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chelemlem · 1 month

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about 500w of a random nothing prequel to this. (814 + r63 + implied infidelity)

The great thing about being young, dumb, and you know, Jenson winks, is that it's socially acceptable to excuse herself from all the schmoozing and shoulder-rubbing to sneak the odd ciggie with the servers.

Back by the venue kitchens halfway into one of these things is where she finds Oscar: plonked on a wooden crate, phone in hand.

Maybe it's the peachy champagne from before, but Lando's limbs feel loose enough to pitch forward, perching her chin on Oscar's shoulder. Mm. Clean and cheap — some kind of citrus soap.

"Whatcha hiding out here for?"

Oscar, to her credit, takes it in stride.

"Not hiding. Just, uh. Quali's on."

Why bother? Obviously Verstappen's taking it. Oscar wrinkles her nose in an ehh gesture, screen angled so Lando can watch too. "Dunno, Red Bull are pretty shit around Marina Bay."

Are they, though? Then again, Oscar still backs Ricciardo out of some vague sense of patriotism, so maybe she's not the best judge of wheel.

"Bet you only fancy him 'cause he seems like he's hung," she says accusingly, and Oscar fucking. Creases in silent laughter. Huh, easy crowd.

With her mouth open, Lando can see how the top line of her teeth dip low in the middle. A bunny rabbit.

Ugh, fine. She has nothing better to do, and Oscar seems like a marginally more interesting time than the other models and heiresses inside. A proper little athlete. Might as well.

It turns out to be quite a long time, them sitting here. Like, two missed calls from her brother long. Nothing important. He's just in town on business and wants to do lunch. On the cusp of closing some deal that would make even Jense's eyes water.

"I have three sisters," Oscar offers. They have their backs to opposite walls, legs extended. Lando isn't really tipsy anymore, but she still kind of has this insane urge to close the gap, press her ankle along the exposed square of Oscar's instep. Are those Tommy? Fuck's sake.

"Mm. And you're the oldest?"

Oscar blinks. "Is it obvious?"

"Bit, yeah."

Seems like a pain, honestly. There's a reason Lando's parents let her get away with everything — because they have Oliver to cushion the fall. Everyone agrees she'll probably land an MRS degree before an MBA.

Oscar smiles, a tad wry. "Bet they're glad you're still making connections, though."

"Whad'you mean?" Lando says, shuttering. The back of her neck feels warm. Fucking—is she being slut-shamed right now?

Oscar shifts on the floor, looking for the first time: uncomfortable. "Isn't that why you're here?"

Uh. Lando is here because she'd wanted to date a MotoGP rider growing up and Jenson is the next-to-next best thing. Specifically here, in this greasy produce cellar with Webber's little girlfriend, though? Well.

"Fuck if I know, mate."

Oscar snorts, her shoulders going lax. She starts to say something else when Lando uncrosses her legs, uncomfy from the sweat building behind her knees. The cream satin hitches up, baring a triangle of thigh that draws Oscar's gaze like a condemned moth to flame. Her mouth snaps shut.

Their eyes lock. Only for a second — but it's enough.

Enough for Lando to pause and consider. And smile. 'Kay then.

Everything after that is a bit of a blur.

#landoscar #ln4 #op81 #i continue to be the eepiest guy in the worldt #had to face unimaginable horrors today (apply for both schengen and uk visas)#actually that's disingenuous ONE of these was a relatively straightforward painless process #spoiler it's not what u think !#will reply to asks later i prommy #in other news. Always Thinking About Them #ffdotnet a/n voice ojp does not back 3 she just blurted smth out of awk/nervousness #it happens #ch. fic #girls!814

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adelaidedrubman · 8 months

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wednesday is my favorite wip

i was tagged by my dears @inafieldofdaisies @direwombat @socially-awkward-skeleton @corvosattano @nightbloodbix @shallow-gravy @unholymilf @deputyash to share a wip and i am truly doing it on a wednesday!

closing the polls at [checks clock] 9:56 PM and declaring the john waxing poetic over jessie amateur stitch work from hl&s chapter 4 the winner. warnings on that front for some blood and injury descriptions + unsafe medical care performed by a nonprofessional without consent, don’t try this at home + john being genuinely so normal about this (normal = pervasive sense of sexual tension, implied sadomasochism, idle romanticized thoughts of bodily harm, vague references to the need to cut something up) + finding stop/start points to make the excerpt a reasonable length was challenging so also just flow awkwardness warning

He shuddered with the deep, stinging pain the puncture brought, tears gathering back at the corner of his eyes. “Why would you —”

“Got no choice but to hold still, now that I’m already in,” she replied in disinterested monotone before he could even finish the question, an easy shrug of her toned shoulders accompanying the fluid pull of fishing line to lace the torn edges of flesh together, its transparent thread dyed a slick red with his blood on the exit. “You would have never agreed to it, if I’d warned you first.”

“I don’t agree to it now,” he hissed through gritted teeth, reaching forward to grab her arm as if to push her away.

She looked up at him with a challenging, expectant stare, the poke of the barb back into his skin saying it all — there was no going back now, he’d still be left with a hook buried in his stomach to deal with on his own, if he didn’t allow her the privilege.

He dug his fingers into the muscle of her arm harder, hoping to at least make her flinch.

He failed, he saw, her eyes dropping back to his middle as she pulled the fishing line through again, the noise falling from her lips not the pained scream he’d hoped to elicit, but a breathy rasp almost low enough to sound gentle hitting his ears. “Hold tight if you need to,” she said with a quick flex of her bicep beneath his vice grip. “We got two purl left.”

Increasing the pressure of his hold felt far less satisfying, done as acceptance of a willing offer rather than retaliation — more frustrating still, he had to admit there was something almost comforting to it, the sturdiness of her presence in his hand as pain throbbed in heavy pulses through his abdomen.

Her stubborn domineering; her bitter, apathetic detachment even as she drove a hook through the gash in his stomach — he had to admit for all their undeniable repulsiveness, the traits also gave her a certain (he cursed the nautical pun) anchoring quality.

But every anchor could be pulled from its place sunk into mud with enough force, he mused to himself, pressing harder against the firm muscle of her arm with a simple, innate curiosity fluttering itself awake in his chest, a drive to test and play with her limits. He couldn’t quite tell if it was the pleasantness of the distraction or merely the surge of adrenaline finally doing its job, but he seemed to reach that familiar eye in the storm, the point of exhilaration where pain whipped and twisted itself into euphoria in its frenzied eddy, just as he began to imagine what it might be like were their roles reversed.

How much would it take to break her? Would she keep that same unshakeable calm, that breezy yet grounded stoicism were he the one burying hooks into her skin? Or would she shatter and wilt at the harm she was so willing to inflict turned back on her?

And would she cling to him, the way he did to her? If she did, would it be in defeat, or embrace?

His hand trembled from how tightly it clenched her arm. Her own fingers stilled, eyes flicking up to his face briefly — and it was only then that he realized he’d been softly smiling down at her all the while; that the hand not clasping her arm had buried its fingers in her hair, a thumb resting gently atop her cheek.

sending tags out to @henbased @florbelles @belorage @poetikat @derelictheretic @schoute @just-another-wasteland-merc @blissfulalchemist @voidika @captastra @confidentandgood @shellibisshe @professorpineapple @strangefable @stacispratt @orionlancasterr @v0idbuggy @jackiesarch @nuclearstorms @strafethesesinners @firstaidspray @clicheantagonist @simplegenius042 @miyabilicious @ladyofedens-blog @thedeadthree @cassietrn @trench-rot @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @g0dspeeed + this will be my last time trying to summon the tag list from my mind palace, so last call to drop your like or reply HERE to be tagged moving forward! (or don’t, or unlike at your leisure, switching over because i want it to be chill no pressure)

#also i am not intentionally trying to annoy anyone or ignore decisions to opt out prommy prommy biggest prommy #i just also know tumblr eats the notifs sometimes and people might be taking breaks when i post about it or just miss it #so i also wanna give anyone who genuinely might want to be tagged notice.#BUT i will continue adding the opt in link to posts regardless so plenty of chance later if you decide you wanna be tagged!!#wip

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demonibestia · 1 year

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Some illustrations and the cover art of my children's book project called 'Norte' (north). Some day ill finish coloring it 🚶‍♀️

#this was a project for school but ill continue it and hopefully publish it!#school has me drawing children books and gameboards based on the divine comedy at the same time and im getting whiplash from it lmao 😭#i have some silm fanarts on the works that ill finish once i catch a break i prommy sgdjghf #illustration #children books #fairytale #book design #procreate #digital art #my art

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dangans-ur-ronpas · 1 month

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Chapter 17

continuation of byakuya's no good very bad worst shit ass day of his life (so far)(!!!)

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

this chapter went a little different from how i originally planned bc I was going to make byakuya much more stupid. but. he needs to fly off the handle several times later so. we can't let loose all at once

to be very fair to makoto he did not want to do that. and yet. here we are

the king of kings!! @digitaldollsworld

Content warning tags: ableist language from various characters, Byakuya's panic spiral, mild self-harm reference

< previous - from start - next >

Time seems to grind to a halt. His breath is still caught in his throat, halfway through a relieved sigh as he had been waiting - expecting - for Makoto to help him. To pull up some vague, hidden piece of evidence to clear him of any suspicion, to cleverly point out some irrefutable proof that had previously lay unseen.

But instead - his heartbeats feel too heavy. His breathing feels too light, deprived of any real oxygen. His head pounds in the same way it did when he was struck earlier, with a dull, pulsing ring that washes out everything around him.

He prided himself, once, on being able to read a person’s intent. To judge just when and why they might choose to abandon him, to cross him, to try and use him for their own intents. For that reason, he supposes, is why this sickly, sticky feeling of dread is so new to him. He’s never known real betrayal before.

His eyes dart around the room, but the others don’t seem to believe Makoto just yet. Even Owada seems taken aback, stock still and quiet. Only Kirigiri seems unsurprised - or maybe, he was only imagining it, the tranquil quality of her silence. As if she were merely observing it all, far out of their reach.

“Seriously??” Syo’s voice is a grating jeer. “You’re telling me this whole time he had no idea what I looked like? No wonder he didn’t fall for me at first sight!”

“I…don’t think that’s the reason why,” Hagakure says, though he seems utterly bewildered. “But, that can’t be right, right? I’ve seen him reading loads of times. And he practically lives in the library, y’know?”

“Yeah, and he can do things just fine for himself.” Asahina says in agreement. “I mean, he does his own laundry and stuff, and he knows this place way better than me at least. I didn’t even know where the A/V room was during the first motive, I just sorta followed him.”

“Yes, this is sort of…” For the first time, Celeste sounds genuinely surprised, her usually unphased demeanor wavering, her accent slipping for a moment. “Ahem. While I did note that he sometimes seemed a bit…eccentric, so to speak, nothing of his actions suggested that he was impaired.”

Their skepticism is a small relief. He nods jerkily, unable to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to verbalize his agreement. But it’s a small, pathetic movement that goes unnoticed, hardly amounting to anything in this large courtroom.

And their disbelief only goes so far. Ogami speaks up now, for the first time since the trial began, her low voice immediately silencing the whispers.

“I performed a concussion test on him earlier,” She says, gruffly. “As Kyoko had asked me to. He was lucid when answering my questions, and he didn’t seem to exhibit any symptoms that couldn’t be attributed to other reasons.” There’s a slight creak of wood, as she shifts her weight on the stand. “However, I did notice that his pupils were…strange.”

“My- what?” He sputters now, too suddenly, too loudly. He reaches up to touch slightly-trembling fingers to a closed eye, feeling the smooth bump of the cornea twitching beneath the thin skin of his eyelid as if he might be able to identify the damage that way. Why hadn’t she mentioned this earlier? Why bring it up now? “What do you mean, ‘strange’?!”

There’s a slight, panicked edge to his voice that he hopes no one catches, but this was the first time he heard that there could be physical evidence to his affliction. “It was a bit hard to test without the proper tools, but I noticed that they do not react much to changes in light.” Ogami explains. “The shape is also slightly…off. If I had to describe it, I would say that there is…a warping around the edges.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?!”

“I assumed it was either due to the head injury, or, it was genetic.” There’s an apologetic note to her words. “Given your usual behavior, I…didn’t think it was important.”

Not important. As if she could know what was important here.

“I. Am not. Blind.” He snarls stiffly. “Obviously, I have never taken a close enough look at my own pupils to notice that deformation, but it has never affected my daily life. I am not disabled, nor have I ever been.”

“I find it hard to believe that you have never been aware of it.” Kyoko remarks, tone clipped. “I can’t imagine someone of your status being ignorant of anything concerning your physical health.”

“Then you can rest easy knowing that I am perfectly healthy.” He snaps back, venom flying off his words.

Distantly, he knows that he is digging a pit for himself. That admitting to this would help clear him of any suspicion at all. But he doesn’t care; he would rather die than suffer such indignity. That was what he’s always known, taught by his butler, and then reinforced by all his surroundings afterwards, his siblings, his father - better to perish and let your enemies cry with relief and count themselves lucky, than let them mock you as you dig your own grave.

“You should just admit it already. You are drawing this out to be unnecessarily long, or would you rather doom us all?”

“I don’t see why I should cooperate with someone who has been making mindless accusations at me all this while.”

There’s a tense, snappish tension between him and Kirigiri. A livewire current. A piece of elastic stretched taut. He glares, and to him, her blurred form looks like that of a reared snake.

“Um…” Asahina speaks up, her hand tentatively raised. “If Byakuya’s really blind, can’t we just test it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I mean! Not saying that you are blind, or anything,” She says this quickly, carefully, like soothing a spooked horse. “But, we’re not going to get anywhere if you two just keep arguing back and forth, and it’ll be really quick! Like, Sakura, can you hold up a few fingers?” She complies silently, one arm remaining crossed across her chest, the other raised to her side. “How many is she holding up?”

He tries not to squint, but he has no idea. Two? Three? It's nothing more that a blurred, brown shape. “You can’t be serious.” He almost laughs, but the sound he makes is derisive and bitter.

“Y-yes, this is-! Unfair!” Now it’s Yamada, speaking up again. “In case no one else has noticed, Mister Togami is lacking his spectacles! Asking such a thing of him…it’s akin to bullying!”

He’s oddly assertive about this, and Byakuya watches as he pushes his own glasses a little higher. For some reason, being considered something of an equal by Yamada irritates him further. “Shut up.” Who asked for his help.

“Yes, be still please,” Celeste sighs dismissively. “We are playing a game with our lives. This is hardly the time to be discussing moralistic issues.” There’s a slight metallic tap as she raps her silver finger guards against her rings. “But you do make a point. Byakuya does not have his glasses at the moment. It would be difficult to try and confirm anything without them.”

Thank goodness for those with common sense. He doesn’t look to his side, where she was standing, but he swears that he can see her eyes glancing at him, the unnatural red of her pupils bright on her pale face. “Yes,” he agrees, seizing upon it. “And they were broken earlier, thanks to Owada. Nearsightedness runs on my mother’s side, and the former Togami head was farsighted. I will admit that much, is that what you wanted? Kyoko?”

He’s rambling. He’s aware of it. But there are a few nods exchanged, and Asahina scratches at the back of her head awkwardly, as if embarrassed. Kirigiri, however, is still unmoved.

“No. When I say you are blind, I do not mean without your glasses. Or there wouldn’t have been a point in bringing it up in the first place.” Kirigiri shifts her weight slightly, the sway of her stance accompanied by the creak of wood. “Even without your glasses, you cannot do tasks such as reading. I imagine you’ve managed everything else by means of careful practice, but this is the one thing you can’t manage on your own.”

“Hey, Kyoko-” Makoto looks nervous, unsure whether to face him or her. “That-”

“And how do you plan to prove this?” Byakuya snarls. He feels a small flare of triumph, even despite everything, the looming threat of death. “As we found before, I don’t have my glasses. Did you happen to pick those up as well? Did you repair them for me while you were at it?”

Instead of offering a retort, or any sort of reply, she sighs. A soft, tired sound.

“Makoto.” She isn’t facing the other boy, but her tone is firm as she addresses him, and a little exasperated. She doesn’t say anything more, but Makoto seems to understand, and his hands drop to his sides.

“There is a way to prove it.” His voice is quiet. Quiet, and…sad, somehow. Defeated. “Byakuya…please show us your handbook.”

The realization sets in slowly. He’s already been betrayed by Makoto twice now, but still, he finds himself stunned, slack-jawed. This one was the worst by far - not only was he actively helping Kirigiri, he was betraying Chihiro as well, risking revealing everything to that accursed bear. And after all the lengths Byakuya had gone through to protect this secret.

“What are you saying,” He says, and his voice has a humiliating tremor that matches how his hands shake, clutching at the rail. Surely, he’s heard wrong. Surely, Makoto would correct himself, take it back-

“Your handbook. Chihiro, he…he put a program on it that lets you be able to do stuff like tell the time. It also reads stuff aloud. And he did it after the motives got revealed, that night when Celeste saw you guys leaving the bathhouse.” He sounds so somber, so sad and grieving. He won’t meet Byakuya’s eyes. “He did it in exchange for you teaching him how to be strong, and self-confident - which you did, by telling him to go around talking to everyone else today.”

Without really thinking about it, his hand goes to his inner jacket pocket, where his handbook sits. His fingers close around the little device, the hard edges of plastic and metal pressing into the creases of his palm. He feels a little like he’s been shot.

But he doesn’t bring it out. He glares instead, furiously, hatefully, at the boy standing just meters away. He - and Kirigiri too, most likely, Byakuya suspected that Makoto had already revealed everything that that woman - knew perfectly well the importance of Alter Ego, and why it could not, under any circumstances, be revealed. And they knew Byakuya was aware of this too, and they were holding this fact hostage, over his head.

(I could, some sore, beaten part of him thinks with poisonous intent, try and claim responsibility for Chihiro’s murder. I could say that they’re wrong. That I lured Chihiro to the bathhouse with the intent of making him less wary, easier to isolate. That he was so weak and trusting and stupid that killing him was a simple manner. That I mimicked Syo’s modus operandi to throw suspicion off of me.)

The mere thought was shameful, but it was his pride, wounded and bitter, that was seriously considering it, if only for some semblance of control. The barest reassurance that he had any real weight at all in this trial. And all he would need to do is open his mouth and say the words.

But instead, he bites down on his inner cheek, hard enough for blood to trickle out the corner of his mouth, hard enough for the pain to rival the buzzing in his temples. And tightens his grip momentarily, just enough to feel the faint, humming warmth of the handbook against his sweating palm, and exhales slowly.

“...Fine. Fine.” He spits, angry, defeated, exhausted. He’s sick of this. He just wants it to be over. “Yes. I’m blind. I have been so since we first woke up in this school. Are you happy now?”

Makoto looks down, his face shadowed by his hair. Kirigiri tilts her head slightly, a motion that’s not quite a nod but more of a bow.

“Wait, so then-” Asahina’s voice, confused and a little hesitant, pipes up. “If you’ve been…y’know, this whole time, but only after we got to this school…does that mean the Mastermind did this to you, somehow?”

“That’s what I would like to know, myself.” He turns to look at Monokuma, and finds the bear lounging across its throne, a bucket of popcorn resting precariously on the armrest. The repugnant toy giggles, and swings itself upright, spilling a handful of white puffs all over.

“Gosh, I wonder?” The thing taps at its chin, voice taking on a wondering tone. “Of course, I want this game to be fair and give you all a level playing field. I believe in equality after all! …Though this has made for so many entertaining developments, so…I figured I’d leave it as is. Besides, you’ve adapted quite well, haven’t you Mister Togami?” It cackles, paws clutching at its belly. “GIven how well you did hiding it from everyone, I think it’s fine if we leave it like this, don’t you think?”

He wants to cross the courtroom and throttle the stupid thing this instant. All he can do is glare murderously, lips twisted into a snarl.

There’s a sharp clap that has most people jumping. The source of the sound is Kirigiri, whose hands are raised, and pressed together. “Let’s move on.” Her voice is firm, with no room for arguing. “All we’ve done so far is clear one person’s innocence. We still need to identify the real killer.”

And that was it. The most disgusting moment of his life, over just like that, ended by her words. He knows that there’s bound to be some kind of punishment in store for those who interrupt trials, but he briefly wonders if he can get his hands around her neck before Monokuma can react.

Owada jerks at Kirigiri’s words, startled out of his own stunned silence. “W-wait,” He sounds panicked now, and of course he would be. His scapegoat is gone. “Then, if it’s not Byakuya, then who…?”

“Let’s consider what we know. Given how it’s not clear where the murder took place, it would have to be someone who had access to cleaning supplies or water, and has no alibi that can be verified when the murder occurred. For the most part, everyone here has an alibi that can be supported by at least one other person, but there are some that do not.” Kirigiri lists these calmly, and Byakuya imagines her cold gaze, flitting between each person in the room. “Mondo. Do you care to explain what you were doing prior to the body’s discovery?”

The effect is immediate. The other boy rears up, instantly furious. “The fuck are you trying to say? That I’m a murderer?!” He thunders. “Like I said earlier, I was taking care of my bro. You know that. Everyone knows that!”

“As you said earlier, Taka is currently compromised. He can’t give a testimony.” She shoots back without hesitation. “Your alibi is flawed.”

“Yeah? Well - well so’s yours!” He sputters. “Like- Syo might’ve been the one to find you in the bathroom, but that was just before Chihiro was found. Toko can’t say that you weren’t there the whole time, a-and even if you were, maybe the bathroom was where Chihiro died anyways!”

Owada may be stupid, but credit where credit was due, he was surprisingly quick to retort and pick at Kirigiri’s excuse. “I could not have cleaned up a murder scene in the bathroom so spotlessly in the time between Chihiro’s last sighting and the body discovery. As Makoto described earlier, the sinks of the bathroom were all dry-”

“There was that sheet, you could’ve used that before smashing Chihiro’s head over it. And there’s water in the toilets, right? And the girl’s bathroom was right next door!”

“...I’ll commend you for recognizing my perseverance. But I did not kill Chihiro.” She shakes her head. “If the only thing that will clear me is secondhand support to my alibi, then the only thing that needs to be done is to ask a witness. Toko?”

And she addresses Syo now, who just cocks her head for a moment, and shrugs. “I keep sayin’ to you guys, it’s lights out up there. There’s no telling when she’ll be back!”

Byakuya has had enough.

“Toko,” He says first, his voice low and hissing. Then, louder, building into a shout: “TOKO. Come out, NOW!”

“I don’t think it works like tha-” Syo’s words are cut off suddenly, and she collapses where she stands, like a puppet with her strings cut.

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff #thpff chapters #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #byakuya mentally filing for a second naegami divorce #sorry this one took so long.....my frontal lobe. it is soup #combination filing taxes + applying for classes + applying for jobs + etc etc. it'll do it to ya #going to really really really try to get 18 up by sunday but if its delayed do u prommy not to be too mad at me. do you. pls pls pls #i jest tho. thank u to everyone who has been reading thus far i hope you continue to enjoy it or move on to other things #just knowing you were here even if just for a moment even if for the whole ride is enough for me #i hope this chapter is legible i cranked out the last half of it at 2 am on a half bottle of soju #also had to mentally go over everything twice bc ive been listening to His Dark Materials audiobooks and my writing was turning british #byakuya frothing furious angry defeated at the stand while kyoko is just. o<-< are we done yet. can we please talk about the murder #theyre both toxic here and making everyone bear witness to it #alright folks lets take bets now on who you think the killer is!!!

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