As A Rule Of Thumb, Don't Reblog Donation Posts Or People Asking For Donations Unless They've Been Vetted

doodled pksp

“oh yes, i am very reasonable and normal about this subject!!”

*proceeds to mass reblog any related content*

everyone matching Will: nails, rings, and earring

“Would you kill me, my love? If I betray you?” for the prompt thingy if it’s still open ^^ with any character you like ;)

Fyodor’s fingertips hover above the wooden chess piece— pawn. With absolute grace and consideration, amethyst eyes gaze back at you as he leans on the soft chair.

“My, my,” he rasps, head tilting to the side with his knuckles pushing against his cheek. “I have not foreseen such a question in the middle of a chess game.”

You laugh, toying with the chess piece in your delicate hand. For outsiders, the sound certainly resonates like a normal, amused laugh. However, for Fyodor’s ears, it is roses and silk; sultry with a drop of venom on its edge.

“Won’t you humor me, darling?” Your lashes flick gently, lips forming a smile. “Would you kill me if I betray you?”

Would— because you know that he can. Ending another person’s life does not keep him awake at night; it does not poison his conscience or the lack thereof. And yet the question repeats like a broken record, surrounding his head, consuming his thoughts the longer his eyes linger on yours.

Would he kill you?

Betrayal is the apex of imbecility, for both the traitor and the betrayed. Death is the only punishment for such a crime. If you were just another body in the throng, Fyodor wouldn’t even think twice.

However, you are not like many others. Not for the reason that you make everything you touch beautiful. It is the opposite. You cradle Fyodor with the heat of sin and devilry; you touch him with fire in your fingertips, burning all that is pretty to leave him with ashes and ruin. He takes you by the hand, allowing your claws to sink in and swallow him whole, because that’s all he needs, all he wants. To dance with the devil and be destroyed by you.

“Yes. I will kill you,” he finally says. “And then I will kill myself next.”

"women are my favorite guy" is the phrase of the summer imo

[fic] Staff Evaluation

Staff Evaluation

Ikemen Sengoku | Part of Cybird University ‘verse | Kicho x Reader | G | 829 words

ao3 link

“Please tell me you're not planning an uprising,” you say as you open your office door and find Kicho brewing coffee from the coffee maker—comfortably like he owns the place.

A/N: Another installment in the college/university AU!

The walk back to your office is long and quiet, but the fresh memory of the meeting occupies your thoughts. The day is busy for a Thursday, with this emergency meeting pushing all your other appointments to a later date.

Really, why can't they put Professor Uesugi on a leash. The moment you read the email, your brows flew off your forehead because Professor Michel was also involved. Sure you know Uesugi to be an eccentric professor with a penchant for morbid troublemaking, but you never expected Michel to take the bloody bait. If it weren't for the pay, you'd have opted for a career change.

The office, when you enter, feels more hushed than usual, and you wonder whether the mood of the meeting transferred psychically to your department. Knowing this university, anything can happen.

Your secretary waves to catch your attention.

“Why does the office feel like a funeral?” you ask as you make your way towards her, your shoes clacking on the smooth, tiled floor.

She whispers frantically, “He's here, he's here!”

Ah. You know who she's talking about.

Kicho, the university president's executive secretary, is better known in the campus as an ambitious puppet master. Three years ago he left the College of Social Sciences to join President Yoshiaki's staff. Some say it had been because of a disagreement between him and the dean, but when you asked Nobunaga about it he just shrugged and said, “Kicho is free to do whatever he wants.”

Others speculate that Kicho planned on getting a VP position, and he needed to show Yoshiaki what he could do. Needless to say, the three years since his departure as a modern history professor has been ... well, colorful is a word to describe it. You and Kicho weren't closely acquainted during his professorship, but that changed when he began to invade the HR department weekly in an effort to topple Yoshiaki's tenure.

“Please tell me you're not planning an uprising,” you say as you open your office door and find Kicho brewing coffee from the coffee maker—comfortably like he owns the place.

He doesn't blink at your arrival, or your greeting; he's focused on the exact measurement of coffee in the mug with an I <3 COFFEE design (a silly gift from Professor Arthur in an attempt to get on your good graces).

“No comeback?” you go on. “Must be a good day.”

“I've vetoed four of his suggestions to build statues of him around the campus,” Kicho says, calmly, around his mug, “and he didn't blow a fuse. It is a good day.”

Also famous: his hatred of President Yoshiaki. There's a joke circulating in your department that Kicho is actually the president of the school, as it's he who ultimately makes executive decisions for everything. Miraculously, Yoshiaki continues to be none the wiser.

“Why he couldn't see who you really are, I will never know.”

“He's blinded with his power and his privilege,” Kicho comments as he settles himself on the couch next to your bookshelf. He takes one book out, folds his legs, and starts reading. You're left gaping at him and his audacity.

“Do you have the extra time to—to—lounge about like that?” you sputter, entertaining the idea of snatching the book out of his hands.

Kicho pauses and finally graces you a flat stare. “You're the only person in this institution who understands what I want.”

That's a lie, but also the truth. Kicho's never revealed what he truly wants; when you finally managed to corner him one time, three weeks into his being the executive secretary to Yoshiaki, and asked him about his motivations, Kicho only studied you and answered, “Watch me.” Ever since then he's been a staple figure in your work, complaining about his boss in a way that an employee of Cybird University shouldn't say in front of the director of human resources.

“Sure,” you say, suddenly wary. “But it's not like we can remove him at will.”

And then something changes.

Kicho lifts his head and looks at you, his gaze sharpened with something calculating that has you freezing in your place. Your heartbeat accelerates, and in your years in this institution you've developed a sixth sense for anything that spells out trouble (blame Professor Clavis for that). Kicho's posture screams trouble—and the only question is how dangerous, how hypertension-inducing it's going to be.

You gulp. “Kicho?”

Kicho hums. Takes another sip of coffee while never leaving your gaze.

“Like I said earlier—please don't tell me you're planning an uprising.”

“I'm not,” he says breezily.

A nervous laughter. “That's good, that's good! For a second there I thought you're going to stage a coup d'etat against Yoshiaki—”

“My plan has already been set in motion,” he interrupts, and he says it like he's talking about the weather. You feel like you've aged twenty years. “And I'm going to make you the new president.”

“I'm sorry—what?”

⇼

Endnotes:

Kicho has been planning to kick Yoshiaki out of his position since his infamous promotion. He just didn't execute it right away because he hasn't found the perfect candidate to replace him.

You and Nobunaga are drinking buddies, so you're comfortable addressing him by his first name -- a fact that didn't escape Kicho's notice.

Months into your promotion as the HR Director, Clavis blew up a parking lot for an experiment. Your first instinct is to fire him, but Dean Sariel told you that this is unfortunately a regular occurrence. You couldn't believe that because you never got news of anything like that before your promotion.

In those three years of Kicho being an executive secretary, he has told you that he'd been seriously thinking of rebelling against Yoshiaki a grand total of seventeen times. You gave him coffee each time he said that.

Professor Arthur deduced that you're a fellow coffee lover like him; hence, the mug. It's also a bribe because he was about to order an expensive espresso machine using the college budget.

Something a little different today! The main illustration project I’m working on at the moment is a large gallery show opening next year. I’m going to keep most of the art hush hush for now, but here’s a tiny preview of one of the pieces! There’ll be a collection of spots like this as well as full-bleed pieces. I’ll tell you more about it closer to. Happy Friday, friends! 🌿

From the Brambly Hedge Patternbook