#poison is circulating in his body

[makedonsgriva]

SQQ is really going to these lengths to save LBH… all the while saying that he doesn’t like LBH or has any feelings for him like idk man

[genderkoolaid]

Frustrated that people continued to consume so much alcohol even after it was banned, federal officials had decided to try a different kind of enforcement. They ordered the poisoning of industrial alcohols manufactured in the United States, products regularly stolen by bootleggers and resold as drinkable spirits. The idea was to scare people into giving up illicit drinking. Instead, by the time Prohibition ended in 1933, the federal poisoning program, by some estimates, had killed at least 10,000 people. [...] By mid-1927, the new denaturing formulas included some notable poisons—kerosene and brucine (a plant alkaloid closely related to strychnine), gasoline, benzene, cadmium, iodine, zinc, mercury salts, nicotine, ether, formaldehyde, chloroform, camphor, carbolic acid, quinine, and acetone. The Treasury Department also demanded more methyl alcohol be added—up to 10 percent of total product. It was the last that proved most deadly. The results were immediate, starting with that horrific holiday body count in the closing days of 1926. Public health officials responded with shock. “The government knows it is not stopping drinking by putting poison in alcohol,” New York City medical examiner Charles Norris said at a hastily organized press conference. “[Y]et it continues its poisoning processes, heedless of the fact that people determined to drink are daily absorbing that poison. Knowing this to be true, the United States government must be charged with the moral responsibility for the deaths that poisoned liquor causes, although it cannot be held legally responsible.” His department issued warnings to citizens, detailing the dangers in whiskey circulating in the city: “[P]ractically all the liquor that is sold in New York today is toxic,” read one 1928 alert. He publicized every death by alcohol poisoning. He assigned his toxicologist, Alexander Gettler, to analyze confiscated whiskey for poisons—that long list of toxic materials I cited came in part from studies done by the New York City medical examiner’s office. Norris also condemned the federal program for its disproportionate effect on the country’s poorest residents. Wealthy people, he pointed out, could afford the best whiskey available. Most of those sickened and dying were those “who cannot afford expensive protection and deal in low grade stuff.” And the numbers were not trivial. In 1926, in New York City, 1,200 were sickened by poisonous alcohol; 400 died. The following year, deaths climbed to 700. These numbers were repeated in cities around the country as public-health officials nationwide joined in the angry clamor. Furious anti-Prohibition legislators pushed for a halt in the use of lethal chemistry. “Only one possessing the instincts of a wild beast would desire to kill or make blind the man who takes a drink of liquor, even if he purchased it from one violating the Prohibition statutes,” proclaimed Sen. James Reed of Missouri.

This isn't particularly relevant to anything specific. I just wanted to remind everyone this is something the US government did.

[beloveds-embrace]

Dukedom au masterlist (yes i need to update it ik) and we will not talk abt the abrupt ending 😭

The grand ballroom of glittered with the light of a thousand candles, their flames dancing across marble floors and golden fixtures hung from the ceilings. A symphony played softly in the background, a perfect complement to the hum of ongoing conversation and chatter. You stood at the center of it all, draped in a gown of midnight blue silk, embroidered with silver thread that mirrored the stars. A gift from Simon, one that had you staring at the beautiful dress in awe.

Tonight, you were the very image of grace and poise.

Your face and movements are calm and collected, hiding what you truly feel beneath. Lately, whispers of dishonor had begun circulating; rumors that your husband had fled a border skirmish back when he’d been deployed, abandoning his men, yet had paid for the matter to be buried. Vile lies, born of cowardice and malice. John’s name, his reputation, and the honor of your house were at stake; disloyalty towards the empire was seen as treason, and that was unforgivable.

You would not allow it.

The first spark of rage had ignited the moment you’d overheard the vile accusations from another lady, one of your more arrogant rivals who had laughed snidely. From there, the rumors spread like wildfire, poisoning the halls of the court and society.

But you were no stranger to such games like these. Tonight, after much planning, you’ll put an end to this farce.

You began with your loyal ladies-in-waiting. Each one owed their position to you, and in return, they offered their unwavering loyalty. “Listen carefully,” you instructed them during a private meeting in your sitting room, the door locked behind you. “Go into the court, the markets, the salons- anywhere whispers thrive. I want names, places, and patterns. Who speaks these lies, and who listens too closely?”

They curtsied and departed without hesitation, melting into the bustling world outside of the manor. Meanwhile, you turned your attention to your maids and house staff. Servants were the lifeblood of any noble house, privy to secrets thought hidden.

You met with them personally with Kyle’s help, ensuring they understood the stakes. “Speak subtly,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Let it slip that those who spread these rumors do so for their own gain, that there’s no substance to the rumors. Plant doubt. Create cracks.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Kyle nods his head, hands on your waist. He leans down, and kisses your forehead, and you smile all sweet and pretty at him. “Whatever you want.”

While you wove your network of spies, John watched quietly from the shadows of the manor. Though he trusted you implicitly, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of awe and unease. He didn’t want to doubt you, but he worried nonetheless for you.

In his study, he sat with Kyle.

“How’s she faring?” John asked, puffing a cigar as he leaned back in his chair. Papers were scattered on his desk, though they didn’t require immediate attention or replies. Pressed close to Kyle, bodies warm, he didn’t want to go back to working for now.

Kyle hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “She’s… efficient, John. The staff is utterly devoted to her even without my help. I’ve seen no signs of hesitation in her plans.”

John chuckled dryly, though there was a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “I am not surprised. She’s scarier than any battlefield, Kyle. And they love her.”

With the groundwork laid, you began preparing to host a big gala at the manor. Invitations were sent far and wide, carrying the promise of exquisite dining, captivating entertainment, and the opportunity to curry favor with one of the most powerful families in the region.

None dared refuse.

Johnny worked tirelessly to ensure every detail of the menu was flawless, and though he would have helped anyways, he still enjoyed all the kisses he got as reward from yoh. “You’re pilin’ it on thick, Duchess,” he remarked one evening, wiping his brow as he inspected a rack of lamb. “Even for you.”

“This isn’t just a party, Johnny,” you replied, humming. “This is war.”

“War it is, then. Anything for you, bonnie.” he muttered, diving back into his work with renewed determination. After a very heated look from you that had him preening, though; he looked handsome in his element. And you’ll make sure to really show him your appreciation for all his hard work later, in the privacy of your rooms.

At every other gala and gathering, you moved through the crowd like a dancer with a purpose. You guided conversations subtly, planting seeds of doubt and faltering those who tried to be a bit too brave- and your reputation as a “people’s princess” helped so greatly. Your allies- the few you trusted among the nobility-played their roles perfectly.

Simon, especially. You had specifically asked for his help, curled warm and cozy on his lap one night. He’d kissed you breathless and told you he would always be there for you.

“Lord Marcan, was it?” Simon mused during one party, his glass of whiskey balanced effortlessly in his hand. The others immediately listen to him; though he isn’t the most talkative noble, his words carry weight. “I’ve heard some interesting things about him. Did you know he’s deeply in debt? I wonder how far a man would go to escape ruin.”

The other nobles exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces. You watched from a distance, satisfied as Simon delivered the blow with effortless charm.

Your web was nearly complete, each thread pulling tighter around Lord Marcan- the instigator of the rumors- until he had no room to maneuver. At the final ball of the season, the one hosted by you and John, you made your final move.

You descended the grand staircase as the guests gathered, your presence commanding attention. At your signal, the servants unveiled a surprise: a performance of actors reenacting a scene from an old skirmish. But this was no ordinary play; it was a dramatized retelling of that battle, one that highlighted John’s bravery and leadership even when Lord Marcan had tried to say John had fled that day.

The crowd was entranced, all earlier doubts finally wavering and shattering. You saw Marcan shift uncomfortably, his face pale as his lies unraveled before him and eyes turned towards him in disgust.

From the balcony above, John watched with Simon and Kyle at his side. “She’s terrifying.” he murmured, though his voice carried a note of awe.

Simon smirked. “You married a bloody tactician.”

Kyle simply nodded. “She fights for you, for us, John. And she wins.”

By the end of the evening, Lord Marcan was a broken man and his wife, Lady Marcan who had laughed at you by the rumor, was seething. Their allies abandoned them, their name tarnished by his cowardice and deceit and her aftions.

And the rumors about John’s supposed abandonment of his men? Gone.

That night, as you removed your jewelry in the quiet of your chambers, John approached you. His hands rested on your bare shoulders, his touch warm and grounding.

“You’ve been busy, beloved.” he said, his voice soft but laced with admiration.

“I did what needed to be done.” you replied, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I know you could have simply challenged him to a duel… but we didn’t have full confirmation it was him who started. I had to do it this way.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re terrifying, love. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

From the shadows of the room, Simon leaned casually against the doorframe. “She’s not wrong, John. Best keep on her good side.”

Johnny’s voice echoed from the hallway as he came by with a tray of food. Kyle comes as well, carrying glasses of wine. “Aye, and keep feeding her. Keeps her from plotting.”

Kyle sighs, though he has a smile on his face as he sets the glasses down and instead comes to help you. “…he isn’t exactly wrong. You were incredible…. And scary.”

“Perfect, in other words.” John hums, an eyebrow raising. You do not have enough time to ask anything before he and Kyle are gently turning you around on the seat, face to face with John who kneels down. “You’ve worked so hard for me, for us, my Duchess. Let me take care of you now, hm?”

“John…“

“No more words, my love,” he shakes his head, Kyle’s hands reaching to unlace your dress, your corset, until your breasts spill out. John doesn’t even seem mildly bothered by the layers of your skirt, flipping them up until you are indecent in front of your men and he is face to face with your panties. The way they look at you, so much want…

You don’t mind. The slick spot forming speaks more than enough anyways.

“Tonight,” John murmurs, kissing your inner thighs. “Will be all about spoiling you, wife.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Vil Schoenheit: The Shape of You

Rollo voice) that witch is showing too much bare skin

I noticed that Vil sounds a lot gentler in his Relax in Room vignettes… Maybe he comes across that way when he’s not scolding someone 😭

Rise and Shine!

You stopped in Vil’s doorway, as if bound by a spell, transfixed at the sight of him.

He was a creature of beauty and grace, even in the earliest hours of the morning. Vil knelt upon his mattress, one leg raised behind him, toes pointing to the ceiling. The form reminded you of a gazelle with its sturdy antlers and pointed hooves.

His arms reached behind his head and, elbows bent, he locked his fingers together. A slow exhale as he stretched, releasing the tension that had built up in his body overnight. You saw a swan beating its wings, hear a song blowing free across a flowered clearing.

His arms straightened and swiveled to his front. He shifted to his other leg and foot.

Behind him, sunlight streamed in through a large window. The glass panes bore a lattice of diamonds, painting Vil’s bed with shards of color. His silken top hung loose, the muscles in his chest flexing beneath a layer of milky skin. He was haloed in gold, as if blessed by a godly being of beauty.

You felt like you’ve intruded on something sacred, seen something that you shouldn’t have. Vil’s me time. And more of Vil than you’d ever dreamed you’d be exposed to. Bashful at the thought, you peeled your eyes away.

A question, quiet but hard, rose from Vil.

“Are you certain that you’re fully awake? You still look dazed—like you’ve just woken up.”

“I-I’m awake!” you insisted (unconvincingly, if Vil’s furrowed brows were anything to go by).

Sighing, he drew himself out of bed and strode over. You strained to keep your eyes from trailing to places they didn’t belong. His face—you focused on it. Barren but beautiful, with a delicate pale pink mouth, a straight nose, shapely arches for brows, and long wispy lashes.

You were so lost in him that you almost missed what he was saying.

“Join me for my morning stretches,” Vil advised. “It will do you some good—it gets the blood pumping and helps with circulation. That should help you properly wake up your body.”

“If you think that’ll help… How should I get started, teach?”

“Well,” he replied with a faint laugh, “it seems you’ve still got the energy to be cheeky with me.”

With one hand, Vil gestured for yours. You sheepishly offered it, then the other when he motioned again. The areas where he made contact seemed to tingle and burn, as though his very touch was toxic.

He was, you realized, standing close to you. Maybe too close.

His front flush with your back, you could feel the heat radiating off of him. Just a step, and you'd crash right into him, his heart slamming into your skin and bones. Collison with a wave of poison, dressed up nicely in a shapely perfume bottle.

You swallowed nervously.

“Assuming the correct posture is important. We wouldn’t want to pull or strain a muscle,” Vil explained, guiding you through the motions.

One arm was extended, palm up. The other laid perpendicular on the back of the elbow. Then extended arm closed like the jaws of a beast, and you could feel a pressure building where it clamped down.

“Hold that for fifteen seconds, then switch to the other side and do the same. I will show you the next stretch after that.”

The instructions flitted against your ear, setting your stomach churning. It was like you had swallowed an entire jar of butterflies which swarmed in your gut. You tried to bat them down, tried to ground your thoughts before they floated away again.

“Y-Yes, I understand, thank you.”

“Do you?” Vil smirked. “My, what a fast learner. If only all my students were this obedient, I would have far less grief."

He pressed a quick peck to your temples. You burned, body going slack from the shock. So much for stretching.

Vil only chuckled as he pulled back, brushing slender fingers along your shoulders. "Now then, no time to dawdle. There's another day awaiting us, sweet potato."

[arc-misadventures]

A Hero's Rewards?

"Beep... Beep... Beep..."

Jaune recognized that sound.

"Beep... Beep... Beep..."

The monotonous tone of a heart rate monitor.

Well that was a good thing to hear; It meant that, Jaune wasn't dead.

"Beep... Beep... Beep..."

But, it was bad news nonetheless.

"Beep... Beep... Beep..."

Jaune hated that damn beeping sound!

Jaune pushed the nuisance aside... He was alive, and he was awake. Now he needed to get up. He didn't want to stay 'asleep' on this bed, seemingly dead to the world. He wasn't buried yet!

~~~

Jaune opened his eyes, they felt heavy. He licked his fingers as he cleaned the gunk from his eyes. He blinked his eyes before shaking his head, banishing the weariness away.

Jaune looked at his left arm, noticing the, IV in it. Looking upward to see a the IV bag, and the infernal heartrate monitor beeping along. Jaune pressed a button on the side gurney, raising his bed upward from the waist, putting him in a more comfortable, sitting position.

Jaune turned his neck from side to side, letting out a pleasured groan as he heard a series satisfying clicks from his neck, letting the tension in his body fade away.

Jaune turned to the side, and looked at more of the buttons on the panel next to him, and pressed the, 'help' button, and waited.

He looked around his room, as he waited for the doctor, or a nurse, whoever it was that would come. Jaune noticed that he was in a small room; there was no windows, so he expected he was probably kept in the room in the medical wing in, Atlas Academy. To keep him safe no doubt due to his rank as a, Specialists.

The time on the clock read: 13:29 hundred hours. Jaune now knew the time he was, but now the question was: What day was it?

~~~

The door opened, and Jaune saw a man with silver streaks in his hair wearing a white coat, and deep blue scrubs enter the room, and behind him a woman with with warm brown hair in light blue scrubs also came in. The man looked at him, and his rather blank expression opened into a wide smile as he approached him.

: Mr. Arc, my name is, Dr. Dusan, and this here is, Nurse Haizea.

Haizea: Hello, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Hello.

Dr. Dusan: I must say I am most happy to see that you are awake. We were quite worried you would take a while to wake up because of the poison in your veins. If you had been injected by that scorpion faunas's poison when you were in a more relaxed state of minf, and body, you would have been relatively fine. However, because you're adrenaline was spiked from the fight, the poison managed to circulate through your blood stream faster than we would have liked.

Jaune: Was I in any risk of dying?

Dr. Dusan: No, you weren't in any risk. Luckily, you were brought here to the, Atlas Academy medical wing quite quickly, so we managed to administer you some antivenom rather quickly. Not to mention your impressive aura reserves help heal the puncture wound, and slow down the poison as well.

Jaune: My aura fought off the poison?

Dr. Dusan: To an extent: You're aura managed to slow down the poison, buying you time. But, a persons aura is not capable of curing poisons once they've entered your blood stream.

Jaune: Ahh, that makes sense: Aura is more of a barrier ones applies to ones self after all.

Jaune reached up with his left arm, and scratched the back of his head. This was an action that made him pause, and look at his shoulder.

Jaune: I was stabbed in my left shoulder... shouldn't my arm be in a sling, or something?

Dr. Dusan: Normally yes, but by the time you arrived the wound in you shoulder was already closing because of you aura. Hell, I reckon there's not even a scar on you by now.

Jaune pulled down the neck of his medical gown to look at his shoulder, looking for a puncture wound.

Jaune: I'll be damned... there isn't one...?

Dr. Dusan: The marvelous of, Aura.

Dr. Dusan smiled as he walked over to, Jaune, while, Nurse Hiazea pulled a cart with even more instruments on it.

Dr. Dusan: Now that we have you awake we'd like to run several tests, just to make sure you're doing alright. Any questions?

Jaune: Only two: How long was I out, and when can I get out?

Dr. Dusan laughed as he grabbed a light, and shinned it into his eyes.

Dr. Dusan: Well, you've been out for a day, and a half

Jaune: A day, and a half?! Damn... His poison did a number on me...

Dr. Dursan: Well, that was just your body telling you it needed time to recover. Alright, watch my finger, Mr. Arc.

Jaune kept his eyes on the doctors finger as he ran through several more tests before he made a happy grunt as he walked away from, Jaune.

Dr. Dursan: You're looking quite healthy, Mr. Arc. You should be able to leave sometime tomorrow. We're just going to keep you here overnight just in case. In the meantime... Nurse Haizea?

Haizea: Yes, Doctor?

Dr. Dursan: Can you take a blood sample? I think it's best we make sure to check, and see if all the poison is out of his system.

Haizea: I'll take it to the lab as soon as I take a sample, Doctor.

Dr. Dursan: Thank you. Well then, call us if you need us, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Will do doctor.

Dr. Dursan waved goodbye as, Nurse Haizea pushed a stool over, and her cart, and sat down putting on some gloves before placing a rubber band around his arm.

Jaune: Uhh... Nurse Haizea?

Haizea: Haizea is just fine.

Jaune: Okay. Haizea, did... did anyone come to see me while I was out?

Haizea: Oh, yes! The entirety of the, Specialist team came to check on you, several times actually.

Jaune: Really?

Haizea: Oh yes! I even saw, General Ironwood come by to check up on you with, Specialist Winter Schnee!

Jaune: Really? W-Was there anyone else...?

Haizea: Mmmm... Oh! I heard, Robyn Hill came by to check up on you as well. That was a surprise.

Jaune: Well that's a surprise... Anyone else?

Haizea: Mmm... Nope. That's everyone.

Jaune: I see...

Haizea was about to break open a needle, but stopped as she heard his disappointed tone.

Haizea: Was there... Was there someone you were hoping to see?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: No... No I wasn't...

~~~

Clover: Jaune! You're awake!

Jaune stopped lookin at his scroll as he saw, Clover, and the rest of the, Specialist's members enter his room.

Jaune: Hi, Clover, hey guys. What brings you here?

Marrow: Here to check out on you, Mr. Hero!

Jaune: Hero? I don't think killing someone, even a monster like, Tyrian makes me a hero.

Elm: True, but he's talking about how you saved, Robyn Hill.

Marrow: Yeah! You came in like a knight in shining armour, and saved the poor damsel in distress!

Jaune just stared at, Marrow as he seemingly swayed side to side with a goofy grin on his face.

Jaune: Is he... Is he drunk?

Elm: A little... We were at the officers club celebrating your victory when we got the call that you were awake.

Jaune: And, how many did he drink?

Vine: One.

Harriet: Man's a total light weight.

Jaune: Evidently.

The group shared a small laugh at, Marrow's poor expense.

Jaune: So... did I miss anything when I blacked out?

Clover: Not much. After we got your emergency call, we rushed to get there, but you already killed, Tyrian. But, you were poisoned so we called for a medevac to get you here. After that, it was nothing, but a simple clean up job.

Vine: We secured the area, and allowed the medical staff to take his body away.

Elm: A few of them got hurt by touching his poison by accident. But, why was his tail a prosthetic?

Jaune: Ahh... I met him in the southern parts of, Mistral a year ago. When he was there, Ruby Rose cut off his tail. Somehow he got a prosthetic tail, we should check in on that. Someone was skilled enough in bio-mechanics to make him a stinger. It's only a question of what else they could do.

Clover: Hmm... Yeah we better take a look into that.

Vine: His scroll is being hacked as we talk. Once that is done, we'll get plenty of information to find out who made it.

Jaune: We can only hope so...

~~~

Ironwood: Ahh, Mr. Arc it's nice to see you doing so well.

Jaune: General?!

Jaune was in the midst of his meal as he pushed his tray on a table to his side, whipping his mouth of any crumps left there. The General walked into his room, pulling a chair next to, Jaune's bed as, Penny pulled up behind him.

Ironwood: At ease, Mr. Arc.

Jaune rested in his gurney as he the general took a seat next to him.

Ironwood: How are you feeling, Mr. Arc?

Jaune: I'm feeling fine, Sir. A little restless honestly.

Ironwood: Ha, I understand that... I always felt restless whenever I was stuck in a hospital too. Now then... About you killing, Tyrian Callows... Tell me what happened.

Jaune had assumed that this wasn't a social call, but that he wanted to hear a report on how, Jaune dealt with, Tyrian Callows.

Jaune: I was on the walls of, Mantle, inspecting how the construction of the fortifications were coming along.

Ironwood: And, how are they coming along?

Jaune: Certain sections of the wall are ahead of schedule, while others are just on schedule. I hypothesize that if we place the ones who finish ahead of schedule on the other sections of the wall, we could be finished the whole wall by at least a week at the earliest. Allowing the, Engineer Corp to resume work on your, Secret Project.

Ironwood: My, 'secret project?'

Jaune gave, Ironwood a confused look as he gave him one in turn. The pair shared a confused look for a moment before a sudden realization dawned on, Jaune's face.

Jaune: Ahh yes... I refer the, CCTS Project as, 'Ironwoods Secret Project,' or anything else that sounds similar to that. I've been doing that so no one knows what we are up to. I've ordered the various, Engineer Corp officers to refer to it as such to keep it a secret.

Ironwood: Ahh... Clever. I should have made a note of that to my other officers myself. Well done, Specialist Arc. Now, please continue.

Jaune: Thank you, Sir. While I was reading a report on progress of section, Gamma 7, I noticed a dip in the work during one day. Apparently, members of, Robyn Hill's supporters came to the wall, and caused a disruption.

Ironwood: What did they do?

Jaune: They just pestered the workers, demanding to know why it took you so long to order the reconstruction of the wall.

Ironwood: Because we were busy with the, CCTS Amity Project.

Jaune: I know that, Sir, and you know that. But, they, everyone else cannot know about it. My run in with, Tyrian Callows was an example enough of why it needs to be kept secret. Who knows what could have happened if, Salem learns of it before it is completed. Sir, we must keep a tight lip about it.

Jaune had started to become suspicious about, General Ironwood's attitude when it came to the, CCTS Amity Project. As he feared, and as he had warned others, General Ironwood had become obsessed about the completion of it. And, Jaune knew he had an itchy trigger finger, and someone needs to take his gun away from him before he started shooting.

Ironwood, stared at, Jaune until he leaned back in his seat as he nodded his head in a reluctant agreement.

Ironwood: You're right, we need to keep a tight lid on this... Continue, Specialist Arc.

Jaune: Yes, Sir. After I learned this, I learned about a rally, Robyn Hill was holding, so I decided to go there, and make sure nothing happened. While I was there I was accosted by, Robyn Hill, and she demanded to know why I was there.

Jaune: I explained that I was there to keep the peace. That I didn't want to hear about another incident like the one that happened at the wall the other day. She was the one who told me why her supporters were there. She also made it evident that it was her supporters that that dispersed the crowd, and sent them home. Besides being put slightly behind schedule because of their delay, no other incident has occurred.

Jaune was telling the truth, is was a bit of a lie since it didn't happen in that order, but it did happen. Ironwood seemingly bought it, as he nodded his head for him to continue.

Jaune: As I said, I decided to stay at her rally to keep a close eye on things to make sure nothing happened. And, while, Robyn was giving her speech, I saw a suspicious individual making there way towards the stage. He had a similar profile of a person I've seen before. So, I made my way to cut them off, and when I got in front of them...

Ironwood: You found, Tyrian Callows.

Jaune: I found, Tyrian Callows. Yes, Sir.

Ironwood: Qrow informed me of your interaction with him in, Mistral. He told me his niece, Ruby Rose cut off his stinger.

Jaune: Part of it yes.

Ironwood: And, someone replaced his stinger with a biomechanical tail... One strong enough to pierce your armour plating... We must look into this; Only a few people in all of, Atlas are capable of building biomechanical limbs... but, to make a scorpions stinger...? This a most disturbing development.

Jaune: I agree whole heartedly, Sir. An investigation must be launched into, Tyrians prosthetic stinger, at once.

Ironwood: And, it will be done. Penny?

Penny: Yes, General Ironwood?

Ironwood: Send a word to the engineer division, and your father. Tell them to start investigating that prosthetic tail, at once.

Penny: At once, Sir!

Penny saluted the, General as she seemed to send a message using her internal components to her father, and Engineer Corp. Jaune didn't like this unknown factor; Atlas was a city of technology, and science, and if Salem had a capable enough individual to make a prosthetic tail for a scorpion faunas, then what else were they capable of?

Jaune: After I intercepted him, we engaged in combat; I was stalling for time so the civilians could escape. Luckily they started running the moment I drew my blade, and tried to kill him. While we were fighting I saw him break away from me, and attack, Robyn Hill.

Ironwood: So, Robyn Hill was his intended target then.

Jaune: It would appear so. While, Tyrian was fighting, Robyn. I noticed his hand was glowing this dark purple, and, Robyn's side was glowing a faint lilac. I realized that it was, Robyn's aura, and Tyrian's semblance was to make holes in peoples aura so he could land a fatal blow.

Ironwood: You noticed all of that with just a single glance?

Jaune: I'm a analytical strategist, Sir. I often have to make, and notice several things within the space of a single breath.

Ironwood: I see, continue.

Jaune: Well, to keep him away from her I threw my sword at him. I know it was a dumb thing to do, but I needed to make him keep his distance from her. But, at the cost of making this opening, he jumped me, pinned me to the ground, and stabbed me with his stinger.

Jaune: I remember crying out in pain as the poison in his stinger made my shoulder burn. But, after that, ho got off of me, and tackled, Robyn hill to the ground, and he was about to kill her. We he did that, I suddenly got a massive surge of energy, probably by an adrenaline rush. But, I rushed over, grabbed, Tyrian from behind, and I...

Jaune: And, I snapped his neck...

Ironwood: And, what happened after you killed, Tyrian.

Jaune: I... I don't remember last thing I remember is throwing, Tyrian's body to the side, I think I said something... and, then... nothing...

Ironwood: Well, based on the report we got from, Robyn Hill, she said you fainted shortly after killing him.

Jaune: From the poison no doubt.

Ironwood nodded his head as he made to stand, putting the chair back in it's place.

Ironwood: Well, your account correlates with what, Robyn Hill said. Well, then... Did you get all of that, Penny?

Penny: Yes, sir! I have already uploaded this conversation to the central computer.

Ironwood: Good, very good. Well, we have much to talk about later about this incident, but for now; Rest, and heal up.

Jaune: Will do sir.

Ironwood: I will see you later, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Sir.

Penny: See you later, Jaune!

Jaune: Bye, Penny.

Jaune waved goodbye to, Penny who left with a wide smile on her face. But, as the door closed, he knew she would be the only one of them who would come to see him. The rest, wouldn't know, nor care.

~~~

Winter: H-Hey, Jaune...

Jaune's focus on the video on his scroll was cut short as he saw, Winter Schnee poke her head through the door to his room.

Jaune: Winter? Please, please come in.

Winter: T-Thank you...

Jaune was a little confused; He could see a faint blush on, Winter's face, he'd seen, Winter blush before, and he thought she looked absolutely adorable when she was blushing. But, was she acting shy, and nervous towards him, or was there something else that was causing her to blush?

Jaune: Are...? Are you okay? You seem nervous.

Winter: Is there a problem with that?

Jaune: Kinda... I've always seen you as someone with complete control over your emotions. To see you nervous about something is just... weird...

Winter: Ahh well... I...

Winter walked over to his bed, and took a seat at the end as she nervously brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Winter: Are you okay... Jaune?

Jaune gave, Winter a cautionary once over; her nervousness was infectious. But, the blush across her face was most certainly quite captivating to gaze upon.

Jaune: I'm okay. A little drossy, but otherwise I'm fine.

Winter: But, you got stabbed by, Tyrian's stinger! You got injected with his poison! And, you're just fine?!

Jaune: I am. I activated my semblance when he stabbed me, I super charged it so it slowed down the poison, and close the wound. See, there's not even a scar...?!

As a testament to her skills as a, Huntresses, Winter moved closer to him, without him even noticing her move, and grabbed his face within her hands.

Winter: Jaune... This is serious! You got stabbed, you were poisoned, you could have died! Why are you not taking this serious?!

Jaune: Winter...

Jaune: I know I got stabbed, and that I was poisoned. I remember the burning sensation in my shoulder when the poison flooded my views. I remember the fear filling my soul as I thought I would die by that physco's hands. But, I refused to die there, and I refused to let that thing be the one that ends my life! So, I'm sorry if it seems like I'm making light of what happened to me, Winter. But, I'm a, Huntsman... It is my duty to fight, and if needs be die for the innocent. Be that civilians, my fellow, Specialist, or you, Winter.

Jaune looked into, Winter's eyes as tears started to fall down her angelic face.

Winter: Y-You would die for me...?

Jaune: No... I would live for you, Winter.

Jaune thought it was a cheesy line, but it was the truth, he would die to protect her, but he knew that would make her sad. And, after seeing, Winter cry for the first time, and he didn't want to see those tears fall down her face once again.

But, as, Jaune thought of this he noticed the smile spread across her face. He was about to comment about her smile, but the unexpected happened.

Winter pulled his face to hers, and kissed him. Jaune could feel her warm lips clash with his own. It was a kiss of passion, desire, and warmth. A kiss someone who had been holding it in gave their lover. And, as their kiss broke, they were left gasping for air.

Jaune looked at her radiant face, a smile that radiated the nights sky with it's radiance. Her eyes, sparkled with starlight as she lovingly stared at him. And, the blush that exploded across her face was oh so cute.

Winter: Oh, I?! I-I-I?! U-U-Uhhhh?!

Jaune: Winter...? Are you...

Winter: Oh what is that? General Ironwood is calling for me! I gotta go! Bye, Jaune.

Within the blink of the eye, Winter was gone. Leaving, Jaune behind in a dazed, and confused state. As he tried to gather his thoughts he came to a simple question.

What's with all the woman in his life grabbing him by the face, and kissing him? He wasn't that dense anymore, right...?

~~~

"Nock, nock nock."

Jaune: Hmm? Come in.

: Hi, Jaune.

Jaune R-Robyn?! W-What are you doing here?

Jaune was enjoying his supper, relatively; it was hospital food after all, nothing to write home about. Jaune didn't expect to have visitors during supper, much less, Robyn Hill. Jaune whipped his mouth with a napkin, and placed the tray on the table to his right.

Robyn: Why am I here? Oh, well... I'm here to check up on my savior.

Jaune: Savior? Oh come on, I was just doing my job, no need to look at me like that.

Robyn: Oh, why not...? Can't a girl see the literal white knight who saved her from a vile monster as her savior~?

Robyn started walking towards, Jaune's bed. A noticeable sway was to be found in her hips, and the lint of a sultry tone in her voice.

Jaune: Uhh...? I wear white armour... I'm a knight... I did save a girl from a vile monster...

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay, you can call me your savior, but not like... Not like that...

Robyn: Oh come on, Jaune...

Robyn then slid on his bed, her butt resting against his hip.

Robyn: Can't a girl have her fun?

Jaune: That depends, are you being serious with me, or is that a mask I'm looking at?

Robyn's warm smile faltered before a weary smile took it's place. She looked away from him as he hand found his, and tightly grasped it.

Robyn: Jaune... Who... who was that person...?

Jaune: ...

Jaune looked at her before he looked away, his mind searching for an answer that she would find satisfactory, whilst keeping things secret.

Jaune: His name was, Tyrian Callows. A psychotic scorpion faunas who wanted you dead.

Robyn: But, why?

Jaune: Your death, Robyn... it would sow division, and chaos between the people of, Mantle, and Atlas.

Robyn: But... who would want me dead?

Jaune: I can't tell you that.

Robyn: W-Why not?!

Jaune: I can't tell you.

Robyn: Why won't you?

Jaune: I can't tell you, Robyn.

Robyn: Why won't you tell me?!

Robyn grabbed him by his shirt's collar, screaming at his face all the while she was crying.

Jaune looked at, Robyn's face, watching at the tears fell down her caramel skin. Jaune looked into her eyes, watching as they quivered before him as her tears continued to cascaded down her face. And, Jaune came to the realization that this wasn't about, Robyn's desire for the truth. No, this was for something else entirely.

Jaune: Ahh... you're scared, aren't you, Robyn

Robyn's eyes widened in shock as, Jaune struck the nail on the head with a hammer. She let go of his shirt, she was about to get off his bed, but, Jaune kept her in place as he cupped her cheek with his hand.

Jaune: Hey, look at me...

A reding blush crept across, Robyn's face as she bashfully tried to keep eye contact with, Jaune.

Jaune: There are things I cannot tell you when it comes to, Tyrian. Many things I will not tell you for your own good, Robyn. But, I promise you this, I will protect you from those things.

Robyn looked away from, Jaune, the blush on her face deepening as he spoke those sweet words to her.

Jaune: You said I was your white knight when I saved you. Well, let me be that white knight for you, let me protect you from the monsters in the world. And, I promise you, Robyn, I will keep the monsters at bay.

As, Jaune finished talking, Robyn had whipped away her tears as she smile warmly at, Jaune.

Robyn: Do you promise to, Jaune?

Jaune: I give you an, Arc's word, Robyn.

Robyn: An, Arc's word? what is that?

Jaune: Simple: An, Arc gives their word to you, and an, Arc never breaks their word.

Robyn, laughed at that. the smile on her face growing ever more radiant.

Robyn: That's cheesy.

Jaune: It does, but it made you laugh.

Robyn: That it did...

Robyn reached into her coat, and pulled out a small flat box, and handed it to, Jaune.

Jaune: What's this?

Jaune opened the box, and found a silver badge; It was shaped much like, Robyn's pendant, but instead of a robin with it's wings in the air, it was a falcon.

Robyn: A-A lady's favour...

Jaune: A lady's favour?

Robyn: Y-Yeah... I read about lady's giving their knights tokens... of favour.. and what not... I-I saw this as a good thank you for... for saving me...

Jaune: Ahh... so I am you're knight then, aren't I... My lady?

Jaune shot, Robyn a teasing smirk, a smirk that fell as she looked at him misty eyed. Jaune was going to ask him what was wrong, when she suddenly grabbed his face, and kissed him.

Jaune could feel the warmth, the passion, and desire from, Robyn's lips as she deepened the kiss. They stayed lip locked until, Robyn ended the kiss. A radiant smile that could light up the nights sky came from her blushing face.

Robyn: I will hold you to that, my valiant knight.

Jaune: I uhh...?

Robyn kissed his cheek as she got up, and made her way to leave.

Robyn: I hope to see you later in, Mantle, Jaune. There's a lot of people who wish to thank you.

Jaune: Oh... o-okay...

Robyn: I'll see you later, Jaune~!

Jaune: Bye...

Jaune watched as, Robyn left. His fingers running across his lips, stunned that he had been kissed twice in the same day, by two different woman?!

His mind ran wild trying to comprehend what had just happen, but his concertation was broken as he heard laughter from his left. As he looked over to see red sitting on a counter.

Pyrrha: Oh~? Things are getting interesting, aren't they, Jaune~!

Jaune: O-O-Okay! I knew, Winter had a crush on me! But, I had no idea, Robyn liked me too! You can not hold that against me!

Jaune had expected many thing to happen when he came to, Atlas. Killing one of, Salem's minions was something he had hopped to happen.

But, to have two separate woman kiss him, and proclaim their love to him, in the same day!

Well, who exactly could have expected that?

[anachronismstellar]

Hear me out;

For your SQH with tattoos post, what if he implemented tattoo spells or smthn into PIDW bcs he was a fan of FMA or smthn. It is a vry Airplane thing to do, trust.

Anon I'm listening loud and clear and I need this ASAP because I bet he did exactly that, he slapped some poor wanna be villain with talismans tattoos or some shit to make the villain look edgy and I bet the villain got his tattoo from a demon clan in the south or something, the point- THE POINT IS.

(oh God this is becoming a filet God save me-)

Mu Qingfang is the only one who knows about the tattoos and he doesn't approve not because he doesn't like the vibe (he kinda thinks is hot as fuck) he doesn't approve because "Heavens knows what they put in the ink and which needle they used, Shixiong!"

But with the amount of layers a peak lord has to wear, no one finds our for a long loooooong time.

Hell, Mobei that has walked into Shang Qinghua doing the weirdest shit didn't know about the damn tattoos.

Until. UNTIL.

Wife plot 397.

What is wife plot 397? No idea, Airplane doesn't know either, but the think is that it ends up with him soaked to the bone and the water has poison because of course it does so he has to strip all his robes and he has to do it fast or he can say bye bye to his skin and bones which makes him naked in front of Mobei with only Cucumber's fan (that is going to be burned later urgh Airplane you will pay for this!) saving the last dignity that he might have-

Uh. It should be more yelling. Why is everyone so quiet?

"What?"

"What?! What happened to your arms?!" Because of course Cucumber is the one who snaps out faster, but without his fan to cover his face his blush is there to anyone to see. "Are those tattoos?! Airplane what did you do- what are they for?!"

Binghe is drinking vinegar and doesn't know if he will have to kill his shishu because he had to dirty Shizun's eyes with by being shamelessly naked like that or if he should stare at Shizun's face and see if he likes the tattoos- should he get tattoos? WHAT IF HE GOT SHIZUN'S NAME IT WOULD BE SO ROMANTIC-

Meanwhile Mobei. Oh poor Mobei.

Mobei-Jun's brain has left the building, struggling between wanting to hide Qinghua's body from everyone's eyes but also wanting to take him and pin him down and lick all the drawings and bite them until Qinghua begged for mercy or-

"Oh, yea, I forgot about these uh. They are to help me with strength? Also they help to circulation of qi, and another things" and he won't anything else because if Cucumber finds out he got a FMA Scar wanna be tattoo he will be dead, he will be murdered by Cucumber-bro fan somehow.

..... and that's what I have for now because is almost 4 am DJSBAKDBSKDJSK

But feel free to take the idea and run with it!! I just want more BAMF!SQH fics in the world ;; he deserves it poor little meow meow

Thank you for the ask anon <3

[a-regular-amount-of-spiders]

When's The Last Time You Felt Safe (BirdFlash)

Birdflash Oneshot, 18+ Details Below

Caretaker Dom Wally, silly fluffy smut. Some Emotional Hurt/Comfort Dick winces as he tries to gingerly press an ice pack against his back, the top of his suit striped off on the floor. He’d been shot, luckily nothing that made it past his armor, but unluckily bruising the hell out of his back. He’s got green, purple, red, and blue dappled all across his body from the night, trying to get too many kids away from too many traffickers. His breath hitches as the memory of the limp bodies of the people he’d failed refuse to leave him. The mission had objectively been as successful as it could have been, but it didn’t feel like enough. He never felt like enough and he was just so very tired. Tired enough to miss the flash of red and orange as it blitzed into his room, but not so much that he didn't flinch as the ice pack was taken from him. He twisted around so quickly that his body screamed in protest, and he winced as he took in the concerned face of Wally, dressed in sweats and a soft shirt. You okay Rob?” Those verdant eyes stare down at him, the worry held within barely covering the steely stubbornness that lets Dick know that Wally won’t accept a lie right now. He shifts a bit uncomfortably, turning away, as though he could hide from the hurt festering in every grain of his soul these days. “You worry too much Walls.” He replies, instead of answering the question. Even looking away he can’t stand to lie to him. He hears the man sigh, and feels the air in the room circulate. When Dick opens his eyes, Wally is crouched in front of him, so he can make eye contact, resting his hands lightly on Dick’s knees. “Let me take care of you?” He asks, so earnestly that Dick feels guilty for the rush it sends down his spine, shame twisting in his gut immediately. Horrifyingly he wants to cry, as though he remembers how, and just let Wally bear the weight of the world for him. But he can’t, he couldn’t stand the guilt that would follow. Dick cannot allow himself to be selfish, it never ends well. So he swallowed thickly, and forced the correct words out. “You don’t have to do that.” Dick knows that’s what he’s supposed to say, which would prompt Wally, all midwestern politeness, to ask ‘are you sure’ and Dick would say yes, Wally would leave and he’d be all alone again, no one around, a poison no one wants- “I want to. Please let me.” Wally breaks the script, squeezing his knees and breaking Dick out of his thoughts. He’s saying “Okay” before he can even register that he’s spoken. But Wally is smiling so maybe that was exactly what he was supposed to say. “Do you want to be in something more comfortable?” He asks carefully, because Wally figured out ages ago that Dick got weird about touch sometimes, and now he always telegraphed, always asked. Dick hated it. He needed it, and he hates that he needs it. It was different when they were younger. He misses that. He nods though, because he never minds when Wally gets in his space, and he’ll be out of his suit before he can overthink it. There’s no one else who can do this for him, so he may as well take advantage of the times it is offered.

 Wally cleans up his things, and he thinks he hears his laundry starting which he’s been ignoring for two weeks now. Wally helps him change into sweats and it makes the heat of embarrassment swell in his chest, is he really this incapable? But there’s food in his lap and the tv is flipped on to a silly movie he’d mentioned wanting to see once, and Wally is asking if he can put some sort of ointment on his bruises so Dick doesn’t have time to dwell too deeply on it. He looks at the plate of warm pizza slices now in his hands, the box on the table from that place he’d found by the Titan’s Tower and always got for celebrations. “You ran to Jump City to get me dinner?” Dick mutters, unable to muster enough energy for incredulity just yet. “All things considered, that’s not very far for me” Wally replies, shaking the ointment in his hand with a raised brow. Dick nods, taking a bite of the pizza. It’s a comforting, familiar taste that warms his whole body. Nostalgia that chases the icy loneliness from the edges of his body. He scarfs it down quickly, feeling significantly better. He hadn’t realized how woozy and cold he’d felt until it went away. “Better?” He can hear the smile in Wally’s voice as he stands behind him, long fingers gently rubbing the bruise cream along the injuries spotting his back. Dick tries to pay attention to the movie, but the feeling of Wally’s hand skating so gently across his skin is better than any lullaby. A blanket is pulled over him, and the heaviness of the weighted fabric is soothing, but there’s a lingering self hatred lying in the shadow of Dick’s enjoyment. “Yeah” He responds, rough and quiet, feeling raw and shelled out. He shivers when Wally moves away. His friend plops down on the couch, propping one leg up so it’s resting against the backrest, and the other is hanging off the side. “C’mere Rob, I’ve got you.” Wally says, so painfully tender. Dick tips over curling against the lean line of his best friend, a long buried ache settling as those lithe arms wrap around him loosely. He shakes apart without a sound, he doesn’t know if he could make noise when he cried even if he really wanted to. Or if the strangled sort of way emotions tear out of him could even be called crying. Wally’s fingers card through his hair. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t press, doesn’t insist on seeing, but he doesn’t awkwardly turn away either. Wally comforts him in a way that helps, understands him in a way no one else ever bothered to learn. He’s a steady, patient presence at his side, and Dick can’t help but feel like an alley cat being coaxed from a crack in the wall. “A lot of people died today” He whispers into the fabric of Wally’s central city college shirt. The hand in his hair pauses, before continuing. So Dick keeps talking. “I should have found them faster. If I’d kept a better eye on my city then I would have known sooner and I-” He cuts himself off “I know that’s not reasonable. I know it won’t fix it. I just-” He wishes the crushing feeling would go away “I wish it got easier. I wish I didn’t feel this way every single time” Wally doesn’t tell him it isn’t his fault, doesn’t tell him he did his best, doesn’t give him the argument he wants and doesn’t need. Doesn’t give him the space to hurt himself on his own words. Instead he just holds him close, and says “I know, Rob” and somehow breathing gets easier. “You don’t have to stay.” Dick says, even as his arms wrap tightly around Wally’s waist. Even as he presses just a little closer. “If I leave, will you be able to sleep?” Wally asks in that measured tone, the one he uses when he knows the answer. Dick doesn’t answer, and feels petulant for it. He presses his face into Wally’s chest and cries more, letting his guard down for the first time in however long it's been since Wally stayed the night last. Dick cries, as much as he ever can, until he falls asleep, falling again, always falling.

Dick wakes up slowly, to the warm smell of a fresh made breakfast. He still feels like he’s falling until Wally's head peeks around the corner, hair a mess and grin wild, some dollar store apron tied with a messy bow. That’s when his body realizes that there’s someone here to catch him this time, that he was finally right to make the leap. He smiles back, hauling himself up to follow the delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen.

“You made breakfast?” Dick asks, despite seeing the huge spread across his too small dining table.

“Well I was hungry, and someone has got to take care of you” Wally’s voice is low in his ear and Dick shifts a bit uncomfortably. Why does he have to get so close when he says things like that? Next thing he knows, he’s sitting at the table, plate piled high with food, staring bewildered at Wally.

“I-” He blinks, adjusting to being moved somewhere by a speedster, “I can’t eat all these Walls.” He takes a bite of the pancakes, and groans “Nevermind, I’m eating everything at this table.”

Wally laughs “C’mon man, I know how to look after you by now.” His keen gaze suddenly makes Dick feel transparent, and a part of him frantically wonders why in god's name Wally has to talk to him like that, but he’s able to suppress his reaction with the ease of someone who’s been doing it since his teen years.

“You don’t have to help me this much, you know?” Dick protests weekly between bites. “No?” Wally hums noncommittal, pressing a glass of water into Dick’s hand. “And if I want to?” There’s something almost predatory about the way he asks it, but perhaps that’s wishful thinking. “Then…” He takes a sip of water  “Then go ahead I guess.” There’s a strange tension in the kitchen as he eats, Dick can tell Wally’s attention is more on him than on the food in front of him, which is making him feel a bit hysterical given that very little pulls a speedster’s attention away from their food. Wally’s gaze holds a weight to it, and Dick has to keep reminding himself that Wally is probably just worried. He resolutely ignores the part of his mind noting that he feels mostly alright now, and that Wally knows him well enough to see that. He finishes his food and tucks all his emotions in a box, standing and putting his plate away. The table is cleared and the dishes are done by the time he reaches the sink. He smiles at his friend, who still has that slightly too serious expression on his face that leaves Dick feeling off kilter, and on edge. He can tell there’s something being left unsaid, and Wally wants him to be fully aware of that. However, Dick can’t bring himself to ask. Irrationally and despite all insistence otherwise, he can’t prevent himself from being scared that if he asks, if they broach whatever conversation is hanging in the air, that Wally will put distance between them. He’s scared that Wally will ask for space, or tell him that he’s aware of and doesn’t share Dick’s feelings. That those feelings make him uncomfortable. Wally waits a moment, and can’t hide the disappointment that briefly laces his expression. Seeing that is like a lance, and Dick wants very badly to make it up to him, would that he knew the cause of the disappointment to begin with. “Wanna play a game or something?” Dick hedges, only relaxing when he sees Wally’s smile return. “How about you pick something to play, and I work out some of the tension in your shoulders and back? Your controllers have too much input lag for me.” Wally replies, following Dick into the living room, and watching him pick out a game. “Doesn’t every controller have too much input lag for you?” Dick asks, letting Wally pull him into the space between his legs, hands resting on his shoulders as he launches some game Tim had gotten him. “Victor made some specialty ones for me after I broke too many in the Tower. I think Tim has been making updated ones for Bart.” Wally massages his shoulders, head propped up on top of Dick’s so he can watch him play.

“Why don’t you run and grab them?” he replies, repressing a shudder as Wally’s hands smooth down his back, skillfully applied pressure releasing the long held tension in his back. Long fingers leave sparks of pleasant warmth in wake, overtaking the pervasive dull soreness. Dick is internally proud of his self control until those hands skate down his sides, grip resting firm on his hips so Wally can whisper in his ear; “You’re doing so well Dickie” Wally’s voice is low, his breath ghosting the shell of Dick’s ear. A bolt of arousal shoots down his spine and he is barely able to suppress the accompanying whimper. He really hopes Wally doesn’t look down, because then he’ll definitely never want to touch Dick again for any reason. “I’m not really doing anything” He replies, glad for how normal he sounds. He wants to bang his head into a wall until he has something resembling sense when Wally squeezes the meat of his thighs, because now even sitting still is a struggle. “Sure you are. You’re letting me help you. You’re trusting me” Wally is still extremely close, tone almost heady. His grip loosens so his hands can drift up Dick’s legs, thumbs resting on his more sensitive inner thigh. Wally keeps talking even though Dick’s breath is stuttering and he’s squeezed his eyes shut, holding perfectly still. “This okay? If it’s not that’s alright. I won’t be upset, all you gotta do is say. And we can go back to just hanging out” Wally sounds perfectly calm, and Dick hates him a bit for it, because Wally is brushing his fingers over the tent of his jeans and Dick’s head falls back against his shoulder as he gasps. “Yes. It’s okay, Jesus Christ Walls” His voice is high and ready as Wally dips one hand beneath his shirt, the other one palming him with just enough force to make Dick shake, legs jerking in response to the overwhelming pleasure that dances across all his nerves. Wally nips his ear, then starts mouthing at his neck. “You’re so gorgeous like this. In my hands, letting me do what I want. Letting me treat you like the precious thing you are.” His voice is gravely, and he tugs Dick flush against his chest, grinding forward into him. Dick chokes on nothing as he feels the burning warmth of Wally’s own arousal against him. The words are as effective as any touch, making Dick reach back and grab Wally’s hair, pulling until his face is the right angle to kiss. The kiss is messy and a touch desperate, vaguely following the rhythm of his hips as they roll. Wally flicks the button of his jeans open, biting down on his bottom lip, pulling away. Dick tries to follow eagerly, but Wally yanks him back by his hair, watching with dark satisfaction as it makes him keen. “Still okay?” He sounds breathless, and Dick nods eagerly. “Mind taking this to your room?” His thumb is stroking tender circles into his cheek, like he’s something delicate. Dick turns his hand to bite down on the tip of it, just to watch those green eyes widen, and hear his breath hitch. Dick looks up at him through his eyelashes, licking the pad of his finger.

“Please, Wally?” He lets the desperate little whine building in his throat twist the edge of his words, and hides a smile behind a pout when he sees Wally’s blush spread to the tips of his ears.

Next thing he knows he’s flat on his back, spread across his bright blue comforter, Wally kneeling between his legs. Wally grins down at him, shirt and pants long gone.

  “Can I strip you sweetheart?” He asks, rubbing the outside of Dick’s thighs. Dick cant help but think he looks gorgeous, pink down to his chest, freckles dappling his skin, and the sun catching his green eyes in such a way that Dick can see the flecks of yellow and brown. He nods, cataloging the way Wally looks, just in case he doesn’t get to see it again. The adoration in his eyes, the hard line of his dick straining against his black briefs, and those strong runner’s thighs spreading his own apart. Dick nods again, expecting to have it happen before he can even register it, but Wally takes his time, pulling Dick’s shirt off and kissing every inch of newly exposed skin. Dick lets out a slow breath, tension releasing and back arching languidly into his touch. Wally stops at his shoulders, moving up to kiss his lips, slow and sweet.

“I want you to say it. Tell me what you want Rob.” There’s certainly a sharp edge to his voice, which makes all the blood vacate Dick’s brain. “I…” Dick takes a deep breath, trying to clear the haze that had settled over his brain. “I want you to make me feel good. I want you to tell me what to do. I’m so tired of thinking, and making choices, I just wanna…” “Let go?” Wally finishes as he finally pulls Dick’s shirt over his head, then helps him shimmy out of his underwear and sweats. Dick watches Wally, loving the way his eyes flick across his body, like he can’t pick a place to look.

“Settle in Rob” Wally picks up his leg, pulling it over his shoulder and kissing down the length of it. “When I’m done you won’t be thinking of anything other than how amazing you feel. Wally bites his inner thigh, just below the apex of his hip. Kissing everything but the place Dick wants his mouth the most. Just as he’s about to open his mouth to complain- or beg, but no one can prove that- Wally licks across the head of his cock, and his tongue vibrates. Dick goes taught, back arching as he swears. “F-fuck!” he yelps “You can do that?”

“Perks of being a Speedster” Wally quips, kissing along the length of him, fingers encircling the base and vibrating. Wally has to hold his hips down as he takes him into his mouth, the sensation is so intense that before he knows it Dick is whiting out, coming down Wally’s throat with a reedy moan. Wally pulls off, kissing Dick and licking into his mouth, the taste of himself on Wally’s tongue has him groaning, wrapping his arms around Wally’s shoulders. His head feels fuzzy and the haze of pleasure leaves him forgetting why speaking without a filter as a terrible idea- “I love you so much Wally” He smiles blissfully. Wally, to his credit, doesn’t even pause.

“I love you too Rob, so very much. You’re so good and sweet for me. You’re doing so well.” Wally praising him has Dick squirming in his happy haze. “Fuck me?” He requests, hooking his free leg up high on Wally’s back to leverage himself such that he can grind up against him.

“Christ Rob” Wally groans, hips stuttering. “You’re so needy, gotta let me take care of you. I’m gonna be so good to you babe” He’s gone for just a moment, back before Dick’s leg can even lower, lube in hand. “Did you run while turned on?” Dick grins, distinctly amused, coherent thought returning slowly. Wally raises a brow. “What happens at that pace is between me and the speed force” He responds, pouring lube in his hand and stroking along Dick’s semi, tracing down along his perineum and circling Dick’s hole. Dick flinches at the slight vibration he feels before the finger is before pressing in. “You’re p-pretty good at that” He looks up at Wally, eyes almost black from pupils blown wide with want. It settles an ache he hadn’t realized had been weighing him down. Seeing Wally above him, blushing down to his chest, grinning like he can’t believe his luck, finally allows Dick to let go of the painful yearning he’s pushed to the backburner for over a decade.

“Yeah?” Wally grins, confident is a good look on him, “Just wait till I learn all your buttons” He presses another finger in, hooking them and managing to press right against Dick’s sweetspot. The hot molten feeling from before washes over his body again, leaving him shaking and floaty, nails digging into the lines of Wally’s back. He pulls himself up enough to moan right in Wally’s ear as he rolls his hips against him. “Don’t forget- you’re not the only one learning” He nips down the column of Wally’s neck, fascinated by the way that the bruises disappear from his pale skin. Wally’s rhythm breaks for a moment, and he can’t help his smug satisfaction and the way Wally groans like his orgasm was ripped from his chest. “You better be ready boy wonder, cause that was mean” Wally pulls his fingers away, but doesn’t actually do anything until Dick gives a beyond exaggerated “please”, which makes them both laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” Wally looks bright and unburdened by all the years that have passed between them as he presses into Dick. Dick can’t help but clench down at the feeling, squirming even after Wally presses to the hilt, hips twitching. Dick feels giddy, and full, and more relaxed than he can even remember ever being. He pulls Wally into another sloppy kiss, burying his hands in soft hair. “I love you Wally” He kisses the freckles on his face. “You’re perfect” Wally starts fucking into him at an almost blinding place, body humming like he can’t quite help it. He kisses all across Dick, like he can’t pick any given part of him. “Says the most perfect man I’ve ever seen. You’re so gorgeous, I’ve been wondering so long if you’d let me do this. Trust me like this.” Wally is talking almost too fast to hear, only years of practice enabling Dick to keep up. “I love everything about you, who you are, your smile, all the stupid shit that drives me insane. You’re so cute too, when you get all flustered. But I never could have imagined how you’d look like this. So pretty and sweet and relaxed-” Wally continues to praise him until they’re both babbling, and Dick isn’t really sure where the before and after points of their orgasms were. Only that eventually they slowed down, and Wally cleaned him up, fed him, and pulled him into his arms. And everything felt okay, at least right there, in that moment. Nothing was wrong. “I meant it Rob. I love you. I wanna be with you, if you let me.” Wally kisses his hair, rubbing his back. “It’s always been you, for me. Safety, home. Whatever you want to call it.” Dick looks at him, bright blue eyes as piercing as they always have been, complemented by the blush high on his cheeks. “I want you in every way I can have you.” “You deserve more than that, you know? Then taking what you can get” Wally lightly brushes the hair out of his eyes. “Hm, maybe you can prove that to me?” Dick smiles, unburdened.

[v3nomly]

𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞-𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝗝𝗝𝗞 𝗠𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗶

• characters — S.Gojo ; R. Sukuna ; T. Fushiguro | GN Reader

• synopsis — Love is the greatest curse of all. All-encompassing and blinding, but when the rose-colored glasses slip, what do you see.

• tags & warnings — toxic aspects of relationships - mentions of intimacy, but no in-depth descriptions - reader blissfully ignoring the negative aspects of the men - controlling behavior - stonewalling - inklings of verbal abuse.

• a/n — I'm back and with my return, I bring JJK headcanons! My requests are open if anyone wants to throw suggestions my way.

Satoru Gojo is a spontaneous lover. One who would shower you with gifts and secretly planned trips. Covering your relationship in a hue of sappy adoration and gentle touches. Spontaneity wasn’t just in his actions, but also in his affections, the blooming warmth of tender care shifts suddenly to frigid frost and a cavern of distance.

The world rests heavily on his shoulders. While the burden of the past threatens to drag him to a place he’s unsure if he can return from. Should-haves circulate his mind until no other thoughts can manifest, obsessions on past failures and his own hidden faults. 

Even when your limbs tangled, skin covered in a sheen of sweat and bodies spent, you could see his mind was elsewhere. Thoughts lingering on something just out of reach. On the worst of days, he’d cast you aside, unwilling to even share space, as if your presence only further strained his fragile mental state. 

His tear-rimmed eyes begin to sting once again when he hears your broken sobs through the wall. Satoru hesitates, heart, lurching to break the barrier dividing you both physically and mentally, but he can’t.  

Spontaneous as ever the next day Satoru is back to his happy cheerful self. A smile graces his lips and his body displays and forces aloofness to his previous state.  

Ryomen Sukuna couldn’t deny that you were special to him. It was obvious in the way he treated you, gentle and soft, as if you were a delicate flower in bloom. Still, Sukuna was a prideful man and one who even on the best of days remained cruel and unyielding.  

When his pride was wounded it didn’t matter who crossed his path, all would be victims of his unfounded rage. The words he spits are vicious and venomous, poisoning you from the inside out. Sukuna could see it in your eyes, the hurt that began to fester, hidden beneath the glossy sheen of tears, but so apparent. 

He was rotting you, destroying you, slowly but surely, decaying your pedals, and wilting the beauty that shone so vibrantly from your being. The sight causes him to pause, the words dying on his tongue. 

Apologies were never something he gave, at least not blatantly, and now would be no different. His fist would clench and he’d watched you flinch, his anger now directed at himself instead of you. He could never hurt you, at least not with anything more than his words. His stupid cruel words and like the innocent flower you were, you’d forgive him.  

Toji Fushiguro is a passionate man. He feels no shame in his devotion to his partners, happily placing them on a pristine pedestal for all to see. Infatuation that borders on obsession, morphs and twists into an ugly creature when unchecked. Toji wouldn’t consider himself a jealous man, he understood his place in the world and made peace with it. That was until you slipped your way into his life. Permeating his mind, body, and soul, until he couldn’t distinguish where you ended and he began. You were his everything, so why do you need anyone else?

Reassurance was something he never had growing up, and thus the concept remains foreign in adulthood. Even when you try to whisper declarations of love during your most intimate acts he can’t help but think you’re lying. How could someone as perfect as you, look at him and see anything of worth?

It’s small things at first, him going through your phone while you shower; Making note of numbers and names he doesn’t recognize, blocking the ones that seem a little too eager for your attention. It’s not like you’d miss them. You don’t need them after all, you have him. 

As his doubt festers, he slips up more, outwardly showing his distrust, and constant questions of who you are going out with and why. Draining you until you finally relent, giving up going out to spare yourself from the inevitable argument that is to come.  

Only when the dust settles and he can see the results of his actions unscathed by the blinding jealousy, does his stomach drop. No matter how much you tell him it’s fine, he knows you are lying, really truly lying, unlike all the times before, and while he promises to do better, you both know that is a lie all of his own. 

© 2025 v3nomly do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

[screamingcrows]

A good night's sleep - Zandik x fem reader

Notes: Akademiya Zandik rubbing off the worst one of his life. Reworked and revamped. Used to be two chapters, merged into one. Tigers have barbed penises. Steal my writing and I'll get you Streptococcus pyogenes. Tags: Akademiya!Zandik x fem reader, nonconsensual somnophilia, no penetrative sex, dry humping, (a little) blood, very vague thoughts of murder and cannibalism, panic, coercion, dubcon but not what you expect, 3.5k Minors DNI

Zandik rubbed at his eyes, trying to convince himself that his current inability to fall asleep was caused by external factors. Rustling leaves, bats, itching skin, the opportunities were endless. You'd been trekking through the forest most of the day with any proposed breaks quickly shut down.

Theoretically, he should be just as fast asleep as you. He tossed restlessly on the thin mat, cursing at the pitiful excuse for bedding. Comfortable sleep was a luxury he'd grown to take for granted, and the reminder of how things had once been stung. At least you'd managed to set up the insect net together, even if sharing the cover did mean having to be a little closer than preferable.

Pillows would've been nice. Maybe if he hadn't insisted on travelling as light as possible.

But it was always easy to be clever in hindsight.

Burying his face into the scratchy blanket, Zandik attempted to block out any disturbances. Those that could be blocked out at least, for while he was no stranger to erratic thoughts, tonight felt excessive.

His fingers tapped against his thigh in a well-known rhythm, shifting his breathing to follow. By all means, it should force his pulse down and calm his mind. A tried and tested strategy. And it did. His frantic thoughts fading into nothing, no more triple-checking plans for tomorrow, considering parts to excavate and examine, plants to bring back, measurements to take…

A blissful silence settled, broken only by the branches creaking above.

Until you moved. A small, sleepy mewl escaping your lips as you shuffled beside him. He didn't have to see you to know what infuriatingly peaceful expression would be on your face. Images of your soft features flooding his mind, fingers moving to scratch at his scalp in hopes of a distraction.

How he tried once more to push those thoughts away, his crimson eyes darkening as memories of the day filled his consciousness nonetheless. You, with your deviously impractical attire, shorts that had left practically everything exposed. It was a daring choice, reflecting the total confidence with which you had moved through the thicket. Oh how his fingers ached to know what it would be like to touch bare skin, hands flexing at the mere thought.

Nothing but a preprogrammed reaction. Although annoying and impractical, the response was natural. The thought circulated in the back of his mind, slowly losing meaning. His body curled in on itself, delirious poison spreading through his body. All those little cuts and nicks that littered your skin, how would it be to pry them open and lap at the juices they concealed?

You were fluttery by nature, a little bird struggling to remain still for longer intervals. Easily excitable as well in the most annoying way. You'd flitted around in the forest, zigzagging between moss, animals, shiny rocks, saplings… Leaning down and touching anything you could, ass up of course, while you chatted about your findings.

He'd never had problems concentrating, but with all the blood draining from his mind to other places, it had been impossible to focus on your ramblings.

Despite the hurdles of keeping you on a leash, he always found himself having to suppress a smile when you yapped, eyes alight with innocent glee. So much went on behind those bright eyes of yours, words clearly too slow to convey everything clearly. That much was evident with how you sometimes spoke in tongues, stumbling over syllables and skipping words entirely.

But better yet, how you looked when your brows furrowed, sucking your cheek in enough to bite at the inside, actually considering his perspectives.

Before he could register it, he'd already rolled around on his mat, eyes burning holes into your back. A shaky hand reached out, his breath catching in his throat as he fought the desire to examine, squeeze, grope… He groaned softly, reminding himself that this was an endeavor driven by pure inquisitiveness, the goal being nothing more than to satisfy curiosity. You were asleep and would be none the wiser as long as he was careful.

The mantra kept repeating itself. This was curiosity, and nothing more. Curiosity about why you had that blasted effect on his mind, and if pursuing physical intimacy would solve his inability to sleep. It was a need akin to hunger, satisfy it and he'd be left alone.

There was already an uncomfortable tightness at the front of his pants, the feeling unfamiliar and invasive. Instinct kicked in and made his hips buck a little, erection rubbing against the confines of his pants. Archons he needed more than this. It infuriated him to no end that his mind had no qualms conveying the blunt desire from his body. The solution was so tantalizingly simple, engrained in every fiber of his being.

Your touch would make it go away. Make it all better.

He shifted closer, needing to know if you truly felt as divine as the most prominent hypothesis of his body had stated. Zandik had to bite down on his own arm, sharp teeth threatening to break skin as his other hand ghosted along your waist. How it had snaked under your blanket without his knowledge was beyond him.

You were unimaginably warm and pliant under his touch, fingers easily sinking a little deeper. Everything in his body tingled, an almost magnetic pull spurring him on to shift ever closer. Your breaths were still even, body vulnerable and his for the taking.

Though it was an act of worship, his hands traveling along your body felt more akin to sacrilege. Crimson irises were swallowed by his dilating pupils, palm sliding so tenderly across your soft stomach, somehow already under your shirt. Just a little more. He needed some reaction from you, assurance that this was real. That he hadn't inhaled spores and was caught in a hallucination. How terribly unbefitting such a fate would have been.

But every way of getting a reaction brought an increased risk of waking you completely, compromising the experiment. Reassurance wasn't worth it. Everything was foreign and uncomfortable, a tightness straining against the front of his boxers. He had to close his eyes, unwilling to watch as his hips bucked again, a low hiss passing his lips at the slight friction provided by the fabric.

Still reluctant to risk fully pressing against your inviting form, Zandik settled for sliding his hand further up. It was downright ludicrous how your skin got even softer the closer he moved to your chest. There was something repulsively human about the way your heart felt as it beat steadily behind your ribs.

He wanted to throw up.

He needed to get closer.

Holding his breath while inching closer was no small feat when your dewy scent permeated the air. If only it was possible to tear skin and flesh from bone, lay it out on the ground and examine. Perhaps then, Zandik would find what made you so irresistible.

It was almost euphoric to be so close to something as plush and supple and unmarked by the cruelty of the world. It had to be preserved, too ephemeral for anything but a jar of formaldehyde stored far from sunlight. He groaned, still careful enough to angle his head to prevent warm air from brushing along the back of your neck.

Temptation had him firmly in its grasp as he slowly, deliberately, rolled his hips against your rear, body jolting at the feeling. Any will to resist the delicious pull from your body faded, hands slowly moving back down to your hips and adjusting your position.

Zandik felt alive, burying the part of him that bled out with every slow buck of his hips. The wet patch that had been forming at the front of his boxers did nothing to quell the beast piloting his body. Daring to look down, he found nothing but fuel for his frenzy in the lines of your body, every slope begging to be mapped.

Everything in his mind screamed at him to let go and back away. Not for your sake, no you were still blissfully unaware, an exhausted little creature. No, the longer he continued the more certain he became that this had to be preserved. There had to be a way to mimic it, reverse engineer whatever made it impossible for him to stop.

He inhaled deeply, intoxicated as he kept bucking against you, delirious mind too far gone to notice the little huffs and whimpers that left your lips, sleep clearly disturbed by his movements.

It was a dangerous battle, fingertips playing with the hem of your panties. The battle might be won through composure, but there was no doubt he would lose the war. But could it truly be counted as a loss? In a sense, shouldn't he map out every detail to get the most accurate answer.

Zandik swallowed, fingers slipping beneath the thin cotton and edging closer to your heat, burning his skin and making his stomach churn. There was nothing practiced about it, tentatively tugging and rubbing at whatever tissue came within reach. Your squirming was nothing against his hold, body curling greedily around you.

Feeling the tip of his finger slick with something viscous, barely breaching a tight entrance, Zandik withdrew his hand with a sharp jerk. His hold was steadily morphing to mimic the vultures of his birthplace, nails sinking in like talons. Tear you to pieces, that was what he needed.

He barely realized that he'd begun chanting your name between grunts. It was all too much, uncoordinated movements growing even sloppier as he found himself unable to stop. An overwhelming feeling was building in the pit of his stomach, drowning out every uncertainty that made its home there.

Pure ecstasy was all he felt, head pressed against your shoulder as he came. His nails were stained with your blood when he finally loosened his grasp. The wet sensation between his legs, fluids smeared against skin and fabric alike, brought nothing but repulsion. There was only simple, temporary pleasure to be gained from this endeavor. Expecting anything more profound had been folly.

So this clarity was the price to be paid for his actions?

No, the real price was paid when he heard your confused voice, the pale moonlight too invasive in the way it lingered along your trembling body. How it reflected in the shimmering droplets of blood running from atop your hip. Small sniffles mixing with your terribly soft voice.

"Z-zandik? What just… why is my back wet? a-and I'm bleeding?"

"Go back to sleep"

Despite Zandik's best effort to keep his voice even (as even as possible while his veins continued to thrum with the aftermath of release), it still cracked uncomfortably. Wasting no time, he pushed away and shook his hands furiously in the air, trying desperately to rid himself of the unpleasant sensations crawling as parasites beneath his skin.

You were turning around. Panic spread like wildfire, something he hadn't experienced in years.

Something had to be done to make you stop, he wouldn't look at you. Moving in tandem, he rolled onto his other side. The front of his boxers soaked. An urge to scream scratched at the back of his throat.

"Zandik? I- I asked you a question…"

Your voice felt like syrup as it flowed into his ears. Thick, disgusting, alluring. The light sniffles were filtered out by his mind, as was the way your breaths became increasingly erratic. It felt vile, being an insect writhing on silken strands was not something that suited him.

Zandik recoiled when your fingers dug into his shoulder, you shouldn't be reaching out for him. He shuffled further towards the other side of his mattress. A calm mind to handle this, that's what was needed, and nothing about you trying to turn him around was calming. Although his mind had cleared significantly, there was still a bothersome ache in his body.

"And I said go back to sleep," he snapped, hoping it would dissuade further argument.

Everything felt awful when he pushed off to stand, blanket sliding into a pile. His back was towards you when he clambered out under the net, stomping barefoot away from the makeshift camp. Under normal circumstances he would've scoffed at anyone doing the same, if was unsafe and a blatant overreaction.

That didn't matter. Not when he could feel the sticky substance sliding down his abdomen. How it made the fabric cling to his skin. Worst of all was the smell of his own release. Even while covering his mouth and nose with a hand, he could detect those musky notes.

It made him gag, crumpling into the underbrush as he fought back the urge to empty the contents of his stomach. Morbid curiosity bid his free hand to ghost over his crotch, body jerking when he felt the wet patch. Even worse was the fact that he was still-

He shook his head, uncaring that any jostling came at a risk while his vision remained blurry, especially with the abundance of roots and the like. A clear mind, that was the least he should be able to supply. Faint sounds of running water caught his attention. Perfect.

It was closer than he'd dared to hope. Half tumbling down a small hill before landing on all fours with a wet squelch. The water had already been disturbed by his movements, if there were predators, stealth was no longer an option.

Restraint was the key to survival, panic a certain death-sentence. Being found half naked, mauled in a stream was far from the legacy he desired. After what felt like an eternity of bated breaths, eyes flickering around the dark forest, Zandik dared to relax a little. If a spinocrocodile or rishboland tiger had been nearby, it would've already struck by now.

Cleaning himself took longer than what was reasonable, but the cool water helped soothe the prickling beneath his skin, making the extra time spent a worthwhile investment. Thoughts of you were kept at bay by his shivering, and every tantalizing memory that did make it through those defenses was quickly decimated with a simple look at the consequences staining his hands.

Failure was a ruthless teacher.

One could only hope the remaining sheen and slightly sticky feeling would be nothing more than a trick of the mind.

His hands remained submerged in the stream until his fingers had gone numb. Slivers of moonlight crept through the canopies above, something twisted in how gently it caressed his features when his head tilted back. Why would it shine so lovingly on him now?

Perhaps playing your preordained part was the only way to be accepted by them.

Walking back turned out to be more difficult than expected, feet dragging along the ground being a particular nuisance when paired with less than optimal lighting conditions.

Would divinity smile upon a monster filling the place they had carved for it?

How would he explain the blatant lack of clothes? The thought of stumbling into someone else on the short walk back briefly flashed through his head, but that was a thought his pride could not afford to entertain. Not until faced with that reality at least. But what would he say when you undoubtedly kept pestering him with questions?

Returning to the Akademiya alone would be folly when everyone knew you'd left together.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, briefly flinching from the cold touch. How was he supposed to deny what you would've pieced together in an instant if you were properly awake. Convincing you it had been a figment of your own imagination was undoubtedly the best course of action. If only there were dreams to blame.

Conveniently, your back was turned towards the direction he emerged from. Carefully maneuvering back to his mat, Zandik swiftly rummaged through the modest bag he'd brought, desperate for anything to cover himself with after forsaking his clothes in the water. A waste, but one he couldn't bring himself to care about. Especially not when his focus was broken by you moving a little.

With rising adrenaline, he swiftly plopped down, struggling to pull the blanket over himself without alerting you. Clean boxers were gripped tightly in his hand, mind occupied by counting the bated breaths with which he waited an eternity for you to settle.

When you hadn't moved for a while he took the chance to shuffle around a bit, intent on finally getting dressed again and forget this whole ordeal.

"You know," your soft voice caused his breath to hitch, the silence deafening before you continued, "you could've just asked me…"

He lay frozen, leg raised off the ground, boxers halfway on as he considered if acknowledging your statement would doom his set course of action. Before he could finish the thought, you continued, uncharacteristically certain in your choice of words.

"I'm at least guessing it wasn't an accident?"

"I simply needed some air and got up. It's none of your concern," he found himself struggling to remain cordial.

Why couldn't you just leave him be?

He heard your little huff, could almost see the way you were no doubt leering at him, deep eyes narrowed in frustration. It was infuriating how quickly you flooded his mind again, the clear water of the stream having done nothing to wash away the grooves in his mind that immediately sent thoughts in your direction.

"Why can't you just admit to it? I know that was cum on my back, Zandik. I'm not stupid."

"Good, then you'll have no trouble understanding when I tell you to stop bothering me and go back to sleep."

Admittedly, the words came out harsher than intended, but the longer you remained awake, the more difficult it would be to write all this off as a drowsy delusion once the sun rose.

It took mere minutes before his attempt at rest was disturbed by a weight against him. Wanting nothing more than look at the stars and scream, Zandik rolled carefully onto his back. Instead of stars, your eyes were alight with a foreign glint, face directly above his.

Hope became a dwindling resource when your thighs settled on either side of his hips. Seeing the light bruises that had already begun to bloom from his touch made it impossible to resist reaching for your exposed flesh. Shame burned in his blood, not from the action itself but the realization that he hadn't been nearly as restrained as he thought.

He took a deep breath, tensing when your hands pushed down on his shoulders.

"Get off"

"Why? Isn't this what you wanted?"

He had to grit his teeth when you rolled your hips, keenly aware of the blood gathering down there. It didn't help how warm you felt against him.

"I said, get off"

You were plotting something. That much was obvious from the little twitch of your lip and the cunning stare. If he wasn't struggling to keep his focus away from your lips, he might have been able to prepare.

The relief that entered him when you leaned forward was palpable, consciousness trapped in a beautiful lie of its own making as he spent two seconds expecting you to roll off. Instead your warm tongue pressed against his pulse, dragging up the column of his neck. It made him groan, hands shooting up and grabbing your waist in an instant to stop your movements.

That was a mistake. Once more feeling your softness had his mind reeling, only made worse when your breath wafted against his ear, close enough that he could almost feel your soft lips against his skin.

"But I want to do this with you"

Something in your voice made him shiver, stoking the embers of an unknown force. You wanted him. Him. It made him briefly pause, and that was apparently all the opportunity you needed. It was foreign, the feeling of hands clutching at his body making his back arch. He didn't have time to react before you'd pulled the blanket out from between your bodies.

"How are you-" his voice falters, nothing but static in his mind for a moment. "How can you enjoy this?" How could you enjoy being a slave to the vessel that carried what truly mattered, the mind.

Bubbling laughter was all the answer he got, swiftly accompanied by the press of lips against his collarbone. He writhed at the feeling, obtrusive and far too intimate. Would you rip out his throat if given the chance? Would he? Would you scream or would the blood make it impossible to produce high-pitched sounds?

His fingers were sneaking under the hem of your shirt, discovering with dismay that the fabric had a moist spot at the very bottom. So you hadn't changed. Repulsive.

Warmth spread through his body with every reverent kiss, some part of him basking in the attention so freely offered. Zandik wasn't blind to how his cock throbbed from the stimuli as you eagerly dragged your hips back and forth. But that simple pleasure was nothing compared to the feeling of your back splitting open under his nails.

[bronze-and-silver-keys]

I just realized the fifth trial of v3 could have gone COMPLETELY different in my ghost au oh no

// SPOILERS for Danganronpa V3

I rewatched the trial recently and just got to the end when Kaito exits the Exisal to stop everyone from reaching the wrong vote, and it got me thinking.

We aren't completely sure whether Kokichi was killed by the hydraulic press or by the poison. It could've been totally possible for him to succumb to the poison while he was laying on the press waiting for it to lower.

We have no idea how long it actually takes for the Strike-9 poison to circulate through the body, and after Kaito and Kokichi switched places, he could've succumbed to the poison while Kaito was getting back up to the controls and setting back up to lower the press.

It's totally possible for him to have died of the poison and for Maki to be the actual Blackened, but as the player we had no way of confirming his cause of death. Not even Monokuma knew because the cameras were disabled! That was the whole shtick of the case! Monokuma relied completely on Shuichis deduction for this, and he concluded that Kokichi was killed with the press.

BUT in ghost au, we WOULD get confirmation of the killer and victim but not until that moment that Kaito exited the Exisal.

Kokichis ghost could've been hanging out in there through the whole trial until that point and exited with Kaito to see everyone's expressions up close. No one would really have made the conclusion that killers see their victims ghost until they became a Blackened themselves, but Kaito didn't know that so he wouldn't have been off put by not seeing Kokichis ghost. Dude was scared of ghosts after all so it would've sent him into a panic attack anyway.

But imagine when Kaito exits the Exisal and Kokichi's bloodied ghost follows, only visible to Maki. Imagine her shock when she sees both of them still supposedly alive in front of her. Imagine the rage that would boil her blood and send her bolting over to Kokichi to try to strangle or stab him, reaching out for his spindly neck to take him down-

Only for her to phase right through him.

She falls to the floor, to her hands and knees and is hit with an entirely new shock at the realization. Oh. Oh no. Shuichi and Kaito are moving to help her up and pay no attention to the bloodied Kokichi standing beside them, asking her if she's okay after tripping like that.

That's why Gonta was acting so weird in the previous trial, saying that Miu was still with them and even more confused about why there was a trial being held. They dismissed it as her being with them in spirit, but the others had no clue how literal that was.

Kaede didn't kill Rantaro, but if she had, it would've been a dead giveaway if she was freaking out about a ghost.

Kirumis spiral at the end of her trial was probably driven by Ryoma teasing her with the occasional quip until she lost it.

Korekiyo has probably seen enough ghosts to last a lifetime, so two more would've been nothing.

Only when Gonta had killed Miu did things click.

Maki would look at Kokichi in abject horror, and he would stare back with the exact same expression because this would completely ruin his plan. She would absolutely take the chance to give up her own life to save Kaito. She had done it so many times throughout the trial already, but that was just denial. Denial that Kaito could've been dead and that she could've been the one that killed him.

The trial would drag on for longer, and Shuichi would reach the same conclusion that killers saw their victims ghost. Kaito's skin would go cold because, if that's true, then why couldn't he see Kokichi? He was supposed to be the Blackened. Not Maki. Not Maki.

Maki and Kaito would argue for both stances, desperate to save the other, until Monokuma confirms that, yes, the Blackeneds can see the ghost of their respective victim, because hey, Tsumugi has been able to see Rantaro this entire time. On the cameras, the other culprits have been talking to themselves after killing their victims, but not in a mental spiral. More of a conversation with the dead body before them, except the victim was responding.

Maki would be executed because of this, and Kaito's moral would tank because he a) just lost the love of his life, b) survived when he wasn't supposed to and c) all of that work, all of that planning Kokichi had put into this trial to end the killing game once and for all was completely wasted. He would go numb. He was ready to give up his own life for this, but Maki didn't deserve this. Maki was supposed to live, not him. This wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. The only thing trusting Kokichi got him was the love of his life dying before his very eyes when it was supposed to be him.

Oh God now i wanna write a fic where this happens

[mitsuyeaah]

misdemeanour.

— ran haitani x f! reader

cw: nsfw (mdni), thigh riding, light bdsm (handcuffs), roleplaying (police officer!ran), mentions of alcohol use, pet names (princess)

a/n: inspired by that one ran photo that’s circulating right now. he’s so hot istg (*´꒳`*)

the loud bass of the music reverberated throughout the entire house, feeling every beat of it thumping inside your chest. you navigated through the dimly lit living room packed with sweaty intoxicated bodies, some of them moving against the music dressed in varieties of different costumes.

your friend, rindou, had hosted a costume party for his birthday. of course, as innocent as it sounded, the activities within the walls of his house were a complete contrast. It was wild to say the least. beer pong outside their lawn next to a keg stand, people doing shots at the kitchen island, couples making out somewhere private, people dancing in the living room, and more.

you were amongst the people doing some shots in the kitchen. your throat burned at the sensation of the hot liquid going down—tequila—, face scrunching at the bitter taste of the liquid poison. a round the kitchen island, there stood some of your close friends, rindou included.

there was one particular man that caught your eyes. The one standing right across you, dressed in a navy blue police officer uniform, topped with a police hat. his long two-toned hair were secured in two braids that cascaded down his chest. you noticed how the two of you seemed to always accidentally make eye contact amidst the chaos inside the kitchen. hisamethyst eyes lingering on yours a little too long before he looked elsewhere—you swore you could see a slight desperation in them. like he wanted something.

rindou had introduced the man earlier as his older brother, ran. he was indeed a gentleman, going even as far as extending his hand to shake your own.

throughout the entire time you were doing shots in the kitchen, you and ran had about more than 5 wordless exchanges through eye contact. you weren’t complaining though, he was very easy on the eyes but you just wished he approached you. “i’ll be right back! i need to go to the bathroom!” you yelled over the music, leaning over the table to let everyone know. “okay, you better hurry! we’re starting another round soon.” rindou yelled back.

you exchanged one last eye contact with ran, this time mustering up a small smile before leaving for the bathroom. you messily made your way to the bathroom, your head slightly spinning from the tequila shots. you managed to make it safely to the bathroom without tripping over anything or anyone by grabbing the walls for support.

after doing your business and washing your hands, you looked at yourself in the mirror and fixed your appearance—noticing how the strap of your costume had slipped off your shoulder. if you were being honest, this devil costume you had on was half-assed. only because you didn’t bother buying a new one and instead wore the only costume you already had.

you cupped your cheeks and let out a sharp exhale, feeling the burning temperature of your skin due to the amount of alcohol in your system.

you closed the bathroom door behind you but before you could even take a step, you found yourself trapped between the door and the man you’ve been eyeing all night, ran. the back of your head rubbed against the cool surface of the door as you craned your neck to look up at the tall man.

he was indeed more beautiful up close. little specks of dark purple scattered around his lavender irises. his soft pink lips looking a little too tempting. “o-oh! sorry! did you need to use the bathroom?” your breathing became uneven as you held his gaze, waiting for his answer.

he gave you a saccharine smile as he let out a soft hum that only you could hear. ran shook his head ‘no’ and leaned in closer to your ear. his scent engulfed your nose, it was sweet yet musky, just how you liked it. “you’re under arrest for a misdemeanour for being too fucking hot..”

your breath hitched. you could feel blood rushing to your cheeks as his hot breath ghosted over the side of your neck, causing goosebumps. “wha—” “nuh uh.. place your hands in front of you like this.” ran jutted his hands out between you two, both his hands securely intertwined with one another.

doing so, ran skilfully secured your wrists together using the metal cuffs that hung from his belt loop. you slightly shivered at the cool sensation of it against your burning skin. before you could do anything, ran hooked a thumb on the chain that connected the cuffs and tugged your wrists above your head.

your hands were now bound over your head, resting against the door behind you. with one hand securely locking your hands above you, his free hand grabbed the baton, the tip of it resting below your chin to jut your face upwards.

“you think you can just walk around my house looking this delicious?”

you rubbed your thighs against one another, yearning for some kind of friction as you looked into his eyes. the desperation in his amethyst eyes mirrored your own.

ran noticed this and clicked his tongue. he swiftly pushed your feet apart to spread your legs and tucked his knee right at the apex of it, just where you wanted him. your breathing became erratic, your head spun at his strong scent, and you were wet.

how embarrassing, he hasn’t even done anything to you yet.

“sorry..” that was all you could mutter. at this point, your mind was going absolutely crazy, you partially blamed the alcohol for it. ran clicked his tongue once again, “you’re going to have to do better than that.. princess.” his lips ghosted over the side of your neck, tongue casually darting out to give a few kitten licks here and there.

you let out a shaky moan, not caring if the two of you got caught. no one probably even cared, they were all too wasted to do so.

ran chuckled against your soft skin, this time his lips fully making contact with it—brazenly sucking and licking at it, pulling more sounds from you. he absolutely loved how you responded to his mouth. a loud whine escaped your lips as he started grinding his knee against your clothed clit, skilfully moving it to increase your pleasure.

“oh fuck! aah—ran!”

you couldn’t help but move your hips against his leg. you wanted more. ran chucked his baton away and opted for using his hand to hold your chin up—his lips trailing wet, hot kisses toward your own. you almost melted right then and there at the sensation of his soft lips against yours, moaning at how desperately it moved.

ran didn’t shy from shoving his tongue in your mouth and moaning against it. fuck, it was filthy but it was so hot.

your knees buckled at this, a funny feeling running up your legs as ran keenly explored your mouth. good thing his leg was somewhat supporting you, if not, you were sure you would’ve fell to the floor.

everything was a haze. your mind spun, heart racing, ears muffling out the loud music, you were only focused on one person. ran haitani. as if reading your mind, ran finally let go of your wrists, the burning sensation in your arms dissipating as you dropped them back down. although, they were still bound together due to the handcuffs.

you grabbed onto the collar of his costume to keep yourself grounded, gripping the fabric in your hands until your knuckles turned white. ran pulled away to catch his breath, chuckling breathlessly at the way you craned your neck forward, chasing the presence of his lips.

“mmm, be a good girl and keep fucking yourself on my leg, princess.” ran groaned, cupping your warm cheeks to meet your gaze. you looked up at him as your eyes brimmed with tears, brows furrowed in pleasure as your clit rubbed against the fabric of your panties.

you desperately rut your hips, chasing the high that seemed impossible to obtain. “ngh! ran please..” you buried your face on his chest, whining. it was unsatisfying. every time you thought you were close, the pleasure suddenly disappeared and you had to start from the bottom again. it was your first time riding someone’s thigh and it frustrated you that you couldn’t reach your high.

“should i help my princess out?” he raised a brow, placing both his hands on your hips. ran bounced his leg and grounded your hips on his thigh, guiding it back and forth. you moaned against his chest at the sensation. the pleasure you felt from this was much greater, your clothed clit deliciously rubbing against his leg.

your whole body was slumped against ran. limp, helpless and at his very mercy. you weren’t even moving your hips anymore, ran took full control of it’s movement. he rested his chin at the top of your head, hands still carefully guiding your hips against his bouncing leg. “ngh—ah! shit..” tears of pleasure rolled down your cheeks as you shut your eyes closed.

you were so fucking close.

“that’s it, princess. you can do it..” you panted heavily as your sweaty forehead rested on his collarbone. you could feel the familiar bubbling at the pit of your stomach and the way ever single muscle in your body tightened.

ran noticed the change in your breathing, frequent short whines that ended in a small moan escaped your lips. “fuck, look at me when you cum.” with the energy left in your body, you lifted your head from his chest and looked up at him through your lashes—tears obstructing your view.

he cursed under his breath and brought a hand up, cupping your cheek and shoving his thumb in your mouth. you didn’t need to be instructed what to do, you swirled your tongue around his slender digit. moaning against the finger and you desperately sucked on it.

“such a naughty girl.. why don’t you cum for me? hm?”

you absentmindedly nodded at his command, your face contorting in pleasure as the knot inside your stomach finally snapped. ran removed his finger from your mouth and sealed the distance between the two of you, swallowing your moans.

your muscles stiffened and your eyes rolled back as you came, your fingers becoming sore form gripping at ran’s collar. ran didn’t stop moving your hips against his bouncing leg to ride out your orgasm.

fuck, you melted like wax against him. it was too good. ran shamelessly moaned into your mouth, mirroring the way you did to his own. several tears rolled down your cheeks as your cunt quivered in pleasure. you pulled away from the kiss, catching your breath, your panties soaked and uncomfortably stuck to you.

“fuck..” you panted

“mhm, don’t think i’m done with you yet, princess. let’s go take some shots for now.” he kissed your forehead and untucked his leg from underneath you, earning a slight whine from you.

“careful, princess, you might get charged more than a misdemeanour. the punishment is much more severe.” he leaned into your ear and kissed at the sensitive spot just below it before heading over to the kitchen.

© mitsuyeaah

[dontbesoweirdkira]

“Did you sleep well? Don’t lie to me, I watched you.”

¡Yandere!Dark Raiden mk11

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy. I’m sorry I haven’t ever written Raiden and so if it’s a little off…no it isn’t. Lollll I’m going to replay mk11 so I can get more into his character. But there’s a serious lack of mk11 Raiden fics??? Like what is going awn??? Y’all don’t like granddaddy??

Warnings: Yandere/Toxic themes, mentions of kidnapping, violence, threats, sleep watching…

Requests: open 24/7

Masterlist

Raiden isn't someone who finds himself resting much of his own. There’s too many things that he has to attend to and so much of his time would be wasted if he slept most nights.

Besides who would watch over earthrealm and you if he was fast asleep…

Actually he just prefers to watch over you at night. Someone else can handle the latter but..you are far too precious for him to not protect.

Usually he’ll wait a few hours or so after you’ve finally dozed off. Giving you plenty of time to drift into a deep slumber so you cannot be disturbed by him, creeping into your bedroom.

It’s fairly enjoyable for Raiden to watch you rest. You are a very delightful sleeper. You don’t often move around or snore much. When you do make noise it is usually a sweet mummer or giggle.

It’s a huge contrast to during the day when you would be by his side. You were a very timid person and rather fidgety. Raiden understands just how intimidating he can be, but he had hoped you’d come around to it. That you’d understand his demeanor wasn’t personal against you.

He craves your affection and he’s seen how you truly are with others. He doesn’t mind your real personality, any more than the next man would. So if you’re worried he may think lowly of you for being energetic, he won’t. On top of that, he just doesn’t know how to be more inviting.

He absolutely despised how comfortable you were with other people compared to him. You’re not even this shy with his brother, Fujin.

Eventually Raiden had enough of it and decided to forcefully make you comfortable with him. No longer are you allowed out of his home or to socialize outside of him.

(Yeah that made you waaayy more comfortable 🙄)

He now has you all to himself and no one else has the right to your smile anymore.

Unfortunately though the only times you smile at now is when you are fast asleep, dreaming up your own perfect world.

Raiden didn’t mind this too much, it was enough for him just to watch over you. A little while longer and he’s sure you’ll get used to him.

The only thing that could make this any better is if he had the ability to see into your dreams.

What exactly were you dreaming of? Him? Tonight you seemed to smile more than usual, so delusionally he figured it had to be about him. Or maybe you’re thinking of the children you’ll have with the thunder lord.

He almost chuckled to himself as he proudly pondered the idea of the two of you teaching your children how to safely wield their powers. How cute it would be when they'd play tricks on you, of course he’d scold them but it would be kind of cute…

Before he could go any further into thought, your beautiful voice broke the silence—

“Heh…I wish we could have fun like this all the time..”

Could you read his mind? Were you dreaming about what he was thinking of?

The lord, becoming increasingly more intrigued by your dream, leaned in closer. Hoping for you to speak once more..hoping that it was true.

It would be just the confirmation he needed. You dreamt about a life with him, which means all of this was the right choice. You’re finally coming around sooner than he’d previously thought.

“Mmm..Johnny~”

What did you just say..?

Is that why you’re so happy tonight? It’s because of that imbecile??

Hearing you flirtatiously coo the other man’s name ‘Johnny’ was like poison to Raiden’s ears. Something sinister entered his body and before he knew it a fierce thunderstorm of emotions began to brew deep in his veins. Electric red currents started circulating his body as he stood up and towered over you. He tightened his balled fists until his knuckles grew pale white. With a tense jaw and a scowl that omitted a pure crimson color, he remained still. Not wanting to act out just yet in the height of his anger.

As much as Raiden was furious, he was also a devastated lover. You’ve betrayed him. He’s given you so much of himself only for another to occupy your mind…do you know just how much he’s put aside for you?? He’d risk all of earthrealm if it meant an eternity with you.

How DARE you…you will be punished for this. There was no way that Raiden would ever let these trifling feelings go without such.

And for that Johnny…..”Cage volume iii” isn’t going to be coming out anytime soon…

It was as if you could suddenly sense the shift of energy in the room. The warm, cheeky smile ran cold and a bolt of terror struck your core.

Tossing and turning, trying to get away from the darkness that started to overwhelm the dream, you cried out.

“….j-johnny…please help me. He’s going to find me and take me away. Please- that monster is going to get me—”

Jolting up in a cold sweat, your heart sank deeper into your chest after you noticed the narrow, crimson eyes above you.

Frantically you began to speak..

“R-Raiden?! What are—-“

“Did you sleep well? Don’t you even think about lying to me, I watched you.”

Raiden’s voice is as low as it was venomously commanding.

A beat, which felt like years, passed as you mustered up an answer to him. You were currently still too tired and distraught to even know what exactly pissed off Raiden.

“…I-I’m sorry Lord Raiden but I don’t really know what’s going on—“

“BE SILENT, Y/N!.” Raiden’s voice boomed throughout the entire tower, followed by a rumbling of thunder from outside.

From what was just a minute ago, a nice cool night turned into a heavy thunderstorm with heavy winds.

“You think of me as some kind of monster?!…” Raiden scoffed, his once balled fist turned into a sharp point of the finger.

“I understand that your feeble, human mind cannot even comprehend all of the things that I’ve been protecting you from…all of the devotion I’ve dedicated to you. But for you to blatantly disrespect your master is something I never expected from you.”

“ You’ve committed such disgusting sins….you need to be cleansed.”

“Wha- Raiden? I-I don’t understand. What did I do?.” Your eyes began to swell with tears and your voice became an unsteady mess

Raiden sneered down at you.

“Hmhp. Your pleas will not save you, my love. When I’m done with you, Johnny’s name will be scrapped from your memory and you will learn how to become properly devoted to me….and only ME.”

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 16)

Contains: smut, oral (m receiving), manipulation, power imbalance, Daemon being an asshole, dirty talk, dom-sub dynamic, possessiveness, praising

Wordcount: ~3.94k

Masterlist of this story

The next few days you couldn't help but miss Daemon.

He was around you, that wasn't the problem but he was simply… your uncle again and nothing more. It wasn't even awkward or uncomfortable between you, you were laughing, talking, but he didn't take you up to his room again, didn't push you into the small council chambers to engage in inappropriate behaviour again, he was just Daemon again.

You desired him. Desired his hands on your body and the worst thing was probably that you didn't know where the two of you were standing. He had rejected you, yes, but then he had fucked you in the gardens of the red keep and now…? You just didn't know what the current state was. Was the most recent intercourse only a relapse and he still actually didn't want you? Or did he want you but just didn't have the time or energy to be with you? You didn't know and it drove you crazy.

But three days after Daemon had beheaded the Prince of Dorne in the throne room a new issue shocked the red keep. Niclas Tully, hand of the king was found dead in his chambers. A young handmaiden had found him on the floor with his eyes widened and her scream had awakened the whole castle at the crack of dawn. Guards had entered the room and escorted the disturbed girl while others alarmed the grand maester. Niclas Tully was brought into the maesters chambers and grand maester Daaran examined his body. It was still warm, he hadn't been dead for a long time and after only few hours rumours circulated around the keep. Some said he was poisoned, some that he chocked on his wine. But when Viserys visited the dead body of his long and dear friend, Daaran looked at the corpse with pity.

"I believe it was a Stroke, your grace. There is no sign of any external harm he might have experienced."

"But the word that is flying around the castle…," Viserys had hinted at but his grand maester had shook his head.

"I don't believe it was poison, your grace. I can't be sure but I couldn't find anything that would suggest it."

So Niclas Tully was buried in the tradition of his house and you sensed how hard it hit your father. He had been his friend and advisor since he had been a little boy. He was the second son of Lord Jeffary Tully and grew up as a ward of Lord Weyn Lannister, the previous hand of the king to Jaehaerys Targaryen, Viserys' grandsire. Niclas was a couple of years older than him and had treated him like a younger brother to guide and help him, as Viserys and Daemon had lost both their parents early. Even so far that Viserys had made him his hand when he ascended the iron throne and ever since that day nothing had changed about his trust in his friend.

Four days the King stayed in his rooms to mourn for Niclas Tully while Rhaenyra and you tried your very best to be there for your father and on the fifth day a council meeting was held.

All of the lords of the small council gathered around the King and as Commander of the City Watch Daemon attended as well.

"My lords. Sit."

They took their seats around the table and Viserys cleared his throat.

"This great tragedy has left us all shaken and in disbelief… and yet the crown must look to the future." The lords glared down at their hands and everyone looked affected.

"I have to choose a new loyal hand to advice and stand at my side faithfully and by all hopes someone who will prove himself as wise as the late Lord Niclas Tully. The gods bless him."

Some lords exchanged looks and Daemon raised his chin slightly. He leaned back in his chair and watched Viserys thoughtful. Of course it had crossed his mind. He would be a saint, a godly person with no sinful thought inside his head not to have thought about the new hand when it had been announced that Niclas Tully had passed. And as Daemon was far away from being a saint, he had wondered if perhaps his brother would make him his hand at last. His words in the gardens a moon ago at least might have hinted at it.

"It is a honourable position and I call myself lucky to have a trustworthy council of wise and loyal men."

It was so silent in the room that one could have heard a pin drop.

"I have decided to name the Lord Ellion of House Banefort as my hand. You have proven yourself loyal and I know that I can trust your judgement. You have adviced me during the wars by the Saltcliffe and even while being pressured from the outside you have stayed by my side and did what you believed to be best for the crown."

Lord Ellion rose from his chair and bowed his head.

"Your Grace. This is an honour. I thank you and swear to protect and advice you to my best knowledge and understanding."

"I know that you will, Ellion," Viserys smiled.

Meanwhile Daemon clenched his fists and looked at the table. A smile, that had nothing warm or gentle in it played around his lips and his eyes spit fire. And yet the King's brother didn't say anything. He waited. Waited to hear all the congratulations from the other lords, inwardly laughed about them and how they acted as if they were happy for Ellion even though they had wished to be in this very position a few minutes ago. Daemon himself didn't say a word of congratulations but the king didn't notice it.

Then the meeting was over and his brother excused himself so the lords of the council one by one left the room until Daemon was the only person left. Daemon, the King's brother. The person that was supposed to be hand. In his mind at least. When Viserys had been crowned Protector of the realm Daemon obviously hadn't expected his brother to name him his hand. Back then Viserys hadn't trusted him.

Fear was probably a more fitting word. He had thought of his little brother as fire that destroyed everything that he touched and rather wanted him far away from King's Landing. And yet he had loved him, even Daemon couldn't disagree to that. He had loved and feared him at the same time so when Niclas Tully was named his hand Daemon hadn't been surprised.

But now, he was furious. Did Viserys even stand behind what he had said to him in the gardens? He had told him that he trusted his brother now, that he was happy about their relationship and now he had just had the perfect opportunity to show him that he actually meant it by making him hand. But no, instead he gave this position to Ellion, a fool of a warrior.

Daemon breathed heavily, shaken by rage, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He felt a little pathetic to still sit here in the small council chamber but didn't feel like leaving the room. Deep inside, Daemon felt hurt but he would never admit it to himself. Once again Viserys abondened him, avoided and distrusted him. Why couldn't he really face him for once in his life? Daemon had nothing but supported and helped him the last months, what else did he want him to do until he would see that he was loyal to the crown? Daemon felt manipulated, weak, angry and humiliated. And Daemon was a person who was driven by his emotions and temper.

So he would get back at his brother for it. He had sworn to himself not to touch you again and yes, he had already broken that oath in the gardens of the red keep. But only minutes afterwards he had told himself again to let this be the last time and not discredit his brother one more time.

Now he didn't care anymore. He felt powerless after feeling rejected by Viserys and now he wanted to regain power. And who was more suitable for that than you? He wanted to have control over something and feel powerful. And he wanted to hurt Viserys so badly. He wanted him to suffer and make him feel like he was losing something as well. Like something was taken from him just like Viserys denied him power and a place at his side over and over again.

And he knew exactly how to satisfy his raging and restless mind. Not even by telling his brother about his doings with you, no, it was tempting to do it, just to see his face when he told Viserys, but he knew how you would react to it and even in his raging temper there was something left inside of him that was aware of your needs and well-being.

But still, the thought of bedding you while being aware who or better whose daughter it was he was sullying gave Daemon a strange satisfaction. Though Viserys wouldn't even know about it Daemon's breath calmed down when he thought about what power he had over his brother by being with you, Viserys' daughter. How he dishonoured him, weakened him.

Of course it would be a lie if he claimed that he had only bedded you for the first time to provoke Viserys or to feel powerful. Back then he definitely had wanted to discredit his brother as well (because even though their relationship had already been improved back then Daemon still had felt a deeply rooted anger and hurt which couldn't be so easily removed only because Viserys had listened to his advice for once. Only recently when Viserys had spoken to him in the gardens Daemon had actually wanted to treat his brother with honour and respect as well which was why he had sworn to himself not to touch you again) but he also hadn't been lying when he had said that he desired you.

Because it was true that after the stepstones he had felt the craving to feel a woman't touch and what man wouldn't have wanted to spend the night with someone like you? He had felt eager to claim you and also to toy with you, his innocent sweet niece. Daemon had always liked you and felt the need to care for you and had felt especially drawn to you when you started to become a woman at the age of 15. Way more than he had felt attracted to Rhaenyra.

And Daemon was the kind of person that acted out of temper and desire.

He hadn't cared about anything but his lust and satisfaction and only after or better during the act had realized how good it felt to feel power over his brother like that. That was when he had realized that he felt so pleased knowing that he was sullying his brother's daughter and being aware of what an incredibly dishonour it was to Viserys. Stealing something from his brother that was so dear to him after having felt humiliated and neglected all those years. Old feelings and long forgotten moments of experiencing indignity had come to the surface again and the following anger at his brother had been changed to satisfaction when thinking about what he had done by deflowering you.

And yet in the moment he had mainly acted out of want and greed for your maiden body rather than having a great and complex laid out plan. Because that simply wasn't Daemon's nature.

Daemon inhaled deeply and his fury was now overshadowed with complacency and excitement. He had the power to get back at Viserys. He knew that he had you entirely under his control and you were yearning for his attention. You were craving him and perhaps Daemon would continue to use your devotion to him not only to lay with someone he felt attracted to, satisfied his needs and obeyed him but also to feel like he was hurting and disgracing his brother, who he dispised so much right now.

Daemon's head was still heated when he returned to his chambers and he quickly opened the window to get some fresh air. Once he had done this, he sat down on a chair and exhaled loudly. It only crossed his upset mind now that perhaps you were not so keen to lay with Daemon at the moment. You had been harmed, kissed and touched against your will and obviously your uncle knew that something like that left scars. So he didn't know whether you wanted him or not, didn't know if you felt comfortable laying with a man at this moment. He didn't know that you were in your bed chambers right now, dreaming of his touch.

~~~~~~~~~~

After three days you couldn't live with this uncertainty and with your desire anymore and so you made a plan. You knew that there would be a small council meeting in the afternoon and you knew that Daemon would attend it.

So while he was away, you swiftly sneaked into his room while there were no guards in sight and sat on his bed. After a while you were terribly bored but you told yourself that it would be worth it and in a matter of minutes you'd have clarity. You waited and waited, looked around in your uncle's room, looked at the books next to his bed and then finally the door opened.

Daemon frowned when he saw you and quickly closed the door.

"Niece," he said and walked towards you. He rested his hands on his hips and lifted his eyebrows. "What is this about?"

You smiled with glistening eyes and sitting on the bed looked up to him. Then, without answering him you dropped to your knees without breaking the eye contact.

"Vhaela," he whispered and you could see his face tense.

"Please," you just whispered and rested your hands on his thighs.

"Please. Let me," you begged him and if the situation had been any different you would've felt pathetic. Begging a man to bury his cock in your mouth…

Daemon took hold of your chin and made you look up to him.

"I thought after what happened you might not be so eager to...," he began but you shook your head.

"I want you, Daemon. I really do."

You saw his breath going faster and he smirked.

"Oh my sweet niece. Dropping on your knees in front of me. You should've known what it would do to me," he said and you smiled widely.

Daemon's eyes were flashing and then he hastily opened his trousers to free his cock. He exhaled loudly while looking at you and palmed his cock. You wanted to wrap your hand around him but he denied you and pushed your hand away.

"Open," he simply breathed and you did as he had told you.

Daemon rubbed the tip of his cock over your lips and then slowly pushed into your mouth. Feeling you around him made him throw his head back and he quickly grabbed the back of your head.

"Oh fuck," he moaned and took a fistful of your hair to control your movements.

You tried your best to relax your throat and felt him going deeper with every thrust. His hand made you move in rythm with his hips and soon enough your nose was close to his pubic hair. But this time you felt it was easier not to choke and not to let his cock trigger your gagging reflex. You stayed calm and enjoyed his heavy cock in your mouth. And the noises Daemon made… You loved hearing him like that and you knew you would always get on your knees for him to listen to this.

"Sweet owl," he moaned and watched your pretty face while his cock entered your mouth over and over again.

"Look at me. Come on."

You obeyed him and the two of you made eye contact.

"Yes," Daemon moaned. "Sweet little girl, looking so fucking good on your knees for me."

You supported yourself by holding on to his thighs and gave him full control. You gave yourself entirely to him, let yourself fall because you trusted him. Let him thrust in your mouth the way he wanted to, let him move your head the way he wanted to. Yes, even though you knew that every person in your life, probably even Daemon himself would tell you not to, you trusted him. You wanted to submit to him, please him, obey him, give him control.

Why, you didn't know. You knew that Rhaenyra would never have these thoughts. She wouldn't let someone else take control over her and order her around because she wanted to be the one in control. She wanted to be independent and not blindly obey to someone. You simply didn't know why you were different to your sister in that way. Why did you have this need to please? Why did you want to be turned into a thoughtless mess and let Daemon take you the way he wanted. Why did you want to follow his orders and give yourself to him?

Maybe because it was easy? This whole situation wasn't easy at all but being on your knees for him? Getting fucked against the wall? That was easy. You felt like for a second someone else took the responsibility for your life and for this brief moment your mind and body could rest. Because Daemon was there to take care of you and for a moment you could just turn your mind off if you simply submitted to him. The only thing you had to do was obey him and then everything would turn out to be fine. Your mind was at ease and you liked giving away control. And gods, when he said that you were good for him. It made the butterflies in your belly fly and your cheeks turn red. You liked hearing him praise you. When he told you that you were pretty or that you were taking his orders so well. It made a firework explode inside of you.

You could feel that his movements in your mouth became sloppy and he was close to releasing. With every push he exhaled heavily and had his mouth slightly open while looking down to you.

"Fuck…," he breathed and you felt his grip in your hair possessively tighten. "My good little girl."

These were exactly the kinds of words you wanted to hear out of his mouth and they motivated you to please him even more. You twirled your tongue around his tip which was hard because of his fast pace but they were effective because Daemon moaned loudly.

"Seven hells," he growled and then finally emptied himself in your throat. By now you really liked the salty taste of his seed and swallowed every drop with pleasure. Daemon buried his fingers inside your hair and breathed uncontrolled and loudly while still having his eyes on you, who by now looked at his torso while licking him clean. His heart was beating fastly and he tried to calm himself.

Sweat was covering his forehead and Daemon felt a mixture between satisfaction, peace and possessiveness over you. You were driving him mad with these big eyes and your pretty face. The way you looked on your knees… And he didn't even want to start with the rest of your body, your sweet cunt that tasted like just the right mixture of salty and sweet. Your little tits, your pearky, pink nipples. Your full and soft lips, these soft thighs and your sweet voice…

Daemon wanted to worship you and possess you at the same time. He wanted to own you, claim you, be the only person in your world and at the same time put you on a pedestal to pray to you. You were sweet, delicate, precious and he wanted to have you. All the time.

There were no thoughts of his brother inside his head right now. No trace of doubt or regret, no, how could he feel like this was wrong and he was betraying his brother when your mouth felt that good around his cock. He didn't care about Viserys at this moment. He enjoyed you too much. And the funny thing was that even if Daemon felt like he was betraying his brother, it would be exactly what he wanted.

This was exactly what he wanted. Claiming his brother's daughter behind his back and feeling like finally he had power over something; you and especially Viserys. He had you, his brother's youngest daughter on your knees for him, begging for him to insert himself in your mouth. Begging for his attention. It filled him with satisfaction and smugness to the brim.

Daemon decided that he would continue to take you to his room in the nights. And he knew that he wouldn't manage to live without this anyway. Without having you wrapped around his cock and your cunt on display for him. And so he had no intention on trying it. He still didn't know what would happen when his brother would one day betroth you to some lord but he didn't care about this right now neither. He just looked down to you with a wide smirk on his lips and felt you lick his cock clean.

Once you were done you pulled off him and smiled at him proudly. Some of his seed was sticking to the corner of your mouth, your eyes were glistening and your hair was messy from his hand inside it.

Daemon's smirk intensed.

"Get up," he whispered and so you did.

Daemon leaned down to kiss you on your lips and you wrapped your arms around his back. His hand laid on your waist and his fingers gently caressed your skin through your gown. For some reason you both felt so peaceful right now. You hadn't even released and yet you were relaxed and… satisfied. Neither of you even initiated another sexual activity because you just felt like it wouldn't fit the moment.

Daemon just held you close to his body and devoured your heated cheeks and neck with kisses on your skin until he pulled away after a few moments.

"Mhmmm," he mumbled and his thumb ran over the area under your eye. You smiled at him and then Daemon took a step back from you to adjust his clothes. You watched him happily and after he was finished he pressed another kiss on your lips.

"I have to go now," he whispered. "I'd like to be with you but I really have to go to Caraxes and fly to meet Cordell."

You frowned.

"Who's that?" you asked.

"It's about… It's about sheep."

You chuckled loudly and Daemon grinned as well.

"Yes, I know, very funny. Caraxes needs food and he now and then… takes what he wants. Cordell has complained about it many times and now your father sent me to apologise on behalf of the crown."

You smirked and caressed his cheek. "I understand."

"I'd take you with me, little owl," Daemon whispered and toyed with a loose strand of your hair. "But his farm is no place for you."

You nodded. "It's fine. I'll just go to Rhaenyra or take a stroll through the gardens."

He kissed you on your forehead one last time and then walked out of the door.

[aishangotome]

[Gilbert] Borderline Touching: You won't be able to stop once you start, you know? - Part 3

Part 2

Translated by request :)

♡———♡

Gilbert: You're rather provocative, Little Rabbit. Just placing your hand on my chest, and you're making that face?

He grasped my hand, as if to prevent me from escaping, and pressed it firmly against his chest.

The feeling of Prince Gilbert's heartbeat through my palm sent a wave of heat through my core.

(Yes, just placing my hand on his chest...)

(And yet, why does it feel like this?)

Gilbert: I understand how you feel.

Gilbert: Feeling the sound of someone’s heart, it gives the impression of touching their innermost being.

Gilbert: From my perspective, this is far more "improper" than touching my face or eyepatch.

Gilbert: But to you, Little Rabbit, this seems to be an acceptable action, so it's fine, isn't it?

Prince Gilbert leaned forward, his gaze fixed on me, and my breathing grew ragged.

With each rhythmic pulse that resonated through my palm, my own heartbeat grew increasingly rapid.

Gilbert: "Showing off" in a place like this? You’re a wicked woman, Little Rabbit.

Emma: I-it's not like I'm showing off!

Gilbert: Isn't it? If it's not forbidden, then I thought you were showing it off.

Gilbert: "This is mine," you know?

(......!)

At that moment, it felt as if something indescribable that had been seeping into my core suddenly overflowed.

(Could it be that I...)

The sound of my own heartbeat echoed through my entire body.

As if I had finally noticed something I had been turning away from for so long.

Gilbert: ...This is troubling. If you keep making that face, I won't be able to remain lenient.

Prince Gilbert released my hand, then leaned closer to my ear—

Gilbert: Could you decide on your acceptable limits by tonight?

Gilbert: It would be better for you to decide while I'm still feeling lenient... right?

He whispered those words at a distance where his breath almost grazed my skin, then walked past me.

-

Since returning to my room, I've been constantly replaying Prince Gilbert's words, which circulated through my mind like poison.

The face of a "wicked woman" was reflected in the tea I had brewed to confront myself.

(I always thought I didn't want to undermine the dignified atmosphere Prince Gilbert has cultivated.)

(Of course, that's one reason.)

(But the main reason was that I didn't want to admit something.)

(Being seen by someone while touching Prince Gilbert... I—)

(!...)

I tried to wash away the turmoil in my heart with the tea.

However, the anguish that seemed to have taken root in my heart did not disappear.

(Restricting touching isn't a fundamental solution.)

(I need to change my own perception and way of thinking.)

(Considering that, the acceptable limits in public places are...)

Just then, I felt a pulse in my palm.

It seemed I had unknowingly grasped my other wrist tightly.

Gilbert: Hmm, that's not acceptable either.

Gilbert: Walter touches my face quite often, you know?

Emma: Walter's is a medical examination, isn't it?

Emma: Medical examination...

As the view from the window was completely enveloped by the night's veil—

I sat beside Prince Gilbert on the bed in my room.

Gilbert: Have you decided on the acceptable limits?

Emma: Yes.

I swallowed nervously and spoke the "acceptable limits" I had carefully considered.

Emma: I was thinking we could consider medical procedures as acceptable in public.

Gilbert: Medical procedures?

Emma: For example, touching your arm to check your pulse, or touching your face to check your temperature.

Prince Gilbert looked momentarily surprised, then burst out laughing.

Gilbert: Haha! You've really thought this through, Little Rabbit. That's one way to avoid things.

Emma: Avoid?

Gilbert: Yes. You're worried about the public gaze not because you're embarrassed.

Gilbert: It's because you didn't want to face the dark emotions within yourself, wasn’t it?

(He really did notice everything...)

Gilbert: If we were to name that emotion of yours, "possessiveness" would probably be the closest.

Gilbert: By engaging in public displays of affection, you wanted to let everyone know, "This man is mine."

Gilbert: But you're kind and pure of heart, so you didn't want to acknowledge such feelings.

Gilbert: So, you decided to tell yourself that public displays of affection were unacceptable because they disturb public order, right?

I could only hang my head, having my innermost thoughts, which I had only just realized myself, laid bare.

However, there was one thing even Prince Gilbert hadn't fully grasped.

Emma: ...It wasn't that I wanted to show everyone "he was mine."

Gilbert: Then, what did you want to show?

Emma: ––That I love you, Gil, more than anyone else in the world.

Prince Gilbert narrowed his eyes and smiled, looking immensely pleased.

Gilbert: ...It seems you hadn't realized.

Gilbert: Even before you started worrying about the gazes, you had gradually started to wear that expression.

Gilbert: That's why I couldn't help but do cruel things to you.

Gilbert: The poison I gave you spread within Emma...

Gilbert: The thought of you, corrupted by the poison, trying to fall to the same place as me, sends shivers down my spine.

Gilbert: Will you forgive me?

As he peered into my face, Prince Gilbert traced his index finger down my back.

Emma: I wouldn't blame you, Gil.

Emma: Besides, you haven't done anything cruel.

Gilbert: You're kind, Emma.

Gilbert: ––But I see. If it's a medical procedure, there's nothing to feel guilty about.

Gilbert: You can show off all you want. Isn't that right?

Prince Gilbert lifted my hand and placed it against his neck, just as he had done in the evening.

Once again, I felt his pulse under my fingertips, which felt strangely illicit.

Gilbert: That look of yours is far more inappropriate to show to others.

He lightly grasped my chin with his other hand, making me meet his gaze—

Gilbert: Now, feel my pulse properly. There's nothing shameful about it.

Being peered into by eyes as red as blood makes me feel as though I've been stripped bare.

Every emotion I had locked away in the deepest recesses of my heart, all that I had turned away from.

Gilbert: From now on, you'll be "showing this off" in front of everyone, right? I'm looking forward to it.

(......!)

The moment a sharp pain tugged at the depths of my chest, Prince Gilbert's lips covered mine.

Emma: Mmm...

Lightly biting my lower lip, Prince Gilbert pulled away.

Gilbert: Sorry, Little Rabbit. I want to be kind to you, but... I can't be this lenient anymore.

Emma: By "lenient," you meant you'd listen to my every whim...?

Gilbert: I will always listen to your whims. That's not what I was referring to.

He pushed me down onto the bed with a gentle yet almost ravenous look in his eyes.

Gilbert: Seeing you struggle with the dark emotions within yourself... I can't control myself.

Gilbert: So, I'll say this in advance. I'll surely torment you severely again tonight.

Gilbert: But you'll forgive me, won't you?

Gilbert: Because you love me more than anyone in this world.

Emma: Mmm, mmn... oh!

As if to seal my response, Prince Gilbert once again covered my lips with his—

.

.

.

Part 4

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[disappearinginq]

WIP Wednesday which is in fact Friday

tagged by @jamietarttsnorthernattitude on Thursday but you know what I have been a day off all week and time is a construct and anyway here is some random excerpt from a Slow Horses fic (if you followed me for anything else, I'm sorry, but the brain rot is terminal here)

At first, he’s not even sure River is alive. River’s face is a mask of barely dried blood, his forehead split jaggedly across, the laceration deep enough that Lamb is sure it’s to the bone, and he’s lying on his side on a faded and torn mattress that is possibly worse than lying on the floor.

There’s no movement beyond the barely visible rise and fall of his chest, the slight shudder that wracks his frame on every exhale. His hands are bound in front of him, duct taped together with so many layers it’s almost ridiculous, but Lamb is looking at his fingers to see if they’re still pink and warm from circulation, or turning blue. It’s hard to tell under the blood there, too, and Lamb remembers the car park and the broken glass.

There’s something wrong about the curve of River’s body - there’s a dip at his right shoulder where there shouldn’t be, and it takes him a second to realize it’s because his arm isn’t where it’s supposed to be. It’s bent inwards at the joint where his upper arm meets his clavicle - dislocated, not broken - but Lamb doesn’t know enough about anatomy to know if that’s better or worse. The bare part of River’s arms between his wrists and his elbow are shredded too, and Lamb’s brain unhelpfully supplies the fact that River was forcibly dragged across concrete at some point.

He’s not sure if River is unconscious, or just lying very, very still, and Lamb hopes it’s the former. He’s seen bad shit before. People decapitated via hanging from piano wire. Suicides up close. Cyanide poisoning. Forcing a gun into a man’s mouth and pulling the trigger. But this is River.

No pressure tags to be filled at a time and date of your choosing: @abubblingcandle @lord-owlsnake (it does not specify writing and I love your art so this is an unashamed plea for more) @fayedartmouth @dragonnan (also because it does not specify writing)

[neeila]

1.

При жизни Художник обрёл популярность, его работы выставлялись в картинных галереях, а их творец получил известность и признание у публики, несмотря на свой ворчливый характер и своеобразное поведение.

К сожалению, в оглушительном успехе есть и минусы, много незнакомцев могут возненавидеть тебя из зависти, считая, что ты не заслуживаешь успеха.

В один из холодных вечеров к художнику пришёл гость. Он заплатил большую сумму, чтобы получить работу от Художника, но пришёл он не с пустыми руками и убедив творца распить подаренное им вино перед заключением сделки.

Даже терпкий с горечью запах миндаля не смутил его.

During his lifetime, Artist gained popularity, his works were exhibited in art galleries, and their creator gained fame and recognition from the public, despite his grumpy nature and peculiar behavior.

Unfortunately, there are downsides to a resounding success, as many strangers may hate you out of envy, believing that you don't deserve success.

One cold evening, a guest came to Artist. He paid a large sum to get the work from Artist, but he did not come empty-handed and convinced the creator to drink the wine he had given him before concluding the deal.

Even the tart, bitter smell of almonds did not bother him.

2.

Художник был хорошим другом Стрелка при жизни. Он был рад провести время с шерифом, пропустив пару горячительных напитков за дружеской беседой, когда позволяло время, хоть и не часто.

Artist was a good friend of Shooter during his lifetime. He was happy to spend time with the sheriff, having a couple of hot drinks and a friendly conversation when time allowed, although not often.

3.

Краткая информация:

Цианид калия – это неорганическая калиевая соль синильной кислоты. В нормальных условиях это бесцветные кристаллы, которые напоминают сахарную пудру. Является сильнодействующим ядом, смертельная доза для человека среднего телосложения - 120 мг. При отравлении цианидом, разрушается способность клеток принимать кислород, который переносит кровь, поэтому она, впустую циркулирует по организму, а клетки без кислорода разрушаются.

A brief explanation:

Potassium cyanide is an inorganic potassium salt of prussic acid. Under normal conditions, these are colorless crystals that resemble powdered sugar. It is a potent poison, the lethal dose for a person of medium build is 120 mg. Cyanide poisoning destroys the ability of cells to take oxygen, which carries blood, so it circulates through the body in vain, and cells without oxygen are destroyed.

Спустя несколько минут после принятия яда, Художник почувствовал помутнение рассудка, головокружение и слабость, боль в груди, сухость во рту и жжение при глотании. Ему стало тяжело дышать, дыхание стало прерываться, Художника стало многократно рвать ярко-алой кровью, в которой после стали видны куски тканей пищевода и желудка, он стал царапать себя руками и хвататься за всё, до чего дотянется, стараясь вздохнуть, пока не упал на пол, забившись в жутких судорогах. Художник из последних сил стал тянуться к двери выхода, которая с грохотом закрылась, погружая студию в кромешную темноту. В последние секунды своей жизни он смотрел на своего убийцу, который хладнокровно оставил его умирать в мучениях.

Смерть наступила спустя 10 минут после отравления.

Тело Художника было найдено спустя 3 дня в запертой снаружи художественной студии. Нашёл его Шериф, решивший проведать своего старого друга, который долго не выходил на связь.

A few minutes after taking the poison, Artist felt confusion, dizziness and weakness, chest pain, dry mouth and burning sensation when swallowing. It became difficult for him to breathe, his breathing began to falter, Artist began repeatedly vomiting bright red blood, in which pieces of esophagus and stomach tissue became visible, he began to scratch himself with his hands and grab at everything he could reach, trying to breathe, until he fell to the floor, writhing in terrible convulsions. With the last of his strength, Artist began to reach for the exit door, which closed with a bang, plunging the studio into pitch darkness. He was looking at his killer, who had coldly left him to die in agony.

Death occurred 10 minutes after poisoning.

The artist's body was found 3 days later in an art studio locked from the outside. He was found by the Sheriff, who decided to visit his old friend, who had not been in touch for a long time.

4.

Даже после смерти Художник продолжает творить, рисует он себя в облике до смерти, так как ему не нравится то, как он выглядит сейчас, называя себя уродливым. Его также накрывает злость, в порыве которой он громит свою студию, разбрасывая холсты, готовые картины, мольберты и другие художественные принадлежности.

С этими картинами связан его страх любых источников света. Картины, которые пишет Художник, исчезают при попадании на них света. По этой причине почти весь 1 этаж башни окутан темнотой.

Творчество Художника увидит не каждый. Его способны увидеть только призраки или люди, которые скоро умрут.

Even after death, Artist continues to create, he paints himself in the guise of death, because he does not like the way he looks now, calling himself ugly. He is also overcome with anger, in a fit of which he trashes his studio, scattering canvases, finished paintings, easels and other art supplies.

His fear of any light sources is connected with these paintings. The paintings that Artist paints disappear when the light hits them. For this reason, almost the entire 1st floor of the tower is shrouded in darkness.

Not everyone will see Artist's works. It can only be seen by ghosts or people who are about to die.

5.

Призраки детей достаточно часто проводят время за играми на 1 этаже. Они довольно шумные, поэтому Художник не сильно рад тому, что они большую часть своего времени «беснуются» совсем рядом с ним. Дети отвлекают его от работы и не дают сосредоточиться на рисовании.

The ghosts of children often spend time playing games on the 1st floor. They are quite noisy, so Artist is not very happy that they spend most of their time "raging" right next to him. Children distract him from his work and prevent him from concentrating on drawing.

6.

Художник: в этой башне я знаю только детей, потому что ничего и никто кроме них не мешает мне!

Кроме призраков детей, Художник не знает ни одного призрака в башне, хоть и догадывается, что явно в башне не один. Он никого не слышит и не видит, вечно занимается своими делами и ворчит(прямо как @/gggiiidd), когда его что-то отвлекает, что бывает редко.

Apart from the ghosts of the children, Artist does not know a single ghost in the tower, although he guesses that there is clearly more than one in the tower. He doesn't hear or see anyone, he's always minding his own business and grumbling (just like @/gggiiidd ) when something distracts him, which rare.