#pane layout

[thelinuxhelp]

How to Use tmux in linux with Examples

Tmux (Terminal Multiplexer) in Linux is a powerful tool that allows you to manage multiple terminal sessions, windows, and panes within a single terminal. It is particularly useful for developers and system administrators who need to work with multiple terminal sessions simultaneously. In this article, we will cover the basics of Tmux, including its installation, creating and managing sessions,…

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#command line #customization #key bindings #linux #pane layout #productivity #session management #status bar #terminal multiplexing #Tmux #window layout

[dexaroth]

honestly my problem with making character pages is that i want all of them to have an image background with like. 50-70% of the image visible bc the images give off their vibe so much better than my writing would do (altough this is biased bc im very visually oriented and the more images illustrating the concepts instead of blocks of text the better to me)

so this is the initial idea, a sidebar taking 1/3 and the rest being divided into two other sections for readability and compartmentalization (sidebar image is a placeholder, daron's supposed to be in there)

and this is an edit of an unsplash image that i did for the bg and like. it fucks! i need this to be omnipresent! bc its pretty. but it barely accounts for 10% of the draft up there

but then i either have a bunch of empty space to show for it and have the consequence of the page becoming like 1.5x longer or i use the space well but barely any of the image is showing :<

#the layouts are always a pain... #the 'glass pane holding the info boxes' i did for the homepage was like the best solution to having the bg being really visible #and i dont want the layouts to be repetitive so i. kinda blew my shot there lol #idk maybe ill just make the layout tinier/more spacious. or give huge gaps to everything #wips

[too-deviant]

mdni 🃏

stepbro!luke / voyeurism / so perv!luke but also perv!reader

you’ve just moved into your new house — both your dad and may thought it would be good to have a fresh start in a new place. it was nice, in a cute neighbourhood. you and luke got to pick your own rooms, and were left to your own devices when your father and stepmother went for date night.

your name echoed softly along the silence of the hall. you poked your head out of your doorway, looking right into luke’s across from you and meeting his eyes. he was stood in front of his window, staring out at whatever was on the other side.

“what?”

“c’mere.” he beckoned you with his fingers and you were quick to step out onto the soft plush carpet of his room. he hadn’t done much decorating — his bed was made, and he’d hung his mirror up. everything else was in its boxes. “look.”

you sidled up next to him, eyes tracking his gaze out the window and to the house next door. it was nice, around the same layout as yours despite the obvious differences decor-wise.

for example, they had their bed against the middle of the back wall, whereas luke’s was tucked into the corner. you knew this solely because the moment you glanced through the double paned glass of both your windows, your neighbour was bending his wife over at the hips and taking her from behind.

your lips parted as he adjusted his grip on her sides and began to piston roughly. you couldn’t hear anything but judging by the look on her face, he was doing the right thing.

“holy shit.”

“i know, right?” luke smirked at you, “mr and mrs smith are freaky.”

“i’m pretty sure their last name is burgenhoose.” you inputted, raising a brow when mr burgenhoose slapped his wife hard on the ass. she moaned, luke whistled.

“whatever. i’m sure burgenhoose isn’t the name she’s screamin’ right about now, huh?” he chuckled, “what d’ya think it is? looks like…rob? rod? bo —“

“god.” you breathed, muttering, “oh god.”

he hummed in agreement, nodding at you. you didn’t bother to look, eyes fixed firmly on the way your neighbour was gripping his wife’s chin and pulling her back against his chest. luke narrowed his eyes at you, and went to say something, but your eyes widened and you gasped, grabbing his arm and yanking him into a crouch under the windowsill.

“what the hell was that for?” he exclaimed.

“shh!” you put a finger to your lips, lifting yourself up an inch and poking your eyes just over the frame of the window, “i swear she looked at me.”

he smirked at you evilly, “we don’t have to be quiet. we can’t hear them, they aren’t gonna hear us.”

“whatever.” you kept watching.

“damn.” he glanced up and down your frame — at your fingers gripping the windowsill, your overall position. “i didn’t take you for a voyeur, but i’m into it.”

“what — ?”

it was his turn to hush you then, “don’t worry about it. stay there.”

you didn’t protest. you kept looking, watching as he kissed down her neck and bit her ear lobe. you let out a shaky breath, “we’re sick. sick people.”

“they left their curtains open.” luke whispered, suddenly behind you. his hands settled on your hips, “seems to me like they want us to see ‘em.”

“luke —“ your breath caught in the back of your throat when luke began to kiss down your neck. his fingers drifted along the waistband of your shorts, dipping inside for only a second before coming back out.

“tell me what they’re doing.”

you licked your lips, hands tense around the wood you balanced yourself on, watching your neighbours fuck. his arm had wrapped around her waist as he rolled his hips into her ass and her head had dropped down onto his shoulder. you whispered the details like a secret, and luke complied to your every word. his clothed crotch rubbed against your backside and he let out a long breath into your ear.

“this is…” you swallowed, this is bad.”

luke didn’t reply, he just made his movements more defined. the wet patch that had been forming on your panties the moment you began to watch grew bigger. wetter. you moved back into him with a breathy moan. his free hand was on your hip, moving slowly down the back of your legs and pushing them ever so slightly apart so he could get more efficient friction.

your movements got faster. uncoordinated. messy. your forehead dropped against the windowsill and you circled your hips against his fervently, moaning towards the carpet beneath you. he moved his hands to your shorts, pushing them down roughly along with your underwear that peeled away from your cunt. you hissed when the cold air hit your sensitive clit, and you throbbed in anticipation, bringing your hand to your chest and squeezing your boob with a huff.

luke’s hand came round to yours, pulling it away from yourself and steadying it back on the windowsill with a smack. that same hand then took your hair into its grip and yanked your head back, forcing your eyes back on the couple that were banging next door, “tell me if it changes.”

and that’s how you ended up on top of him, swinging your hips back and forth with your hands in the same position as before — only this time, luke’s head was nestled between them. his hands gripped your asscheeks roughly, guiding you back and forth, up and down, this way and that. your moans kept fogging up the window and you kept having to wipe your hand across the glass so you could keep watching the neighbours. when she got faster, so did you. when he slapped her ass, you said again and luke did the same.

when mrs burgenhoose came, legs trembling and head thrown back — so did you. luke wasn’t too far behind, thrusting up into you when you’d slowed your own movements. the neighbours started cuddling softly, but you just pulled the curtains to and let luke carry you to his bed.

first night in the new house. had to break it in, right?

#this is so nasty #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut

[mrcodings]

Click Here To Watch Full Tutorial

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

MS Word Tutorial Part-071

the View tab has all the options relating to viewing your documents in different ways. The View tab has different groups of related options: View, Page Movement, Show, Zoom, Window, and Macros. View: there are different options to view the document as a Read Mode, Print Layout, Web Layout, Outline, and Draft Page Movement: Vertical option to scroll the page from top to bottom and vice-versa. Side to Side option to scroll page from left to right like turning a book page Show: Contains different options to view top and left side Ruler, Gridlines on the page, and Navigation pane Zoom: Options to enlarge the page area. Window: Contains options to manage and arrange multiple opened MS Word documents on the screen Macros: Option to Record that kind of task which we perform repeatedly.

MsWordPart071, #ViewTab, #Ruler, #PrintLayout, #NavigationPane, #MultiplePage, #NewWindow, #Split, #MrCoding, #MrCoding33, #BestMsWordTutorial, #MsWordTutorialInHindi

#Ms Word Part 071 #View Tab #Ruler #Print Layout #Navigation Pane #Multiple Page #New Window #Split #Mr Coding #Mr Coding33 #Best Ms Word Tutorial #Ms Word Tutorial In Hindi

[queenhunter102]

Buying a house/flat with you for the first time

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

I can see Simon feeling excited and ready to move in knowing that you would be in a safe place, somewhere he knows is safe and secure.

He would be very much a hard person to shop for a permanent home with, he would be incredibly critical of every place, he would complain about things you believe are small and inconsequential, he would complain about a door not being screwed in properly, he would complain about the thickness of the window pane.

It would take you weeks to find the ‘right’ home, it would be a flat in a secure building that required a fob to get inside, it was at the top of the building forcing you to take two lifts to the top, as well as a flight of stairs, you had passed comment on the two lifts and the flight of stairs were a bit excessive, but he disagreed, thinking he could leave you here for long periods and not worry that someone could break in and hurt, his baby, his Everything.

Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish

I could see Johnny being not quite the polar opposite of Simon, he would still be just as protective and be just as picky with his housing choices, but I could see it being more relaxed I could see him becoming almost manipulative with it, him passing comments such as “Do you think that’s safe, with me gone for so long?” or “Imagine if the light went out in the close, how would you see any threat coming?”

you would nod and agree, not really thinking much of it, just believing he was being a good and dutiful boyfriend, but when you found the home you truly adored and believed you could spend the rest of your life there, you saw it, the manipulation, but just rolled your eyes and fought with him on it. So much so He gave it, hating that it had a wrap-around porch, big bay windows and three entrances, the front door, the back door and the side door.

Captain John Price

Now I think John is a little different, he has already bought and sold a couple of houses so he knows what he likes and what he doesn’t and over the months before asking you to buy a place with him, he would show you pictures, ones he had pre-approved obviously like he was going to show you something he didn’t like or think wasn’t safe enough for you.

When you finally did start viewing properties, he would steer clear of the big houses or the high-rise flats, as Johnny and Simon had bought, he managed to find a pretty house, with a second bedroom for if the boys needed it or for any future kids he had with you.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Now, Kyle, I could see being the total opposite, he wouldn’t care truly he wouldn’t, he felt as long as the door was secure and he could put a few more locks on it, he didn’t mind, all he cared about was his first home that he would share with you. This man would walk around the properties and shrug his shoulders at things, he would pass comments on the wall texture or how he didn’t like how the kitchen layout didn’t feel right, but he would test the front door, practically ramming into it, testing to see how it would hold against someone ramming their shoulder into it.

So much so, that when he first did it you yelped hearing the loud bang, I could also see him finding the townhouses in the city to be very appealing that man would adore the doors since he could put big strong storm doors on them that could damn near survive a nuclear explosion and then he could buy the same for the internal door, I could see him fighting you on this house heavily.

Alejandro Vargas

Now this man is calm collected and stress-free, he has seen Simon’s flat, Johnny’s house, Kyle’s townhouse and John’s house, he had eyed each place taking subtle notes, on how protected he wants you to be, how secure he wants your shared space to be, he takes note on how to behave and how to check if the potential property is up to his standards.

He had gone to properties by himself, checking out prospects, he would never approach you with shitty properties, that didn’t meet his standards, I could see him finding a second-story flat that had a secure entrance, when he approached you with these properties, you had wanted to check out the area check for your first home, he would nod his head and agree, but he knew what you liked and what you didn’t and when you had narrowed to his favoured second story flat, he smiled and agreed.

“Of course, I think it’s a good place to” or “I agree, it seems like the best option.”

#captain price x reader #ghost riley #captain price #johnny mactavish x reader #cod mw22 #cod cod mw22 cod x reader o/b/a #cod smut #cod story #john price #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #captian john price #Captain John Price x reader #task 141 #task force 141 #141 x reader #cod 141 #tf 141 #mw2 141 #call of duty #cod mw2 #tf141

[starkeyscvmsock]

Wrong window - Rafe Cameron

About: When you sneak into Tannyhill, hoping to enter through the grounded Sarah’s room, you accidentally sneak into the very, very wrong room.

MDNI, 18+!

"You've got to be fucking kidding me".

Once both of my feet were in through the window and planted firmly on the carpet, I looked up to see a face I was not expecting to see in a room I was not expecting to be in. The thing is, I had only ever visited Sarah Cameron through the front door, so clearly I had made a slight miscalculation on the layout of the house and snuck through the window of the wrong, very very wrong, room.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Rafe snarled as he jumped up from his bed, a disgusted look on his face at the sight of me. I racked my brain for an excuse, a lie, anything; but spending too much time with JJ had caused me to lose too many brain cells over time and I came up with nothing. So instead, I decided to go with the plain and simple truth.

"I'm here to see Sarah, I thought this was her window" I straightened my back and raised my shoulders, trying to show the man before me that I wasn't afraid of him when, in reality, I had never been alone with him and I knew very well what he was capable of; Pope's black eye could attest to how much I hated Rafe Cameron.

"Oh yeah?" Rafe said as he inched towards me, the sole reason I didn't mirror his steps and move back was because the window pane was already digging into my back. I couldn't go any further. "Yes really, so get out of my way and let me go" I spat as I tried my hardest to use the element of surprise and barge past him as quick as I could, but I was only one step away from him before I felt his large hand engulf my wrist.

"Not so fast" he chuckled, his dimple appearing on his cheek that I had forgotten was even there. "Sarah's on lockdown. Not allowed to leave the house, not allowed to see anyone and most certainly not allowed to even breathe the same air as you pogues" his cocky smirk soon turned to a scowl at the mention of a pogue.

"But you already knew that. Didn't you? Or I'm sure that you'd know our doorbell works just fine" with each word said, a step was taken until I was backed into the wall and Rafe was inches away from my face, his blue eyes almost seeming to shimmer at this proximity.

The grip on my wrist had tightened, Rafe's gold ring digging into my flesh, sure to leave a mark. I tried to pull my hand away but he only tightened his hold. "Fine" I spat, growing angrier as the pain in my wrist increased. "I knew that I wasn't allowed to come. Happy? Now get your grubby paw off me and let me go!".

Rafe only stared down at me, his breathing shallow and a look of resignation in his eyes. An emotion I had never seen on any Cameron's face before. "What?" I spat, trying to pull my wrist free again; this time his grip loosened, causing the pain to ease but his hand still stayed wrapped around my wrist.

"You're real pretty when you're angry, you know that?" he whispered, his free hand coming up to my face and moving a stray curl that had fallen onto my face during my struggle behind my ear. Was this really Rafe Cameron I was looking at right now? The cold, egotistical kook king that beat Pope with a golf stick and constantly harassed me and my friends? He was calling me... pretty?

My heart beat began to pick up and I could feel my face growing warmer as I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "You can't deny it, can you?" He smirked. "What?" I whispered, fearing that if I spoke louder I would remind us both that he was him and I was me, and he was currently holding the side of my face as he pressed me up against his bedroom wall.

"This. I know you feel it too. The spark, the tension. You know it'd be good" his gaze roamed my face, dropping to my heaving breasts for a second so short I was sure I imagined it before returning to my eyes. "What would be?" I asked softly, my free hand playing with the hem of my shorts, a habit I had realised I did when I was nervous. Rafe Cameron had made me feel many things before but nervous wasn't one of them.

Rafe's smirk grew before the hand that was holding the side of my face lowered to the back of my neck as he pulled my closer to him, his lips now by my ear and the hand on my wrist now rubbing it softly. "If I fucked you into a pretty little mess".

My breath hitched at his words, a warm flutter erupting low in my belly at his deep voice and warm breath coasting over my ear and side of my neck. "Rafe" I breathed out, not knowing what more to say. "Hmm" he said absently as he drew back, his eyes dropping to my lips and his thumb going to the bottom lip.

As though my brain wasn't working, my lips slowly parted, before Rafe slowly, oh so slowly made it's way inch by inch into my warm mouth before it was fully in, resting on my wet tongue. His lips parted as he let out a low breath; his eyes had now grown a darker shade and the heat in them is what caused me to close my lips around his thumb before slowly swirling my tongue around it, all while looking into his eyes that spoke words his brain was too scrambled to verbalise.

"Fuck" he bit out before yanking his thumb from my mouth and replacing it with his tongue as he attacked my mouth with his own. I blamed the fact that my mouth opened for him and one of my hands made it's way into the back of his hair while the other clutched the bottom of his grey North face jumper on the initial shock of his mouth on mine.

His lips were surprisingly sweet and so, so soft. His hips shifted, aligning them with the bottom of my stomach and my mind whirled as I felt the hard, tented evidence that I wasn't the only one feeling the affect of our dirty kiss. "Rafe" I gasped as he bought his face to my neck, licking and biting at the spot below my ear that caused a spark to shoot low in my belly, travelling straight to my core that was starting to throb more and more.

I was shocked at myself for the emptiness I felt when Rafe pulled his face away from my neck; one of his hands yanking my hair back in a closed fist while the other dropped to my ass, clutching it as if it was his life line. Who knew Rafe Cameron was an ass man. His nose rubbed against mine as we both panted heavily, his gaze resting on my lips.

"Tell me you want this. You want this don't you baby? You need it, I can see it in those pretty eyes of yours" he breathed out as he rolled his hips into mine, causing my eyes to flutter closed at the feeling of him rubbing against my clothed core.

I nodded quickly, trying to pull him to my mouth again by his jumper but he pulled back, his grip tightening in my hair until it was painful. I ignored the fact that the pain shot to my core, increasing the throbbing there. "Give me your words, I know you've got plenty of them" he chuckled deeply. "Yes. Yes Rafe, now please. Just please" I hated the begging in my voice but if he didn't touch me where I needed him soon I would go crazy.

"Please what?". I huffed out an angry breath at his words, why was he still talking? "Please fuck me Rafe" I breathed out. My words bought out the beast in him, as soon as they had fallen from my lips he lifted my legs around his waist and smashed his lips back onto mine.

Our kiss was messy and dirty, our tongues sweeping against each other, his teeth biting into the flesh of my lip every now and then before he would bite down hard, earning a small moan to fall from me. These sounds would only spur him on, his hips rolling torturously against mine as he held me against the wall before finally he had enough of feeling me with barriers between us.

Rafe's warm hand made it's way beneath my top, leaving goosebumps in it's wake before he gripped my breast hard and unforgiving. My breasts weren't large but I had never been so happy with that fact as it fit into his hand perfectly. He gripped the whole thing before focusing on my nipple, tugging the bud until it was hard and aching. I thanked any higher powers that existed that I had chosen not to wear a bra today.

"I wanna take this off, let me take it off baby. You want it off don't you? I need it off" Rafe spoke into my neck as he licked and sucked on it while tugging at the hem of my top. I lifted my arms as an invitation, afraid that if I was to speak it would be a load of gibberish; I was aware that Rafe Cameron's mouth on me had made me a simple being. Rafe breathed a sigh of relief as he ripped my shirt from my body, the sudden cold of the room causing my nipples to harden even more which I didn't think was possible.

"And these, they need to come off. I wanna touch you. Need to touch you, you want me to touch you right, baby? I'll make you feel real good" I suppose I had made him a simple being too as he rambled into my neck while playing with the button off my shorts. I nodded rapidly, that was all the signal he needed to pop the button open while I yanked the zipper down, both working together to rid me off my shorts, leaving me only in my thong.

"God, look at you. So perfect. So pretty" Rafe whispered to himself as he lifted his face from my neck only long enough for his eyes to rover over my body, switching from each breast before settling on the spot between my legs. I could feel that I had soaked through my panties, probably leaving a wet mark.

Rafe had stayed true to his word, he had made me a pretty little mess and he wasn't even inside me yet.

Rafe's lifted two fingers in front of my mouth, I parted my lips and welcomed them into my mouth as I slathered them up with my spit, his face strained as he watched with furrowed eyebrows and gritted teeth. Then, he took them out of my mouth with a pop and trailed them so, so slowly down my torso, between my breasts and down my stomach.

He left a trail of my spit as his fingers went lower and lower; it dried almost instantly, leaving a cold feeling on the strip of cold spit going downwards. Rafe's hand that was clutching my ass to help hold me around his waist tightened, his body going stiff and his gaze dropping to the action as his hands finally pulled my panties to the side.

I flushed with embarrassment and Rafe let out a low curse as we both watched my slick wetness leave a string from my pussy to the thong that he was slowly pulling to the side; I looked up at him as he watched, seeming as if he was in a trance.

Finally, he left the strip of my thong at the side near my hip and ran his two spit covered fingers along my soaking folds. "Shit" I breathed out as I clutched at the hair on the back of his head, my other hand reaching to my breast and tweaking my nipples.

"So wet. Soaked. Told you I'd make you feel good didn't I baby? This is all me. I'm making you feel so good. No one else could make you a mess like this. Only me" Rafe punctuated his ramble with his fingers as he plunged them inside me to the hilt, the filthy sound of my wetness punching the air. "Ohh, fuck Rafe. Fuck" I grit out as my eyes clenched shut, my grip on his jumper tightening as my head fell to his shoulder.

Warmth coursed through me as he pumped his finger in and out of me at an agonisingly slow pace, his thumb now rubbing back and forth on my throbbing clit. "Such a mess. Such a pretty mess" Rafe whispered to himself before he lowered his head to my nipple, licking a circle around it before pulling it between his teeth, wringing a gasp from me.

"Stop, Rafe enough" I gasped. I realized what I had said when Rafe pulled away in alarm, his hands leaving my body and his face alert. He made a move to put me down but I clung to him like a koala on  a tree, rushing to alleviate my mistake. "No, Rafe, Not like that. I just, I need you. So bad. I need you in me, inside me" I rushed out as rolled my hips against him. I know he wanted me too. Needed me. I could feel the evidence between his thighs and however ridiculously skilled he was with his fingers, it wasn't enough.

"You're fucking crazy" he chuckled as he turned around before laying me on his large bed, the soft duvet soothing against my hot skin. Rafe's eyes didn't leave mine as he stood before me at the bottom of his bed while he lifted his jumper slowly over his head, revealing inch by inch his beautiful bronzed skin. Once the jumper was off and thrown in the corner, I allowed my gaze to rove over his torso.

His abs glistened with a light sheen of sweat and his chest was flushed, rising up and down as he breathed steadily. My breath hitched in my throat as my gaze dropped to his long fingers, slowly and torturously pulling his belt from the buckles in his jeans, the action slow and controlled as he teased me without even touching me.

My breathing picked up as Rafe rid himself of his jeans and boxers, allowing me to catch a glimpse of his large angry cock before he lowered himself on top of me. "You still hate me?" he smirked as he ran his lips up the side of my neck. "You still classist?" I asked with a teasing smile on my face. It soon dropped as Rafe placed my legs around his hips and slid his hard cock that was dripping with precum through my folds and nudging my clit, wringing a moan from me.

"Always" he smirked as he rolled his hips, taking in my furrowed eyebrows and flushed cheeks. "Then yeah," I panted, "I still hate you". "Good. Because you're really not gonna like me after I fuck you like a slut" my retort to his words cut off as he slammed himself into me with no warning, his length reaching a depth within me I didn't even know could be reached. 

"Rafe" I yelped as I dug my nails into his shoulders, no doubt leaving marks as I tried to find purchase against his brutal thrusts. "Shhh, my dad's office is just down the hall" he whispered. His thrusts slowed down until they came to a halt, leaving me confused as he lifted his head from the crook of my neck to look me in the eyes.

"You don't want the man who murdered your best friend's father to hear how much of a slut you are, do you?" he smirked, his words hit me like a slap to my face as anger coursed through me. I shoved at his shoulders as he chuckled down at me.

"You piece of shit!" I snapped as I untangled myself from him and tried to leave the bed. I didn't get far as Rafe kept me pinned under him, flipping me over onto my stomach and holding my hands behind my back with one of his while the other clutched the back of my neck, pushing the side of my face into his pillows.

"Get off me! I hate you" I seethed as I squirmed beneath him. A gasp escaped my lips as he pushed back inside of me, thrusting slow but hard, causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head at the warmth in the pit of my stomach and the throbbing in my clit.

"You really want me to? You want to feel empty? You want to have to get yourself off when you get home? Want to be left throbbing like a little slut? Why don't you let me take care of you, baby. You know I can, I'll make you feel so good" he groaned as I clenched around him at his words. With guilt and remorse, I answered by thrusting my hips back into him, causing the pace of his thrusts to pick up.

"That's my girl" he chuckled as he thrust into me harder and faster, his panting in my ear turning me on more, making me wetter. "It worked didn't it?" he asked as he lifted my hips up so that I was on my knees with my face in the pillows and him on his knees behind me.

His thrust harder and harder as my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Angry sex is so much better than normal sex" he leant down and whispered in my ear with a smirk on his face. I grew more angry as I realised what he did. "You di-" my words cut off as his hand landed roughly on my ass, leaving a delicious sting in it's wake.

"What was that princess?" I answered with a moan as his hand wrapped around to toy with my clit. He flipped me over again onto my back, his hand coming up to grip me by my throat while the other held my hip in a punishing grip to anchor his punishing thrusts. "That feel good?" he asked.

"Mmm" I mumbled, my eyes closed and bottom lip between my teeth. His thrusts stopped completely and my eyes flung open in alarm. "Look at me while I'm fucking you, you little slut" he snapped as his grip on my throat tightened, causing little white spots to appear in  my vision. "Please" I breathed out. "Please, I'm sorry" my voice came out as a whine due to his grip on my throat.

"Look at you" he smirked as he began thrusting his hips again, even harder than before if that was possible. I gripped at his hair, probably to the point that he was in pain but he didn't seem to care as he looked down to where we were one, watching his cock slip in and out of my soaking folds with each thrust.

"If only your little boyfriends could see how much of a needy little whore you are" he chuckled to himself. "But they won't, will they?" his gaze retuned to mine. I shook my head the best I could with his grip on my throat, not trusting myself to speak. "Only me. You're mine now, my little slut" he grit out. His eyebrows pulled together and his lips parted as he began to pant heavily.

The coil in my stomach was getting tighter and tighter, getting ready to snap, and I know Rafe was close too. "Rafe, I- I think I'm going to-" I couldn't finish my sentence as he gripped my tit and lowered his head to the other, taking it in his mouth.

"God, me too. Come for me, baby. Come on, let go" he said as he landed one particularly brutal thrust, causing me to see not stars but the whole galaxy as I felt his cum leak inside of me, only intensifying my crushing orgasm as I clenched around him, milking him and myself for all that we had.

Rafe lifted his head and looked at me, sweat pooling on his forehead and his hair hanging in front of his beautiful blue eyes as he looked down at me. "We're doing that again, right?" he grinned down at me as he wiped the tear that had fallen from my eye at some point with the pad of his thumb.

I realised one thing as I felt him begin to harden again inside me. Rafe Cameron fucked how he fought; rough, unfair, unforgiving and he always, always got what he wanted.

#rafe cameron #rafe smut #smut #imagine #outer banks #rafe obx

[toruro]

hi mika:3 i have an idea slash request (or a thot bcs i wanna here ur input wtv ur more comfy with) thats rotted my brain for like months esp since minghao hosted that expensive ass monthly meeting…. but minghao fucking you on the cold glass windows of the penthouse he paid for for a night or a few overlooking the city 👩‍💻💿

(p.s. ive been waiting to share this idea with u if u opened back up ur requests bcs i wouldnt want to lend it to any other author 😭💋)

mile high club ... ?

pairing. minghao x reader tags. smut (18+ / mdni), fluff w/c. a/n. i almost teared up reading this. i am gutted. the fact that u wanted to share this w me and ME ONLY?!>!? i love u so much :[

you should've known. should've known that your sneaky little fiance was up to something when he gave you that sweet, sweet smile and told you to put on your prettiest dress and your prettiest heels this evening. should've known he was planning on treating you to something a little bit bigger than just dinner.

you're still not sure why it came as a surprise to you when minghao took you by the hand and whisked you away from the restaurant you two had just dined in, and took you on a long drive under the cool night sky.

giggles and looks from the corner of your eyes, you noticed that minghao took you down a road which you didn't recognize as 'on the way home.'

"baby, where're we going?" you asked him lazily. the windows were ajar and the evening winds blew through his black hair as minghao focuses on the road. you grin at the sight, reminding yourself to tell him later to cut his hair less often.

smirking, hao smooths a hand over your bare thigh, caressing the skin with his thumb. "you'll see baby, you'll see."

and see, you most definitely did.

it didn't take long for him to pull up in front of one of the fanciest hotels in downtown, shushing all your questions as he excitedly helped you into the glass elevator that overlooked the city, taking you all the way up to the top floor despite your questions.

"hao, what is this about?" you attempted to ask through muffled giggles as he pressed kisses against your lips as an attempt to keep you quiet.

"just look," he muttered, pulling away so he could key in some code on the final floor. what lay behind the door was the massive layout of the hotel penthouse, large windows that showed off the glittering, buzzing lights of the city around you.

as you make your way to one of the wide glass panes, looking down and over the sight. minghao carefully follows behind as you mutter out words of thanks and praise for finding such a beautiful space ... "so pretty hao, i love it ..."

there he is now, digging his face into your neck as he wraps his arms around you from behind. lips and tongue trace over your shoulder blade as you melt into minghao's arms, head lolling to one side to make it easer for him to reach his favorite spots.

his arm snakes down between your legs, digging under the painfully high cut dress you've got on (minghao says 'painfully high cut' not because it was painful for you but because it made him so fucking hard it hurt).

you moan the second his deft fingers brush over the lacy clothe of your panties, playing with your cute 'n' sensitive clit as your legs begin to lose their stability. and fuck, minghao hadn't even had the chance to slip his tie off before you press your ass over his clothed cock, murmuring about how you gotta have him right now ...

"gotta prep you first baby ..." he tries to mutter in your ear, words drying on his tongue when you press behind and into his crotch harder.

"wan' it now," you whimper, one hand falling forward to press against the cool glass of the windows, the other reaching back to latch onto minghao's and play with the hair at the nape of his neck. so hot and sticky, minghao pressing your head forwards so your cheek's against the glass, hot air blowing steam on the windows ...

clanking of belts and popping of buttons as he quickly shoves his pants down, weeping cock springing out and hitting your ass over your dress ... fuck, your dress. you just look so pretty with your back arching upon his touch, short cloth running higher up your thighs until he can see the peek of your lacy white panties.

minghao just can't hold himself back, the way you call for him so prettily and so he's shoving your dress up 'n' over your ass, scooping one finger through the fabric of your panties so he can yank them to the side ... his cock's leaking all over you by now, precum smearing over the plush skin of your ass.

and with heavy breaths rumbling in his throat, high and breathy whines slipping from yours, minghao slips his throbbing cock into the fluttering walls of your cunt ... hugging hao's fat length so nicely his fingers might burn bruises into your hip from holding too tight (lip sucked between his teeth as he chokes back moans).

his thrusts start quick, each one dragging out of your warm folds slowly before ramming back into you in one go. your body lurches against the window, has pressed against the smooth surface as you try to hold on, try not to lose yourself to the way hao's fucking the life out of you over the city ...

feels so good, and you can't help the way you whimper whenever his skin slaps against yours, firm grip pulling you back into his hips for an other jostling thrust ... "feels s'good baby," hao rasps from behind you, leaning forward to press his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in you scent and watching the view from next to you.

the scene's so pretty and you're moaning his name so cutely when he pounds into you from behind, throttling with every snap of his hips ... tits pressed into the glass as he snakes a hand over your stomach and fuck, hao's so grateful. so fucking grateful, and so he's whispering praise into your ear ... "you're so pretty like this ... pretty thing with a pretty view ..." and it's got your brain buzzing like crazy.

your orgasm is creeping up on you, so best believe you hold on tight. can't have you falling asleep already, right? after all, seeing you all pressed up against the steamy glass has the gears in hao's mind spurring, and you'd be a fool to think he wouldn't fuck you on every surface of the room until your cute cunt's fucked raw and spilling with his cum ...

#minghao x reader #minghao smut #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #💌 drabbles #answered #✰ 💿 anon

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to needleslace for sending this lovely 1939 brick cottage in Jackson, Mississippi. 4bds, 3ba, $229,900. There are some very interesting things inside, (as well as the peace sign on the door), but it's priced so right, it has a lot of potential. Firstly, I love ivy-covered cottages, but the bushes need trimming and the weeds need pulling.

This house is in desperate need of staging. The round entrance hall can be absolutely stunning, and it's just "there," nothing special.

There's a nice big living room with double doors to a sunporch and a beautiful fireplace. Clouds are very hard to paint and the ceiling looks like an amateur just smeared some paint swirls up there.

Sadly, the ceiling artist also hit the fireplace, but that can be painted over.

Fancy grilles were added to the doors, but it's a cottage, so I like the plain window panes.

This is the porch that the doors open to. It needs staging to look more appealing. It's so dark, too.

Some people don't like galley kitchens, but they're named after ships kitchens and were developed b/c the layout is very efficient. I think it could use a little brighter backsplash.

There's a counter dividing the dining room which is spacious and has pretty, built-in corner china cabinets. That big window is beautiful- it needs a beautiful garden to look at.

Love this arched doorway and curving stairs together.

The guest powder room tile looks like a DIY.

Beautiful round landing. and arched doors. Love how you can see the chandelier.

I don't know if this is the primary bedroom, but I think it is. If it's not, then they didn't include it in the photos.

Because of the date and style of the house, original bathrooms will be small, standard 3pc.

This looks like an attic bedroom and buyers will see that it's hot up here b/c there are 3 fans lined up.

The best part of the house is the castle staircase to the basement. Look, it's so recent, they haven't even cleaned the mortar off the floor.

It looks like they're about to put new tiles on the hearth of this great fireplace.

Nice big finished basement.

And, there's a newer bath down here, too.

For the price, this house has so much potential. The brick patio needs a weeding, and it will be beautiful.

8,712 sq ft lot needs some work, but it can be a great yard and garden.

https://www.redfin.com/MI/Jackson/301-S-Brown-St-49203/home/102671090

#stone cottage #cottages #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour #submissions

[p8rasite]

FINE.  ›  SUNG HANBIN ݃ 0612

synopsis.. where hanbin says it too often, he starts to believe he is.. until he isn’t.

muses.. roommate! hanbin x gn! reader

pantone.. angst & comfort ft. and they were roommates

cw + tap the mic.. self-doubt, reader kinda dislikes hanbin & mention of drinks + first zb1 writing let’s gaur! this was a mix of request & word vomit so i hope this is good enough 🥺 also new layout : @/stealanity & @/chiyuv

“no one’s here, come again in four to seven business weeks.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. as clear as it is that hanbin doesn’t want to entertain anyone at the moment, you refuse to let him be. not when he’s isolating himself within those four walls. not when you can just tug that handle and let yourself in.

so you do.

the abrupt bang of the door against the wall was slightly.. over the top, but at least it got his attention. well, more like his frown, but you can be bothered about the details some other time.

“what are you doing in here?” he mumbles, voice lacking its usual coat of vibrancy. this time, it’s soft and fragile, just like its owner.

you shrug your shoulders. “the kitchen told me you haven’t visited it in a few days so i’m checking in on you on their behalf.”

he chuckles, but even that sounds so hollow. another sign that he isn’t your roommate, but a shell of him. and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re even more a tad bit worried.

“may i?” you gesture to the space next to him, shortly receiving a nod. sitting on the floor—legs stretched out and back slouched against the wall—isn’t ideal, especially not when there’s a queen sized bed just a few steps away. although, given why you’re here in the first place, you suppose you could refrain from complaining this time.

(singular—you’re already stressing that before your friends can make assumptions.)

the two of you let silence wrap around you like a blanket, one neither of you seem eager to remove. you excuse your awkwardness by claiming you want to take in your new surroundings before moving further. to which, in fairness, makes sense because this is your first time in his room.

weird, isn’t it? living in a place where you’re familiar with everything but your roommate and his space. there were times where he left his door ajar enough for you to catch glimpses inside, but nothing could have prepared you to see it in its entirety.

so tidy, so cozy, so.. hanbin.

the young man in question fidgets with his sweater’s sleeve, a loose thread in particular. a translucent pane of absentmindedness hovers over his cocoa-tinted irises as he twists the material between his lithe fingers.

“i don’t know what’s missing,” hanbin gauges your reaction (seemingly blank, actually surprised) before continuing. “i gave everything i had to them, constantly tried to do and be my best self to make up for the things i lack, yet they still left.”

you nervously rub your palms upon your thighs, unsure where to pick up after such a heavy confession. there’s also that guilt that chews on your soul as you come to realize that this little mister perfect persona of his isn’t just for attracting people.

it’s supposed to convince those he loves to stay.

with this newfound understanding, you finally speak up, “them leaving isn’t on you.”

his brows furrow, lips slightly parting to reject your words but you lift your hand to cover his mouth. probably not the best idea, ‘specially not when he can just make muffled sounds through the makeshift gag, but it’ll have to do. all you need is for him to listen to you, no interruptions allowed.

“you gave almost all of yourself to them, which isn’t wrong—almost every person who’s been in love has done that. but that isn’t enough to make the relationship work because there’s two of you. now, either it’s a responsibility that they can’t or don’t want to face, which is why they broke up with you.

whichever it is, the fault still lies with them. and that, binnie, is why you shouldn’t be beating yourself up on this. yes, it’s okay to grieve what has been lost. but at the end of the day, you should acknowledge and accept that it isn’t your fault.”

you’re completely winded by the end of your speech, you don’t realize your hand had pulled away halfway through it. but then you notice the upward curve of his lips, and your eyes instinctively narrow at the suspicious sight.

“did i say something funny?”

he shakes his head and points out, “you called me binnie.”

..damn. you were so caught up in your rant that you hadn’t noticed your mistake. with a light hit at his shoulder, you grumble, “don’t read too deep into it, i just heard one of your friends constantly call you that so it slipped.”

“are you sure~?”

“yes.”

“very sure~?”

“..‘right, that’s the end of our therapy session. i expect you to pay me with a cup of karak tea later.” a groan emerges from the deepest part of your tired soul as you get back on your feet, backside sore from maintaining the same position for at least 10 minutes.

right as you’re on your way out, hanbin calls your name. intrigued confused as to what else he’d need, you take the chance and turn around. those busy fingers you noticed earlier? now they’re put together to make a unique heart gesture.

“thank you for keeping me company and opening my eyes to the bigger picture.” the warmth and cheeriness hasn’t been fully restored yet, but you can hear a sliver. and regardless of whether you admit it or not, you feel proud of yourself for assisting in bringing it back.

“no need to thank me, matters like this are why roommates were made.”

(uh huh, sure..)

❀ ... ⃕ not sure if i’ll make a taglist but feel free to donate to my kofi ! now, would you like to return to the masterlist? yes / no.

#zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone scenarios #zerobaseone imagines #sung hanbin #zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #hanbin imagines #hanbin scenarios #sung hanbin imagines #sung hanbin scenarios #zerobaseone x reader #hanbin x reader #sung hanbin x reader

[cake-apostate]

The Layout of Dracula's Castle

(The castle in the book, not Castlevania).

I'm writing a fic that starts in Dracula's castle, and I figured I'd share my notes for whoever needed it.

Disclaimer: The castle is a maze of locked doors, stairs, and corridors, and Jonathan doesn't always specify how long or far he walks, so it's impossible to give an exact layout.

The castle was built on a cliff with three cardinal directions sloping down a precipice. Two of those directions are south and west.

Dracula and Jonathan are described as carrying lanterns, and Jonathan is delighted to see a window large enough to see color in the moonlight, so presumably there aren't any sconces and the windows are too thin to see by at night.

The main entrance is inside of a courtyard, and leads to an entrance hall. 'One or two' rooms near the hall are unlocked, but contain nothing but dusty, moth-eaten furniture.

Most of the action takes place on a floor with a dining room, a library, and a bedroom for Jonathan. To get to the dining room from the entrance, Jonathan goes along a corridor, up a winding stair (number of storeys unspecified), and then down another corridor. From the dining room are three other doors; one door is locked, one door leads to a library/study with English books and a sofa, and the last door leads to a small windowless octagonal room that in turn leads to Jonathan's bedroom. Unlike the rest of the castle, the rooms on this floor are described as grand, the logs in the hearth fires are new, and the furniture is ancient but in excellent condition. Jonathan's room has one window with a view of the courtyard.

From there, Jonathan goes up the stairs to a room with a window with a south view; judging by how he doesn't mention a door (or more pertinently, if it was locked), I'm guessing that this 'room' is actually a landing. This is where he sees Dracula emerging from his room 'lizard-fashion.' Again, it's not specified how many levels he went up to reach this room.

Dracula's room is one storey below that room, and the window faces south. Whenever he crawls out the window, he goes down and east. Jonathan only enters or exits through the window, but I presume there's a locked door to the rest of the castle that he doesn't mention. The room is surprisingly bare and dusty, with unused furniture and a pile of treasure just lying there. An open door leads to a steep spiral staircase and a tunnel smelling of grave dirt; this leads to the chapel.

The chapel floor was dug up and used as a graveyard. This is where the boxes of soil come from, so it seems like Dracula was buried here for some reason. There are two vaults, one of which is empty, and the other is where the boxes are stored (and where Dracula sleeps). Again, Jonathan doesn't mention a door leading outside, but those mortal workers have to get those boxes in and out somehow.

The women's quarters are a storey below the floor with the dining room. A set of suites line the southern edge of the castle, and the room where Jonathan encounters the three vampire ladies is in the southwest corner (with windows along both the south and west walls). Jonathan describes the location as 'further to the right' than the rooms he knows, whatever that means; if you interpret this as Jonathan looking at the front door from the outside, south and west on the right would insinuate that the front door faces north. The furniture in the room is described as more comfortable, the room is full of dust, and there are no curtains on the large, diamond-paned windows.

#dracula #jonathan harker #friend jonathan #count dracula #our friend jonathan harker #dracula daily

[the-settingsun]

King of hearts, chishiya x reader

Warnings: gore, violence, niragi (implied attempted assuault), drugs

Please put on a set of handcuffs and take your seat behind the table.

Kuina approached the plaque, waiting for you. She was in no state to have her hands restricted, having cleared the Jack of spades recently the flimsy bandages you wrapped around her arms could fall apart any moment. You stared at the handcuffs.

“I can do this.”

She understood, offering a good luck hug as she descended down the stairs, waving at you one more time. It was hardly believable that she could kick your ass in seconds when she looked this adorable. 

Only two sets of handcuffs remained on the table when you had approached it. You struggled a bit with restraining your left hand, prompting you to use the table as a support. They locked into place with a mechanical click. The game venue was a penthouse. With the posh furniture and extravagant accents it reminded you of The Beach. The entrance was a hallway in a U shape, splitting off into two directions, a balcony and further into the apartment itself. Trying the balcony door, you had no luck. It still had a modern look to it although some of nature had tried to break through the glass panes, it seemed untouched by the Borderlands so far. Screens decorated most of the walls, with arrows guiding you towards what you presumed was the table instructions mentioned. You needed to make a mental note of the layout before following them. The apartment consisted of two bedrooms joined to their respective walk-in closets and bathrooms as well as a game room main feature of which was a set up pool table. 

Amidst your search the familiar feminine robotic voice announced: “Registration now closed. Game will begin shortly.”

The shelves were full of liquor bottles. Reaching for one of them you checked them for expiration date or the year they were made, which was absent, as to be expected. You checked the drawers under them, thanks to your brief time spent with Niragi you recognized the smell of cannabis, making it easy to conclude what was in the other packages. 

“Excuse me.” A girl dressed in a uniform-like dress passed you, brushing against your shoulder. She had a shaved head and a backpack thrown over her right shoulder. She must be the last contestant. With your pre-game routine finished, you followed soon after her. 

The room unveiling before you was an open area with another entrance to the balcony. Similar shelves as to ones in the game room surrounded a giant screen with the familiar words: GAME. You sat down. Behind the table were eight contestants, excluding you. One seat remained vacant. To your right sat a woman in her early thirties, hair slicked back into a bun held by a clip matching in the cherry red color to her nails. The empty seat was the head of the table to your left, the other was occupied by an older woman in a denim dress. Pair of men noticed your presence, whispering something before one spoke up. 

“She was at The Beach.”

He nudged his friend and leaned forwards, putting his hands under his chin. The girl that entered before you sat two seats to the right at the opposite end of the table. Her backpack awkwardly behind her as she sat on the edge of the chair. 

“Game start” 

The screen lit up simultaneously as the voice spoke the words. 

“Game: Cops and Robbers

Difficulty: King of Hearts

Time limit: 24 hours

Weapons not allowed.”

Time limit 24 hours? That explains the beds and stockpile of alcohol and food. You took another glance at your opponents, three of them grew nervous with the mention of time, interesting. Your train of thought was halted by spotting a familiar white jacket out of the corner of your eye. Chishiya Shuntaro. That bastard. A wave of disappointment washed over your body, seeping deep into your bones. Of course he would be so smug as to take on a King game. He just stood there, unbothered, looking at the screen. You told yourself he was dead. He was dead, that's why he never showed up. That's why he didn't respond to any messages left at game sites by Kuina or you. Not wanting to look at him a second longer, the focus was shifted to the screen again. Yet you felt all your emotions centered at the blonde asshole leaning against the wall. What little shown of his face illuminated in white light revealed the heavy eye bags under his feline-like eyes. 

“Rules: 

- Keep the robber, the king, from taking off his handcuffs. If he takes off his handcuffs it is game over for every cop.

-If a cop is in handcuffs by the end of the game, it is game over for them.

- Each player will be dealt five cards. Among these fifty cards there are ten cards with the combination for a key along with the handcuff number they correspond to. Imputing a wrong code results in Game Over. Ten contain information about players, ten are general statement cards which reveal a sentence truthful about one or more participants, ten are blank cards, ten are question cards to which the question must be answered truthfully. Failing to do so results in Game Over. 

-If a participant leaves their seat during a round it is game over

-Once ten cards have been played the participants have freedom to move however they want, to continue playing all participants must sit at the table before the end of the break. Each break lasts one hour, if the time limit ends during a break it is game over for everyone.

-Key cards of a deceased participant shall be added to the participant following their turn, Information, Key card of numbers corresponding to deceased players, Truth, Blank and Statement cards will be rendered invalid, playing them results in game over. Playing another player's card also results in Game over.

-Game Clear, each of the cops have been freed and the robber-King of Hearts remains handcuffed.”

Chishiya took his seat as the rules finished being read.

A low whisper arose among the participants as the rules kept appearing. The game seemed simple enough, it is hearts after all. The real problem is the human aspect. You glanced at your handcuffs, 4. The lady next to you was 3 and the girl with the shaved head was 6 or 8. The two guys that sat together were probably 1st to arrive based on their seats. Furthest from the entrance. Chishiya had to have been here for a longer time too but the registration was not time limited so he might as well have arrived sooner than them. Based on how untouched the alcohol and what your perspective view of food supply allowed it couldn't have been more than a day since the last re-supply. Although this information somehow comforted you, the identity of the king could not be predicted based on numbers or their arrival.

“The round has now started, all participants must remain in their seats”

A cubical hole opened up before each seat, revealing a pack of given cards. The person opposite you, a bulky man in his fifties reached out for his pack, hesitantly everyone followed. Two truth cards, one key card number 6, one statement and one blank. You ignored him, but with a sort of bitter melancholic feeling. You wanted to look, to scream in his face that you and Kuina risked splitting from the group because of him. The game was more important though. It is best to act like you dont know eachother, he must have realized it, and you were not going to hinder his plan. He was your best bet on clearing the game. 

“Lets just give every girl the key card, they cannot be the king” one of the beach guys suggested

The girl with the shaved head laughed in his face, leaning closer to him. “When was that in the rules?”

“Every game we have been to, the king is a man and the queen is a woman,” his friend retorted.

“Honey boy this is hearts. Anyone can be heartless” she paused “or be the King of them” 

After a brief moment of silence, a girl with a loose ponytail raised a card, before she was interrupted by the man next to her, he reached for her forearm, placing one of his hands on her, and made a stop motion with his other one, although you could not see it well since he was on your side of the table, furthest from you. 

“We should start with Statement and Information cards. Do not reveal any key cards until we know who is the king” the man stated with a matter of fact tone of voice.

The woman next to me nodded and shifted in her seat. The first card was played. Statement card. The girl with a loose ponytail carefully placed it in front of her.

“Two people in this room killed someone before entering the borderlands” 

“Murders!” the woman next to me shrieked, taking a shaken breath. “One of them has to be King” 

“Killing someone has no connection to being the King, just like being a man” you commented.

The two guys that recognized you from the beach leaned into one another, revealing their cards to each other. 

“I am next,” The man in a business suit exclaimed, removing his cuffed hands from the girl. He placed down an information card. 

“Yoko Suzuryu, age 17 is engaged to her teacher, a man 18 years her senior.” 

You could just imagine the type of smirk that Chishiya had right now, one eyebrow slightly raised; amused and intrigued. He was often like that when he forced you to play cards or whatever with him. He mostly always won because you were distracted- he looked pretty like that. 

The girl in the ponytail gasped, hands flying to her mouth “How did they-?”

“Got a type ei girl” the man opposite me laughed a breathy raspy laugh, clearly a smoker. 

“It's okay darling, it's alright” The woman at the other head of the table comforted her. The girl sniffled and wiped her tears on her sleeve. The woman next to you placed another statement card. 

“Three people in this room are smokers, one is trying to quit”

It was your turn next. The decision was either a blank or a statement, however you needed to think about your choice wisely, if you remained with the Key card until the end just like everyone else the end game would leave you to play it ultimately dooming the number 6 were it to be the King to win. That card has to remain with you until 6 is dead. Statement.

“One participant in this game has masturbated to another one while they slept in the same room”

What? Everyone at the table fell silent, choosing to ignore the statement, especially the boy duo from the beach. 

One of them, the one wearing shorts and a button up shirt, played a Key card. Number 3, my neighbor jumped up and reached for the code. 

“No!” The man in the business suit tried to stop her. A laser burnt through her head before she realized her fatal mistake. Her body slid onto the floor, blood pooling at the soles of my feet. Yoko, the girl now closest to me shrieked, moving her chair towards her neighbor. 

She was number 3, which meant you got to take her cards, Key for 10 and 7…and invalid Truth along with an invalid Blank. Those two you pocketed. Perhaps a possible strategy is giving someone an invalid card to eliminate them. 

“What the fuck Genji? Whaddya play the Key for man?” his friend raised his voice at him

“It's not girls, I'm telling you the king is a dude. I didn't know she was gonna leap for it like that” Genji defended himself.

The round ended with 6 statements, 2 sets of information and 1 of truth and blank each. The line up was as follows: 

Yoko Suzuruyu, engaged to her teacher sitting inches from

Ryuji Sakamoto, former investment banker and father of two. His Information card revealed the following: Ryuji Sakamoto, age 43, is father to only one of his two children. 

DECEASED

You

Genji, beach member, whose information card was: Genji Fudo, age 19, has been kicked out of his recreational volleyball team for being bisexual

Older woman who comforted Yoko

The man opposite of you

The other former beach member

Chishiya

“Right” Chishiya stated as he presented the empty card. “Shall we continue?”

“The round has now ended, all participants are free to leave their seats”

Yoko sprung from her chair running off to the bathroom, both Ryuji and the older woman followed after her. The man opposite you walked off towards the balcony, lighting a cigarette once turned away. The two men that recognized you from the beach struck up a conversation with you, one sitting in the space between you and Chishiya, the other one shifting in his spot as he tried to stand comfortably.  

“So, how have you been since the beach ended?” Genji spoke “Are you still with that Arisu guy?” 

“We got separated.” You responded in half truth to most of their questions, the other guy, the one still in a swimsuit was called Daichi. Both of them were in police academy.  Why have they not spoken to Chishiya? He was also an executive, and you two were often together…

“When did you guys join the beach?”

“Two days before the hearts game.” Daichi said.

That explains it, they had barely enough time to join the militants and get high. They decided to stop pestering you and after what seemed like the entire hour they walked off to get alcohol. You turned their offer of joining in, you saw alcohol as more of an escape than fun pastime activity.

The first time you drank in the borderlands Chishiya was there for you, that was the first time you felt like he truly did feel emotion, being so cold before even towards Kuina, that night and following day changed your opinion. The human elevator. You had survived by tying yourself to the elevator via a rope, not the best of strategies-it resulted in harsh burns across your arms. It had started with Niragi celebrating his game, as he put it finally good target practice, by chugging half a vodka bottle like water. Which was pretty impressive. He lost his shirt in the process. He sprawled on the seats in the VIP executive booth where you had been noting down the cards gained, you were number 4, responsible for the ledger of cards and number of duplicates. To be honest you had possibly the riskiest position when it came as far as executive duties went, sure Aguni was responsible for all militants but if there was a card missing after being collected you would be the prime suspect and trials were not a thing with Niragi around. That's how you ended up downing the rest of the bottle, trying to stay on his good side when you indulged his demands. 

“Come on? That's all you can handle?” Niragi egged you on “One more come on” 

He grabbed your hand harshly and forced a shot glass in your hand. You downed it, the taste becoming too much, your face scrunched up. “I need a mixer Niragi”

“Alright princess you go bless the Hatter with your little notes and Ill go grab you a drink” he stood up, shaking his head violently. 

With a very unsteady walk you made it to Hatter's room, knocking, one of his bikini girls opened, calling him over. He took the thing, smiling widely as he realized your state. “Finally gave in?”

“Niragi forced me” you mumbled

“Enjoy the… night then” he winked and walked off. 

When you came back Niragi was eyeing Usagi and Arisu who just stood at the edge of the crowd. 

“Leave them be.” you sat back down, head already light and fuzzy. 

Niragi pushed a green soda in your direction. 

“Cheers” he said with a smirk, unaware of his gaze you downed the entire glass, it tasted slightly bitter but you had no clue what brand or sort of soda it was so you didn't comment on it. 

You two talked about your games, Niragi stirred the conversation by talking about his gun and showing off his piercings.

“I think you should size them down a little, the one on your nose doesn't suit your face” 

“Oh that is the wrong size of mine you should worry about” he sneered, looking around. The crowd was just getting wild, so it must have been right before midnight when you passed out. 

“Up we go” 

With that, you were holding onto his shoulders as he carried you to your room. The thoughts in your head were blurred, you were aware of your surroundings well enough that when you saw Chishiya passing by you threw Niragir's hand off and came up to Chishiya instead. Niragi rolled his eyes, deciding it was not worth it. Chishiya was the biggest bother of all to him, and as much as he would love to see him pissed off he turned around and went back hunting. 

There is not much you remember from the morning after, you woke up and took whatever pill Chishiya left on your bedside table. He was sleeping soundly in an armchair next to your bed.  He cared enough to make you able to function that day. Of course you realized what Niragi was trying to do, and as pathetic as it sounds you were not about to confront him, he caused riots unprompted so a tantrum from being called out was not something anyone needed. When Chishiya awoke he made small talk, went to get you some food and came back. Not once during the day he tried to leave. 

“You know, this makes me think you actually tolerate me.” you joked with him.

“I have your Key card” you turned to him. 

“And nothing to say to me apparently” he replied.

“8593” you read the numbers to him. He stood up, one hand in his pocket. “Lets go”

You followed suit, approaching the number 10 vault. “We thought you were dead, I thought you died Chishiya.”

Your defeated confession did not phase him at all. He was focused on making the vault open. 

“Then you underestimate me” 

“Bullshit, you know what this is about.” you raised your voice, lowering it when you became aware of how thin the walls are.

“You promised me, you promised that if we clear the number cards you would be there for me. So far, even seeing Niragi was more of a comfort than you and he tried to assault two out of three girls in my last game.” you whispered, the image of Niragi over you flashing in the front of your brain while staring into his dark eyes. “You pretend to care, but you cannot bother to show it Chishiya”

You turned around, hearing the click of his handcuffs becoming undone.

Chishiya followed your figure as you disappeared through the door. Niragi was alive, that was going to be a hindrance. He had hurt you, and he was not around to stop him this time. Even in his thoughts you came first, he hated that you did. Niragi posed a threat to you. That is why you couldn't have been more wrong. He cared. When he was around you he could not think straight, as if an alarm was constantly going off in his head. He just didn't know how to show it to you. That night when he showed up at your room, he had gone over what he was going to say countless times in his head. Seeing you arrive with Niragi, he was caught off guard. No words needed, he took care of you. Falling asleep while watching over you. In a sense that was the best and worst thing that happened, he did not need an excuse to spend the day with you, but he had no plan, he was afraid that you would say no to him.

He hated that you were in a game with him, that you chose the seat which made your hands so close to his he could feel the warmth. He rubbed his wrists. 

Without a word you waited out the forty minutes. Yoko entered with Sakamoto's hand on her shoulder, the woman following them. He seemed to genuinely comfort her before sitting her down. Chishiya came through the doorway, keeping his handcuffs on, preparing to drop them as soon as the card was played. This round, you sat so that Chishiya was in your field of vision.

“The round has now started, all participants must remain in their seats”

Yoko began the round with a Truth card. 

“A Truth card has been played, player ask your question.”

Yoko looked at the woman to her right, she smiled back at Yoko and nodded. 

“Are you Hiro Takeguya?”

“Yes.”

Yoko looked at Sakamoto, who looked around at everybody, producing a Truth card. Staring at Takeguya. 

“A Truth card has been played, player ask your question.”

“You” he pointed at the man  “why did you kill your daughter?”

He laughed, reached for the pack of cigarettes he had been smoking prior to the round. Took one, lit it and took a drag. “I refuse to answer”

A laser shot through his head. He died leaning back in his chair, cigarette falling to the ground where Chishiya put it out with his foot. Number 8 reached to get his cards, tossing all of them face-up. Disappointed she commented “All invalids” 

It was your turn, first you showed everyone your Key card for number 7. Tossing it on the ground. There was no use for it anymore. You played Key card for Chishiya. He put his handcuffs on the table. 

“You told him the code before the start of the round?”  Shaved head girl questioned. “You working together then?” 

Chishiya smirked as if the prospect of you two being affiliated amused him “No” 

Jesus this man was insufferable. You looked at him, and looked back down to further imprint the idea of something else than teamwork going on. He already must have a plan then, you wouldn't be surprised if he was trying to make it seem like he was outdoing the king, proving he is worthy of being his opponent. It seemed like the face card representatives liked knowing that they are the best, disproving any challengers and Chishiya was making good use of this. He just proved himself to not be the king and challenged the king to a match of wits and manipulation.

Genji followed up with an Information card.

“Hiro Takeguya, age 59 is the Dollhouse killer, responsible for the torture and subsequent death of his daughter”

The woman in the blue dress played a Truth card. 

“A Truth card has been played, player ask your question.”

“The blonde man, what did you do to her?” she inquired. 

“I have not touched her since the game started.” Chishiya replied with a cold expression. 

“A Truth card has been played, player ask your question.”

“Follow up” the girl with the shaved head asked in an accusatory tone  “What did you do to her?”

She kicked Sakamoto under the table. 

Instead of Sakamoto, Yoko replied. “I am going to leave this game, I had wanted to give up for some time now, they just gave me the comfort I needed. Please help them find the king.”

Sakamoto closed his eyes and replied “Comforted her.”

The round continued. Daichi played the card for his own number. With Chishiyas statement card another break started. 

“Every participant in this room knows Niragi Suguru”

With the mention of Niragi Yoko started bawling her eyes out, Niragi has that effect on people. Although considering her confession, she knew this was the end. She thanked everyone with a bow and stood up.

“The round has now ended, all participants are free to leave their seats”

Daichi, Genji and you stood up, presumably going to unlock their handcuffs and you to the kitchen area to get snacks. Your choice was a green tea drink, taiyaki and Chishiyas favorite biscuits. In a way he reminded you of a cat, liking only very specific foods and being adamant about wearing his favorite jacket. These little things are what reminded you that you cared for him, really you did. And that was enough for you. 

Chishiya waited for you, signaling you to follow him. You went into the master bedroom and he closed the door behind him. You sat down on the bed, where he joined you. You handed him the sweets. “I'm sorry Chishiya, I shouldn't have said all that before. I have no right to judge you. ”

“This room kind of looks like your room at the beach.” he played with the packaging.

“Yeah, I suppose it does” you laughed at his attempt to ease the tension, it did not work in the slightest.  

“Did” Chishiya paused, setting aside his biscuits “Did Niragi hurt you?” 

“He tried.” you sighed “We were up against a former band, the King of Clubs team. They had outnumbered Tatta, gaining enough points to send most of us into a hopeless spiral. Kuina said her goodbyes. Me and Usagi ran off. When Niragi realized he was going to die as well, he went after Usagi. And when Arisu stopped him he went after me. I made peace with it. I think some part of me felt like I owed him something, for getting away once and I stopped fighting him. Were it not for Arisu winning us the game there would have been nothing to stop him.” 

You subconsciously dug your thumb into your palm, drawing a trickle of blood. Chishiya reached for your hand, taking both of them in his. Running his thumb over your skin. 

“That night that Niragi drugged you, I was not just passing by. I was waiting for you, hoping you would walk by.” he let go with one hand and pulled his hood down. 

“I wanted to tell you that you make me feel like your whole world. I promised to be with you after the ten of hearts so that you wouldn't leave the beach with anyone else. I did not want to lose you. I care about you and I never got the chance to properly say that, until now.” 

He let go of your hands. Wrapping his arms around you. “I want to be with you” 

You remained silent. 

“So do I.” 

The kiss came naturally, your face instinctively moved to his. Lips meeting midway. It was just brief, natural. Chishiya leaned back in, kissing you once more. By the time it was time for the third round you had finished your snacks, laying in bed together. Chishiya holding your hand in his while explaining his conclusion to you.

“It is Sakamoto, then,” you said.

“I have no doubts about it” Chishiya replied.

“So, do you plan on calling him out or making a drastic reveal? I know you'd like that.” you stood up, stretching your hands a bit. The handcuffs made it hard to move them. 

“No, I would rather spend my truth cards on making you confess your love to me.” he half smirked, not looking away from his cards. 

“You are unbearable Chishiya,” you teased.

You returned first, sat down and took out your cards, rearranging them on the table. The round began with only half the participants. Chishiya once again sat down last. The body of Yoko's female companion was covered with a sheet, Yoko crying softly and Sakamoto sitting stone faced. You discarded the Key card for number 6.

“We should start” Sakamoto proclaimed

“Where are her cards?” Daichi asked. 

“All blanks” Sakomoto looked at Daichi

“Not possible” the girl with the shaved head retorted and pointed at the sheet from which a hand of the older woman stuck out. “She had a Key card.” 

“For Yoko” Sakamoto said, lifting Yoko's hands, showing she no longer had handcuffs. Yoko jerked her hand back.

“The round has now started, all participants must remain in their seats”

Yoko and Sakamoto each played a Blank card. You played a Truth card.

“A Truth card has been played, player ask your question.”

“Sakamoto, did the woman at the head of the table have one or two Key cards.”

“One” Sakamoto calmly replied. 

You hoped Chishiya caught onto what you were trying to do. If he asked Yoko the same question and her answer would differ it would mean that the king is an exception to rules - proving the Kings identity to the others. 

Genji threw out a Blank card and the girl played an Information card. 

“Chishiya Shuntaro, age 25, the son of the chief of directors at Tokyo general hospital was disowned by his father” 

“I knew you were familiar!” Daichi yelled “You burned Niragi!”

“Right.” Chishiya smiled slyly. 

You knew of Chishiyas father, very little, but enough to know not to pry right now.

“Why didn't you say you were from the beach, man? We'd have invited you to drink with us” Daichi asked as he threw out a Key card for Genji.

You, shaved head and Sakamoto were the only ones in handcuffs right now. Yoko also seemed to notice. 

“Her! It's her! She is the king!” she frantically waved her hands, pointing to you. 

The girl with the shaved head, leaned back, quietly murmuring “Fuck, Id never have thought” 

“Alright then, we just have to unlock my handcuffs, wait and its game clear.” Sakamoto leaned back, adjusting his position. 

Chishiya reached for you hand under the table, whispering in your ear. “Im going to enjoy this”

You squeezed his hand, suppressing a smile. 

Chishiya revealed his cards. “Good thing I have this then”

“Yes! Good job everyone” Yoko beamed, looking over at Sakamoto. 

“Yoko,” Chishiya slid forward a card. 

“A Truth card has been played, player ask your question.”

 “How many key cards did the woman at the head of the table have?”

Yoko looked at Sakamoto, then at Chishiya. “One”

A laser charred through her head, blood pooling and dripping down the table. 

“Holy shit. It's you.” The girl with the shaved head 

“The round has now ended, all participants are free to leave their seats”

Sakamoto rushed to get Yoko's cards, but the girl with the shaved head stopped him. 

“6343” she announced. With the way Sakamoto was stretched across the table it was easy to peek at his cards. He had an Information and Key card.

“7-”

“7117” Chishiya beat you to it.

“You lost” the girl pushed him to his seat sticking out her tongue, mocking him.

He had a disgusted scowl on his face. 

“You wanna stay behind and get wasted?” Daichi turned to Genji. They shared a high five and all giddy, left the room. Daichi yelled “We will watch him get shot”

“While doing shots” Genji laughed.

Those two really are something. You sometimes ache to have such a simple mindset, being able to enjoy careless pleasures. Chishiya placed his hand on your back. Careless pleasure huh.

“Lets go.” he urged, the crinkly paper in his pocket gave him away. He'd stolen two if not three packets of the biscuits.

“Look at you, robber.” 

“Oh I'm not the one in handcuffs am I?” 

“Would you like to be” you looked at him, expecting an equally smart ass comeback.

“I think I prefer this.” he gently pushed your body against the wall, pulling your hands to the side, careful not to hurt your wrists and leaned in for a kiss. He had this stupid expression on his face, intense eyes but smiling. 

The girl was in the vault room, imputing her code. “Hey, you two, thanks for whatever you did back there. I'm Mima by the way” 

Sound of handcuffs dropping echoed and she groaned slightly “Jesus, if I hadn't stopped smoking I'd say I need a cigarette.” 

You grabbed the key, Chishiya taking over and unlocking your handcuffs. Chishiya leaned into your ear, placing the set of handcuffs in his pocket along with the key “Were keeping these”

You felt your cheeks burn up slightly. What have you gotten into? Rather what will you get into you…

“Mima, Im Chishiya, this is (YN/)” he chirped.

The tree of you walked out. Kuina was sitting outside, playing with her Lucky charm (which was literally a bomb). You greeted her with a hug. 

“Kuina, this is Mima.” you introduced them. 

“And this is, well” you tried to prepare Kuina, Chishiya walked out the building, eyes closed, hands inside his pocket. 

“You son of a bitch” Kuina smiled widely. 

An explosion sounded above you, right, the airship. Everybody realized, started walking wherever. 

“I have a hideout nearby.” Chishiya raised his voice.

“Great, I need a fucking bed.” Kuina raised her hand. 

“Right there with you Kuina,” Mima added.

“Oh yeah, we do too.” Chishiya raised one of his eyebrows in your direction, thanks to Kuina and Mima being in front of you they didn't catch his expression. 

“You're insufferable,” you said.

“Oh you won't be saying that when Im done with you” 

“I hate you” 

“Do you” Chishiya pulled out a Truth card from the game. You stopped running, amusing him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Never” 

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland niragi #chishiya alice in Borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiyaxreader #chishiya fic #chishiya angst #chishiya #niragi #alice in boderland x reader

[five-rivers]

Sympathique

AO3

@jackdaw-sprite @modordracena

“This is a sympathique clock,” said Clockwork, pulling the rolling stool Danny was on closer.  The clock on the worktable in front of them was table-sized, with a square base and rectangular front.  There were glass windows on all four sides, and the edges and top and bottom were made of shiny, marbled wood with golden fittings.  A pocket watch was attached to its top.  “Have you ever heard of them before?”

Danny rubbed his eyes and shook his head.  He was exhausted.  It seemed like, lately, no matter how much he slept, he never felt rested.  This lecture would probably go in one ear and out the other, no matter how hard he tried to pay attention.  He would try, though.  It’s just… Clockwork had to know how tired he was.  

“In your world, they were first invented by a clockmaker named Breguet.  The inventor only ever sold five of them in his lifetime, each one different.”  Clockwork turned the clock around and opened the door in the back to wind it.  “Each was sold to a prince or a king.  They are still quite expensive today.”

“Mhm,” said Danny, to show he was still listening, still trying.  

“Their most notable function,” continued Clockwork, “is that they each have a recess for a smaller watch to fit into.”  He finished winding the clock and turned it around. “When the smaller watch is placed in the recess, the clock winds it, adjusts it, and resets it, all automatically.  For the time, the late eighteenth century, they were quite marvelous feats of mechanical engineering and invention.  They still are, to some degree.”  

Danny felt his eyes flutter closed, then pulled them back open by sheer force of will just in time to see Clockwork remove the smaller timepiece.  “Exquisite, are they not?”  Clockwork placed the watch in Danny’s hands.  It felt cool to the touch.  The case was glass, letting Danny see all the tiny, delicate gears inside.  

“It’s pretty,” agreed Danny.  

“Precious, even?”

“Mhm,” said Danny.  He let his head fall on Clockwork’s shoulder.  

“It is yours,” said Clockwork, wrapping an arm around Danny’s shoulders.  

“Huh?  What– No.  I couldn’t.  You just said this is super expensive, and you know how often I get into fights.  It’ll break before I even get home.”

“I do,” said Clockwork.  “But this was not made by anyone living.  I do not make anything so fragile.  It will survive your lifestyle.”

Danny blinked sleepily down at the little watch, the burst of energy his surprise had given him already fading.  “Okay,” he said, fingers curling around the watch.  “If you say so.”

“I do,” said Clockwork, reaching over and adjusting the watch’s chain so that it wrapped securely around Danny’s wrist.  “All you have to do is bring it back to be wound.  This will tell you when it is time.”  He tapped a little window on the face of the watch.  “It will turn red.”

“Mhm,” said Danny.  

“You’re quite tired, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”  

“It is a good thing you are here, then.”  

The next thing Danny knew, he was being lifted into Clockwork’s arms and carried.  

Actually, come to think of it…  Danny didn’t remember coming here.  Or why he was here.  He didn’t even remember coming into the Ghost Zone.  Or Long Now, Clockwork’s lair.  Or Clockwork’s workroom.  The last thing he remembered was…  Was… Starting to go to school?  No.  English class, maybe?  He wasn’t sure.  He must be really tired…

He was roused again by the sound of a door opening.  He tilted his head up, just slightly, as Clockwork brought him into a…  It almost looked like a bedroom.  His bedroom, in particular.  The layout was very similar.  There was a desk, a chair, a closet, and bookshelves.  Metal and glass murals of starscapes adorned the walls where Danny had posters.  Glass panes showing the motion of Long Now’s clockwork replaced windows.  But the bed…  

The thing that replaced the bed reminded Danny an awful lot of the recess the little watch went into on the sympathique clock, only raised up, off the ground.  Little chains hung from the ceiling in mimicry of a curtain.  

“Mm?” said Danny, weakly.  

“Shh,” said Clockwork, tone full of affection.  “I know you are tired.  You will be able to rest, now.”

“Mm,” replied Danny, soothed, but not quite willing to completely close his eyes.  

Clockwork brushed away the chain curtain and lowered Danny into the not-bed.  The surfaces within were hard, unyielding, and cold, and yet, Danny fit perfectly into them, as if he belonged there, as if he had been made for it, and it for him.  

Long Now hummed around him, approvingly.  

Clockwork picked up one of Danny’s arms and squeezed his wrist just so.  A little panel slid away, easily, comfortably, revealing the inner workings of Danny’s arm.  There was flesh and blood and ectoplasm in there, clearly enough.  Bone and muscle were easy to see.  There were also gears.  Tiny little delicate things, each made from clear blue ice.  Danny’s fingers twitched, and the gears turned this way and that.  

Danny… was not alarmed.  He did not have the energy to be alarmed.  Further, he suspected that his rest here would give him the time and perspective to not be alarmed even when he did have the energy.  It was very clever of Clockwork, and very kind, very thoughtful, to give Danny the time and space to think about this without getting upset.  

From the curtain, Clockwork selected the thinnest of the chains and fed it into the slot in Danny’s arm.  Like everything else here, it fit him perfectly, and Danny hummed as his gears worked to bring it deeper into himself.  Clockwork then took the little pocket watch and picked up Danny’s other hand, and opened it in the same way, just in time for the chain to make its way out.  Clockwork then took the end of the chain and put it somewhere Danny couldn’t see.  It kept moving, running through him.  It felt good, satisfying, passing through his torso, twining around his heart.  The gears, then, must run deep, must exist throughout his body.  

His core purred with this new understanding even as the knowledge pricked his mind with apprehension and anticipation.  

“I did not mean for this to happen to you,” said Clockwork, “but I cannot regret that it has.  There are consequences, you see, for phasing an artifact made of another ghost’s energy into your body.”  He patted Danny’s cheek.  “But do not worry, do not fear.  I will make sure you are cared for, and that you may continue as you have been.  Albeit with a few adjustments.”

He placed the little pocket watch on Danny's chest and pressed down firmly.  The surfaces beneath Danny shifted, and he realized he was being clicked into place.  Most of the surfaces went down, and the ones to either side of Danny went in, with the effect of fixing him snuggly into place.  But some of the surfaces went up, connecting with Danny, linking him further to the mechanisms of Long Now.  

The last sensation Danny was aware of was that of Clockwork pressing his cold lips to Danny’s forehead, kissing him goodnight.  

.

Danny woke all at once to Clockwork removing him from his… not-bed.  He squirmed away and patted himself down.  He could not, despite expectations, detect any gears or clock parts anywhere on his body.  Excepting, of course, the little pocket watch that swung from the chain wrapped around his wrist.  

“How do you feel?” asked Clockwork.  

“Awake,” said Danny.  Awake, like he hadn’t been for days.  

“Good,” said Clockwork.  “No lingering discomfort?”

Danny shook his head.  

“Good,” said Clockwork, more softly.  “I am glad.”

Danny shifted, uncomfortably torn between thanking Clockwork and never wanting to talk about any of this ever again.  

“I should go home,” he said.  

Clockwork nodded, as if this was expected.  “Remember, when that shows red, return.”

Danny nodded, more sharply, and scurried to the door of the room.  Of his room.  Then he stopped.  “Clockwork?”

“Yes, Daniel?”

“Do you ever have to be wound like that?”

“Like that?  No.”  Clockwork paused for a long time, but Danny got the sense that he wasn’t done, so he stayed, waiting.  “Like many ghosts, I am my lair.  The process is somewhat more involved.”

Clockwork was Long Now.  And Danny had just spent hours - exactly three hours - cradled in its mechanisms, like the pocket watch was cradled by the sympathique clock, like an infant might be cradled by an adult.  

“Oh,” he said.  Then, “Thank you.”

Clockwork inclined his head.  “Any time, Daniel.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2023

[strawberryfragola]

unknown treasure

dragon hybrid! zhongli x reader

warnings: NON!CON VOYEURISM, afab!reader, dragonish zhongli, yandere behaviour, stalking, predator/prey dynamic, breeding kink, hints to oviposition, masturbation, MDNI

zhongli noticed the swell of your hips first. you were wrapped up in a cute little apron, the strings pulled tight around your waist, and inadvertently displaying your curves to the creature who craved someone like you. absorbed in serving a customer, you didn’t notice the stranger studying you. he found his heart warming as he watched you getting flustered at your customers demands, panicking and apologising when you brought the wrong dishes, knocked over glasses and generally made a fool of yourself.

he couldn’t help but smile at your ineptitude, lost in his own thoughts. it didn’t matter you were hopeless, with him you would be perfect. he could protect you, keeping you safe and content in his nest. and those hips, he sighed, his cock throbbing, as images of what he would do to you when he captured you, when you were his treasure, overwhelmed him. you would look beautiful with your stomach swollen with his hoard.

he took his time in approaching you. he needed to play this carefully, needed to eliminate any suspicion of his involvement when he finally made his move. zhongli intended to make notes on anyone who might notice your disappearance, friends, family or (he grimaced at the thought) lovers, who would notify the millelith. he was pleasantly surprised to learn how easy this would be. you were not of liyue descent, any relatives you had were far away and would take months to realise that their letters were going unanswered. you haggled with the fisherman down at the harbour, visited the market stalls on weekends and bought flowers whenever you got paid, but outside of work colleagues, you had no regular interactions with anyone.

it also transpired you had no lover when zhongli finally visited your home. of course, he had only meant to survey its layout, perhaps peek in through a window to see if he could learn anything new about you. what he hadn’t expected was to hear was needy moans from your bedroom window. you were lying splayed out on your bed, chest heaving, cheeks flushed. one hand was trying desperately to cover up your lewd whines, while the other was under the hem of your skirt playing with yourself. with every movement, zhongli could hear a wet squelching as you pumped your fingers in and out of your dripping cunt.

he didn’t realise he had taken his cock out until he was matching your rhythm, stroking himself as beads of precum leaked from his head, smearing his gloved hand. he watched as your thighs began to shake, your moans increasing in pitch as you got closer, and zhongli had to cover his own mouth, muffling his voice as he watched you. he shouldn’t be watching you, shouldn’t be touching himself as he watched you do something so depraved. he should be inside, kissing your neck gently as your smaller body shook beneath him. he would hold you steady as you came, murmuring your praises into your ear in that deep authoritative voice. you were everything to him, more valuable than cor lapis, brighter than mora.

as you convulsed on the bed, back arching as you gasped for breath, zhongli bit back a groan as he came hard into his palm, hot cum splattering the wall next to your window. he rested his forehead against the cool pane of glass as he caught his breath. his legs felt weak from exertion, head spinning as his dark fantasies intermingled with images of your blissed out face as you came. without thinking, his claws dug into the wall, destroying his leather gloves. it needed to be soon. you were his, even if you didn’t know it yet.

a/n: there will be a pt.2 of this soon! im just v busy with work rn but this is it for now :)) enjoy

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact posting #genshin impact smut #zhongli smut #zhongli genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin.txt

[mistiell]

Strange Love Pt.2

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Healer! Reader

Summary: Your first day at the little palace goes relatively well. Until the General tells you that if you don’t take his offer to become an Oprichnik, you’ll be tried for treason.

Warnings: None as far as I’m aware

Word count: 2.3k

Part 1 < current > Part 3

The sun is just barely peeking through the window of your bedroom when you wake from a fitful sleep. The room is cold, the crisp chill of the steadily approaching Ravkan winter seeping through the glass panes of your window, forcing you further into your cocoon of blankets. After a nice long shower and some much needed dinner the night before, you'd returned to your room and passed out the moment your head had come into contact with your pillow.

With a sigh, you roll yourself onto your back, an arm thrown over your eyes to block out the annoying sliver of light that just so happens to be angled directly at your face. It can’t be later than six bells in the morning, breakfast won’t be served for at least another hour. You decide you might as well spend some time exploring. Getting to know the layout of the palace should aid you in escaping.

You roam the halls until breakfast, eating quickly before scurrying out of the dining hall. As confident as you are in your abilities, you feel it would be best to avoid Zoya for as long as possible. You’re halfway around a corner when you bump into someone, knocking you off balance.

When you regain your footing and open your mouth to apologise, you see the person you’ve just run into is none other than the heartrender you had rendered unconscious. He’s got a bandage on his forehead that you assume is because of you, “Oh, um… Hi.”

You offer him a nervous smile and he returns it, though his is a lot brighter than yours, “Hi. I’m Fedyor.”

Oh, so this is Fedyor. Great.

“Oh, Saints. Sorry for, uhm,” You point weakly at your own forehead to mirror where the bandage sits on his and he chuckles.

“It’s alright. I would have done the same.” His smile is contagious, but you still can’t help but feel bad.

“I can heal it for you, if you’d like.” He shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I was actually going to head to the infirmary right after I fetched you for the General.”

“General Kirigan wants to see me?” You ask, stomach twisting up in a knot.

“During lunch, yes.” He states, sensing your hesitance, “It’s nothing bad. I think.”

That does nothing to quell your nerves, but you force a smile nonetheless, “Alright. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course. Anyway, I’m off to the infirmary. I’ll see you later?” His words fill you with a pleasant warmth, briefly wondering if you’d made a friend.

The feeling is quickly squashed when you remember you don’t plan on staying.

“Yeah.” Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, “Later.”

The hours after your encounter with Fedyor fly by. Practice in the anatomy room goes relatively smoothly. It seems your abilities are almost up to par with the others despite your lack of training, which is a pleasant surprise. Before you know it, lunch has rolled around and you find yourself standing outside of the war room.

You knock on the dark wooden doors, noting the carvings that mimic the ones to the dormitories, though this one bares a moon in eclipse. Your heart is thudding rapidly against your ribs when you hear the sound of his ‘Come in!’. You push them open and step through the doorway.

As you close the door behind you, your gaze roams over the room. There’s a large circular table in the centre of the room with what looks like well thought out plans scattered about the surface. Books and maps line the walls and the desk pressed against the far wall. It’s there that you spot the General sat looking over an important looking piece of parchment.

“General Kirigan.” He turns to you with a tiny smile that has you glancing over his shoulder to avoid eye contact, “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, I did.” He states, gesturing towards a chair he’d pulled up beside his desk, “Please, sit.”

You make your way over and sit down wordlessly, picking at the grey embroidery on your kefta.

“I want to discuss your place here.”

“I thought you didn’t owe me an explanation?” You smirk and he huffs a soft laugh.

“I don’t, but I didn’t think it would be fair to leave you in the dark.” He states, gaze shifting to be a little more serious, “Do you know how I choose my oprichniki?” You shake your head, “Skill is an important factor. Ivan and Fedyor are two of the most capable heartrenders I know. They’ve trained for years, honing and perfecting their skills. What I want to know is,” He stares at you as if you were a puzzle, trying to put you together while missing half the pieces, “How did you manage to overpower him so easily?”

You’re silent for a moment. Should you tell him? What could he really do with the information if you gave it to him?

“I sped up my heart rate while he was slowing it. It wasn’t exactly easy, but I managed it.” His brows raise ever so slightly. He hums, and you think he almost looks impressed. You feel an odd sense of pride swell in your chest and can’t help the cocky little smile that creeps up on your lips. “That’s why you want to make me an oprichnik, isn’t it? I impressed you.”

He hums again, this one sounding a little more apprehensive as he narrows his eyes at you. There’s still a slight curl to the corners of his mouth that tells you you haven’t crossed a line, “Something like that. Speaking of, that brings me to my next point. The second quality I look for is loyalty, which is arguably more important than the first.” The humour slips from his face, his gaze turning intense, “Before I can place you in this position, I have to make sure you don’t have any intention of leaking any…important information, to outside sources.”

“What makes you so sure I want to be placed in this position?” He looks back down at the papers on his desk and sighs.

“If you don’t accept the position, you’ll likely be tried for treason.”

“Treason?!” You exclaim before clearing your throat in an attempt to compose yourself, “I haven’t done anything to justify being tried for treason.”

“Helping Grisha flee the country means less soldiers in the King’s army, which hurts our chance at winning the war,” When he looks at you, there’s something akin to sympathy swirling in those dark eyes, “No matter how pure your intentions were, they won’t see it that way.”

Anxiety prickles under your skin at the thought, but you furrow your brows stubbornly, “I told you. I run a clinic. Wherever they end up after they leave my home has nothing to do with me.”

He realizes that whether you’re trying to stretch the truth or not, technically, you wouldn’t be lying. You really wouldn’t know where exactly your patients end up after they leave. Still, he doubts you’d win against the king, “Would you like to take your chances?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then you huff frustratedly, “No.”

“Then I suggest you do your best to prove yourself.”

You have to stop yourself from scoffing. You’ve never been one that likes to be given orders, something he picks up on when he sees the way your jaw works and the way you glare over his shoulder for a split second, “What exactly do I need to do to achieve that, sir?”

If he picks up on the passive aggressiveness of your tone, he doesn’t say anything, “Well for one, you’ll continue your training with the other Corporalki.”

Alright, that’s doable.

“You’ll also be helping me with some of my paperwork.”

“What?” You frown, confused, “Didn’t you just say you have to make sure I won’t leak anything?”

“I did, and I will.” He states. It’s infuriatingly vague, but you don’t press him. Instead, you sigh.

“When should I start?” He smiles a little, grateful for your cooperation.

“You’ll report here after dinner every evening starting tonight. As for how long you stay, that’s entirely up to you.”

You nod, “Is that all?”

He thinks for a moment before nodding back, “That’s all.”

You leave without another word.

—

That evening after dinner, you find yourself outside the War Room once more. This time when you enter, the general is not sitting at his desk, nor is he standing at the war table. In fact, you’re unsure of whether or not you’ve got the time right—you swear it’s just after six bells in the evening—seeing as he doesn’t appear to be here at all.

You venture a little further into the room, hovering near his desk to skim some of the papers resting there. There’s a half finished letter sitting in the centre and you take a moment to admire the penmanship. His writing is rushed but admittedly very pretty as far as handwriting goes, the letters slender and slanted ever so slightly to the right.

There’s a distant thud to your right that sounds like a drawer closing and it’s then that you notice another door, one you hadn’t noticed when you’d been here earlier. It’s cracked open enough that when you lean forward over the desk to get a better look, you can see the corner of a bed and the edge of a dark wooden dresser. You lean a little further, placing a hand on the desk to brace yourself, and see someone standing in front of it. Someone who appears to be in the middle of getting dressed.

Your face flushes and you immediately right yourself as you realise that you’ve just seen none other than General Kirigan bare from the waist up. Granted, you only caught a glimpse of his back and shoulders, but it was enough to set your cheeks aflame and let loose a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

You back away from his desk and glance down at the papers again, finding a couple of the letters smudged a bit. A little panicked now, you look at your hands and find several backwards letters printed on your fingertips.

“Y/n.” You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice, going completely rigid as you clasp your wrist behind your back and attempt to wipe the ink off on your kefta. He’s dressed now, donning a black robe that leaves a sliver of his collarbone visible. When you catch yourself staring, your gaze slides back up to his face and you find an amused smirk hung on his lips.

“Gen-,” Your voice cracks up an octave and you clear your throat, “General Kirigan.”

“I apologise for leaving you waiting. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” He comes closer and you back up to let him pull out his chair and sit down. There’s an awkward pause where you simply stand there rocking back and forth on your heels until he gestures to the armchair, smiling at you, “You can sit down.”

“Oh, right.” You curse yourself for being so flustered as you settle into the chair, “So, what am I helping you with?”

“You’ll be reading over and summarising some documents for me.” He sets a fair sized stack of papers to the side of his desk closest to you and hands you a large notepad and a pen. He clears off a little space next to the papers for you and looks up at you apologetically, “I hope you don’t mind sharing a desk.”

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head, taking the pen and scooting the chair closer to the desk. The documents he has you reading over don’t seem to be incredibly important, and summarising them proves to be a relatively easy task.

As you sit there writing away, the general can’t help but glance at you out of the corner of his eye. Your brows are slanted downward ever so slightly in concentration, pen scratching against the parchment fast as you scrawl letters across the surface. He shakes his head subtly, turning his attention back to his own work.

Maybe two hours later, you sit back in your chair with a subtle huff and attempt to roll the stiffness out of your wrist.

“Perhaps we should take a break.” When you look up, you find the general leaned back in his own chair.

“That might be best.”

You take a few moments to look around the room once more, gaze landing on the nearest bookshelf and as you try to make out the titles from where you sit.

“Did you grow up in Duva?” He asks suddenly and you turn to him a little confused.

“Yes, why?” You answer hesitantly, unsure of his sudden interest in your life.

“Just curious.” He pauses, gaze flitting over your face, “I’d like to get to know you better.”

You pause and he notices the apprehensive look on your face. Still, you shrug, “What do you want to know?”

“What was it like living there?”

“It was just my mother and I and she rarely ever let me accompany her into town, so there really isn’t much to tell.” You state and he frowns.

“Why wouldn’t she let you go?” He asks and you shrug again.

“She said it was something about keeping me safe. Didn’t stop me from sneaking out when I was older, though.” You huff a soft laugh and he smiles at you before his brows furrow in confusion.

“You were alone when Zoya and the others found you.” He watches you tense and immediately regrets his words. A pained look flashes across your face before you will it to remain neutral.

You glance over his shoulder and swallow, “I was.”

There’s a moment of silence before the realisation dawns on him and a pang of sad understanding blooms in his chest, “I see.”

When you nod curtly and wordlessly return to your work, he takes it as a sign to stop talking and return to what he was doing. You only stay another hour before bidding him a rushed goodnight.

#aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova fanfiction #aleksander morozova x you #aleksander kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling #the darkling fanfic #the darkling imagine #the darkling x reader #the darkling x you

[t-hornapple]

Have you ever talked about your art process with a focus on composition and how you block out shape+values? I really admire how you do that in your work, and it’s something I find particularly difficult to do myself, so if you’ve ever posted about it (incl. on your patreon?) I’d love to read it. Thank you!

I haven’t, no one’s ever asked before!

Short answer is that tones can be a lot of trial and error (I don’t always know what will be black vs white vs filled in with stripes to knock it back a bit), and composition is just second nature these days. But I can illustrate my thought process and show you how compositions work with a few examples:

The Knight of the Tapestry has a really busy cloak pattern and, arguably, the details of the armor read quite busy as well. And since the knight and these patterns are the focus, it needs to be surrounded by things that will 1) balance it out and let the eye rest; 2) provide form contrast so we can see the subject clearly.

The cloak is balanced out a lot by the black shadow and the black lining. The white window panes to the left also help give some balance to it all. You could also use the word “contrast” instead of balance—I am contrasting Highly Patterned with no pattern, just black or white. This is what b&w art really makes you good at—instead of balancing color, you really balance the heaviness of an area, and focus on balancing out levels of detail to help guide the eye to the subject.

Compositionally, all the lines around the subject guide to the subject. This is one reason why I like putting so many windows in my work, they’re a really really easy way to get the background to do a lot of heavy lifting for you.

The rule of thirds is… sort of at work here with the window / knight / screen filling up (roughly) thirds of the piece. This breaks below his feet, though, where the composition is split into two, and the horizontal line of the floor is also at the half-way point (though the knight’s feet are slightly closer to a 1/3rd mark horizontally.) Just goes to show, rule of thirds has some wiggle room. If you do struggle with compositions, though, try the rule of thirds. Or try my favorite guy, the Van de Graaff layout. (I will talk about this later if anyone’s interested, though I don’t use it TOO much in my illustration work, but only for book layouts, etc)

This one I struggled a lot with figuring out what should be black or white, and how many tiles to give a pattern. Medieval tiles could be very elaborate, and a lot of extant medieval floors show a multitude of different patterned tiles being used all together in a mad sort of mashup. I tried that—and it was overwhelming. I had to really pick and choose 1) what pattern I was going to use; 2) how many tiles were going to have a pattern. I ended up with this triangle one because the geometric pattern balances out the organic patterns of the cloak. It lets them breathe and be, really, the only very organic pattern in the piece (the quatrefoil cut outs of the screen are arguably organic, but also geometric…). So this was a lot of trail and error. For me, still, tones and black fill are very much a “fuck around and find out” sort of exercise. There’s one I did more recently that was a HUGE trial to figure, and I’d talk about that one, but despite everyone being clothed in it, tumblr keeps banning it when I try to post it. (It is very suggestive, I won’t lie.)

Okay, let’s look at the Martyr’s Cross Club, one with (at first glance) quite odd composition. You “should” put the subject in the middle, right? Or maybe not have him so far out on the left there…? Except he’s not the subject. This is a piece looking at the men enjoying him, so they get more emphasis.

For tone and balancing, the very busy damask (which is based on a real damask by the way from the Met), is the background to the two figures on the right. The right-most one is just in his shirtsleeves, and his hair is just filled with flat black. This balances out/gives contrast to the patterned curtain, and lets the eye rest. The guy next to him, for contrast, gets to have some fun pattern on his coat. The rest of the room is black and white, and the heaviest use of black is on the cross, which is up against a wall without much detail so that I get the maximum contrast possible. It really sticks out, despite there being an insane damask on the right side of the piece.

I think this one is really good for showing how to use patterns/tones/high detail without overwhelming the composition or making it hard for the eye to read. Left to right, it goes: white / black / white / pattern / white / pattern. There’s white buffer between everything, well, not white, and that lets the eye rest, and makes everyone stand out clearly from each other.

As for the composition, this is an interesting one because we have invisible composition lines. The curtain and the cross are the strongest composition lines, but the gazes of the men take us across the piece to the guy on the cross. There’s no line, just the gazes of the subjects. We want to see what they’re seeing. It’s really cool. There aren’t many (or any) compositional lines really leading up to the mirror above the cross, which is why a lot of people miss it the first time they see the piece. It’s a little treat for those who linger.

For me, my eye always rests on the guy at the far right (but maybe just because I think he’s the hottest one in the piece.)

Lastly, we’ll look at The Vase, since this one gets the most comments about its composition (and I cherish them all).

This one follows the same rules as always: pattern and high detail is balanced out by white and black. A geometric pattern (stripes on that ottoman or whatever it is) is right behind an organic pattern, which is also up against a black window. The molding on the mantle is next to rough brick texture. The laurel frame is against a white wall. It breathes. You can wander from pattern to pattern, detail to detail. They all take the center stage—the subject is, after all, the vase itself. The people in the art piece are little bonuses to be discovered as you wander around.

Some of the lines go to the vase. Some of them don’t. This is a piece where the eye wanders a lot, but it never leaves the frame much. You keep getting pulled back in and around by all the weird shapes. I think the invisible striking arc of the crop could also be a composition line that people follow—I don’t, but it’s conceivable. (And of note: the crop is not in the act of striking, but it's being flexed in the guy's hands. That does not probably come across tho)

This sort of composition, where you deliberately fuck with the viewer and pull their gaze to something that usually isn’t the subject, is really fun to do. I don’t think the composition itself is anything weird—but what it highlights is unexpected, which makes it feel weird. I would highly highly suggest people start playing around with stuff like this since it can create a lot of different emotions & really surprise viewers. I don’t think it’s particularly hard, you just have to start fucking around and seeing what works. And when it comes to backgrounds, don’t be afraid of them! They’re your friend & you can use them to do a lot of work for you.

I hope that helps! If anyone has questions feel free to ask, I’m always happy to explain something.

#ask #i might not always be able to answer something quickly but i do love sharing what i know

[ashyronfire]

Consequences || Chapter 04: No More Teeth To Bite With

Title: 04 - No More Teeth To Bite With Rating: M Characters: Grimm, The Pale King Warnings: Disturbing Content, Horror, Gore, Unreliable Narrator, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Read On Ao3: Beginning || Current Chapter

Summary:

“Little more than obstacles to you, are they, nightmare?” he hissed. As empty as the city now was, the words carried far on the wind, resonating off the buildings that he’d find empty. Or would they, too, be tombs, forever encompassing those lost, until time decayed their lifeless shells into dust? “Inconvenient and in the way, the bodies of my people?”

Author’s Notes: Tumblr continues to be a week behind Ao3, I'm awful. I'm sorry. SOME day I'll catch them up (today is not that day and it's only 10 chapters long, so probably when the fic is finished lmao)

CHAPTER 04: NO MORE TEETH TO BITE WITH

The capital had a name once.

It was known more now as the ‘City of Tears,’ an apt descriptor if ever there was one for the rain-soaked cobblestone pathways and windows streaked from the steadily falling droplets sliding down their surfaces.

Once, that rain would have been broken up by the warmth of smoke rising from buildings, from the furnaces of restaurants, homes, and manufacturing plants. The glass panes covering the streetlights would be fogged up from the contrast of temperatures and mud would seep into the cracks of the streets, carried about by messy feet as the citizens went to-and-fro, about their daily business, mechanical and altogether entirely alive.

But it would not have been known by anything so macabre a definition as ‘tears’ back then, and the rain would not have been so dramatic. Though Blue Lake did leak through the cavern’s roof at all times, the menderbugs were constantly on call to repair the damage as fast as they could. Time had stolen that efficiency, and the collapse was imminent. The glorious civilization would be underwater before too long, its history lost to time, and anyone who yet lived within would find themselves little more than a memory as well.

Memories.

It had had a name once. He could not remember what it was called, and that was a distressing thought. He’d created it, this city. He was the architect behind its invention, the layout and design borne of his creativity. He’d always loved creating, far more than he ever had his people, and yet standing before a marvel of his invention, he was left with the distinct reminder of what he’d lost. What he stood to lose still.

Nostalgia seized his heart in a vice grip, choking.

He would not weep for the loss of his creations.

“You should have visited more when it was alive,” Grimm observed, unfazed by the falling rain. He should have been at least a little uncomfortable with the chilled water; he should have been at least mildly perturbed by the sensation of being wet. He was impassive, calmer than he ought to have been, and had the Pale King not hated him before, he might have in that moment.

How dare you stand at the precipice of my brilliance as it falls into the sea and care not at all for the loss.

How dare you be right.

There were corpses around them, desiccated and festering, bloated with infection yet dripping from their eyes, from their maws, from the breaks in their shell. The husks that lined the city ground were broken things, limbs torn asunder. Some of them had injuries clearly inflicted by nail, while others appeared to have just collapsed. The number was not small, though. No, it spread on, and on. Though the streets were not completely covered in the bodies, there were enough to leave no delusion as to how badly the capital had fared in the wake of the infection.

Grimm stepped over one of the fallen carcasses and kept walking, his eyes never even casting downward, and that infuriated the wyrm.

“Little more than obstacles to you, are they, nightmare?” he hissed. As empty as the city now was, the words carried far on the wind, resonating off the buildings that he’d find empty. Or would they, too, be tombs, forever encompassing those lost, until time decayed their lifeless shells into dust? “Inconvenient and in the way, the bodies of my people?”

Grimm did not look back at him, but he did stop.

“Always there will be bodies. Death gifts mementos to those left behind.” The butterfly carefully stepped around the corpse of one of the sentries, then looked left and right. “Memorials to remember those we loved and lost. We tell ourselves it is to honor their memory, but in the end, it is not. Graves, you see, are for the living.” Grimm made a decision, then, and he started down a different path.

Realization dawned as a guillotine on the Pale King’s neck.

Memorials. The direction they were going. It was not a coincidence; it could not have been.

“Grimm.” His voice shook. “There are other pathways to Dirtmouth.”

They would be going past the Watcher’s Spire, true, but that was not the most horrifying thing down that road. That was not what made his stomach drop, crashing like lightning, scorched in its wake.

“There are,” Grimm agreed. “But this is the one that I wish to take. Would you rather we separate?”

The wyrm froze. His stomach lurched violently at the thought, the feeling of something under his skin writhing and cold. Tingling spread through him, numbness that settled somewhere behind his eyes, and the vertigo that stole his vision made the world blur. He did not succumb to the uncomfortable sensation; he bowed his head instead, shaking at the shoulders.

He would not make it to Dirtmouth, and that smug creature knew it. He’d barely made it here. If Grimm left him, what would become of him? Would he—would he simply stop being animated? Would the void rise up from the bottom of the world to devour him once more?

Over the husks, he stepped, but the tattered remnants of his wings snagged on the end of one of their spears and he tumbled forward. His instinct was to reach out, to grab the edge of Grimm’s cloak to catch himself, and the butterfly instantly pulled away. He hit the floor face-down instead, shell crunching beneath the weight of his own rotting corpse. His mouth filled with something sweet, viscous, and he gagged.

Grimm did not acknowledge the sound, rattling though it was. “I will thank you to not touch me,” he said instead, impassive.

The Pale King rubbed his maw on the back of his hand, and it came away thick with honeyed gold saliva. He trembled, staring openly at the spread of his claws, willing away the viscosity, that the rain might wash him clean.

Footsteps told him that Grimm was departing again.

Slowly, he scrambled back to his feet, shell clattering beneath him as he attempted to rise. The rain obscured his companion’s departure, the dusty grays of Grimm’s cloak more like shadows than the flames that represented him most – shadows that crept, tangled, wove up and whispered. Fitting, the Pale King thought, for the path the reaper cut felt like the executioner’s axe, and he did not want to take it.

That was precisely why Grimm had chosen it, though – of that, he was still without doubt.

Did the nightmare god intend to act as jury, to pass judgment on the wyrm’s crimes? Was that the intention?

But surely he understood necessity? Surely he understood how dire the situation had been, for was he not privy most of all to the frenzy that was his counterpart’s rage?

The Pale King thought the Dream must have been a loud place, prior to her sealing. He envisioned it full of her screams, impotent but furious, and then the dawning realization of the monstrosity of her creation. He thought that her realm must have been full of rivers that flowed thick with infection – and Grimm was a part of that world, wasn’t he? Severed though he was from her, did he not see, did he not know?

“Please,” he said, legs uneasy, pain shooting through them. The sensation was burning and it seared down his throat, curling back shell that felt as though it were pressed beneath a branding iron. If he looked at himself in a mirror, would he find marks in the shape of feathers, woven tight around his neck?

Or would it be claws too long for a body that should have resembled his own?

He heard cracking and it took him a moment to register that the sound was his own footsteps over water-soaked bricks. His shell held up beneath his weight and yet the cracking continued. He half-expected to see splits in each brick under the burden of each step, but no – none came. The phantom sounds played in the back of his mind regardless, his path falling in sync behind Grimm’s own, and his plea – however pathetic it sounded even to himself – went ignored.

There was to be no mercy, but he had done nothing to merit so harsh a judgment from Grimm.

“You do not have a right to look down on me so,” he hissed out. Grimm did not turn back to him, did not slow down, and did not acknowledge the words in any way. They rounded a corner, great awnings rippling under the weight of the rainfall pooling on the fabric, and a faint breeze tore free a poster from one of the walls. He watched it splatter onto the ground, the silk parchment long faded, the edges ripped and jagged; it advertised the performance of a butterfly clad in fanciful pink silks, her name emblazoned over the bottom.

The magnificent Marissa.

The singing butterfly at the Pleasure House.

He'd never seen her perform.

He’d never been to the Pleasure House. Many an invitation was sent to the White Palace, with assurances of discretion if he wanted to enjoy their festivities without the bother of the general public. More than once, his retainers had suggested he go to a performance for a break from the business of running the kingdom, and every time – every single time – he’d refused them.

When he should have been a part of the kingdom he’d labored to build, he’d withdrawn instead, to the secrecy of his palace and his laboratories, to the dark recesses of his guilt and shame, to the burden that held him fast in chains.

Because he’d known what was coming. Because he knew what had to be done, and how could he ever hope to look in the faces of those he would sentence to death in a bid at immortality?

…he’d looked in their eyes –

“You who care nothing for the living, only the dead,” the Pale King continued weakly. “Have you ever loved anything in your life, save yourself? The macabre ghosts you call a Troupe, that you would have others believe exist as anything other than figments of your imagination? Extensions of your power? I know what you are—”

“Do you.” It was not a question. Grimm did not stop, but he did lift one hand, and the sound of his claws raking over the corner of the building they passed was jarringly high-pitched and sharp; it brought to mind a razor’s edge scraping over stone and left grooves in its wake. The building in question was a little nestled thing, with old, rotting food on display, long forgotten. It’d been beautiful once, though. The Pale King could faintly remember the smell of the breads baking.

Had he stopped there, on the day the monument was unveiled?

Had he wanted to? Yes. But he hadn’t. He’d been in a hurry to be free of the eyes boring through his very soul.

“I know much of you,” the wyrm insisted. “I made it a point to study you and your counterpart both.”

“And yet still you see so little. Still you are so blind.”

Grimm rounded the corner and he followed – only to be stopped sharply in his tracks. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, his head turning back to look at the memorial fountain, rain falling like tears streaking down a mask that would never have possessed any – that never could have. It was larger than life and stylized to remove some of the accents of the armor, to hide the embellishments that his own magic left like stains. Time had worn the polished black stone away to a mottled grey and the fine chiseling that had once added details was long lost to the erosion the water brought, and yet –

Yet he could hear the shifting of fabric with each turn. He could hear the click of metal as they turned toward him. He could see their mask, perfectly expressionless, and –

How desperately he’d needed to believe that the thing within was nothing at all. Like his kingsmoulds, but in a god’s shell. How he’d needed it to be – but it wasn’t.

In retrospect, he should have known. How they’d loved him. How they’d wanted his approval, how they’d sought it – there were so many signs, so many hints, and he’d ignored them all –

Little eyes staring up at him as he explained the names of the flowers that grew along the balcony.

Too long horns for a body that hadn’t yet grown into them, toppling over and then stubbornly rising again in stubborn determination.

Perfect stillness through the pain of having spells woven like strings into a shell that he now knew could bear pain and not once did it flinch, not once did it react, despite the agony the light tearing through its void must have presented.

The anguished desire for approval. The need to be what he’d asked for – it spelled its undoing, hadn’t it? By wanting so badly to please him, it broke itself – no longer empty, not hollow at all, but overflowing for him.

Nausea settled in his stomach with no where to go. He could have vomited, but the pain that twisted his guts felt like an apt punishment.

“Did you bring me here to gloat, wraith?”

Grimm was staring up at the statue. His mask prevented his expression from showing whatever emotions played through his mind, but the perfect stillness was reminiscent of the posture that his Pure Vessel had once taken, and the Pale King found it very unsettling. Grimm crossed his arms beneath his wings, the long waves of them covering his torso, and he shifted so that all the wyrm could see was his back.

“We are gods, but who is a god to one of us? We, who would rule over others… to whom do we offer our prayers?” the butterfly mused. “We place our faith and hearts in things unseen, in beliefs that we choose for ourselves. And, in some cases… in those we find worthy. I wonder, would I have been the same, had I parents?”

There was an almost whimsical way that Grimm spoke. If the Pale King hadn’t known any better, he might well have thought that it was melancholia that gripped the nightmare’s heart – a longing for what he did not, could never, have.

But that was not accurate, was it?

“I am given to understand that you have at least one parent,” the wyrm interjected. He was looking at Grimm because looking at the butterfly meant that he need not look at the statue and all that it symbolized. His stomach felt weighted enough without the reminder looming down at him, expressionless and yet saying so much – speaking without words – ‘How could you?’ –to drive home understanding.

And moreover, there lingered a question: what did Grimm know of what his children thought of him? Of what it meant to be a parent? He, who masqueraded as one, but was not – no, the Pale King knew very well what that creature that Grimm called his child actually was. He could fool the world, draw them into the illusion of his game, and it would change nothing for eyes that could see beyond the surface. Grimmchild was another facet of Grimm and so, in essence, he was not a parent in truth.

The butterfly inclined his head to the side. “Is it parentage, to be born of fragments of oneself? Is that what you would consider childhood? Birth, existence? Excised to hide away in shame, to banish to the darkest recesses of one’s realm, to pretend it does not exist?” His voice was calm, even, but the words that followed were anything but. “I should not find myself surprised so. You did the same, after all.”

The comparison wrenched deep within him, clawed at his heart, and pulled it tight, blood bursting beneath wicked claws. As it was intended to, no doubt. Grimm punctuated the statement with an easily observed, “She calls me her blood moon, rising scarlet on the horizon, and you call me her counterpart – but it is you, not I, who have the most in common with her.”

…and there it was. The implication given words. It chilled him to his core, and he was suddenly distinctly aware of the heavy drops of water leaking from cracks high above. His gaze shifted upward, to where fractures splintered like spiderwebs across cavern’s ceiling, weeping onto his beautiful city. He was distinctly aware of Grimm’s departure, footfalls light, cloak soundless. Mourning seized his lungs, holding him fast.

His kingdom was dead. He was not the one who killed it, but it was dead nonetheless, and in the war that he’d waged – conqueror to be – had anyone actually been victorious?

Was he really no different?

The Pale King turned and followed Grimm at a languid pace. Unlike the butterfly, his own steps were heavy things, the water splattering around him as he went. He could be faster. He could be more graceful, if he surrendered to his nature and moved on all limbs rather than the mimicry of a bipedal creature that he’d begun to favor. He did none of the above.

“The bodies,” he choked out, claws clinging to the remnants of wings that acted like clothing around himself. They were shattered in pieces and shorn; his reflection stared back at him, a disheveled mess, not at all the graceful figure that he’d once been. Hallownest’s Godking, reduced to a muddy, rotting figure, aghast and suspended in agony. How fitting.

He thought he heard the clank of chains.

He thought he heard the ethereal bells of seals going up.

He thought he saw, in his shadow, a figure behind him with blazing golden eyes.

There were none of those things and yet, part of him wished that there were.

“Will no one tend to them?” the Pale King asked.

Grimm stopped in front of a great, ornamental cage, folded metal and still in immaculate care for its age and lack of use. The butterfly adjusted the lever, calling the elevator back, then turned to look down at him.

“Who is left to do so? To mourn the dead? Would you have the relic seeker in the City do it? The survivors in Dirtmouth? Perhaps the scavengers of Deepnest have use for your carcasses?” He bent over, too far, his body curling in a way that no natural creature should have. “Or will it be you, wyrm? Will you bury your dead, lay them to rest? Bid farewell at last?” The wyrm looked away, and Grimm chuckled, vicious. “No. I thought not.”

This was going to be a long elevator ride.

#ashe writes #consequences fic #hollow knight #hk fanfic #hollow knight fanfic #hk the pale king #hk grimm