#there are 4 rules he can not break; he can not pick his subjects he can not kill his staff he can not experiment on living children and he

[narutomaki]

getting emo about my own fanfic and how I've chosen to write orochimaru ♡ help♡

[lokisgoodgirl]

Daylight Orgy: The Rite (IV)

Masterlist for The Rite is HERE My regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: (4) You confront Loki about Fandral - and the rules of the Rite are bent to breaking point. (w/c 4.1k) Warnings: 18+ only. Minors DNI. Asgard Loki! x FReader. Smuttish (+ 3rd party smut). Jealousy. Loki being a naughty prince.

Had you been expecting Loki to follow you?

That he’d thunder down those spiral steps and throw the bronze door open? Tear across the market square half-naked and yank you by the shoulders to say, ‘Stop – that scoundrel is a lying vagabond…’ ?

Yes, obviously.

But he didn’t.

You couldn’t settle back in your chambers. Picking things up, putting them down, moving to the window - always on edge for a knock that didn’t come.

‘The pleasure of the subject is only one part of the ritual. You cannot possibly fulfil the second.’

The fuck was that supposed to mean? Loki never mentioned a second part. As far as you knew, all you had to do was lie there and let him eat you out, not contain any enthusiasm, and try not to die from overstimulation. Sure…there might be other weird shit, it was the Asgardian Royals after all – but this seemed important.

If Fandral’s telling the truth, that is.

You frown, staring at a wiry bird shifting over the rooftops. Clearly, Fandral's a shit-stirrer. Clearly, he’s jealous, Loki had said as much. You’d be pretty jealous too if you were the only person in the inner-circle Loki hadn’t fucked over the past five centuries. An unexpected wrench of envy twists your stomach.

But the prince you’d seen in the Weaving Rooms was entirely different to the one that stared down from frescos and observed his worshippers with cool disdain. A smile that lit up his eyes, the inflection of a breathless chuckle as you caught him by surprise, a faint blush that could be mistaken as humble, the hesitant lust which thrummed beneath his skin as you’d pressed to him –

‘I need to see you,’ he’d said. ‘Every day from now until then.’ Like you meant something to him, and it felt…real.

Was it really a game? Would he pull the rug at the last minute before the ceremony? It was very on brand, you’d admit. The thought sends a violent shudder up your spine.

The next morning, there’s no knock at the door from Loki’s apprentice. No letters, no nothing. Anxiety creeps to anger, and with every inch the sun moves up the sky, your feet get itchier. Does he think I’m just going to sit around and wait for him? Fucking gods. Maybe I should just tell him no – then he’ll have do the Rite with Fandral, see how that works out. Serve him right.

But then… the thought of Loki crawling on top of that smarmy, coiffured arsehole invades your brain. Shit. You shift down the corridors of the court towards the interior palace. No one looks at you today. The golden doors of the main entrance to the royal quarters loom, and you swallow, heart loud in your ears. A guard side-steps in front of you with a cock of an eyebrow as effective as a raise of his hand. “I’m here to see Prince Loki,” you say. The eyebrow cocks higher. “You know how many people try that every day?” He looks down to your feet, and back to your face with a sneer. “Most of them dress better for the occasion. Or at least bring a bribe.”

You stare at him with heat creeping up your neck. “He knows who I am.” He laughs. “I bet he does.” “He does!” “Look…” The guard cups your elbow and ushers you to the side, glancing towards his peers at the other end of the door. “I don’t want to embarrass you, love. Just do yourself a favour, and leave.”

Your eyes narrow. “I’m here to see Prince Loki,” you say again, harsher this time. “Can someone just go and tell him I’m here? He’ll be pissed if he finds out you turned me away.” The guard flinches fractionally, studying your face. Eventually he leaves, and five minutes later, he’s back. “Come on,” he says gruffly. No apology, very nice. The gold door slams and the bustle of the outer court disappears. The air is cooler in here, a strange stillness hanging like perfume. More marble carves in large arches along the corridor, open to garden running up the middle of a courtyard. Somewhere, water trickles - but you can't see it. “He’s drunk,” the guard says without looking back. “Excuse me?” “The Prince. He’s drunk, and he has company.” You frown. It isn’t even midday. Suddenly your throat feels very tight, and you feel very small. If Loki had wanted to see me, he’d have asked. He’d have sent for me. So much for being aloof and interesting. Your irritation towards Fandral blooms with new fervour: not only has he ruined your excitement; he’s ruined your hot-girl-mystery.

The guard stops abruptly and you collide into his shoulder-guards. He clears his throat, stamping a staff twice.

You roll your eyes, shuffling around him. Through an open set of doors is a room like something from the whispered tales of olden Asgard. Chiffon flutters at the windows, long plush cushions lining the floor draped with blankets that shimmer in sunlight. In the corner, some blindfolded guy is plucking at a lute. Platters of nuts, grapes, sweet cakes lie half-demolished across the floor, and twice the amount of goblets as people. And then...your jaw goes slack.

Bodies shift in the room, two dozen, at least - all moving to their own rhythm like waves rippling to shore. A woman sits perched on the windowsill; you can’t see her face, only her legs wrapped around a man’s arse as he slowly thrusts into her. Her hair shimmers like spun gold; lips stained with rich juices while she pants to the ceiling. On the cushions, a man and woman lie side-by-side, kissing languidly as two other men busy themselves between their respective thighs. People are fucking…everywhere: sets of two, three, four. Norns. You’re trying to find somewhere to set your eyes that doesn’t involve breasts, or glistening body parts, or faces twisted in pleasure that you definitely shouldn’t be witness to. And then, they land on Loki. He's looking directly at you with a lazy, dark delight. The Prince lounges across a gilded chair in the corner; one thigh hiked over the armrest and the other stretched to its full length. His boots look more obscene on him than usual, today – sprawling like that.

The laces of his shirt are undone, dark tangles of hair spread over his shoulders and pearls of sweat glistening on his collarbone. With a mildly horrifying lurch of your stomach, you notice the ties at his groin are loose, too. But he’s not got someone squirming around his cock, and that’s something, at least. His lips move, but no sound comes out. You frown as he waves a hand, beckoning you through the doors. Dangling on the precipice of a flee, you feel one foot move in front of the other – and then your face feels like its slathered in jelly: cool, wet slime sliding over your skin. You lurch out the other side of the doorway with a gasp...and then the sound hits. Moans of pleasure ring to the high ceilings: grunts, mewls, groans of names you’ve never heard as they wring pitched ecstasy from each other. Loki’s smile grows. “Just a small silencing enchantment.” He shrugs and clicks his fingers. The door slams behind you. A few pairs of eyes flicker in your direction before re-focusing on their work. You can’t blame them – you’re entirely overdressed. Picking your way across the floor, you come to a stop beside him.

This…isn’t what you’d expected. He rests his head back, half-lidded eyes clouded by whatever’s swirling in his goblet. “You realise it’s not even midday?”

An impish smile lifts Loki’s lips, a flash of tongue nipping over the bottom one. “I am a second son of the crown, famed for hedonism and the sensual pleasures…how else should I fill my days?” Your eyes rise to the couple fucking on the windowsill. “Could we talk somewhere?”

A frown ghosts his forehead, and Loki reaches for your hand. His eyes have sharpened, and he looks almost sober. “We’re all friends here, it’s just…a release. A club, if you will. We can talk here, unless you’re uncomfortable.” Your tongue pokes against your cheek. You have no right to ask this, and yet, “Have you ‘released’ today, then?” One of Loki’s brows rise, lips rippling in a closed smile. “Yes.”

That jealousy you’d been fighting settles like a stone. Loki’s eyes slide between yours, slivers of sapphire sparking beyond deep pools of black. “Although not with any interference from another,’ he adds huskily. “I’m…saving myself, it seems.” “Oh?” “Mmm. Delayed gratification is a powerful lure.”

As the hum leaves his lips, Loki shuffles on the chair: back straightening and the leg hoisted on the armrest shifting. You try not to let your gaze drop to his crotch, but it’s a moth-flame situation. He’s hard, of course. Behind you, someone orgasms.

Heat pools in your lower belly, arousal blossoming like liquid shadow, and you know for a fact if you move – there will be a slip between your thighs. You’ve never been somewhere like this – sex has always been private, quiet. Loki’s looking at you with something close to innocence. Perhaps it’s the way you know there absolutely no way you can fuck him – no way for him to touch that hot mess gathering between your folds, and no way for you to suckle the head of his cock as he tangles those long fingers in your—

“Did you hear what I said?” You clear your throat, swallowing. “Sorry, I was…somewhere else.” “Mmm,” Loki hums again, brushing a finger by his lips to stifle a smile. He lowers his thigh from the armrest and pats it: once, twice. Like a magnet, you slide onto his lap. Across the room, a woman being fucked against a pillar frowns at you over her partner’s shoulder. An arrogant thrill soaks up your spine while Loki’s nose brushes down your cheek; lips lingering on the curve of your neck, his breath gloriously cool against the heat of your skin.

“What did you want to discuss, little owl? Here, in my den of debauchery.” His fingers dance up the folds of fabric at your midsection, cupping a breast and beginning to toy at the nipple. It feels so fucking good: too good. He pinches it gently, rolling against his thumb, knowing exactly what he’s doing; you exhale against his cheek, and it makes it almost impossible to whisper, “Fandral.”

The fingers still, and you can feel Loki frowning without even having to look. “What?” he growls. It’s all you can do not to grind against his thigh. He’s wearing a tight pair of leather trousers, so at least none of the mess between your legs, probably soaking through your dress, will get on his skin. But he might touch me. He pinches your nipple, eyes narrowing. A hiss erupts from your throat, tapering to a moan. “Fandral,” you say on the exhale. “If it’s not too much trouble, desist from moaning that rube's name in my presence, darling.” You frown. “He said you’re messing with me; said you don’t have any intention of us doing the Rite together, and that he’ll be the—”

Suddenly you’re airborne, Loki’s strong hands scooping you like a bag of feathers and manoeuvring you to one of the long pillows on the floor. He looms over you on his hands and knees; one set on either side of your left leg, a wild veil of black hair hanging around his jaw. His lips part, and the impossible muscles of his shoulders shift beneath the drape of that slutty shirt. “He will not,” Loki says. “Did that cunning little mouse say he was visiting Lagertha for any other reason than to have his doublet mended?” His breath is tinged with the sweetness of primrose wine. “You are my chosen partner; he has no sway in it – and certainly no say in it.”

The gravel of his voice is bass to the continuum of groaning that sings between pillars. Desire scorches your skin, tightening your thighs and twisting your stomach so taut it might snap. Your gaze shifts fractionally to the side, catching sight of a beautiful man with bronze hair glittering like a copper coin as his cock sinks inside against another man’s ass: again, again - a hand fastening to the back of his lover’s neck. The second man moans: guttural, primal. “Do you like that?” Loki’s breath licks the shell of your ear, his hands shifting the skirts of your loose dress up your parted legs like water. The digits slide down your arms, guiding them above your head. You can’t look away: the men are poetry together. The one taking everything the other has to give grips the back of a chair, his knuckles white, his jaw trembling and cock hard at his stomach as the fingers cradling his neck tighten.

If Loki can’t ravish you, if he can’t touch your cunt which aches for his tongue – then you’ll settle for his voice. And the heat radiating from the collar of his shirt. And anyway, you’re pretty sure his voice alone will make you climax in 3…2…1— “I want to know everything,” Loki says: dark, filthy, and…honest? Your pussy clenches so hard you almost whimper. “You’ve told me about your life, but now I wish to know your desires…your deepest fantasies. I crave that knowledge like an orgasm I cannot sate.”

His husk lingers heavy over any other sound, filling your mind with strange, inadvisable, thoughts of forever. “What you like,” he hums, “what you want…how I can pleasure you beyond anything you’ve shared with another, and how I can haunt every moment your mind wanders from now until eternity.”

The god’s lips graze your pulse point, and you can feel the thump of blood beating against his skin. “So, I ask again,” he says as the figures fucking in front of you blur, “do you like that?”

A stab of air rips down your throat as you gasp, “Yes.” Norns, right now you’d let him flip you over and sink into your ass in a second.

Without warning, one of Loki’s leather clad thighs presses against your clit. Sparks explode from your centre, tendrils of utter desire rippling across your body like the drag of a lit match. Fear widens your eyes, and amusement dances in his. “Your arousal cannot touch me through these,” he says coolly, taking his time over every syllable. “My hands remain here…” Loki’s eyes dart up to his fingers encircling your wrists, and squeezes. “My sword remains sheathed, and my leathers are merely...” He presses the flat of his lower thigh against your clit again, “A tool.”

“That’s cheating,” you say breathlessly. Loki’s lip twitches in a knowing smirk, a half shrug conveying, ‘What did you expect?’ “Don’t you want to play with me?” His eyes narrow, and another lance of need spears through your core. Your lips roll together, stifling a moan as your brows draw tight. “You’re drunk,” you say. But you don’t believe it. Loki’s pupils are still wide and deep enough to drown in, but it’s not the primrose wine. Unbelievably, it’s you. For now, you decide to let yourself imagine he doesn’t just need you for the Rite; that it could be more – that he could be yours.

The weight of his attention lies heavier in the air than the aroma of sex, and his thigh grinds against your pussy; catching the spot above your clit with each, gentle tug.

“Fuck…Loki,” you whisper, back arching off the cushion. His chin rises, smouldering beneath half-lidded eyes. “Talk to me,” he breathes. You want to dig the heel of your palm against his solid cock bound beneath the crotch of his leathers. You want to feel his animal god-lust pulsing under your hand - more fuel for the violently dirty fantasies you’ll create in your head later as you writhe beneath the sheets alone.

Loki tuts, squeezing your wrists again. You offer a weak, breathy struggle. “No, little owl. Not today, not yet. I want to be destructively engorged with the sight of you…denied what I want while I hear you come undone.” “Loki,” you whine again, face hot and a hum growing in your ears. This is crazy. And yet…

Loki’s thigh moves in wicked waves against your clit; his eyes burning into yours, those thin lips parted and flushed, and ragged exhales scraping from his throat like he’s sinking inside your cunt. “Talk to me,” he says again, but this time, it’s a beg. A silky voice sounds from behind his broad shoulders, accompanied by an immaculately shaped set of nails sweeping across his collarbone. The woman who was glaring earlier. She lowers to his ear. “Can I offer you relief, my prince? Since this one cannot?”

It’s hushed, but you were meant to hear it.

Loki doesn’t even look at her; his fingers stay curled around your wrists. “No,” he says through gritted teeth. She slinks away and the flames licking up your belly burn brighter. The meat of his thigh muscle stills, and the ache of its absence makes you frott against his knee.

“Talk to me,” he commands with an air of finality, chin lowering. “Tell me what you like, what you want.” Even if he let go of your arms, that stare would pin you in place. Every inch the prince; every inch the god – even in the middle of a daylight orgy.

“I want your mouth on me,” you whisper; squirming beneath his mischievous smirk. “I want it…slow, then heavier…then slower.” “Slow?” Loki hums, titling his head. That tongue darts over his lips. “And firm, but…soft. Wet. And loud…I want to hear you taste me.” Gods’ bones, has anyone ever been this ineloquent? But Loki doesn’t seem to mind. His face tells you he knows exactly what you mean; exactly how you like it. He’s imagining it, just as you are.

Your eyes dart to his crotch and the thick outline of his manhood strains against heavy creases. His hips shift, a small hiss filling the air between you. “What else?” he asks in a breathless voice that’s so unlike him. You bite your lip as his stare falls down your chest - flimsy drapes of silk threatening to expose your breasts. You wonder if he’ll let go of your wrists. And if he can control himself if he does. “And I want your cock, too…obviously.” “Obviously…” he goads with the spectre of a smile. The god leans forward, nudging the silk aside with his nose and capturing a nipple with a firm suck. Loki’s thigh begins to shift against your pussy again, and a strangled moan rattles in your throat. The groans of the men fucking a few meters away reach crescendo and they tumble over the edge in a sweaty, groaning slip of sex.

“I want you everywhere,” you gasp, losing any shred of remaining modesty with the smear of your heat against his leathers. “My cunt, my mouth, my ass—” “—Like them?” he stammers, thick brows drawn together. “—Like them. I want you so deep inside me I forget my own name, want your skin smacking my shoulders, want you pulling me onto your cock as you fuck me like I’m in heat and you can’t control it—” “—More,” Loki gasps, and your eyes fly open. His face is twisted with furious need, lines deep in his forehead, strands of onyx hair buffeting at his lips. His thigh slips against your slit – it’s absolutely soaked, and his hands tremble where he’s holding you in place. The words that shape your lips are calculated in their depravity: aimed to kill. “I want your cum dripping between my thighs; dripping between my breasts…” At that, Loki groans. “I’ll lick it off myself…before I suck you clean, and swallow everything you have left…my prince.” Loki’s jaw slackens like the orgasm shattering him is an unseen foe with a knife to his neck. The jolt in his hips sends the thick thigh driving against your clit and you crumble right alongside him with a garbled cry of his name. He falls on top of you in a mess of ferocious need; lips working, breath gasping from your lungs and the beat of his heart strong against your ribs. But still, his hands don’t leave your wrists.

“You are a wonder,” he breathes, galaxies swimming in his pleasure-drunk stare. And for a moment, you forget that you’re a means to an end; that after the Rite you’ll go back to being a nobody - and you believe him.  

Loki barely has his wits back when someone clears their throat at the door. “Your brother - Prince Loki.” “My what?” “Your brother, the crown prince. He’s outside.” “Nine hels. What does he want?” Loki didn’t wait for the man to respond – he’d save the wretch that particular misery, and Loki’s misery at having to listen to the bluster of his explanation. He dips to your cheek, drawing his nose down the line of your cheekbone, inhaling against your sweat-damp skin. “I’ll return shortly,” he whispers. And below him, you shiver. A thrill spreads in sharp veins under his flesh. Loki strides past the guard looking at the ceiling while his cheeks flush an alarming shade of scarlet – and the door shuts quickly behind them. Thor stands with his arms folded, one ill-groomed eyebrow rising as he says, “Are the reports true? That your Rite partner is in there?” Loki can’t contain the eye-roll. “If you think I’m so foolish as to compromise myself at the eleventh hour before my ascension to the royal line; then truly there is no hope for you, brother. And she has a name, you know.” Thor’s gaze drops sceptically to his thigh. “What’s that?” He gestures to the glistening slick down one of the leather-clad quad muscles. Norns. “It’s not breaking the rules, I checked.”

With a flick of his fingers, the slick evaporates. And even though he’s sure (almost, sure), Loki rubs his fingertips together. Nothing. He breathes a secret sigh of relief. It would just be like Thor to ruin everything without actually intending to. “Of course you did, Loki. How studious of you.” “Can you spell that?” He snorts. “Besides, your partner was Lady Sif – you had centuries to cultivate the bond. And father and mother were partners…it’s a completely different situation. I must do what I must within the confines of the ceremonial rules.” “And whose fault is that, Loki? You could’ve had your pick of partners had you not rutted through them in a jamboree of wine and carnal gluttony.” Loki’s lip twitches, and he sucks the bottom one between his teeth. “I couldn’t have selected better if I’d had the centuries to spare, actually. Not all of us need hundreds of years to woo someone.”

The bemused crunch of Thor’s brow makes a flutter of satisfaction blossom in his chest. “I assure you, brother – all aspects of the Rite of Successional Pleasure will be fulfilled, I’m sure of it.” Thor's eyes narrow. “She’s been told of the second requirement?” “No, but I believe doing so will make it unnecessarily…challenging. She doesn’t need to know, she only needs to feel.” “You realise her feelings for you must come willingly. Un-influenced by magic?”

Loki glares, spine stiffening. “I shan't need to use my powers to wring pleasure from her body, why should I require it of her heart? Is that so hard to believe?” “In such a short amount of time? Yes, brother. I’ve known you over a millennia, and most days I still don’t care for you.” Loki’s fist flexes at his side as Thor, regrettably, continues. “The Rite is an expression of our benevolence to bestow pleasure on another freely, but it is also a test of our means to win their affections; their loyalty.” “And I will not fail,” he snaps. He and Thor stare at each other, unblinking, until his brother breaks first with a long, whittling sigh. “I hope you’re right, brother,” he says. “And be more careful, it would be unfortunate if you were to be undone by your own…passions, as usual.”

Heat prickles beneath Loki’s skin. “What would you know of my passions? Thor’s cape flutters as he turns, before glancing over his shoulder: ignoring him. “As much as it pains me, choosing Fandral as your partner for the Rite may be the wiser choice…it’s not too late. You know he already harbours those feelings for you – the deep ones the ritual requires. If there is any doubt, brother—”

“—There is no doubt,” Loki lies, fingernails digging in to the soft flesh of his palm. “I still have two moons until the ceremony– wars have been won in less.” He keeps his expression flat as Thor’s eyes soften. “If only love was as simple as war, brother,” he says in one of those rare displays of wisdom that make Loki want to punch him in the face. “She’s not one of us. I would say try not to break her heart, but it’s inevitable, is it not.” It isn’t a question. Loki swallows as his brother’s footsteps fade, glancing back to the golden door. He waves his hand, releasing the enchantment muffling the guard’s ears.

“Get her out of there,” he murmurs. “Escort her, offer my apologies; instruct her to change, and meet me in the gardens at sunrise.” "My prince, she will ask—" "—Sunrise," he snaps. A pain throbs behind his eyes.

The guard nods, and Loki tries to ignore the pulse of his heartbeat in his throat, and the unfamiliar itch of guilt spreading with every echoing thud of his boots around Asgard’s gilded halls.

Next Chapter: Illusion & Truth The Masterlist for The Rite is HERE Comments in tags ❤️ Plz be silly with me 🍰🥳

[littyhoney]

Right Person,Wrong Time (part 1)

(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader

Chapter summary: you have always been there for Miles,will your long time crush ever pay attention to you…or not?

Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, slight angst

Guys this is my first time writing this be gentle with me <3 enjoy!

“Alright so lets do this one more time, Hey! Im (Y/N) (L/N) and Im one of the well-known spiderman/spiderwoman of Brooklyn,New York.” you swing through the city using your web as some of the civilians took out their phone to take picture or video of you. You land on top of a rooftop before speaking into an invincible camera “But im not the only one,im with my close friend Miles Morales who is also a spiderman of Brooklyn,weird huh?”

comes another person swing by you as he parkour through the rooftop in his black and red spider suit “keep up (n/n)!” Miles laugh as he jumps and swings away. You let out a chuckle as you follow him “Yo Miles wait up!”.

For the last few months after the collider incident with Kingpin,you and miles get closer since both of you share the same responsibility to keep the city safe and life is not easy even after you wear the spider mask. Balancing your life as a student and as a hero is not..easy,at all. At one time you could be in class try to catch up to your academic and the next thing you make up an excuse to go to the rest room to go out and fight crimes, comes back with few bruises and scrathes. But both of you manage to pull through the day,together.

It is Sunday as you and Miles are hanging out in his room listening to music, you are sitting on his bed bopping your head to the song as you scroll through your phone while Miles is sitting at his desk with his sketchbook,drawing. Suddenly the silent breaks as Miles stop his drawing and ask “Hey..(n/n)” he turn his chair towards you.

“Hm? What is it coco head? Something on your mind?” you turn your attention to Miles,notice his sad demenor. You stand up from the bed and walk towards him put your hand on his shoulder.

“Do you..miss the other spiders? Like Peter..Peni and..Gwen” Miles speak,his voice is low as he look up at you. You sigh and nod your head “Yeah I do Miles, but they are in another dimension” you tilt your head slightly “They are out there living their lives,I wonder if Peter B ever have a child ya know” you chuckle,trying to lighten up his mood

Miles chuckle before he look down at his hands on his lap “I just…miss Gwen a lot actually” he sigh as he wipe his face with his palms slightly frustrated “Ya know it is hard I miss her and she is not even from here man”

you lean on the table beside him,hunch down slightly to look him in the eyes,with sympathy “Miles,you know the rules right,they cant be here nor we can be there, we can dissapear and so are they”

“I know that (y/n)…I know,if only I could just met Gwen one time” Miles lean back on his chair looking at the ceiling,in his head he is hopping maybe a portal would just pop out so he could go to Gwens dimension..

You look at your friend sadnes fill your heart to see your best friend seem so down,you know Miles have been missing the spiders ever since the first week they went back to their dimension and for the past time you have try your best to be there for Miles and keep him company listening to whatever problem he is facing. For the years you been friend with Miles you slowly start to develop feelings for the ball of sunshine. His creativity in his talent,he is smart in academics,his warm honey brown eyes that seem to always take your breath away and such a sweet smile..it would be a fool of you to not fall for the boy.

You lick your lips slightly before you stand up and face to the desk,trying to change the subject “what cha drawing Miles?” you pick up his black sketchbook and go through the pages. “Oh just some uh,sketches of..” Miles voice trail off not wanting to finish the sentence.

“Of..?” I trail my question as I keep flicking the pages before stopping on the page he was currently drawing on and look at the figure he drew with such great details, my breath hitch slightly before finish my own sentence “Gwen..” I look at the drawing..a pang of jealousy fill my heart before I shake my head slightly and close the book turn to look at Miles with a small smile “It looks awesome Miles,you really get her smile and suit on point”

Thanks man” Miles smile at you before you could say anything Rio voice muffle through the close door of Miles bedroom “Miles! Dinner is ready! Tell (y/n) she can join for dinner!” Miles turn towards the doors slightly “Okay mom! Be there in a sec!” Miles turn back to you before nudge his head slightly towards the door “You joinning (n/n)?” You shake your head slightly before move to get your jacket and phone “I have to go home Miles,il see you later okay?” Miles stand up from his chair making his way to you before giving you a hug “Thank you for being with me (n/n)”

You smile sadly knowing that Miles need your support more in this tough times of his.. you pat his back before making your way out of his room saying goodbye to mama Rio and walk out the street with both of your hands in your pocket…you cant help but though of how many times Miles have mention Gwen whenever you two are together…how many times he have drawn her in almost all the pages in his sketchbook, heck he didn’t even draw you even though you have been friends for so long..maybe you could try to be better…maybe be like Gwen..?

To be continued...

(AAAA IM SO NERVOUS LEMME KNOW IF YALL STILL WANT CHAPTER 2)

Tags:

@kissmxcheek @otaku-degenarate @matthiashelvarsgf @usernamepasswordsstuff @s41ntf4m3 @bath1lda @jared-oranges @papilioism @pinkprettyroses @marumareloer

[deputyrook]

Impressions- 5/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

PART 1. PART 2. PART 3. PART 4.

You're a psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(You're a team.)

Word count: 4050

WARNINGS: CORRUPTION, stockholm syndrome, abusive dynamics, general Saw-levels of horror & violence. Reader is drinking the Jigsaw Kool-Aid.

“God, you’re persistent,” you tell Kerry, laying back on your couch and rubbing your temple, “Fine. Yes, I’ll go to therapy and I'll check out the community resources for Jigsaw survivors. Are you happy?”

It's not exactly a lie. You might check out the resources. Kerry's voice crackles across the line in reply: “Good. And if you’re able to remember anything while you’re there-“

Of course. It’s not that she wants you to get help, but rather, she’s hoping that you’ll pick up on some kind of psychic lead from discussing your capture and trauma with a therapist.

A swell of bitterness fills your chest, though you wish it didn't. You’d asked her to come and help you with groceries and chores today, but she’d declined, saying that she was too busy working on the case. Somehow, Mark had been coming around to help more often than she was, and he was balancing his job with being a serial killer.

Kerry’s work has always come first, and her dedication is something you had often admired. The two of you had bonded in university over a shared discomfort at parties and social events. Neither of you had ever quite fit in with the crowd. But even knowing her for as long and as well as you did, it still hurt to know the obsession came before your friendship.

“When are you going to take a break?” You ask, instead of voicing your frustration.

“When I find Eric,” she replies, steadfast. You must make some kind of a critical noise in response, because Kerry adds, “What? Do you believe it’s hopeless? That I should just give up?”

“It’s not that,” you mutter with a sigh, already regretting this line of conversation, but knowing that Kerry won’t give it up until she pulls the truth from you.

“Then what?”

“Just that maybe Matthews shouldn’t have gone and played Cowboy Cop, shooting from the hip.” You finally snap, to Kerry’s stunned silence. “You play stupid games and you win stupid prizes, Ally. If he had just listened to the rules he’d been given-"

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you right now," She says, voice sounding more shocked than angry, "Jigsaw took your eyes, put you through hell, and you’re defending him?” 

“I’m not defending him,” you bite back, wondering if you are, “But Matthews was corrupt. You know that, even I know that. Sometimes, you get what you deserve."

There's a beat of silence over the phone line, and you wonder if you've taken it a step far. It almost surprises you, to hear the words coming from your mouth. A month ago, you wouldn't have believed you would feel this way, but it's true, isn't it?

Matthews had a way out, just like everyone else did. Just like you did. If he hadn't fucked around and found out, he would have been fine.

Your sympathy for the other Jigsaw victims- the other subjects- has become somewhat muted since you became one yourself. Being able to intuit all of their faults in high definition had only dulled it further.

“You think he deserved to be murdered, is that it?" Kerry asks, and if she wasn't angry before, she definitely is now. Thankfully, you know from experience that she tends to anger quickly, and cool off just as fast. "What about you, then? You got tested, too. How the hell can you say it's deserved?”

Because I deserved to be tested, too.

Something about the topic of conversation turning to you causes a vision to spring forward from the recesses of your mind, like it had simply been waiting for the most opportune moment to reveal itself.

You see yourself, standing in what appears to be a shallow pool of water in the middle of a dense forest. It is quiet and still, save for the ripples in the water caused by your movement. You can't hear any animals- the forest is silent.

You look exactly as you remember, save for a few key details- wide, white globes for eyes stare wildly back at you, and you are drenched in the water. You are soaked through and dripping, the water running down your forehead in rivets. On your head, twisted and gnarled, is a crown of some sort. At first, you think it's a crown of branches- fitting for the forest that you've found yourself in- but once you approach and look closer, you realize it's a crown of rusted, jutting metal pieces.

In your hands, you hold out a crumpled piece of paper, one you’ve somehow kept from dissolving in the water. Carefully, you take it from yourself and unfurl it, to see a wrinkled advertisement for a Jigsaw survivor support group.

Interesting. You file that piece of information away for later. Your lips are moving, but you can't hear the words. You lean in, trying to listen. It seems you're repeating something, over and over, mouthing along to an inaudible refrain.

“Hello?” Kerry's voice pulls you out of it.

“I'm sorry,” you reply. Any anger you'd been feeling is gone, shaken out of you, “My head's been all over the place."

"I know," She sighs as well, and you can feel her unspoken apology in return as she continues, "The FBI's getting involved. I've been in contact with one of their agents."

Immediately, you think back to your vision of the two dangerous people- the man and the woman.

"Damn," you remark, before you note, "He's a lot to deal with, isn't he?"

"That's putting it lightly," Kerry huffs, and you can feel her frustration not only at you, but at the FBI agents getting involved before she's been able to find Matthews herself. She feels embarrassed by it, the scrutiny and criticism only mounting the pressure she feels to find an answer, quickly.

"Tell me this," She asks then, weary, "Is everything going to be okay?"

There's a sinking in your stomach, but you lie to her, and say, "I think so."

Your words hand in the air, as if from a hangman's noose.

"Thanks," Kerry replies, and you're not sure if she believes you.

"Hey, Ally?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful out there. Keep your head on a swivel." You feel like you can hear the smile in her voice when she responds to you, though her tone remains grave.

"Always. You too."

---

[11:47AM - Outgoing] Did you know about the FBI getting involved in the Jigsaw case?

[11:48AM - Incoming] no.

[11:48AM - Incoming] fuck.

[11:50AM - Outgoing] That one isn't a vision either, straight from Allison

[11:51AM - Outgoing] But I've seen them, too.

[11:51AM - Outgoing] Two agents I think. They look like trouble.

[11:53AM - Incoming] thanks for the heads up

[11:54AM - Incoming] fbi... what a pain in the ass

[11:55AM - Outgoing] If they start poking around, it could be a lot worse than that

[11:55AM - Outgoing] Be careful

[11:59AM - Incoming] well how about that. you do care.

[11:59AM - Outgoing] Don't let it get to your head

---

The Jigsaw Survivor Support group meeting is held in a church basement. It's the first time you've been in a church for a long time, and the atmosphere feels weighty with the desperate prayers of its inhabitants.

Of course, there isn't an elevator. Down in the cool of the basement, a circle of chairs waits for you, and you get the sense that several men and women already seated when you arrive. Hushed voices quiet to silence as you approach, tapping your cane ahead of you.

"Oh! Hello!" A woman's voice calls out as you approach, nervous but excited. From her tone, you guess that she's an older woman. "You're new! Normally, Dr. Gordon would greet you, but he's actually away this week. He's the one who organized this group."

Doctor Gordon. Why did that name seem to strike a chord of familiarity with you?

You wince as someone takes your arm. You've learned that one major difference about being blind is that strangers are all too willing to touch you, now that they think they're being helpful.

You sure wish that they wouldn't.

The person who grabbed you by the arm leads you further into the room to a chair, "helping" you sit down. They seem a bit offended when you don't thank them, instead setting your cane beside the chair and folding your hands in your lap.

"So? What'd he take from you?" A male voice asks from across the circle, after you've settled into your seat.

"Take a guess," you reply dryly. No one in the room laughs, and you're not sure if it's better or worse that you can't actually see them all, staring and judging you. You clear your throat, and try again. "My ability to see."

"You don't need to talk about it, if you don't want to," the woman placates quickly, a note of admonishment in her tone. "Ned, you can't just ask the new people what was taken them-"

"It's okay," You interrupt, feeling surprisingly calm. Between the woman who had grabbed you, and the man who interrogated you, she had bothered you more than he had, "Not much throws me off, these days."

Reaching out with your senses, you survey the circle. A tangled mess of self-pity and loathing hits you, and you have to keep your lip from curling in a sneer of distaste. These are the survivors? You only get a hit off of one of them that doesn't repulse you- a reluctant, begrudging respect, an acknowledgement that he's made changes in his life that have improved things, since the game that he was in.

Feelings of ownership, control, responsibility- could the Jigsaw games really inspire them? Mostly, it just seemed to have traumatized these people-

These people, who were so miserable and desperate to begin with, their sins writhing inside the marrow of their bones. You have to free the sins, get the them out of the marrow to save them-

Your head throbs. The headaches have lessened considerably since you... refocused your senses, but they hadn't completely disappeared.

Briefly, you itch for a painkiller, but you ignore the craving as best as you can as you listen to each subject in the group introduce themselves.

The only name you fully register is that of the young man who you'd felt the sense of kinship with- Daniel Matthews. Hm. Isn't that ironic?

"I'm still processing everything," you say, after you introduce yourself. "But to be honest... I guess I have been seeing things in a different way."

"I'm sure you've learned to appreciate your life, and be grateful," you can hear the scowl in the man called Ned's voice. You have no idea what his test was, or how he survived, but you can hear the sarcasm in his tone- if someone here is grateful, it isn't him.

You consider the words seriously instead of taking the bait.

Had you?

"I've learned to appreciate the life that I have, rather than the one I used to wish I had," You say. You can feel the attention of the others burning on you, and it makes your skin crawl. Their judgment is like a heavy blanket over the room, and its almost suffocating. But still, the words pour out of you, too honest, too raw.

"I'm the only person who can do what I do, and the only person who can see the world from my perspective. Wishing and hoping for things to be different is pointless- it's pathetic."

No one says anything, so you continue, trying to explain further how you feel. Maybe you hope that you can convince someone here to see their game in a new light. Maybe you just need to say the words have have been stuck in your throat for so long.

"I am who I am. I'm the person I love and the person I hate. Good, bad. It doesn't really matter. I don't care anymore, and I'm so tired of making excuses for being myself."

The room sits in quiet silence, until finally, Daniel Matthews speaks up for the first time in the session.

"But do you know... who that is? Yourself?"

The version of you in your mind's eye- the version from the forest lake with the jagged metal crown- looks at you and grins with teeth.

Your words in response seem to be carried by an incoming chill.

"I think I'm figuring it out."

---

You're not sure what you expected, but a house in the suburbs is not it.

"I'm renovating it, so careful where you step," Mark says, leading you through the front door with a hand on your waist. "Would be a hell of a waste if you died tripping over a brick."

"Hey, you're not allowed to make fun of me for being blind," You reply back, without any real venom. His hand squeezes your waist, playful but dominant.

"Who said anything about you being blind? I was talking about your two left feet." You jab him in the side with your elbow, and he chuckles to himself, pulling you along with him.

It feels altogether domestic- far easier than it has any right to feel. You can imagine a life together, in this home. Taxes and fighting over chores and going on trips. Putting on music as the sun goes down, brewing coffee in the mornings as it rises. You allow yourself the indulgence of it, for just a moment.

The house smells like sawdust and paint, but there's a metallic undercurrent of blood. It's hard to tell if that scent is really there, or if it's just something your mind has picked up on, independent of your objective reality. Mark seems to lead you on forever, around too many corners to count.

There it is again, that sixth sense nagging at you. Something bad happened here. Something bad will happen here. Layers of pain, like the rings in the centre of a tree. You think back to Daniel Matthews, and his nervous, angry energy. So much like his father's, but still so different.

The coffin of glass swallows the target, but he doesn't know what it means. He thinks he is safe inside, but he is wrong. The walls are closing in on him, not his opponent, who is pulled through to the heavens. This isn't how its supposed to happen.

"Is this place a maze? What kind of architect designed this?" You mutter, as Mark stops walking and crouches down beside you. You tap your cane around, noticing a hollow sound ringing from part of the floor.

"Probably John. The layout's a nightmare. But the place is huge. It'll be nice, once its fixed up." Mark responds, and you hear a loud thud. "It's a trap door," he explains.

"Great," You reply, "Always a good sign."

Mark helps you through the trapdoor and down a ladder. Your tentative movements take time, but if he's annoyed by your slow pace, he doesn't complain. Once you're down the ladder, you reach out with your mind's eye, and survey your surroundings.

It is much colder, down here, somehow. Something bothers you about it, like an open sore in the back of the mouth.

"Hey, where are you going?"

You don't realize you're walking away until you hear Mark's voice, calling after you. Something is drawing you in like a beacon. It feels, suddenly, like you're on the cusp of completing something important, something you'd nearly forgotten about.

Drawn through the cold, damp, narrow tunnels, you somehow know instinctively which ways to turn. You don't trip, or run into walls, but keep moving, deeper into the dark. Until finally, you feel yourself stop in front of... something.

Reaching forward, you grasp the bars of a cell.

"Somewhere deep and dark. Low, inside the earth," you echo your words from weeks ago now, and hear a low, guttural groan in response.

Poor Eric Matthews, more animal than man by now.

"Yeah, he's not doing so great," Mark whispers in your ear, having followed after you. You get a brief flash of vision- Mark grabbing Eric by the hair, grown matted and shaggy, and dragging him back as he sobs and claws at the ground. Mark, punching him heavy in the stomach, throwing slop at his feet.

He hated it, at first. Then he grew to relish it.

Pure horror settles in you, uneasy in your stomach.

"Why... keep him?" You ask hollowly, feeling Mark's arm around your waist again, territorial.

"Kramer wants him for the next game," He replies, too quiet for Matthews to hear, "Needs him as an incentive. You know how bad the precinct wants to save him. Hell, it's why you're here in the first place."

"Is someone out there? Help me-" Matthews pleads, his voice broken, "P-please-" Your mouth is dry. You'd been brought in to save this man, and now here he was, begging for help in front of you.

"Huh. So he does remember how to speak," Mark mutters. Part of you wants to reach out, to comfort Matthews, to lie badly to him and tell him it will be alright.

But this is what it is. Open wounds, dirty basements, and pain like the refrain of a prayer. The maw of Hell itself. This is what it means, to be a part of this.

To be partners with Detective Mark Hoffman.

You jump in surprise at a sudden, loud clang- Mark has grabbed your cane, and slammed it against the rusted bars of the cell. You hear whimpering, as Eric Matthews seems to retreat. You take a few steps back, away from the cell, closing your eyes as if it will help.

"It gets easier," Mark tells you, "I know, I know. It's alright to be uncertain. Too feel sick about it. I was at first, too."

You swallow, and nod. He presses his lips to your temple, in a gentle gesture, and continues to soothe you with honeyed words.

"Don't worry. No one's going to find out. You and me, we do this together. We help each other. Right?"

You nod again, and he kisses you, on the lips this time. It's almost forceful, as though by the action alone, he can make you forget your conscience.

"Come on," He says, "Lemme show you the bathroom."

---

Although you've never set foot in this room before in your life, you feel as though you're returning back to a place you grew up in. It has an air of nostalgia about it that's almost uncanny, like a place you've dreamt about a million times, but can't quite map the layout of.

Frankly, it's kind of fucking creepy in here.

The smells of decaying bodies doesn't help. It's unmistakable, almost sweet in its rot, and you clasp a hand over your mouth as you grimace.

"You're renovating, but you couldn't take out the bodies?" You ask, fighting the urge to gag.

"Yeah, let me just carry them to my car," Mark snipes back, and you suppose he has a point. "I don't really come down here. But hey, do your thing." You hear the scrape of a chair, and wonder- is he pulling up a seat?

With a deep breath, you calm your nerves, and try to dial in to your extrasensory perception. The first task you'd been given- find Eric Matthews- has been completed. The second- find the secret apprentice- has not. That's your goal, and the reason you came here. You know that this place has the answers you seek. The walls bleed with them.

You sense Mark, somewhere behind you, curious and sharp. But you need to reach something older. Glass crunches under your boots, and you slowly pace the room, stepping carefully as not to trip over anything.

Then, you catch hold of something. Before you can understand what you're doing, you're crouching in front of one of the bodies, taking his bony, brittle face into your hands. The skin is like tissue paper under your touch.

"Oh, Adam," You murmur to him softly, "How unfair. He didn't follow his own rules for you, did he?"

"Are you... talking to the corpse?" Mark asks, an edge of disgust in his voice.

You ignore him. The corpse doesn't speak, of course, but he answers you in his own way.

"He promised," you hear your voice saying, an echo from a thousand miles away, "He promised he'd come back to save him. A Knight in shining armour. But he never did. He dies down here, missing his mother and wondering if he'll ever see her again. He dies over and over again. He exists as a ghost, haunting the third. The fourth? The secret one, the guilty one, the one who got away."

You hold the skull delicately, with a care not to disturb him. Of course, he's just a body. Just a shell. But before that-

You smell cigarette smoke, hear the click of a camera snapping a shot. Despair, fear, loneliness. Despondency, hope. Bitterness, so much resentment. A cell phone ringing, a hacksaw, tearing into flesh, pain, pain-

"Who was tested in here?" You ask Mark, letting go of the body and standing. The room spins around you, seems to pulse in the darkness. You get the impression of patterns, swirling about- the kind you can read and understand, that you can use to tell the future, if you just focus. You wipe your hands on your pants.

"That guy," Mark replies, presumably pointing to Adam, "We strung up another guy in here at one point. And Matthew's game ended up in here, with the kid and Amanda."

"Who was with Adam?" The answer is so close to you. For some reason, you think of the Jigsaw survivor group, and briefly wonder if the secret apprentice is Daniel Matthews. It partially seems to fit, but your intuition suggests that guess is off base.

"A doctor, I think. We planted his pen light. I think he ended up surviving. What the hell was his name...?" As Mark thinks, the answer comes to you, bold, in flashing neon lights.

"Doctor Gordon," you whisper. You ankle aches in confirmation.

"That was it," Mark replies, and then he pauses. "Him?"

"Him."

"You're sure?"

You see a blonde man, pale and sickly looking, crawling away as blood pours from the stump of his leg. It flows like paint spilling from an overturned tub, until the man presses it to a boiling pipe. Flesh melts and blood coagulates. He survives.

He survives. But he is alone. He has no one else but the ghosts, and the King, omnipotent in his wisdom, sees a subject in the making. A knight to stand guard, to protect the most valuable pieces. To save, when he could not save before.

"I'm sure," You reply, and you are. You hear Mark stand up from his seat.

"What now?" He asks, walking back over to you, "Do we...confront him? Ask Kramer about him?"

It's curious, you think, that he's asking for your opinion now. But you shake your head.

"No," You answer. You've never felt so sure of something in your life. The impressions of the patterns spell out hints to you, show a chessboard with its pieces, ready for play.

"No, we sit on this. We'll need him, later. We don't let anyone else know that we know," You say and you hear Mark make a small hum of contemplation.

"We'll need him?" He asks, a note of skepticism in his voice, and you nod.

"I don't know how yet. But I can feel it. Trust me on this?" You ask. He sighs.

"You haven't been wrong yet," He replies, and you smile at him in thanks. The pieces are coming into focus now, starting to settle into place. John Kramer has been lining up these dominoes for half a decade.

And you can sense what's coming. Your sight will be your survival. You catch the sound of a buzz, coming from where Mark stands.

"It's John. He wants to meet with you again, one-on-one," Mark says then, and you hazard a guess that he's looking at his phone. Does John Kramer know how to text?

"When?" You ask back. Your intuition tells you this will be important- that it might be the last time you see Kramer, face to face. He's a tyrant, his dark shadow looming over you and Mark, and you know in your soul that even when he's dead, that isn't going to change.

"Now. You ready?"

You hope that you are. You think of Eric Matthews, rotting in the dark; and Daniel Matthews, living in the day. You think of Adam, resigned to the depths to die alone, and Ned, who survived to scoff at the notion of gratitude.

It makes you sick, and not out of guilt.

--

A/N- A bit plot heavy, but since I actually know where this is going now, I'm actually laying down the building blocks for the end! Thank you for waiting, I'm a bit nervous about this chapter so if you liked it, please leave a review <3

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @karmaswitch @the-jester-calamity @teamhawkeye @thebrideofcaliban @mjrkime @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @mrs-hotforhoffman @aliengutzstuff

[pininghermit]

Dare I Desire (Chapter 6)

Pairing: Adrian x Male Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7|

AN: Here is a link for reader's family dynamics.

Freshly showered, Adrian finds himself in the dining room with a steaming bowl of soup. He did not cook it. He did not clean the piling unused dishes or broken shards of glass that he had expected. He is almost surprised to find all the chairs and the table intact.

It did not take much to figure out who it was done by. The vampire who now stares at him from the other side of the table.

Y/n, you call yourself. Your intentions remain a mystery and your threat increases with every passing second. You speak of unknown lands and unheard kingdoms. Adrian finds it hard to trust you. The bargain encouraged the seeds of doubt to sprout further.

‘Mate-,’ Adrian quickly banishes the thought. He does not deign his attention to such lies.

“Come on, let me know how I did,” the soup remains untouched. It contains no poison. It smells normal. Yet, Adrian finds it hard to bring himself to eat.

“Just tell the story already,” had he not showered already? He would not obey every command like a dog.

“Eat,” you repeat. Making a show of settling back in your chair. As if mocking to drag out the argument.

Stupid bargain. His dumb curiosity be damned. Adrian feels wronged in ten ways.

“Hmph,” Adrian picks up the spoon and the cutlery feels foreign in his hands. How long had it been since he had felt the metal of silverware instead of the glass of a wine bottle in his hand?

Warmth blooms in his mouth. The soup that’s more of a broth, tastes watery at best. He can taste dill, rosemary, thyme, garlic, and some chicken flavoring. Salted very lightly it seems to be an amalgamation of spices. Could be much more awful for a Vampire’s cooking. Adrian finds it quite palatable.

After months he feels more human than ever. Ironical that you, a vampire, are the reason for the feeling of humanity.

“What say? How’s it?” You ask with genuine curiosity in your eyes. Adrian does not offer you a response but it is utmost annoying when he spots the smug smirk as he goes for another sip.

“I reckon I promised you a story,” you break the awkward silence. Adrian simply continues drinking his soup and does not react when you push another bowl towards him.

“In the kingdom of Asor reside 3 conflicting powers. The vampires, the founders, and the rulers of the land. The Elves, who reside in the forests aloof from most. And the Fae, who live in caves and valleys inaccessible even to the rulers of Asor.

The Vampires are the protectors, the fighters of Asor. The Elves are the providers, they’re the farmers and lore masters. The Fae are the primary magic bearers who maintain the balance of our lands. There are of course other races but those fare in little numbers.

These races have fought for power for centuries. However, recent treatises have established some semblance of ‘peace’. With the territories divided each retreated to their own. But the Vampires still ruled most. Even the Fae and the elves remain subservient to the Vampires. For the spirits of creation who aided the formation of Asor were convinced by my father. The king of Asor has always been a vampire.

In the past, there have been wars among the folks of Asor. And one such brutal war was between the Fae and the Vampires. Immortals who had little to lose did not care for their soldiers. They had time and numbers. Nothing could stop them, leave for the weariness of their subjects.

A bargain was made,” you look at him breaking away from the story. “And bargains are nothing if not load full of crap.” A warning rings loud in the room. The fickle-ness of bargains was not unknown to Adrian, not after today.

“The Vampire king, my father, Orthere who was wed to Heiu, the queen of Asor, had a child with the queen of Fae, Blasa. They did not marry but slept together to bear a child. A compromise that the powers of Asor agreed upon.

A half fae and half-vampire offspring who would unite the courts and balance the power. Or so, they had hoped.

A spokesperson of the Fae in the main court of Asor. A royal who would promise more control to the Fae.

Blasa bore the child while Orthere returned to his territory.” Adrian could not help but re-examine you. Were you truly half fae and half vampire? Your looks did not betray your origin. In fact, you look exactly like a pure-blood vampire with your fangs, pointed ear, and your bloodless pallor. Even your powers were vampiric.

“Unlike most the Fae court is matriarchal. Females rule while males are mere accessories. In such court, a child came to be. A child who would’ve been nothing but a bed warmer had he not carried the blood of the King of Asor.

There were others too. Two other sons and a daughter, who was to be the heir to Blasa. Ingal, Daylan, and the Crown Princess Eilos. All half-siblings to each other and the child.

The child who can be me or someone else entirely. But that’s for you to figure.” You shrug with nonchalance. Your manner too relaxed, yet the tale was too detailed.

“Growing up with the Fae who lusted for his power but could not care enough about him the child who remained unaware of his father. He was an oddity. Not Fae enough but not foreign either. His mother treasured his worth but not him.”

Adrian feels the oppressive silence as soon as you stop speaking. A treaty you had called yourself. Yet, there remains the memory of Asor that he had a glimpse of. Was it worth it?

“The Fae are the folks of the forest. They rule nature and possess the ability to glamour it to their will. They speak in riddles, but they cannot lie. Bored out of their immortality they find immense pleasure in others’ pain. So, what do you think Adrian? Does my possible fae blood explain my tolerance to the Sun?” With the first tale out of the dark. The question now loomed in the near future.

Later in the night, when Adrian plows through all the books about the Faerie folk, he stops. For that one moment, he imagines a lonely child. A child with familiar brown hair and silver eyes. Features similar to that of the obnoxious vampire. He sees the child crouched as three humanoid figures, with their backs to him, snicker in a sinister joy. At that moment, he feels a distant dread as the figures close on to the child with unkempt hair and misfitting clothes.

[akaisenhatake]

behold my hpma ocs, they've been reborn at last

they're not the mc but dw ill post my mc next time

Summarized Info below:

Name: Lan Wang

Alias: Bark

BoD:??? [1996]

Blood Status: Pure-Blood

House: Slytherin

Wand: Cherry wood, 10 1/4 inches, Dragon Heartstring

Best Subject: Care for Magical Creatures

Worst Subject: History of Magic

Friends(?): Cassandra, Frey twins, Sand [@/stupendousbookworm]

Enemies: Whoever he starts beef with.

Other info:

Very Competitive [mostly duelling but he'll challenge you to a speedwalk contest too. Gets mad easily when he loses]

Experienced in Duelling

Raging Simp [ Is constantly fighting with frey twins on who gets to impress cassandra]

Quite tall [taller than the twins and enjoys rubbing it in their face]

Dislikes Ivy [wish he could pick her and toss her out of the window from the tallest tower. Reason is unknown.]

Goes to The Forbidden Forest often [I mean. For one, he wants to practice his spells without sending another student to St. Mungos. Second, he wants to see a dragon. Third, breaking rules are funny]

Protective [He's a ladies man only to cassandra, literally but those fists and spells are gender neutral to his rivals if something happens to Woof]

Parental issues, yes.

Afraid of bugs [will set the room on fire if necessary]

Wears Leather Jacket 24/7 [school uniform ugly]

METAL [he has the vocal point for it, screaming is his talent]

Name: Lan Qi

Alias: Woof

BoD:??? [1997]

Blood Status: Pure-Blood

House: Hufflepuff

Wand: Ash wood, 13 3/4 inches, Dragon Heartstring

Best Subject: Charms

Worst Subject: Potions [Allergic to some ingredients / smell of potions]

Friends: Slythetin Gang, MC & some of the main casts(?)

Enemies: [Doesn't want any]

Other info:

Small & Short

Sleeps in Class [Mostly nocturnal]

Wears Mask [Dislikes her teeth, so she hid it]

Kinda Chill [Makes her an easy target to be bullied but she's used to it by that point]

Decent at duelling [sharp observation]

Ukelele nice :)

Lonely [despite her preference of being left alone, she still can't help but feel lonely

Always wear long sleeves [It's cold outside]

Broom surfing nice :)

Friendly [Though she doesn't go out to make friends, she doesn't mind others wanting to do the same for her.]

Goes to the Forbidden Forest often [Huh, for what? it's not like she can collect potions ingredients or practice burning acromantulas. She doesn't like taking care of magical creatures either. Sure you can say she probably only wants to accompany Bark, but they go there on different times.]

Height Difference

Backstory

Most of the contents about their past life are currently unknown, as they avoid sharing their personal life. Though, Bark constantly complains about how relieved he felt to 'not share bed with other children', solidifying the idea both siblings used to be in an orphange. He also appears to have gotten his eyebrow scar from a 'fight' while he was exploring the woods right before starting Hogwarts.

Current Story

While their existence don't change much of the plotline, MC and the casts will have to deal with another Slytherin twat for the time being. Bark, being the most aggressive out of the three, probably starts more fights and arguments. Although he doesn't win in most of them, they should still keep an eye out on him, as quoted by his sister.

Woof in the first few years mostly lurks around behind, considering she doesn't have much to do with the events happening in the current plotline. She appears in a few class sessions with MC, but it's only her sleeping in most of them. They might bump into her while exploring the Forbidden Forest, but she'll excuse herself to continue whatever she was doing before interrupted.

Profile content will change as the canon story progresses.

[jahsontodd]

✨rating pedro pascal characters based on nothing but costuming (non-exhaustive)✨

considerations:

*real housewives voice* thats my OPINION!!! also subject to change upon reflection, just going off my current feelings. 

not really discussing whether the costuming is good or bad for character, context, or source material but just how much I like them if that makes sense. 

some of these costume designers knocked it out of the park but would I be a little grumpy if I went on a date and they showed up in a walmart denim button up and ripped their $300+ jacket to shreds? Yes. Was that costume absolutely perfect for Joel? Yes again.

Mostly discussing costuming in context modern/21st century settings. The Mandalorian+GOT+ etc. in part two?

Minimal discussion on hair+cosmetics, only really when it applies to the whole look

Javier Gutierrez: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Rating: 10/10

Crew:

Paco Delgado: Costume Designer see also: John Wick: Chapter 4, Death on the Nile, Jungle Cruise, Cats (2019), Split, Les Misérables 2012 (and many more he’s booked and busy)

full cast and crew

Comments: 

They did not have to go so crazy on these outfits!!! 

Why does one of my favorite looks apparently not even appear in the movie!?

every look is so *chefs kiss*

I feel like mustard yellow is such a good color on him. 

Like call up those people on tik tok who make nonsensical categories like “strong winter” “ambivalent fall” and find out why mustard yellow always works.

The palette is a cute mix of like warm bricky colors like red, brown, mustard yellow mixed with baby blue and eggshell white. its actually perfect. 

What really makes him stand out is the fact he accessorizes. 

Lots of men don't accessorize because they don’t think its important - they couldn’t be more wrong. 

It’s one of the many injustices of the world that a man’s outfit looks 10x better by adding one necklace or in this case- pinky ring.

Do I like the sunglasses? No. But I like that they are there. 

Obligatory hair mention: The hair looks great. With longer hair becomes more responsibility, ie sometimes the part is a little too deep making the front pieces have a combover look. This is only when its messy though so that may have been the point?

If I included every outfit I liked it would just be a slideshow of the whole movie so I picked my favorites 

Javier Peña: Narcos

Rating: 10/10

Crew:

Bina Daigler: Costume Designer (season 1) see also: Dumplin’, Tár, Mulan (2020), 1899

María Estela Fernánde: Costume Designer (season 2-3) see also: Narcos: Mexico, Queen of the South, Hell (El Infierno)

Mayra de Abreu: Wardrobe Supervisor (season 1) key costumer for (season 2-3) see also: Narcos: Mexico, The Head of Joaquín Murrieta (La Cabeza de Joaquín Murrieta)

full cast and crew

Comments: 

Can you tell I like 70s inspos?

Its unique but true to someone who grew up in RGV and now on his own

ie good luck getting him out of boots. you can’t do it

When he dresses up in s1+2, damn i love a tan suit! 

Its very formulaic, but not to the extent that it looks like he bought 7 colors of the exact same shirt. He’s pretty much always wearing a short sleeve button up and fitted jeans. which makes the times he isn’t stand out

ie the tan suit. what can i say i am an american who is up to date on politics i always defend a tan suit when i see one

also occasionally breaks out this like tan vest situation? 

I think it’s a good balance between like clearly not being inspired by like their “current day” but not so 70s that it would be odd. It’s kinda timeless. 

He tends to follow one of my outfits rules: max 3 colors

Rules are meant to be broken obvi 

But I do feel like as a general rule of thumb and since he doesn’t wear a ton of patterns, wearing more than three colors starts to make an outfit look random and not put together

For Javi, this usually means 

color 1: *shirt color* 

color 2: pants (pretty much just blue or black, he does throw in some brown pants) 

color 3: brown (pretty exclusively wears brown belts/shoes)

Short note on hair/grooming: I love how season 1 has some more length in the back and generally has a shaggy sort of look? By season 3 his hair is more cropped probably bc of his new role. 

Something about the extra length in the back makes him look young- not in the sense of like actual age but maybe looking more hopeful or green, even when dressed up 

Also every so often you can see when they mess up the stick on sideburns. It tickles me.

He’s a menace to society. And he knows it 

Pietro Alvarez: If Beale Street Could Talk

Rating:  8/10

Crew:

Caroline Eselin (Caroline Eselin-Schaefer): Costume Designer see also: Moonlight (2016), Father of the Bride, Troop Zero, The Underground Railroad

full cast and crew

Comments:

We don’t see much and what we see! Is so good

This deep deep red is very nice and I like that is a monochromatic look (I don’t think we see his pants in the movie but collecting pics for this I saw the pants are the same color) 

It also has my favorite type of collar- that extra pointy extra long collar. 

And he *drum rolls* accessorized! Its only a necklace but the choice to have it OVER the shirt, over an already perfectly monochrome outfit makes it pop

The things that bring it a little down for me is, well, there is only one scene to work with so it feels wrong to rank higher than projects with multiple outfits, and the grooming

The mustache didn’t have to be so thin. 

Hair wise I don’t understand why we always have to exaggerate the side burns to achieve the “deep sideburn” look. 

I feel like we could still make the hair look “of the time” by taking some of the weight from the sides and leaving it up top and working with his natural side burns (even if that means making them darker, just not necessarily longer)

Even though I get the hair of the time was very um... spherical

side note: everyone in this movie is dressed spectacularly. I am appreciating through the tears in my eyes

Jack Daniels: Kingsman: Golden Circle

Rating: 7/10

Crew:

Arianne Phillips: Costume Designer See Also: Don’t Worry Darling, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Nocturnal Animals, Kingsman: The Secret Service

Full cast and crew

Comments:

Have I watched in full? Maybe a few years ago? I remember the first one quite clearly bc the water filling up the bedroom scene YIKES!

The snowsuit is so good. It’s functional, it’s sassy. It has one of my favorite western top details I don’t know the name of but the little patch details on the front of the shoulders. 

Who’s idea was it for the belt buckle to be a FLASK!!! thats gold

I love a color SCHEME!!! 

brown leather deserves love

The rain boots- a practical choice in the middle of like the least practical movie ever? Leave him in cowboy boots you cowards

Like oh the grounds might get muddy he needs rain boots. His belt buckle was a flask guys be real

Marcus Pike: The Mentalist

Rating: 5/10

Crew:

Amanda Friedland: Costumer Designer See also: 13 Reasons Why, House of 1000 Corpses, Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles, Fight Club, Clueless,

Scott O’Leary: Costume Designer See Also: The Rookie, Lucifer, Supergirl, 21 Jumpstreet

full cast and crew

Comments:

Have I watched in full? No. I caught a few episodes it was when it was airing but I don’t think i could tell you a single plot line 

(there is a LOT of FBI Department of Pseudo Psychology shows ok)

I do remember in one of his early eps they use the murder house from Nightcrawlers.

*Abby Lee voice* you didn’t stick out to me

Very government employee of you to wear ill fitting suits

Not to be irrational but v-neck t shirts don’t rub me the right way. 

This is a completely personal ick that I don’t expect anyone else to agree with. 

I just ~~ just do a crew neck you know? 

Maybe WHY I don’t like it is because its very 2010-2014. 

Which, in Marcus’ defense, just makes v-neck t-shirts something of the time 

Does nothing crazy with his suits, but nothing that makes me cover my eyes either 

Joel Miller: The Last of Us

Rating: 6/10

Crew:

Cynthia Anne Summers: Costume Designer See also: Swan Song, The Babysitters Club, Snowpiercer, A Series of Unfortunate Events (2018), Apollo 18

Full cast and crew

Comments:

Joel we get it you are nOT like other girls 

It makes sense for who he is. 

And who he is is someone who is not thinking about how much cunt he is going to serve with his outfit that day. 

unFORTUNATELY.

His pants ARE suspiciously fitted. Not so utilitarian when it comes to pants are you Joel?

But! I love the big coat. Could live in the big coat. The big coat deserves an award

The best part of the big coat is the main defense against the simplicity of Joel’s outfits are “oh it’s the apocalypse” or “oh he’s not thinking about that” 

Really? bc this is a SHEARLING lined coat. Do you know how quickly those fluffy shearling/sherpa etc. liners start to look like shit? if its a real shearling lining (the one he uses is real) you need to avoid getting it wet and store in dry areas. 

I am not even talking about price here! Because I have already explained why I think its not that weird to have people wearing expensive clothes 20 years into the apocalypse. 

Its the utility of having a shearling lined coat when you don’t have a closet full of DampRids

No way he had it in Boston since they only travel with regular sized backpacks. He saw it, liked it, wanted it, got it. 

He got that coat for the cunt of it all, you can’t convince me otherwise. 

Thank you so much for coming on this ride with me it was a fun exercise to look at just the clothes and not my feelings toward the character/movie/show. 

Who should I do next time? I have plenty of more thoughts hehe

~Tags for amiges who wanted to see this post!~

@fuckyeahpedropascal​ @simpingcowboy​

[the-golden-comet]

✨5 lines tag✨

Thank you for the open tag, @paeliae-occasionally !

Rules: find a line from your story that matches the subject of the prompts

Time to find my lines from Peter Hart 💖✨

1. A sad line

The noble shook his head once more. Peter tried again, his tone greatly hurt now, yet soft and unthreatening: “ Benjamin…. ”

Through his gentle sobs, the prince spoke in a cracking voice. “I….I didn’t want my heart to break…..” His lips curled as he tried to bottle his sorrow, but the waves wouldn’t cease. Finally, the onslaught of passionate grief overflowed from his chest to his tear ducts, and down his freckled face.

“Benjamin…..” Peter whispered low and gently.

“…..J-just break my h-heart already…..!” Benji’s crying breath hitched.

2. A line about a fight

“Time to train you on fighting, Benji.”

“W-wait, what? NOW?!” The prince shook his head, immediately caught off guard. The exhaustion that swept over his body, albeit still there, was cast aside by the shock of the captain’s request.

“Aye, now .” Peter chuckled. “A threat doesn’t wait until it’s convenient for you, prince. I’m gonna show you some techniques.”

3. A line about plants

“Good, good. We should be all set, then.” Captain Hart led the way to the mouth of the jungle, calling behind his shoulder. “Men, make sure you have your weapons at the ready…..oh, except you , Benji.” He snickered. “Just try to keep up, aye prince?”

“….” Benjamin rolled his eyes after giving the captain a glare that could’ve bore holes into his back. Still, he held his tongue as the crew made its way through the dense and humid vegetation towards the heart of The Isle.

Slashing through vines, Peter called back to his crew mates. “Watch your feet for snakes.”

“….!!” Benjamin carefully treaded along, being mindful of his footing so he didn’t accidentally get bitten. As the twigs crunched under their boots, Sebastian walked alongside the cabin boy and nodded.

“Your first adventure, Benji. How does it feel?”

“U-uh, well….” Benjamin picked up his feet, chuckling weakly and cynically. “…..Besides being abducted by pirates, nearly losing my life, and scrubbing the deck until my knuckles chaffed and my muscles burned like fire, there’s nothing else I can complain about, really….”

“Ah.” Sebby nodded awkwardly. “Still a bit sore from that, huh? That’s understandable, at the very least.”

4. A line about love

“My word. This is quite a leak, Benjamin….” Peter brushed some more tears from the noble’s soft cheeks. “….how are we going to patch this up, now?”

“I-I can’t help that m-my heart is spilling out….!!” Benjamin retorted weakly, though the floodgates did not slow as the tears gently plinked off of Peter’s pectoral.

Peter gently scoffed in endearment. ”Goodness, you’re precious….” He fixed Benji’s disheveled locks, before finally pressing the prince’s head deeper into his chest. “….Listen:”

Benjamin closed his eyes and concentrated on the gentle tick inside of the captain’s torso. The heart throb reverberated in the ribcage, soothing the regal’s staggered breath. Swallowing down the rest of his tears, he closed his eyes and nodded.

“You know what it’s saying, don’t you?” Captain Hart whispered. “‘ Ben-ji, Ben-ji, Ben-ji’ . If you listen close enough, you can hear it.”

“…..” Benjamin chuckled gently. “I doubt a heart’s ability to say words, Peter….”

”Not like us, but the heart definitely speaks…”

5. A line about forgetting

“…” The blonde glanced between the prince and his first mate, a bit dumbfounded. “…..Oh, right. I forgot.”

Davey held his forehead in his palm in profound disappointment. “Ohhhh….you’re in for it, now.”

Benjamin’s eye twitched as an apoplectic smile cornered his smudged lips. “A-are you telling me….that this whole thing…..was for NOTHING?! ”

“Well, not nothing… .I hope….?” Peter glanced at Davey, hoping his first mate could back him up.

Leaving this tag +open! You’ll do the same lines

A sad line

A line about a fight

A line about plants

A line about love

A line about forgetting

[missakward123]

Getting tutored by your fvckboy? How low can you go? Or maybe it's the one where he goes down on you

Fvkboy!Satoru x reader

Oh dear.......what have you done this time? Failed your finals, my my.

So, with the promise to the principal of passing the retest and your parents breathing down your neck you have no choice but to say goodbye to your favorite (and only)fvkboy for the month.

Warning: Orgasm denial, mention of squirting, fingering, oral sex (f receiving)

Words: like 600?

A/N: omgggg i saw wimpy kid-movie rodrick rules and got an idea but couldn't formulate it properly so i just decided to write fvkboy satoru for now. Comments, reblogs and likes are immensely appreciated. (Stealing and modification of work is prohibited.)

"What do you mean you can't meet me?" You flinch at Satoru's loud whiny voice.

"Quiet down a bit! My parents are literally next door." You whisper and Satoru rolls his eyes at your remark.

"Sweetheart, they are pretty much deaf considering last time they didn't suspect a thing when I made you squir-" You put your hand over his mouth. God did he really have to be so blunt? It was embarrassing, especially when he showed you off around his 'best friend'. By touching your waist like a friend or always defending you no matter the context or in private by fingering you till you cried (but he was nice to you during it calling you a good girl for taking him so nicely) and later him being down your throat and Suguru fvking the daylights out of you. At the same time. Gosh, you still blushed whenever you saw Suguru.

But that is for another time.

"Okay I get it! But this is the last time you see me for the month." You say exhausted from all the studying you have been doing recently- that you should have done 2 months prior instead of getting absolutely railed by this blue-eyed beauty in front of you.

He gasps dramatically pointing at you.

"B-but how am I supposed to go on without her?!" He exclaims.

"Her?" You frown, your brows scrunching up in confusion.

"That cute lil' pussy of course" he says rolling his eyes before he looks at your glaring face to add-

"And you, obviously."

Normal Satoru behavior you think, but you can't deal with him at the moment.

"But y'know......i could tutor you." He suggests and you almost laugh.

"No offense but......you are just a boytoy." You reply, eyeing him from head to toe. You had never seen him ever open a book in class and now that you think about it, how did he manage to pass the exams without failing a single subject is beyond you.

"Is that so?" He says, getting off the chair and pushing you back against the headboard of your bed, gently. Always gently, he was never too rough not with you anyways. He did go overboard sometimes but he never did anything to bring you discomfort.

That would have been the biggest lie you had ever told yourself, you realized 30 minutes later when he wouldn't let you come until you got your definitions right.

"I-" You whine your hips bucking up, mindlessly sobbing, whining, moaning anything to get Satoru to let you cum.

"What, doll didn't hear ya?" Satoru says chuckling sending vibrations up your core as hd sucks your clit. His one hand spanking your ass every few seconds and other hand deep inside you all while pleasure clearly evident on his face as a tear or two slips out of your eye.

Sadist- Satoru Gojo is a sadist and you are realising this only after 4 months of intent fvking. That is if you cross out the times when you just made out with him playing with your tits and making you squirm with pleasure and not stopping until your tits were sore.

"I-i dont know!" You cry out in frustration, breaking several things at once.

Satoru's calm, the ties around your wrists and you by the end of this.

"You don't know?" He says angrily his fingers finally picking up the pace.

All you can do is moan in response.

"Too bad gotta start over." He says before flipping you on your back, again.

"No-no-no I am sorry so sorry-" you say trying to squirm your way out of his arms holding your hip.

"Where do you think you are going? We need to fix your history timeline, now tell me when did the French revolt happen hmm?"

"Uhm..." You say trying to think something as his tongue again flattens against your clit making you squeal.

"I am waiting doll, and you better hurry up if you wanna come this time." He threatens in a casual voice his tongue dipping a little lower.

Oh god, you wish you could die when you feel another orgasm coming and not the answer.

"1789!" You yell at the last moment, at least now-

He chuckles sending vibrations to your core "Good job, darling but-"

"We haven't done the formulas have we? So, hold on a bit I have another thing I want to try."

[unhappytimeleaper]

Hello, may I request Q, T, and Y with Kuro x reader? Thank you and have a wonderful day. 💟

requested by anonymous

Word Count: 3,150+

I love Kuro. It was a while ago on a chat, but I realized I kinda have a type for delinquents. Oops. This mainly doesn’t go too much into the actions that make him a yan, I do touch on it occasionally or try to slip some of it in there, but I didn’t want to get too off-topic from the letters which meant I had to leave a lot of it out. Also, I wrote half of this 7 months ago and the rest today, so I’m sorry if it’s a little disjointed.

Also, I finally gave in and watched up to part 5 of Jojo, and I have… feelings. My poor friends are being subjected to all of them,, and someone should come to save them. TLDR for those curious, but I did not care for part 3, parts 1 & 2 were decent, I love part 4, from the art style to the characters, and part 5 I adore the characters, but I’m weak to character deaths :(. Maybe with time, I’ll possibly add them to my list but no hopes. Anyway, Kuro.

Kuro Kiryu; Unedited. Gender Neutral Reader.

Warnings; yandere content, mentions of potential threats, alludes to minor manipulation, self-isolating, and simple fights. Nothing is in detail nor is there truly anything bad but as always it is yandere. 

This blog is 17+ please have your age in your bio or tagged; any ageless blog and below the age asked for will be blocked at the end of the week.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

This would vary on if you leave or die rather than escape as he is also one where a lot of the relationship borders on unhealthy. It mainly is because Kiryu has some self-awareness to where things run too far but gets lost in the minor details. His delinquent past might affect some of his actions, but it's not as of he's one to ever use physical harm against you to get you to obey. He tends to focus more on voicing opinions. While he rarely might force you to not interact with others [generally completely strangers rather than friends or family unless he has proof they are bad news], there is a self-imposed guilt you feel when doing so, causing you to avoid others. Unlike others who force rules, and force isolation, Kiryu doesn't make it, so there ever is something you need to escape from. This would be unlike Eichi or Shu, for example. Even being yandere, it’s likely that with Kuro, the relationship develops naturally– or at least appears that way to an extreme extent that there never was some sort of reason to fear Kiryu in the form of genuine escape.

Leaving might be the most common reason or situation the two of you might face. Various reasons; thinking you need to experience life outside of a relationship, becoming tired of the relationship, dating an idol being too stressful, realizing you and Kiryu just don't connect past a honeymoon phase, etc. There are many reasons why you might want to break up, not wholly reliant on his yandere behaviors, but regardless of what it is related to, he often will have the same reaction.

No. Okay, maybe it comes off scarier than he intends when said like that, but Kiryu means, no, we can work this out. You know he's not attempting to come off as scary. He has never been in the relationship, and more so, his fear factor comes from how he traditionally is himself. Kiryu rarely even goes out of his way to threaten others to avoid you; the way he talks and carries himself does that for him unless he can find some valid excuse that even you can’t deny being a good option. Kuro also has never had a past of lying to you when he says he didn't threaten them or did something— it really was the others who picked to act that way post their conversation– although it’s hard to say for sure if there truly was never any violence or threats under his actions. However, no reason to doubt him is still no reason to use it in a breakup. It's not to say that he isn’t aware of his fear factor and thinks of it as a benefit in these situations, but honestly, he tries extremely hard not to do anything bad. He's changed from the delinquent days anyway when he would have quickly jumped to use violence to get them to stay away from you. Really, he doesn't want to do anything to tarnish his new reputation to you, nor have his actions come back and likely affect his sister or career. Leaving him becomes a lot more difficult because while he isn't necessarily the smartest at problem-solving or convincing you to stay as others might be, he tries. He tries so hard that it's impossible to stand your ground firmly. He works to make it so you can compromise [in his favor] to stay with him. Or a break up isn't really a break up— yeah, you've agreed to label it as a break, but this only if it's clear you don't want to date anyone else. Kiryu, even in this situation, hovers around more; not quite a relationship way that you feel you need to tell him to back off, but enough that it feels you're always on the brink of appearing still together. You can blame it on ES, for such a large building; it seems everyone is always wrapped up with each other in some way, although all of it is still profoundly intentional in Kiryu’s actions to stay near. If it is the route of still dating with compromises, these can vary but rarely will it alter or break aspects of his yandere traits as most of these result from his stoic, straightforward, and scary appearance. It's more working on adding things into the relationship to keep you more excited or understanding while a honeymoon phase is over; there are still think you can do together/have in common. Just cause one stage ends doesn't mean to give up; it means working to enjoy the next phase too. So ever really leaving is quite tricky because Kiryu's directness just results in a rebuff of finding reasons to stay, even if it gets to the point staying is just easier than leaving. There even is sometimes a sinking fear that you’d be throwing away the best partner you might ever get because of his personality over this. What if there really never would be anything better? Would you have to come crawling back to him begging for another chance– it’s entirely self-inflicted, but a tiny part of your mind would have to eat away at the possibility.

If you do manage to break up unless you are leaving the country as a whole, where it is hard to avoid Kiryu even if it's clear the relationship is over. Most of his actions feel like he's trying to win you back, such as cooking your meals or asking to spend time with you while he works on a sewing project. It's often weird, but his ability to be direct can make him easily be able to pass it off as being over you. These are just him, well, being him. Even in ways other idols can verify this is just his personality, even if he is being that awkwardly kind self. Under the surface, you know it's more than that… but there is no proof, the uneasiness no one else can understand. Though it's not misplaced, Kiryu's kindness might appear as just his standard attempt to make amends for his past as a delinquent, but everything he does is his goal of making you regret ending the relationship. That maybe you'll fall back in love with him, or you'll come crawling back, calling it a mistake. It’s undeniable that even with his jealousy and misplace tendencies he’s a wonderful partner, brother, and teammate. Kiryu deep down is still a good person fighting against his past and urges– and it’s hard to find someone who would likely treat you as good. Post breakup you’d likely fall back into seeing only happy couples too, it all sinking in just like you feared that even though you have so much life left to live you just tossed aside the best person you could have been with. Perhaps all that anxiety and weird feelings you were getting was from something else– your mind making all sorts of excuses to convince you to just text him those simple words. “Let’s get back together.”

Also all of this is his way of hovering to ensure no one else can pursue or harm you. Kiryu is well aware that even if he's changed from his past, others might hold grudges, and much like how he feared that might impact his sister, he knows that if it got out you were his ex, there is always a chance they might you use against him. Or there might be jealous fans— both upset you hurt him by breaking up or upset that you had the opportunity to date him. There is no telling what might happen, and he might not directly admit these reasons to you as it could become a bigger fight, thus harming the chance of ever getting back together.

Would he move on? If you're around, no. There is always a lingering chance, and if he is around just the same, you’ll unlikely be able to meet someone new. Okay, well, if you were gone completely… maybe. Just like how Kiryu has changed from his former delinquent lifestyle, he also knows there is a point in growing and changing in other ways. Not to say his yandere tendencies heal from this, but he knows it's unfair for him to forever pine after you when you are entirely gone living away from him. It doesn't happen quickly, he locked his heart away for years after this loss, and it's easy to tell even to others he becomes even more reserved [something most won't think was possible, but you proved them wrong]. He might become more snappy with subjects and reject many other forms of care, such as friendships. But in five years… ten years… things might change, and some of that ice might melt again, allowing him to try again. However, the second you show up once again he would be ready to start anew.

Furthermore, if you were to pass away either while dating or post-break-up, where you are still around, the answer is no. Kiryu will have believed that he was lucky enough to have met his soulmate so young, and unfair it might be he doesn't deserve a third chance. His personality is the same as if you were to move away forever; colder, and that stoic nature becomes bitter and quick to tell others off. He doesn't need anyone else, not friends, not someone to love. His sister really would be the only one who would have close contact with his personal life and understand on a deeper level his feelings, usually being the voice of reason to others as to why he became the way he is now [assuming this is in the future and she is also growing up]. He'd care for a grave site weekly, and overall, it feels like a piece of him died along with you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

There are more what feels like two layers, and it depends on the reason and reason you might be having a moment of out-lash at him.

Take, for example, isolating yourself because you’re upset with him or an action he took or an argument. In this sense, Kuro would probably think you’re being childish. This is the behavior his little sister would have if upset or pouting, not an adult in a relationship. He would likely become more closed off and stoic at the moment and find himself annoyed at the action you are taking rather than settling to deal with the problem at hand. Ironically, it’s just as contradictory that he closes himself off too and doesn’t work to resolve the problem, but if you want to act like a childish brat, why should he have to fix the case you started? Kuro isn’t really the type to make it so you’re fully locked away, unable to have any form of life, and thus resort to isolating yourself in disdain for him. If in a fight, you do resort to isolation to calm down or whatever, then it’s expected you should be able to talk for a short moment before coming to Kiryu to resolve the issue. The longer you wait to talk over the ‘tantrum’, the more frustrated Kuro will get and likely leave him in a grumpy, cold mood to you for longer, unable to express his emotions as he doesn’t want to take them out on you either. Like this, his fear factor only increases, and his hovering nature seems to double for the amount of time you hid progressively. Even if it wasn’t forced isolation or him actively trying to scare other people off, they are now wanting to avoid him and you, by extension, even more. In the end, it only seems to backfire creating a cycle of loneliness problems.

As for something like screaming or crying in a fight, Kuro gets quiet for a reason of self-reprimanding. Not that he feels too guilty over his actions but that his actions once again come back around to hurt someone he loves. Kuro is well aware that his jealousy isn’t normal, and that his actions have never been the healthy solution, but he’s trying. He so desperately wants to amend his past, to melt and burn and tear up the negative and harsh feelings of jealousy boiling in his mind and heart. That this could all be normal, you could love each other and not have to feel this way if he just had done something different. And while he’s quiet, appearing perhaps slightly disinterested or the scowl on his face making you only fear more, he does nothing. He doesn’t take a step; he doesn’t flinch his hands, it almost looks like he’s not breathing with how steady he goes, telling himself not to lash out like the delinquent side of him wants to. He’ll simply wait, running scenarios and words over and over in his head while you exhaust yourself. Honestly, he’s probably not even processing the majority of your comments, so fixated on his thoughts. And as your screams turn into whimpers and tears begin to dry along your cheeks— too exhausted to keep going, Kuro will finally make his move coming over to comfort you. He’ll wipe away the crusting tears with a personal handkerchief and wrap you in his arms slowly as you hiccup those feelings away. In the end, you don’t remember what you were even screaming and crying about; Kuro too distracted to fully reflect the cause either. The fights are usually too far and few in between, but they are draining, with nothing ever being resolved waiting for the next time it comes around.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Kuro takes a long time, at least compared to the majority of the other idols. And it stems from keeping his guard up— both because of his past haunting him and his natural exterior from being a delinquent, his personality, and his wish to change.

To start, Kuro knows his personality is… rough at least from an outsider’s perspective. He’s aware he’s intimidating, his a wall of a person, and his face doesn’t always convey the intentions in his heart. It’s no secret to anyone that even the softness he has is not easily exposed in his demeanor, nor that his ability to pick and throw grown men isn’t terrifying in itself. Even if you don’t come off as frightened by his rough exterior and bluntness to topics that come off as harsh or off-putting at times pre-relationship, there is a lingering doubt in his mind to rush into things. And this leads to the other point; Kuro wants to change. As mentioned, he’s deeply aware not only of his feeling of being over-driven to a not-so-standard degree but being a delinquent doesn’t come with an easy change. It’s not even the fights that are hard to shake off; it’s all of the mentality, the lessons, and skills that come from that life. He doesn’t want, you know, to see that person he once was. He might still be underneath everything because change is more complicated than people expect. Kuro wants the soul mate relationship he feels; he wants to be the knight, not the villain. He wants the fairy tale love from the stories and movies he watches with his little sister— more than giving in to his jealousy and unsavory thoughts. So he waits. Hoping that things can change, not progress.

And the other reason I touched on a little before. His guard has to be still and shaking when getting into a relationship is not easy. Kuro wants to relax, give in, and just let things happen. But being a delinquent means always being on guard, and his softness, while a strength can only be shown in small amounts, tries to keep himself safe. It falters around you more than others, even more as time goes on, but it takes a long time to chip away that shield. And the other guard is, like I said— Kuro knows delinquents make enemies. He has plenty, and while being a famous idol can protect him more so now others might seek revenge on his sister or you. It’s one of the key factors that both hinder and progresses his yandere tendencies because if his guard is up, you can’t love him back, and you won’t be a target. But you’re around him anyway… and it’s unlikely that delinquents care to verify a relationship’s true nature as long as it’s exploitable.

Between these contradicting factors, it takes months. This is beneficial for Kuro means everything can play out, and fall into a relationship like an average couple. One void is his tendencies fogging up the back of his mind, eating away at his heart. It genuinely starts off simple… progressing into seeing him while he sews— one of the few times he lets down his guard— and hanging out with him more and more. It turns into bringing you lunch and hands brushing over each other. It’s hard to suspect him of doing anything wrong, or thinking anything wrong. His rough exterior becomes a flustering teasing point that makes his ears burn, chin buried in his hand. And the bluntness is useful. Asking you out is direct. It’s effortless and more of a command, so you can only blush and agree when the time finally comes. Kuro doesn’t need to snap or to lure you into something. He’s one of the few that isn’t genuinely trapping you, but that doesn’t change the manipulation and fear dripping down his heart; one day, you’ll see past his facade to the delinquent locked away but never truly gone.

[uniarycode]

Hikari Yagami Week 2023 - Day 4 - Sports

for @hikariyagamiweek

Hikari and Takeru had only been in the same class for months, yet there was no one else in the school she was closer to.  It wasn’t that they knew everything about each other, but they didn’t need to. 

Takeru always knew when Hikari was down, and had a talent for picking the best gifts for her.  Franchises she didn’t even know he knew she liked, necklaces that instantly fit her aesthetic, sweets she’d never reject.

And in turn, she could just as easily read and adjust to his moods and attitudes.

So strong was their bond, it came as a shock, to her, to him, likely to all their observers, when Takeru nonchalantly kicked a soccer ball to her feet.

Hikari instantly retreated.

“I-I don’t play.” She said simply.

Takeru blinked.

“You don’t play?”

It was a ludicrous statement.  Hikari knew every rule of the sport.  Could be just as loud as her brother in calling out the referees when she felt they made an incorrect call.

She was also intricately linked to the soccer club.  Having assisted the team readily when she and Taichi shared the same school.   It was how she met Daisuke.  It was how she’d met Sora.  It was even how she met Koushiro.

And while she wasn’t n Sora or Taichi’s level, Hikari was still an athlete.  She could handle herself in other sports.

And yet, she didn’t play. That wasn’t a lie.

Takeru looked at her, attempting to solve her riddle. “Well, could you pass the ball back?”

Hikari glanced at the ball, then at her feet.  She felt woozy.  She reached down and scooped the ball up with her hands, throwing it to her best friend.

It was too much to ask for that to be the end of that.  Takeru had let the subject drop, but only because there were other people about.  Two days later Hikari found herself cornered, with a well-intentioned blond and a bag of soccer balls.

“Takeru, if we’re going to waste time, couldn’t we spend it destroying dark towers?” she asked.

He saw right through her on that. “we already agreed to take a break from that.  Relaxation is important as well.”

She didn’t feel very relaxed.

“I don’t play.”

“You don’t?  or maybe you won’t?  or maybe you can’t?” he set a ball down, about a yard in front of her.  “Can Hikari not kick a ball?”

She felt part of herself rise to the challenge and the rest fall.  “It’s not about can.” She said simply.

“Ohh?  Well then, if you can get this ball in the net before we have to leave, I’ll spend the extra time treating you to that ice cream place you like so much.  But you gotta kick it.  No hands.”

Of course, he knew what tempted her the most.  “Takeru… it doesn’t matter.  I don’t play.”

“I’m not asking you to play, I’m asking you to kick.  What’s the worst that can happen?”

Sirens, bright lights, doctors yelling words she couldn’t understand.  An angry mother, a tearful father, a frightened brother.

“You never know.”

Takeru sized her up.  “is the ball going to turn into a dinosaur?  Or maybe an evil robot?  I don’t recall those stopping you before.”

She twitched. “it’s different.”

“Well, maybe it can be the same?” Takeru said.  “Maybe this ball is Ladydevimon.”

Hikari brought a hand to stifle a giggle. “What?”

“it is.  It’s her head.”

“Takeru…”

“It’s her head.  She sat there taunting you, and she called Angewomon a goodie two shoes.  Are you going to let her get away with that?  Come on Hikari kick her -”

“Takeru!” Hikari said. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you can’t go through your entire life scared to kick a ball Hikari.  You want to be a teacher when you grow up, you’ll have to help kids learn as well.”

“That’s when I’m an adult.”

“You can’t put it off forever,” Takeru said.  “Look at you, I’ve seen you do incredible things.  Things no other kid can say.  And you can’t kick a soccer ball?  Where’s the girl who was antagonizing a perfect-level she-devil.”

Hikari paused.  She looked down at the ball, and did her best to do as Taekru directed. Imagining the ball was actually that hag’s head.  She sulked up until the ball was right in front of her right foot, curled her knee, closed her eyes, and let it go.

It was not the most accurate kick in the world.  Not by far. But of the two kicks of the soccer ball she’d taken in her life, it was by far the least disastrous.

Hikari far preferred ice cream to hospital beds.

[arrivisting]

fic meme

@theghostinthemargins tagged me; anyone who’d like to pick up can consider themselves tagged by me. (@gofuckinggentle? @clothonono?)

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

1. Amon Darthir without Gil-galad was a place with its heart torn out. It had been foolish of Fingon to begin building his days around him. Or was that only his old way of thinking, that flinched away from feeling as if from hot coals?

2. “Marriage?” asks her father. He doesn’t often show emotion, so the slight flicker of surprise betrayed by his raised brow is something of a prize.

3. So much has been written about the sons of Finwë. Their quarrels reshaped the history of Arda. On both sides of the Sea they are the subjects of intense scholarly interest and lengthy monographs, of long and salt-stained ballads, of swelling opera, of history paintings that run from floor to lofty ceiling.

4. Finrod Felagund came visiting in Brethil, trailing clouds of glory and blue silk and flashing like a kingfisher’s breast. “Huh,” said Haleth, when she came out of the longhouse, squinting into the sun. 

5. “It’s unbearable,” Curufin said. There had been no conversation before that remark. Curufin had simply come to stand beside him, leaning back with exaggerated casualness against the same window-frame that Maedhros had selected, sighed, and thus begun.

6. Their last-born had a red mark on his cheek where it had pressed against his mother’s hipbone while he was still inside her.

7. Nerdanel drops the bowl she’s holding. It breaks on contact with the floor in a sudden, complete shattering into shards. There is a boy sitting in her kitchen, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He turns his head at the sound.

8. They had sailed into the sunset, into the green forever beyond the World. It seemed like they were sailing towards the horizon, into endless blue, with no shore in sight. The Straight Way was a gift, and a promise, and never quite certain. It offered itself, unexpectedly; so Círdan’s sailors had said. It was never quite in the same place twice, that border of mist that was also a threshold, a veil between the sacred and the world.

9. They had been singing. Always there was singing still; and if it was less perfect, less glorious, than the music Arwen had once heard in her father’s house, it was not less loved. “Only,” said her daughter, frowning over the lyrics, “I can’t see how his helmet can have been made of adamant. Did they mean steel, but set with diamonds?”

10. “You have brought a stranger unasked-for into the hidden kingdom of Nargothrond, without word or leave,” Finrod says, trying to sound stern. It’s difficult. The crime is a capital one, but the criminal is very small, and tugging on his earring.

+ a meme I saw on tumblr today:

Rules: Post the last sentence/line from your WIP or wherever you left off in your art.

Have three:

1. The longing in his voice when speaking of the days before Arda had had a tenor Celebrimbor had recognised in the voices of Elves when they spoke of Tirion’s bells, or of the golden wheat-fields of Yavanna ruffling in the wind under the hallowed light of Laurelin. He had heard it too when his people spoke wistfully of the green beauty of Ard-galen before the flame, or of Ivrin’s clear waters before Glaurung fouled them, or of the flower-meads of Nan-tathren before Morgoth poisoned the rivers.

2. “Hmph,” said Bilbo. “Personally, I feel better than I have in years.”

3. “Such is war,” said the first, mournfully. “Cruel! Endless! Strong-smelling! And that last the worst!”

[iwritesometimes]

Writing Patterns (Tag game!)

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

oh this is fun!!! if i can even remember what my last ten fics were, chronologically, jesus. tagged by @northstarfan, with whom i wrote (*counts*) fully half of these. XD THANKS, BB!!!<3

Hugh’s legs trembled, and sweat beaded on his face, cold and distracting, but he said nothing, only planted his feet a little wider and tried again to lift the weight in front of him. (source)

Hugh makes his way to his and Elnor’s shared quarters after work, bag of pastries in hand, and chimes the door. (source, nsfw)

Lao couldn't get his arms around Liu Kang, couldn't raise them or make them respond. (source; slightly cheating - this is the first sentence after a section break, but it was the first paragraph i wrote.)

Until he heard from a friend about the police chief posting in a sleepy seaside town, Martin Brody had never heard of Amity Island. (source)

Kung Lao had never thought less of Liu Kang because he wasn’t destined to be a champion. (source)

Sunlight was just beginning to slant in the transom above the big picture window of Hugh’s quarters. (source, nsfw; slightly cheating - this is paragraph 4 of the fic, but it was the first paragraph i wrote.)

Elnor peered out through the blazing Coppelius heat, the horizon shimmering to a watery blur, and pushed his sweat-stuck hair off his forehead with the back of his arm. (source, nsfw)

Joe’s shocked almost speechless when he comes to the morgue late one Friday to pick up Fernando for dinner; Fernán had to work a little later than he did, finishing up paperwork in advance of what, apparently, is well-known among medical examiners as the “Christmas rush.” (source)

The memories are so faint and confused now, and Elnor struggles to recall his father’s face. (source)

An array of green lights burned far overhead like a hundred malicious eyes; pain burned across his skin, and he couldn’t move his arms or legs or even his head, which Elnor realized, as he fought back to consciousness, was because he was restrained, not paralyzed. (source)

honestly, i try to start fics by copying the styles of better writers i've read, and by trying to avoid anything too cliched or over the top. apparently i have a strong preference for starting with pretty straightforward subject/verb constructions rather than prepositional phrases or lines of dialogue. (i feel like i used to open on dialogue a lot more often when i was younger? i think i may have intentionally started steering away from it because it strikes me now as the kind of thing that could get annoying to read over and over.)

tagging @suilesbian, @cactusdragon517, @wolfhalls, @hellolittleogre, and @avi17, as well as anybody else who wants to pick it up and run!

[writing-in-the-impala]

You Always Hurt The Ones You Love (Part 10)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

AU: Professor!Bucky Barnes/ Teacher!Bucky Barnes

Series Summary: You fall for your smoking hot literature professor Bucky Barnes (quite literally) what follows you never predicted would happen.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, teacher-student relationship (but like it’s all legal chill) and mentions of PTSD because it’s Bucky, SLOWburn we’re in for a long ride

Word Count: 2793

A/N:  Please leave me love and reblog this so i get inspired to write more, okay thanks 

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | Part 1,  Part 2,  Part 3,  Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

"Hey remember a few days ago in the hospital Peter mentioned something about a holiday?" Bucky asked throwing some popcorn in his mouth as you rested your head on his shoulder watching a tv show together. Bucky made a habit of coming over to your house or having you come over at least a few times a week, it was weird because you saw each other in class but you couldn't interact so these were the only times you two could be together.

"Yeah, I remember." You replied.

"What's actually happening? Because I know Peter said he thought I was invited but by the way you reacted I know I obviously not-" Bucky began but you interjected.

"Wait hold up." You said sitting up and turning to face Bucky. "Don't say it like I hate you, the only reason I didn't mention anything was because Tony will be there." You explained.

"That's what I don't get, why is Tony so invested in your life? He's always there? We have to sneak around but you just sit in his office casually talking for hours." You could see how annoyed Bucky was.

"Bucky please calm down." You said.

"Calm down? I'm angry Y/N, I'm jealous of why he gets superior treatment to me." Bucky explained.

"Bucky, Tony is basically my dad!"

"Shit. Wait. Natasha said something about that after Bruce's party, I'm sorry."

"Bucky you need to stop jumping to conclusions." You said gently.

"I'm sorry." He replied.

"It's okay, look the holiday was an idea Peter and I had for May and Tony, we wanted to send them on a cool trip. Then Tony said he wants Peter and me to come but for us to bring plus ones so we're occupied, I'm not allowed to bring Natasha was the only rule Tony gave me."

"And Peter obviously thinks you'll take me because that's logical but he doesn't know I'm your teacher and if Tony knew we would be dead because he hates me." Bucky explained more to himself than to you.

"Exactly." You confirmed.

"Maybe I should just quit?" Bucky proposed.

"No."

"It's fine I don't mind."

"Bucky we've been through this before." You tried to argue.

"The solution to all our problems would be me quitting."

"Who would be my teacher?"

"Okay that's a good point. Fuck. There's no way round this." Bucky complained. You proposed to drop the subject, the two of you continued to watch the show in a comfortable silence but the conversation still held a presence there in the back of your mind. It wasn't that you didn't want Bucky to come, you really did. But it wasn't logical, not only did Tony dislike Bucky but he also knew that Bucky was your professor, knowing those two facts you were more than certain Tony would make the two of you break up. You fell asleep while overthinking the situation in your mind, only waking up when you felt a weight shift beneath you, you looked up to see Bucky standing up and cleaning up the coffee table. "It's fine Buck I'll do that in the morning." You said and he chuckled lightly.

"In other words you'll be late to class." He replied putting the dishes in the sink and begging to wash them.

"It's okay I'm pretty sure the professor likes me, so I can get away with it." You day standing up and picking up a tea towel to dry the dishes Bucky was washing.

"He is doing your dishes."

"Steve's not doing my dishes?" You retaliated making Bucky laugh and shake his head. When you finished doing the dishes Bucky pecked your forehead lightly before saying. "I'm gonna go." You wrapped your arms around him and pouted. "You're not going to stay?" You asked sadly. "I can't tonight doll, I have too much work to prepare for tomorrow." He said letting go and going to grab his coat, and put his shoes on, something felt off about his behaviour, when you looked into his eyes he seemed lost. "Are you sure everything's okay Bucky?" You asked walking up near him. He stood up and smiled gently wrapping his arms around you and resting his head against the side of yours. "Work is just stressing me out 'tis all." He replied before kissing you one last time to say goodbye.

You weren't late to class in the morning but Bucky was. Everyone was sitting in the auditorium waiting for him not knowing if class is cancelled or not. "Isn't there like a rule that if he doesn't show up after 15 minutes we can leave?" Scott Lang, the guy who sat besides you said.

"I'm pretty sure that's a high school myth." You replied, this started a conversation between you and Scott that was only stopped when a slightly disheveled Bucky walked through the door making the whole room go silent. His hair was messy, he decided not to wear a tie but rather just a shirt, with jeans and formal shoes. A contrast to his usual suits, causing a few whispers mainly between the girls of the class. Bucky didn't address the fact that he was last rather just began the lesson. "Okay today we're talking about handmaid's tale, and about how Atwood uses the feminine perspective." Bucky began. "Hey do you have a working pen? Mines ran out." Scott whispered to you.

"Yeah sure," You said quickly going through your bag. "Here." You said handing him the pen.

"Thanks, I promise I won't steal it." He said with a wink making you laugh.

"Lang. L/N. Can either of you repeat what I just said?" Bucky questioned, everyone turning to look at you and Scott.

"You said, Lang, L/N." Scott repeated. Making a few people in class laugh including you until your eyes met Bucky's angry ones and your mood dropped.

"As I was saying..." Bucky continued the lesson.   "Okay you're free to leave. That's all I had to teach for today, Lang, L/N. Pleas stay behind I need to talk to both of you." Bucky said sharply and everyone began to leave. "Ooo we're in trouble." Scott whispered to you making you try and mask your desire to laugh. "He looks like steam is going to go out his ears." Scott continued.

"It's because everyone is either to scared of him or too into him to stand up to him, you threaten his authority." You whispered back making Scott laugh in turn.

"So which one are you?" Scott asked suggestively, but Bucky cut in with a cough before you could answer.

"Mr Lang, how much are you paying tuition to be here?" Bucky questioned

"Too much." Scott replied simply.

"So you decide to waste it by messing around like a child? Passing notes." Bucky questioned.

"It was a pen." You cut in.

"It doesn't matter what it was. Mr Lang, I expect this to never happen again." Bucky said in such an angry tone that it made you jump.

"Okay, I'll bring more pens next time." Scott replied raising his hands up.

"Okay leave." Bucky said frustrated and you and Scott both stood up.

"Not you Miss L/N." He said and you sighed.

"Good luck." Scott whispered before walking out. Bucky stood there in silence for a few seconds just starring at you. "Spit it out Buck I don't have all day," you said frustrated.

"I feel like you believe you have some immunity and I'd like to make something clear, in these walls we don't know each other, you mean nothing to me here. You have no right to act the way you did today. You can't just-"

"All I did was give him a pen!" You argued back your voice revealing the pain of hearing Bucky's words.

"I'm not sure if you're aware but I saw how you were supporting his jokes." He said using air quotes for the word jokes.

"Everyone was laughing." You argued back.

"That doesn't mean that it's acceptable behaviour, you are here to learn not participate in childish humour or snarky comments-"

"Barnes, oooo Y/N in trouble." Tony Stark said walking into the class right at the end of Bucky's rant. Bucky simply let out a breath and straightened up in Tony's presence while you relaxed.

"Is this important right now Stark?" Bucky questioned.

"Yes Barnes some of our time is more precious than yours, we have things to do. Sign this." Tony said handing Bucky a letter.

"What is it?" Bucky questioned braking eye contact with me.

"It's a lollipop, what do you think it is Barnes it says at the top." Stark said sarcastically making Bucky visibly frustrated as he quickly read through the page that Stark gave him. While Tony began casual conversation with you. "Here." Bucky cut in handing Tony the paper.

"Finally. I'll catch you later kiddo alright?" Tony said to you.

"Actually I was about to leave." You said standing up and ignoring Bucky.

"Great because I wanted to talk with you about a few things." Tony said as the two of you left, you looked back to see Bucky shaking his head while collecting some papers off his desk. Tony ended up inviting your round for dinner and you accepted, knowing that you aren't up for seeing Bucky tonight after the way he treated you in class. You never expected any special treatment from him, but saying that within the walls of the class "you mean nothing" to him, that one hurt more than you'd care to admit. Bucky texted you right before you were about to leave to go for your family dinner.

Bucky: Dinner? x

You: I've got plan sorry

Bucky: Ok.

You felt frustrated slightly that he refused to acknowledge earlier, but you didn't want to make much of it so you didn't continue the conversation. Peter was happy to see you as always and you were happy to see him out of a hospital bed. Aunt May made your favourite food as of she sensed you were having a bad day. "So Peter how's things with MJ." You asked insinuatingly making him blush.

"She's good." Peter said not looking up from his food.

"I think what your sister is asking is have you finally made a move?" Tony added.

"I wanted to," Peter began.

"You should invite her over for dinner, and Y/N you should invite, oh god I forgot his name-" May began.

"Bucky." Tony added making you choke on the food you were eating.

"I'm sorry what?" You said after drinking some water panicking internally z

"Although I'm not sure how long that'll last they were fighting today." Tony added rolling his eyes and continuing to eat and your eyes widened, looking over at Peter accusingly.

"I didn't say anything." Peter said raising his hands.

"For the record you can't hide anything from me, you should know that Y/N." Tony said.

"I'm not-" You began to argue.

"Save it. The heart eyes alone expose you two, let's not mention that you two suck at being discreet." Tony added.

"Since when do you know?" You asked.

"Suspected it for a while now, the hospital proved it." Tony said smugly.

"Fuck. Have you told anyone?" You asked.

"And get you kicked out? Of course not." Tony replied.

"Wait what do you mean kicked out?" May asked.

"Oh did she not mention Barnes is her professor."

You could see the shock on May's face, the look Tony gave you made you want to crawl into a hole.

"I think I'm going to go home." You said excusing yourself from the table.

"Oh don't be dramatic no one cares your dating your professor." May said dismissively.

"She's right, but you could've chosen someone better than Barnes."

"Tony." May said giving him a look.

"Hey I'm not gonna pretend I like the guy, but I will be civil."

"Does that mean Bucky can come with us on the trip?" Peter asked excitedly.

"I'll allow it but the moment he steps out of line -"

"Awesome!" Peter said with a smile on his face.

"He likes him because he bought him gummy bears." You explained to Tony.

"And he's really cool! He rides a motorbike." Peter added.

"He what? I don't want you going on that death machine." May said to you. This started a more light-hearted conversation. It was only after you left you saw that you had a few unread messages and missed phone calls.

Bucky: Can we talk? x Bucky: are you okay? X [Missed call] Bucky: I know I fucked up. I'm sorry, please let's just talk. [Missed call x3] Bucky: I'm sorry. Bucky: just let me know you're okay? Bucky: I feel like such an idiot but I'm worried doll, let me know you're alive or I'm gonna come over to make sure.

The last text was only five minutes ago so you decided to call him, he answered straight away.

"Don't ever scare me like that it's been three hours I thought something happened."

"Hello to you too." You replied.

"Y/N." Bucky said in a disappointed tone.

"Relax, I was at a family dinner. My phone was in my coat, I'm sorry."

"No I'm sorry. Today I don't know what happened. I said things I shouldn't, I was trying to overcompensate for how I feel about you to hide us, and I went too far. The things I said. You mean everything to me." He said making you tear up slightly.

"You mean everything to me too." You replied.

"Am I forgiven?" He asked in a sweet tone.

"I guess. Also you can come on the holiday thing." You added.

"What?" Bucky sounded obviously confused.

"Tony knows." You simply said.

"What? Fuck. You told him?"

"No he said he's been suspicious for a while because of our and I quoteheart eyes for each other then he also noticed us at the hospital."

"But today he didn't say anything?"

"I know, he was enjoying the drama. But he says he'll be civil and not tell anyone and then he said you can come."

"Y/N, doll, I'm so happy."

"Me too Buck,me too."

Tags (send me an ask or message and I’ll add you): @iconictaurus@whosmarisaaarw@grayxswan@sideeffectsofyou @alt-er-love-er-alt

[moinsbienquekaworu]

yooooo Star Wars ocs?? *grabby hands* share. infodump. how much swag do they have on a scale from 1-10

Pigeon I love you I am kissing you right now (platonically but enthusiastically)

Okay so the main guys that keep occupying my brain are Korcha and her lineage, Reil, Devafe and Lineth. You've seen my drawings of them I think? Korcha's the spider lady, Reil is her first apprentice with the long hair, Devafe her second apprentice, she's the one with the cool art where she's doing lightsaber training, and Lineth is a wet little cat girl (affectionate)

First off, they all have swag by virtue of being Jedi, I don't think you can manage to be under a like 3-4 in swag when you're proficient at using cool laser swords and space magic. That said, among other Jedi, Korcha is swag enough but not exceedingly, maybe a 5 or a 6 depending on who you ask? She's got wild anecdotes, by the Clone Wars era she's in her 70s and you don't get to that point as a Jedi without cool life skills, plus she's pretty good at Jar'kai (using two lightsabers simultaneously), and that's really cool, but she's nerfed by the importance she puts on Rules and The Correct Thing To Do, which makes her a more reasonable person and therefore less likely to do absurd but cool stuff.

Reil is on the list of swagest people in the Temple because by the Clone Wars he's been a crèchemaster for like 15 years and that means a lot of the younger Jedi know him and like him. He's good at his job he's patient and he lets the kids play with paint and that means if there were contests like you see in fics for various title among the Jedi Order he would be in the top contender for Coolest Crèchemaster or something. Like that cool counselor people like, or the teacher everyone wants to have in class. A solid like 8/10 at least

I'm not subjective on Devafe because I project onto her accidentally her vibe is Dooku but to the left, since they've got similar fighting styles and that's linked to who she is as a person, and Makashi simply is The swagest form out of the seven (or like, Vaapad, we love Mace here) So automatically she gets points for that because who doesn't love someone who fights in a focussed, neat and precise, fencing-like style with cool laser swords, even when they prefer reading books? Nobody. She's cool. She doesn't go below a 7 and I'm not being nice here purely because she was a bit of an annoying teenager (like Korcha btw lol, like master like apprentice sometimes)

Lineth is - I want to be nice to her because she deserves it, and she gets a pity point for staying alive the whole war, a feat not all Jedi could accomplish, and certainly not all Padawans. Ahsoka makes it, of course, but Ahsoka is Special and Cooler Than Everyone Else, and Lineth is just there trying not to break down more than once a week. That's still like a 5 though, but it's not her fault she doesn't get to develop fully as a person because there's a war on :( In the alternate world where everything is okay and the war ends she gets more confident and she's swager though don't worry about her

Other SW OCs are Cehim, who makes maps and lives alone in her spaceship and is part of a group of artists and has multiple QPPs and is a bit like a space version of Meredith but different, she's super cool I love her, 9/10 at least; and the clone commanders under Devafe and Korcha & Lineth during the war. Devafe's commander, Jellyfish, picked his name because he likes jellyfish, and that immediately gives him a 8/10 on the swag scale, plus he talks shit with Devafe sometimes and that's extremely fun to me. Korcha & Lineth's commander (or technically captain but he kind of fills the role of commander since Lineth is a baby) is called Stellar and he's wonderful, dare I say he does a stellar job, you get the idea, he was the first (but not the last) to see Lineth and think oh, that's a baby, she needs a friend not someone who'll obey her orders, as opposed to Korcha who during the war wanted competent officers first and then people she could have tea with second, though she very much wanted both, and for that he's also swag, maybe a 7/10. What do you want, all of them except Cehim and Reil fought in a war, that makes you swag just by virtue of The Horrors <3

[ravenalegria13]

How To Divide Law Firm Partnership Income

One of the speediest ways of quieting a roomful of lawyers is to bring up the issue of how to divide law firm partnership income. Numerous lawyers are hesitant to examine the subject since they are new to the options and uncertain how to choose among them. Others are concerned that a discussion with their accomplices about pay parts will be excessively awkward. Fortunately there will be there are an adequate number of various ways of cutting the pie for each suitable firm to have the option to find an answer that works. Likewise, similarly as with other partnership arrangements, the discussion becomes a lot more straightforward on the off chance that it begins with what sort of culture and conduct the accomplices need to energize as opposed to with cash. The genuine numbers stream all the more effectively once the objectives are clear.

The significant varieties are as follows:

1. Being King is Great. One lawyer is the name behind the firm. He begins a considerable lot of the clients by goodness of his ability, notoriety or associations. All the others loll in his reflected greatness. He will look over the books and decide how much different accomplices should make in light of emotional or objective models. He may not unveil all of what those rules are. However, the vast majority see the decency of his choices. There is sufficient cash coming in to keep the majority of individuals blissful more often than not. The motivating force is to keep the lord cheerful.

2. The Group of Four. Rather than having one lord, a gathering of lawyers forms a panel to decide how to part the income until the end of the accomplices. At a few bigger firms, the remuneration panel is separate from the chief board that runs the firm. At others, the pay panel makes a non-restricting suggestion to the chief board. At still others, it is a similar panel. Albeit the board of trustees probably needs to pitch a portion of the elements on which it makes its choice, different accomplices frequently become petitioners who review a yearly energetic synopsis of accomplishments and expectations for the panel. This design works assuming that individuals trust simultaneously and individuals on the panel. The impetus is to go for the objectives the Posse of Four makes public and to make sure everybody in the Pack likes you.

3. The Black Box. The Black Box is a variety of The Posse of Four, then again, actually the measures are totally emotional. It may work assuming there is sufficient cash to go around, yet the issue is that lawyers, similar to every other person, frequently contrast themselves with their friends. The emotional component makes a colossal potential for saw shamefulness, which can cause breaks in the firm. The motivator is to work hard and play workplace issues.

4. Eat What You Kill. The EWYK model requests to areas of strength for the of individualism in Western culture, and American culture in particular. The hypothesis is that every individual from the firm is the chief of her own predetermination, can pick how much to work in some random period and should be compensated for her endeavors. It is an extremely normal construction among more modest firms, yet will in general go by the wayside as firms develop. The conduct it boosts is the sharing of room and regulatory assets, individual responsibility, the improvement of individual practices and a feeling of freedom. It can likewise energize divas. It doesn't support different advantages of being in a firm, such as strategically pitching to specialists inside the firm, a group based approach that becomes vital as issues become more complicated and multidisciplinary, the sharing of information, the improvement of partners coming up through the positions and, maybe most importantly, offsetting the strength of individual practices on a step by step premise.