your mind, and then raw emptiness, as if a grappling hook has yanked your heart out of your body. It is just the aftershock—the hangover from the psychic connection, you try to reason. This is no time to allow grief back into your body, your mind.

Kipps must have heard the quiet sound you made, like a wounded animal. He falls dead silent mid-sentence and whips his head towards you. An echo of recognition passes his features for a second—there and gone so quickly, you think you imagined it.

“We are done here,” he says, and reaches over to close the box’s lid with a resolute click. You didn’t even notice he has taken the key away from you and returned it inside its seal. Lockwood opens his mouth, as though ready to argue, but whatever expression your face paints, even he recognises that you have reached your limit. Without another word, he swiftly slides the box back into his pocket.

You turn away from them, feeling anger and frustration boil inside you. You don’t want them to think you are weak just because you are a little more sensitive than other agents who can use Touch.

“Want me to drop you off the dormitory?” Kipps asks, his voice intensely neutral. He is digging through his purse to pay for your food, and shoots a glare towards Lockwood to indicate that no, he will not pay for his.

The dormitory for Rotwell agents, commonly known as the Lions Den, are rows of sand-bricked two-room apartments housing most of Rotwell’s younger agents in Chelsea. Half of your monthly salary evaporates just for paying rent, but at least it is a roof over your head and only a few stops away from your workplace. There is also something about pretending to belong to the upper posh class of London, to stroll through the highly-maintained gardens and polished windows glinting like diamonds in the early morning sun. They don’t have to deal with countless sleepless nights, the psychic hangover that makes you feel as if your body is not your own, or the constant fear every shift might be the last.

Sometimes it is that moment of pretending as though you live a different life that makes a difference.

“It’s okay, I’ll just take a cab.” Because for one, Kipps lives on the other side of the city, and two, you need to be alone.

Kipps nods, but he doesn’t look happy about it. Lockwood stays silent and is completely relaxed, a paragon of serenity with alert, dark eyes.

You scoot out of the booth and follow them outside into the cold drizzle. Mist hangs in the dark streets, rendering the area nearly invisible. Kipps and Lockwood share a few quiet words. When they part, Lockwood’s coat end flaps like black wings in the dark. He turns halfway around, gives you a long, considering look over the back of his shoulder. He parts with a single, almost approving nod, then ducks his head against the biting wind and strides down the street, disappearing into the dark night.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kipps buttons the front of your trenchcoat. He is balancing on the back of his heels—an old habit when he feels bad for something and doesn’t quite know how to apologise and it would be easier to just bail from the conflict. “You still look like shit.”

You give him a weak kick to the shin. His shoulders relax. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow about how it went,” he says, jamming his hands inside his pockets. He pulls one out again and shoves a crushed candy into your hand. It’s your favourite brand and for the first time today, you feel something warm spreading in your chest.

“Wait.” Before he can turn away, you quickly catch his sleeve and make him turn around. “About that key…”

“Is there anything else?” Kipps leans forward and you have to bend your neck back to meet his eyes.

You remember when he was much smaller and you were at the same eye level. At 13 years, Kipps used to be smaller than the rest of the boys at Stroud & Co. where you started out your agent career and met. He’s had his share of playing errand boy or punching bag for the older, taller boys, until Matthew came along one day, dunked one of Kipps’s bullies into an overflowing rain barrel and got his nose broken in return.

They became best friends after that, and you in the middle. Matthew, Quill, and you. Lock, Shock, and Barrel.

Now, only two remain.

Kipps claps your shoulder, snapping you out of the memory and dispersing the picture you have conjured in your mind of him young. Today, he stands tall and broad-shouldered before you, twice in size and muscle. Nobody sane would try and mess with him.

“What’s wrong?” Kipps asks. “Where did you go in there?” He taps two fingers against his temple.

“When I was holding the key, the recent death was the strongest echo, but there was more. Like … way, way more.” You sling your arms around yourself. “Like many layers on a painting, and whatever is underneath all that … it feels evil. Really, really evil. There is a lot of death attached to that key.”

Kipps chews on this. He looks down the street to where Lockwood has vanished, his square jaw drawn tense. “I can’t say Lockwood’s stake on this, but I don’t care much about its history. It changed owners, I get it, but who would kill for something like that?”

“I don’t know.” You think back to the smell of blood, to the underlying eagerness to own that key. “But if that key is already that vile,” you say, shuddering, “then what about the thing it opens?”

“Not important to me as long as it’s not our problem.” He yawns, and taps a foot against the hard pavement to stave off the cold. “I bet it got destroyed or lost long ago. There is no way it’s still around.” Kipps runs a hand through his hair. It curls against his temple and neck in the damp mist. “Chances are high we’ll never hear anything about it ever again after this week. Case closed. Thanks for helping us. I’m sure DEPRAC can find the murderer and it’ll be just another case in the books.”

“Yeah, sure. I guess you’re right.” You barely hold back a yawn.

Kipps nudges your elbow. “I’ll catch up with you later, OK? Gotta make sure Lockwood’s the one who messed up the earlier investigation and go back to the crime scene.”

“Doing the Lord’s work,” you joke and give him a mocking salute. For the first time tonight, Kipps grins that lopsided half-grin showing part of his white teeth before he rushes off into the night after Lockwood.

For a moment, you stand still and let the drizzle engulf you. Although you have been almost sixteen hours on your feet, exhaustion has slowly trickled away, and in its stead a bone-deep anxiety has settled. Sleep. You need to sleep this off, and everything will return back to normal by tomorrow.

Heading for the main street to catch a night cab, you don’t turn around, and just like that, you miss out on the shadow unhitching itself from a wall even though the ghost-lamp flickers to life.

A/N: hmu if you want to join the taglist!

#lockwood show #lockwood books #lockwood & co #l&c #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood x y/n #lockwood netflix #lockwood and co #lockwood reader insert #l&c reader insert

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flaneur001 · 6 months

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Yandere! Male Writer x GN Cop! Reader (Headcanon)

CW- murder, manipulation, gore, mild swearing

Yandere! Writer Is a famous crime thriller novelist. A recent Pulitzer prize awardee. His fanbase only grows each day, with everyone commenting on how real his writing sounds. His novels are written as a diary of his main character who is the protagonist of all his novels. The diary of a serial killer.

Yandere! Writer is very active in the writing community and is popular for his charming personality and witty retorts. With multiple tv show appearances, he is so admired and respected that everybody in the film industry wants to adapt his novels into series or a movie, only for him to refuse. Success comes easily to him, in a manner that he is perpetually bored.

Yandere! Writer is one day approached by the local precinct on an urgent matter. There is a new cop in the violent crimes department who needs his assistance.

Yandere! Writer who is initially wary about getting involved with such business easily complies when he meets you. You are a new cop. Fresh out of training and full of gusto. It almost makes him amused to see you show that naive hopefulness. You have caught his attention. Enough for him to feel that tingle of excitement again.

Yandere! Writer is a little surprised when you tell him that some seasoned criminal has taken a liking to his writing. They believe the killer is actively copying the murders as described in his novels, down to the minute details. You believe that the killer is maybe obsessed with the idea that he is the protagonist of these novels.

Yandere! Writer although apprehensive in the beginning, eagerly agrees to help you with the case. You want him to stay in the precinct and help the cops catch the killer. Because you think that only the writer seems to think how the killer thinks. Hence helping you understand the mindset and probably the next move of the killer.

Yandere! Writer is warned by his publicists to not get his hands dirty and stay out of police business, but he is stubborn. He has taken a weird liking to you. He sticks by your side day in and out, even when you are pulling all-nighters. He is practically shadowing you at this point. He has finally found his muse. You don't know but in his new novel he has already made you the love interest of the protagonist, cementing his growing little obsession with you.

Yandere! Writer is perplexed when he realizes that he not only likes you, but has this overpowering urge to keep you to himself. Hell, he didn't feel this satisfaction when he sat knees deep in warm blood oozing from a fresh corpse he just slaughtered out of sheer boredom. Instead his heart thuds wildly in his chest when you simply hold eye contact with him for longer than a minute.

Yandere! Writer loves how you have begun to trust him. Rely on him so much that you are okay with sharing your problems and worries with him. He is making sure that nobody can step in this tight circle that he has managed to ensnare you in with himself.

Yandere! Writer takes a sick satisfaction, almost getting off on that fact that how these foolish people haven't been able to connect the dots already. He began writing about his “incidents” like some sort of memoir of his killings. It's true he killed those people to feel something. To make his usual stone cold pulse, race like it does around you. He isn't ashamed to admit he’d kill again. But this time only for you. He doesn't want this adventure with you to come to an end.

So when he has you in his embrace, after you discovered the corpse of your best friend, he has to stifle a wide grin from splitting across his face. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, while your body is wracked with sobs. This is it. You need to learn that no matter how hard you try, this is where you will always return. He’ll make sure of it.

“Shh, darling its alright. We’ll find the bastard who did this. I'm here now, don't worry. I'll take care of you”

#ashewrites📝#my words💜#flâneur✨#yandere man #yandere male x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere #dark love #headcanons #gender neutral reader

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onlycosmere · 8 months

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Brotherwise Games: The Mistborn Deckbuilding Game (and it's possible that will be the final name; the Star Wars deckbuilding game is just called "The Star Wars Deckbuilding Game," so we might end up doing the same), that's a really exciting project, as well.

The game is essentially themed around being a mistborn in training and contending with rival mistborn, and really getting straight into Mistborn duels and battles, while still having some of the intrigue that's a big part of Mistborn books and a big part of the non-physical metals.

Cosmere.es: I think the image you shared was Vin. Is it like you are going to be playing the characters themselves? Or are you going to be playing other mistborns, or...?

Brotherwise Games: The setup is that you are playing one of the named characters. So you're playing as Vin or Kelsier. Or Shan Elarial, an Inquisitor, or Zane is another playable character.

Cosmere.es: Can you be a kandra?

Brotherwise Games: There is a kandra card, but that would be kind of an ally. Same with a lot of the mistings, and things like that. Within the boundaries of a deckbuilding game like this, everybody's gotta have a similar level of capability. I can see us doing a feruchemy expansion in the future, but right now a keeper is just one card.

Everybody's a mistborn, everybody's got access to the eight core metals, and then over the course of the game you can gain access to atium, which has really big effects, often game-winning effects.

Cosmere.es: So we are in Era One, the first books, maybe the first? The Final Empire?

Brotherwise Games: Yeah. The first couple of books, I'd say, is the general time frame here.

If this game does really well, we could always expand into future eras. There's other ways we could adapt the system to handle Era Two stuff or later Era One stuff, but we're starting with what we think are some of the most iconic and recognizable aspects of... being a mistborn, jumping around rooftops, throwing coins at each other, getting into fights, going to balls, convincing people to do things. All those classic aspects that you think of in Mistborn.

#mistborn #the hero of ages #cosmere #cfsbf #brandon sanderson #root #wob #cosmere merch

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shini--chan · 8 months

Note

Ik you just posted a Japan character sheet, but I'm wondering if you could do character sheet I for him as well, when you have the time!!

Love your work!! Take care of yourself.

Thank you very much for your kind words. Take care as well!

Yandere Charater Sheet I

1p! Japan - Kiku Honda

Trigger warnings: suicide, death and killing of pets, murder, manipulation, torture

Attributes - What sort of Yandere is he/she?

Kiku is a very strict yandere. This is partially because of his own personal adherence to Shintoism, partially because of his own experience of personal history. After all, he is an island adrift at sea, with him having to carve out a living with the little he had and hold the line against greater powers. To adapt when needed, to go on the offensive (even when it wasn’t wise or necessary). He is the sort to keep a very short leash on his emotions and impulses, but bottling up his emotions only makes them all the more potent when they bubble to the surface.

In that sense, he is also capable of extreme passion and eccentric behaviour. Though, it is something that he only really indulges in behind closed curtains and in the dead of night. If somebody were to catch him, it would be premium blackmail material after all. It is in that vein that his obsessive tendencies for you develop. First it is just a flight of fancy that he might entertain, but as time passes, he begins to see more of you, the more he becomes enticed. However, you are the forbidden fruit, and making you a permanent fixture in his life would just invite some many problems. That doesn’t matter in the long run, however, since the more he tries to deny his feelings and the temptation, the harder he falls. For a time being, he’ll try being cold, to scare you away, because in the later stages of his turmoil, he’ll fear that the briefest skin-to-skin contact will make his resolve shatter.

Though there will come a point where he’ll just give in to prevent his urges from spiralling out of control. And it would be in that stage that he’ll present his caring side. It could be simple things like asking if you’re alright, and what you did on the weekend, to playing doctor should you injure yourself. Naturally, it also extends to more creepy aspects, like installing a listening device in a painting that he’ll give you. Or to give you cook books, household manuals and more “exciting” literature with the intention of preparing you for your future role as his lover.

You see, the other thing is that he is perfectly lucid about his unhealthy tendencies. While there would be periods in history, or general setting where he wouldn’t care about your finer feelings at all, the fact that your relationship isn't of the mutual, fulfilling sort would haunt him. Especially the factor of him losing control over his own person in some respect is very unsettling to him. Thus, he would seek to erect countermeasures. Like that you are only allowed to talk in positive terms about your relationship, present a united front and all that. Behind closed doors, you may be a bit more open and honest and sometimes a bit hostile, but never very and never often. Kiku also wants to fool himself a bit into thinking everything is alright, and he can only do that if you play along.

On the flip side, that means that he'll also be indulging. The carrot and the stick, and he intends to make the rewards more incentivising than the punishments. Dates out in the countryside, nights in restaurants and afternoons in small jazz cafes, frequent tastes of the outside world, so that you have little reason to complain. A big house with a nice garden in the countryside is some

small village where everybody knows everybody. Yet it would turn your prison into a gilded cage, with him always being just a stone's throw away. And ready to dole out punishments if you misbehave.

Yes, there is also the stick. Perhaps he'll push or shove if he is particularly frustrated or angry, something that gets the message across but doesn't reduce him to being a wife beater. Generally, he doesn't take it well to be reminded of how things between you really are, and that will reflect in his punishments. To him, your "slip-ups" are stains on white cloth - while you can get the worst out usually, shades and other reminders will always remain. In that vein, all your mistakes will remain in mind and thus - the consequences can stretch out over a long period of time. Kiku has a very good memory, and he'll often and gladly remind you of that, so don't push your luck.

Cornering - How would they get you?

It could go either one of two ways, or be a combination of both. The first one being the honey trap, where he presents himself from his best sides, advancing and retreating until he manages to strike the perfect balance to lure you in. To him, it would be like luring in a shy rabbit, and he would view you as just as helpless and cute. In the case your relationship has the chance to develop naturally, then the red flags wouldn’t be obvious and you would be inclined to brush off his more unusual or disturbing behaviour. Indeed, on the largest part, Kiku will make sure to hide his stalker tendencies, his controlling urges and his patronising sides from you.

Or, the courtship will be of a more disturbing and toxic dynamic. Maybe he is a military conqueror, an invading nation, or a yakuza. Either way, the nature of the bond between you is marked by distaste and a gap in power from the offset and taints the rest of the relationship. The kid gloves are off, and he isn’t inclined to treat you niceless. With you being inferior to him, it is best that you dance to his tune, or else risk being disciplined. Following this scenario, he is also colder with you, more viewing you as a subject that needs to be moulded than a lover that should be catered to.

Expectations - What do they expect of you?

Cleanliness and orderliness, for one. He holds himself to high standards and expects you to do so as well, and not sweep through his domain like a typhon. Since actions reflect thoughts, and vice versa, he’ll slowly train you to be stringent in hygiene and order if you aren’t already up to his standards. In that he’ll be very strict. While he will acknowledge that rooting out deeply ingrained habits to be hard, he won’t see that as a reason to be lenient. People are most likely to change when pushed out of their comfort zone, thus he doesn’t see any reason to make the process comfortable for you. Besides, he can’t stand it when there is dirt or chaos in his living spaces, so it is something you'll be forced to indulge in.

Another trait that he would require of you is a meassure of independance. The last thing he wants is a partner that he would have to baby. Think for yourself and show some agency. Show that he can leave you only without worrying about you starving in front of a full fridge. Demonstrate that you aren't some pretty bauble that will sit on the couch the whole day unless prodded to do otherwise. Like any good owner, he wants his pet to impress him, but it would be best if you get the inclination to please and appease on your own without any of his input.

Also, you should have some sense of community and the selflessness that comes with it. Japan want to introduce you to his own tight circle of trusted friends and ensnare you in it. Having a social side means that you are also unlikely to simply tear away from him, and, if this trait is of a certain flavour, that you won't simply put yourself before him. And that he can make you channel the energy that you would otherwise use into getting away from him into organising and executing social events.

Be sweet. Compliment him and have an open ear. Sooth his worries and help him even when he isn't being explicit in his request for aid. Run him a warm bath at the end of the day and have his favourite meal prepared. Also, a touch of coyness is appreciated. Tease him playfully, be secretive and make him work for something, but don't deny. Silk hiding steel, in more ways than one. Because he wants you to be soft but not fragile; demure but not spineless. Be the sort to be sharp tongued but also diplomatic and not the sort to cuss.

Also, he would be drawn to somebody who is decisive and knows what they want. When somebody asks you to choose, don't shrug your shoulders and keep quiet. Have your own goals in life that go beyond having a new car, a bigger office or a promotion. Have a plan. If you play along with his games, he might indulge you. Even if he does wind up crushing your dreams, it doesn't stop him from finding it attractive.

Faded - Would they let go of you in any way?

In the beginning it would be very easy. He is still trying to keep a distance and avoid getting attached, so you have a lot of time to slip through his fingers. Move on, leave Japan, whatever place you're staying at when you meet him. While he'll still covet you, if you cut all ties, then that will fade as the weeks pass. While the pining and dreaming will remain, with your absence it will not grow to an overwhelming obsession.

The other way to freedom is to win it through a wager or bet, one where the loopholes are nonexistent and therefore he would be forced to allow you to go scott free. Of course, he wouldn’t like this idea at all, so you would have to bring it up in a bet that he would be sure of winning. Even when you are gone, you’ll have to be careful, because he’ll do his very best to convince you to come back to him. Should you then return to Kiku, then you can be sure that he won’t fall for the same trick twice.

Other than that, you could also slip away when his grip is lax, and if you run fast enough, then you might succeed. This would be most successful in the chaos of war or also political turmoil. Your trail would go cold fast, and he would have more pressing matters to deal with, if the situation is particularly tumultuous.

Punishment - How would they proceed if you do something they disapprove of?

There is the pushing and shoving as mentioned earlier in the text - just a quick outlet for his frustration with a clear message brought across. Nobody harmed, except for a bruised ego.

Then there are the more serious punishments. Sensory deprivation is one of them - be it through numbing creams and solutions, blindfolds or ear muffs. Or by temporarily erasing your smell by making you inhale ammonia vapours. When the hallucinations kick in and the discomfort becomes too great, he'll still push you on.

There are other things that seem innocuous on the surface but are anything but that. Like making you sit or stand for hours on end without changing positions. For that, he'll tie you down and leave you staring at a white wall. Or, he'll make you clean with bleach and ammonia without protection. Pick up ceramic or glass shards with your bare hands. Or find some mindless repetitive task for you to do the whole day for a week or two.

Other than that, he could fasten a VR set to your head to play horror films/games on it for a few hours. Subject you to flashing lights. Put you on partial anaesthesia. In general, things that you feel out of control of your circumstances because that is the point he wants to drive home - you are not in control of your life, he is.

Though, there are also the old fashioned punishments, that are far harsher. Like executing a friend or family member in front of you and making you watch. This is more designed to break you than anything else. Aside from that, he might make you kill your own pet and skin it. The whole time, he'll be hovering by your shoulder or standing in front of you while he forces you to do it.

Reaction - How would they react to you escaping?

The first physical reaction would be his blood pressure rising and his heart seizing up in shock and panic. To him, you’re so fragile and naive, pure snow that would be so easily sullied if it comes into contact with contaminated influence. In that sense, he must rescue you before you become your own undoing. That is the part of him that makes him act fast and a bit chaotically. The emotions your escape evokes leads him to developing a tunnel vision, where regaining you becomes one of his top priorities. In the event that there are more important matters to settle, then he becomes unable to fully commit and concentrate himself on those affairs. Those close to him might utilise this as a chance to track you, capture you and hand you back to him in order to gain a favour or two.

Should he be allowed to run wild, then he’ll first scour every millimetre of your shared living space to make sure you aren’t hiding somewhere, or if you have left any clues to your whereabouts. Finding something, anything that can hint on what you’ve done or where you’ve gone can help him. With that in mind, he’ll set out to search your frequent haunts and ask a few subtle questions to coax information out of people that could know where you’ve gone. Who knows, maybe he’ll up the whole game and put out a missing person announcement and force you to play along with it all. The consequences of your disobedience would be the deaths of family and friends, public humiliation on their part, or loss of credibility on your part. Generally, his word will carry more weight than yours, so he’ll be able to silence you quickly should you get mouthy.

Though, he’ll also be furious about your flight, so you’ll have to accept punishments, and that is a category where he can be especially creative. The anger would help him laser focus on the task of bringing you back home and will colour every interaction he’ll have with you for months after your return. In total, he’ll be frightened about you not being at his side and furious about the notions that led to the situation in the first place and wouldn’t shy away from reminding you about that for the longest time.

Turnabout - Scenario: You have the upper hand? What would be different from their usual MO?

Kiku would elect to keep his lips sealed about his discomfort. Sometimes, it isn’t even about having the subjectively having more power in any given moment, but about controlling certain variables. In that case, perhaps he’ll weasel himself into a position where he can steer you into doing what he wants. It is not impossible, since you can't second guess every single one of his actions. Not to forget - it is not as if either of your objects or goals are diametrically opposed; sometimes they compliment each other. As such, doing what he wants can be beneficial to both of you.

Likewise, not every action you undertake could or will hurt him; sometimes you might have the intention of hurting but unwittingly do the opposite.

Generally though, he'll be playing it all by ear. As soon as you think you are in total control and that you have nothing to worry about, then you'll be the most vulnerable. Though, if you are so gullible and arrogant to believe yourself untouchable, then he'll be happy to humour you. Perhaps he'll grow to like the changed roles, particularly if it allows him constant access to you. If that isn't the case, then he'll bend as the situation demands and when the opportune moment arrives, turn the tables once again.

Vengeance - What would they do in the face of competition?

As much as having competition makes his blood boil, he doesn't want to go overboard. After all, since so many of those vying for you are only minor threats, they are only annoying and don't warrant a strong response. Since oversized fly swatters would draw too much attention, he'll just settle for harsh glares and sharp words. If that doesn't help, then consequences in the form of demotions and public shaming. Perhaps he'll even ruin a marriage or family, or two.

If that doesn't work, then he'll have to turn to more drastic methods, maybe even give the person(s) in question a good talking two. Humans can be so fragile, especially when isolated. Having your ties to the world cut and your points of stability shattered is agonising, so much so that some decide to end it all with a … jump.

Of course, there are times when his more possessive tendencies kick in. Should he be able to get away with it easily, then decapitation and the severing of limbs will happen much earlier. Though, if he has to keep legal boundaries in mind, then he'll exercise more restraint. Outright killing leaves too much evidence so how about being buried alive? Or drowning while being weighed down with lead weights. It could also be an accident, like being stuck in a house fire, or losing your footing while mountaineering and falling to your death.

Art is not mine: from Irina Vinnik and other artists

Info an the Yandere Character Sheets

#yandere hetalia #yandere japan #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere character sheet

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natlacentral · 6 months

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For ‘Avatar’s’ Dallas Liu and Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, Zuko and Iroh’s relationship ‘was the most important thing’

One of the most emotional callbacks in Netflix’s “Avatar: The Last Airbender” is in the music.

The fourth episode of the series, “Into the Dark,” features a flashback to a funeral. As young Prince Zuko offers his condolences to his Uncle Iroh on the death of his son Lu Ten, the score transitions into an orchestral version of the familiar melody, “Leaves From the Vine.” The song, first heard in the animated “Avatar” series, has long been associated with the Fire Nation general’s grief.

“That wrecked me,” said Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, who portrays Iroh in the new live-action adaptation, now streaming.

“I only just heard the [new] song in December,” added Dallas Liu, who plays Zuko. “I started imagining our scene and [it] killed me.”

The live-action “Avatar” co-stars were in high spirits as they discussed the show and their characters’ relationship over coffee at a West Hollywood hotel earlier this month. (This reporter borrowed a page from Iroh’s book on the joys of spending time with fascinating strangers and opted for tea.)

Both actors say they are big fans of the animated series, which originally aired from 2005 to 2008 on Nickelodeon. More than once they mentioned the high bar set by the original show and the responsibility they felt to honor its spirit (a previous attempt was not well received), especially because everybody else on set loved the show, too.

“Not even just me and Paul,” Liu said. “Our cast members, our writers, even our transportation and craft [services] team.”

“Avatar” is set in a world inspired by Asian and Indigenous cultures, where certain people have the power to manipulate elements through a martial arts-infused ability known as bending. The original series was the rare children’s cartoon that touched on weighty topics such as war, genocide and imperialism within a fantasy coming-of-age story of a young hero destined to save the world.

“Zuko is a character that I’ve always loved since my childhood,” said Liu of the exiled Fire Nation prince. He is desperately searching for the Avatar — a special bender reincarnated into every generation tasked with maintaining harmony in the world — in order to win his father’s approval and a way back home.

Accompanying Zuko on his mission is Iroh, a renowned general and former heir to the crown who’d spent years at the front lines of the Fire Nation’s ongoing war to conquer the other nations.

Iroh “seems very jovial, but you know there is way more to him than that,” Lee said. “He carries a profound sense of sadness and loss.”

Working within a franchise with a passionate fanbase is nothing new for Lee, who has appeared as New Republic pilot Captain Carson Tevain several recent “Star Wars” series including “Ahsoka” and “The Mandalorian.” But getting cast as Iroh has offered the “Kim’s Convenience” actor a chance to take on the challenge of portraying a character that is already well-loved.

For Lee, Zuko and Iroh’s relationship “was the most important thing to get right.”

“It’s such a backbone to [Zuko’s] story arc,” Lee said. “To his pursuit and where he starts and where he ends.”

Because while “Avatar” is a story that follows Aang (Gordon Cormier), the world’s last airbender, as he figures out how to embrace his destiny and become the hero he is meant to be, it’s also a story about the teens in Aang’s orbit carving out their own paths.

Knowing this, Liu appreciated that their “Avatar” explores Zuko and Iroh’s past a earlier than it was revealed in the animated show. While there are some hints, it’s not until the second season that the animation digs into the Fire Nation royal family’s (dysfunctional) backstory. And some flashback scenes, like Lu Ten’s funeral, are original to the adaptation.

“I was excited because there was no expectation for it already,” Liu said. “I think there are scenes and dialogue [from the animated show] that people are going to look for with a certain level of expectation. But for everything that is new for Zuko on our show, it allowed me to be an artist and be creative.”

These moments were blank canvases Liu relished. He explained that to prepare for the younger version of Zuko in these flashbacks, he took hints from what he learned from his time on “PEN15” watching creators Maya Erskine and Anna Conkle portray middle-school versions of themselves.

“I think I got to tap into that younger side of my own self because I do see similarities between myself and Zuko,” said Liu. “Especially 14-year-old Zuko because there’s no ounce of evil in him.”

Iroh is despondent at Lu Ten’s funeral, as a procession of guests stop by to express their sympathies for the death of his only child. When it’s his turn, Zuko only offers the sentiments that are expected of him at first. But then he shares more heartfelt words as he tries to console his uncle. It’s one of the show’s earliest looks at Zuko’s humanity and capacity for love.

“Dallas does some really, really beautiful work at that funeral scene,” Lee said. “That speech that he delivers is just so heartbreakingly beautiful and comforting. He does all the heavy lifting. I just needed to react to what he was giving me.”

Not for the first time, Liu is quick to respond to the compliment by expressing his own appreciation for everything he learned from Paul during their time together on set.

“Especially that scene, and in a lot of our other emotional scenes, I can’t stress how much I actually relied on Paul,” Liu said. “He was always there every day to support me with honestly all of our scenes.”

Equally charming was when Liu tried to credit Iroh’s influence as the reason why Zuko is able to open up, for one brief moment, with Aang during another episode. Lee is quick to point out that Zuko’s compassion was something already within him from when he was younger, as seen in the flashback scenes.

Lee is aware that “Avatar” fans have wondered whether he would sing “Leaves From the Vine” on the series. It was first featured in Season 2 of the animated “Avatar” in an episode that shows Iroh singing the song through tears after he sets up a small memorial for Lu Ten on his birthday. (That segment was dedicated to Mako, Iroh’s original voice actor, who had died before the episode aired.)

“I didn’t want to spoil anything … but I knew that one scene was coming up,” Lee said. It’s one of the reveals that leads to “everybody look[ing] at Zuko differently. I love that. This adaptation, it really is about subtext, past experiences, traumas, success, failures, all of that stuff.”

Both Liu and Lee hope that their Zuko and Iroh will get to continue on their journey.

“What I love about their relationship is, Iroh is there to give advice, but he never tells [Zuko] what to do,” Lee said. Zuko’s “got to find his own way, and he supports him. … I really do wish [we get] to do more [seasons], because I want to see that relationship flourish even more.”

#natla #atla #netflix avatar #netflix atla #atla netflix #avatar netflix #avatar the last airbender #la times #article #dallas liu #paul sun hyung lee #interview

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streets-in-paradise · 4 months

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Hello sweetie ^^

First, I hope you're fine, that's the most important thing.

Second, I don't know if you're taking request or anything right now but my mind was wandering and that's what came by itself:

How would Achilles reacts to a girl who's considered by everybody as a freak? Kind of like Belle in Beauty and the Beast?

If you feel like writing something, or just voice me your opinion, I'm pretty curious to see what you think about that.

I wish you a lovely day,

Val 🌸

Welcome back, dear Val !!

I'm fortunately fine, recovering from a cold ( can you believe that i catched a cold twice on the same month? Damn climate change lol). The worst part of it is over because at least the fever stopped, so I don't feel misserable anymore, only very congested.

First of all, let me remind you that Troy requests are allways open. I keep this special treatment for it on my blog because it's the one thing I write about that I know can't be found easily elsewhere. Since the very first reason why I started writing fic was finding no Troy fics, I never close requests for Troy.

Now is the time when I have to tell you that our minds are working as one, cause I have thought so much about this Idea you sent me before.

Would you believe me if I tell you that I requested this very same thing to another (now sadly deactivated) blog a few months ago? I never got to see it, because the blog deactivated before getting to my request, but the point is we got the same Idea!!

I'm gonna do this as a headcanon list followed by a short fic.

Mycenaean civilization was prior to the invention of books, most of the knowledge was passed trough oral transmission, usually by men, and the writing they did was mostly in clay tablets. So, I'm going to keep the curious dreamer bookworm aspect of Belle adapted in ways that would fit with the period.

*clicks play on a Beauty and the Beast soundtrack playlist and starts typing with excitement*

Achilles reacting to a Belle-like town's freak:

Headcanons

-As a start, let's not forget that in Greece he is an invincible warrior and, among the myrmidons in particular, the greatest hero that has ever been.

-He is esentially in the position of Gaston, but without most of his negative traits ( like the anti-intellectualism and chauvinism making him an unlikable dick). Aware of being admired as a paradigm of masculine perfection, he gives the people what they want to see in order to make his legend grow.

-Sure, his arrogance can be insufferable sometimes. The cocky bastard walks in knowing the world worships him, but despite of how badly he enjoys it that's part of his hero acting.

-To a Belle-like girl, he would initially appear like a Gaston given the image that his surface projects. All men wanting to be him, all women wanting to have him, and her looking at the whole thing from afar wondering why.

- Very few close friends and family know him privately ( Patroclus, Eudorus, Odysseus and, of course, his mother). For the rest, he remains a mistery. People adoring him think they know him, but they get to see only what they seek from their celebrity.

-The truth is that he is also a bit of a freak, just no one notices because he is the hero of the place. Achilles may be the most popular guy arround, but he is not a comformist and he loves girls that break the mold. ( canonically in the film, Briseis won him over yelling in a room full of men and cuestioning his morals, remember?)

-Yet, everyone in Phthia is quick to judge you as the great local mistery. Girl in age to find a husband, commented to be the most beautifull maiden in the land, but of undeniable strange ways.

-If you would be found following artists, healers, scribes or travellers, it was never on the hope of finding a husband.

-What you wanted was stories, news and knowledge. In his youth, your father had gone in tons of trade trips and his stories inspired you curiosity for the outside world from an early age. He had educated you by himself through the culture a trader adquires with many years of experience in the profession.

-You had a way with words, and to a sweet look of yours and a kind ask many men were willing to instruct you in whatever topic you would want to know about. Some of the few educated men on the city valued your curiosity and showed themselves genuinely friendly to you and your crave for learning.

-Given that Phthia was famous on the country as a land of warriors, this ocassional bonding with a few intellectuals arround was not enough for you to not be perceived as an outcast. The city lammented behind your back how such beauty was wasted in a weird girl whose fingertips were allways stained of wet clay from all the writing.

-Favorite topic of gossiping on the market, or among the groups of women doing laundry near the river shore, you had became infamous as the small town's rarity. People felt bad for your father, claiming he would end up burdened with a spinster till the end of his days, and attributed the blame to the lack of a feminine presence in the home.

-Everyday their stories grew bigger in their attempt to understand you. Stares would follow you everywhere, expectant for the next strange occurence of yours they would get to witness.

-At some point you began to embrace it and seek to confuse your neighbors on purpose. Whenever they would bring up the unconfortable topic with insidious hypocrite subtility, you would respond cheerfully with some more unapologetical rambling you knew that would bore them so they would leave you be.

-Comments lead Achilles to you, since the ill-famed tales of the scandals your reactions cause are the perfect contrast of his celebrated feats.

-The stories he heard did make you look like weirdo, but he could tell you weren't neccesarily the city's calamity. Just a clever, curious girl wanting to be listened. Patroclus confirmed that assumption admitting when asked that you were the first one showing interest in the verses he had been composing and you both have been sharing poetry ocassionally since then.

-Always keeping his cousin away from it under your expressed request, he even defended you from the unfair accusations whenever he could.

-Achilles is thrilled, and soon starts searching for you because he is very curious about meeting you.

-The noises of a crowded market in the morning don't warn you of his arrival like the merry sounds of girls softening the tone of their voices saluting his name in hopes of being noticed.

-Thinking he would stop there, you ignore that and continue your walk, but a strange panic takes over you when you notice he didn't.

-What could he possibly want from you? Was it perhaps because you were the only young girl who wasn't abandoning her daily duties to mindlessly stare at him passing by? His usual admirors were staring daggers at you, unaware that their disbelief was yours too.

-He is not stopping, so you turn back to confront him first and within the very first face to face encounter he is already giving you THAT smile.

-Not the cocky one of when he is about to repeat for a hundred time the story of one of his victories. The softer, more welcoming one.

Blurb

What you considered a defensive attitude was hilariously sweet to him. Achilles knew he couldn't expect any less from the beggining given how used you were to being judged by everyone, but that didn't disencourage him.

Arms crossed and a glance of annoyance, only awaiting for an explanation for his not so subtle irruption.

" May I help you?"

Tales failed to accurately describe your beauty, and anger suited you better than what he could forsee. He almost felt bad for spoiling your morning, if that was how you felt about him.

" Indeed, i'm looking for a talented local poetress whose work I got recommended. "

His young cousin being the only attentive audience of your ramblings would someday bring you trouble, and the day seemed to have arrived.

" I don't do epic poetry, my poems are about the simple realities of common people and I nurture my inspiration on the everyday life ... with brief incursions on romantic poetry. In either case, I doubt it would be good enough for the amusement of a great warrior like you. "

He knew exactly what you were trying to do: extending your explanation in a convulsive language hoping he would get bored and leave.

" I like how you speak, I think I could sit at some quiet spot on the beach to hear you talk all day."

The flirting was becoming more obvious, but you trusted in your capacity to politely get rid of him.

" And what could we possibly talk about, may I ask? At risk of hurting your infamous pride, I must say battle stories don't interest me that much."

Being underestimated hurted his pride, but he understood that to get your attention he would have to leave it behind.

" How about history, art, religion, medicine, poetry, music? I play lyre, but I rarely do it in public. What's your favorite instrument? "

The crushing subversion of your expectations made you feel very ashamed. It's not like you actively wanted to misjudge him, but the arrogant man parading across the city that was his typical public self usually left little space for imagination.

" Actually, I have never been taught how to play any. "

Achilles tucked a golden stand of his hair behind his ear like if he would be seeking for an even better visual range to glance at you.

" We can fix that, If you want. "

Exquisitely polite, and you couldn't believe your ears.

" I would love to! ... But I insist in repaying the lessons teaching you something else in exchange. "

He suspected that the mere sight of excitement in your beautifull face as you would explain deep into a topic that interested you would be more than enough payment for whatever he could show you.

" Polymele once described in horror to me what you told her about the strange mortuary rituals of the egyptians. I suspect she didn't transmitted it with accuracy, because you lost her in the evisceration part. "

You chuckled, facing your guilt.

" Do you really want me to describe it again for you?"

In a subtle move seeking proximity, he offered to pick the small basket you carried to see if you would be receptive of his company.

" Why not? Do you sincerely think it could gross me? Or that I could care for the loosing of your lady-like ways? You natural self seems way more interesting that whatever facade the people reclaims you to try fitting in. "

It made you smile and, to his surprise, you took his free hand in clear acceptance for the proposition.

Becoming the envy of every girl for being seen with him didn't matter to you at all, because you couldn't deviate at any moment your focus from the excellent conversation you were having.

Achilles was full of surprises and he made you crave to keep discovering more.

#troy 2004 #troy #achilles #brad pitt #achilles x reader #brad pitt x reader

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