@miratenebrarum / dismas to reynauld ↳ There is no hesitation. He's full of blood from head to toe, both his and others'. His hair, clothes, face are a mess. An half broken hand dangles on his side, gripping on his dagger still. He remembers. The last time they saw eachother was at the Dugneon, back when he still pretended he didn't care. That he was still fine with dying. Back when he still hid any emotion, feeling, anything at all. The dagger is dropped, barely reaching the ground before Dismas rushes in, not hesitating a single second before pulling the Crusader - his friend - into a tight hug. He could say that he should stop acting stupid. That what he did, back then, was stupid. He could come out with any possible snarky comment, one that he could deem way more in character. "I missed you"

he's been kept in that small cage for so long. exactly how long he can't say. he must have blacked out for entire days sometimes - he... must have died many times. the warlord never spoken to him, but reynauld could guess he was the only one kept by him because of his peculiarity. for his hope, always shining. always bringing him back, sooner or later. as if he had a hidden power to cheat death, one that he wouldn't give out, and so they were trying to figure it out on their own. he has been wounded, stabbed to death, drugged, experimented on, and always left to starve, always in that little cage where he couldn't even stand up or fully stretch his legs.

he woke up with a startle when he heard the warlord yell orders at his men. if he fainted or worse, he couldn't understand, but as he turned his head with difficulty towards the scene, the question lost its importance.

no matter how many years would pass, he would always remember the faces of his companions. of his family.

his trembling hands grasped at the cage's bars, his heart jumping to his throat, breath irregular, his eyes wide. he felt almost intoxicated by their presence there, as if full of strength again, excited and happy as he hasn't been in so long; but a part of him, the one clenching the bars so strongly to have his hands hurt, felt his heart heavy in pure, blind panic. no. no, no, don't be here. run away. i can't see you die for me. but the warlord yelled his commands, and the fight started. in a matter of seconds, the smell of blood invaded his nostrils, and red painted violently the scene.

reynauld started to scream. he started to push on the bars, to kick the small locked door, to try and reach for something to help from the broken remains around his cell. he heard weapons clashing, interrupted screams, wounds being opened, bones being broken. no, no, no, no. please no, don't die for me. don't do this. he threw a desperate eye at the battle, the one they were fighting for him, and that he couldn't join. one trembling hand reached out between the bars, as if trying to reach for them, to hold them tight and snatch them away from there. « RUN!! » he screamed, and his weak voice just got lost in the heat of battle.

he fell back to his knees, bended forward, his breath short and broken. other broken bones. someone fell, barely alive, unable to stand up by themselves. blood flew. reynauld closed his eyes. his hands joined in front of the chest, holding tight one another, and he started to pray. « oh light, guide their swords. protect their lives as you have protected mine. don't take their lives, not today, as they fight for your warrior. oh light, guide their swords... »

he kept going, restless, repeating his words over and over again, louder, louder whenever he could hear the battle going badly. his voice, so weak at first, intertwined with the sounds of the fighting, echoing through the lines. even the warlord realized it. reynauld felt his eyes darting in his direction, ablaze through the helm, and for the first time he talked to him. "STOP IT!", he ordered him, and the crusader hatched open his eyes to look back. he could see him tremble. and so he smiled, and kept on praying.

*

he doesn't know if his pray did something other than distracting the warlord for a moment, but he stops only when the battle is over. with his group, his family, victorious. he collapses in his little cage, one hand reaching out for the first one to arrive. junia. oh, light be blessed, junia. she holds his hand tight, a reassuring smile on the tired visage as she checks on his body as she can, shaken by tearless sobs. she's the first friendly human contact he had been in so, so long, and she makes sure to make it last as long as possible while the lock is broken. baldwin... reynauld smiles weakly at him, fighting not to fall into unconsciousness. slam. the door comes open with a lament, and baldwin's arms get inside to help him out. finally... finally out.

it takes him help to stay on his feet alone, but it doesn't take much. dismas is the next to approach, and baldwin and junia leave space for them, going back to the caravan to prepare a space for him. to bring him away. oh, light. you heard my prayers.

he doesn't need to worry about feeling like he's going to fall again. dismas is on him in a moment, holding him tight in a hug that surprises reynauld at first. he melts in it a moment after. he tries not to weight on dismas with his full weight, and hugs him back as tightly as his last sparks of strength allow him. he remembers, too. the last time they saw each other was in the dungeon, when reynauld saluted him with a smile and offered himself as a sacrifice. to let everyone else live. to thank them all. to thank dismas, more than anyone else.

« i missed you too, my friend. » he answers with a broken, weak, yet infinitely happy voice. « i missed you too...! »

his breath irregular, cecil lifts his gaze to the other man again when he speaks further, his eyes lucid with tears. he hugs his own legs, becoming smaller and smaller, as if attempting to disappear from the room and back into his city. he misses it. so much. he's suddenly remembering how much he came to hate night vale, and now he instead doesn't want to be anywhere else. he wants his house, his bed, his radio station, his microphone, his people. carlos.

but of all the things he could spoke into or out of existence, he can't make this place disappear. he can't say that a door will lead him back to night vale, and he doesn't understand why. nothing of this would have happened, if only he could make his voice bring him back home.

he's instead stuck there. like his town doesn't want him back. or like these people don't want him to leave.

you'll have to trust me on this one, the man says, shivering, gulping with difficulty. cecil stares at him, his eyes scared just as much as his, and then suddenly getting more and more empty. he's not talking out of sincerity. he's talking out of fear. of him. and it's intoxicating, realizing that they will promise him the world, now that they're so afraid of him.

« no. » empty eyes start filling again, a gaze always so loving and gentle slowly being filled with pure, simple rage. it is so uncommon for him, he doesn't even fully know how to handle it. it wears weirdly on him as he stands up, and he moves just one step closer to the other, his hands shaking, tears slowly falling down his cheeks. he's so tired of this story. he's so tired of this place. he's so tired of the lies. « i'm done trusting you people. »

another step forward. trembling, uncertain. scared, just as much as everyone else.

« they've injected something into me. » he starts talking, less and less certain of what he's doing, yet doing it anyway. out of despair, out of... simple exhaustion. this man doesn't deserve what he's about to do. but neither did cecil. « it hurt... s-so much. i... i think it was acid. » eye for an eye, right...? « c-can... can you feel it, too? inside your veins. burning you from the inside. slowly rising from your arm. your insides seem like melting. »

a sudden hiccup. more tears slide down his cheeks.

« it hurts, d-doesn't it...? »

...okay, it could've gone a little better.

To be fair, Lance just... spoke out of panic-- Nah, scratch that, he doesn't panic. Heroes don't panic. They improvise.

And this time the improv went as poorly as it could've gone.

He wasn't even security in that area of the Site, how could he know that they were using this anomaly as a guinea pig?!

...

...scratch that too. He should've known. The researchers around here should really stop trying to play god with someone who has the power necessary to rival one.

...now what, Lance?

"I..." he stutters, gulps " I know you do, but- you'll have to trust me on this one-"

this guy has to thank all his years of training in close combat, and all the times he stubbornly ignored krauser's commands of kill first, ask questions later. one hand might be busy holding down the other's and the gun in it, but the other easily keeps the combat knife near his throat, the entire arm and his own weight helping him holding the intruder down. if he followed krauser's lessons, leon would have already sliced the guy's neck. he has to truly thank that human side still around there in him if he hesitates just a fraction of a second, that long for lance to speak up, and show that his head is still lucid enough for normal speech.

for now, anyway. hopefully he's not infected.

still, nothing else changes, and so does leon's position. the knife keeps being a threat as he leans just a tad closer to the other one, staring right in his eyes, almost unblinking. deadly serious.

« in peace? » he repeats, voice low. the struggle might not have been heard, so better not take any chances, and keep it as silent as possible. « then you are either very unlucky or very stupid. i doubt you've seen the signs around here and thought they were a warm welcome. » a quick glance around, then fast back to the man. no signs of having been heard. yet. « so, which one are you? »

@crownhcart ► Leon

🧷: pin my muse on the ground

He let out a gasp as he fell down, already feeling the hand holding at least one of the guns being grabbed by the wrist and pushed against the floor.

This... isn't exactly what he expected things to go. I mean, when he got in that place he didn't really think things would've gone smoothly - as far as he knew, everything went to shit in that town -, but being tackled and pinned down like that?

...better than being opened in half, but still annoying.

"I come-- I come in peace?"

Okay. Let's try to be civil.

it's kind of hard to find it on mobile, so if you don't mind me asking, are you mutuals only?

hello! worry not, you did good in asking, i don't mind at all! actually it might be on me, to be fair, i think i wrote it in a previous document and forgot to add it back here, or didn't write it at all. i want to rewrite the rules much more decently, so i'll make sure to add it this time, so thank you for the ask!

and to the actual answer to your question, nope! i'm not mutuals only, as i am the first person who might unfollow someone for my own good but still wish to write with that person! i am a little selective, but definitely not mutuals only!

as soon as those four letters come out of cecil's mouth, the agent stops on the spot. it should make him feel better, cecil thinks, make him feel able to protect himself in this hellhole of a hospital - because it's a hospital, they told him it's a hospital, he believes it, he needs to believe it, this must be a hospital -, but it doesn't. it only rises his panic even more, a stab of terror in the heart. he gasps out loud, and covers his mouth with both hands, looking horrified at the other.

he's instinctually about to... attempt to make things right. he can't understand how what he says becomes the truth, but if he ordered him to stop worked, the opposite would probably work as well? he doesn't want this - he never wanted any of this -, his panic rising faster and faster as the realization that he could very well hurt anyone by just speaking fully sinks in. he wants to stop this. but when the other talks...

i won't hurt you! i promise.

cecil stares at the man, his hands slowly lowering from the mouth. they're trembling, stopping just below the chin. the red signs of the bindings with which the doctors tied him to the chair are still extremely visible, sleeves still rolled up above the elbows: the signs of punctures on the forearm perfectly visible, the drip still attached. they still hurt, the wrists throbbing with pain, and he's unsure if he's trembling just because of the panic or also because of what he was injected with. they said he made those substances disappear. he just spoke them out of existence from his organism. and he doesn't even know what the hell those things were.

they told him the same words. the same stupid words. we won't hurt you! we promise. and then, it started to hurt like hell and back.

« y-yeah. ». he sobs, pushing his back against the wall, his eyes a mixture of panic, paranoia, and deep sadness. « s-sure. y-you people sure love to say that, d-don't you?... ». slowly, he slides down to the ground, hands taking his head as he attempts, and mostly fails, to hold back other sobs. « i-i don't want to hurt anyone... i d-don't want to hurt anyone...! i don't know what to do, i-i don't... i don't understand, i want to go home...! »

@crownhcart ► Cecil:

« i-i said —— STOP!! »

--and stop is what he does.

He approached the other unharmed, trying to be as friendly as possible. It's his usual procedure when dealing with anomalies like the other: dangerous only by accident, unaware of their powers.

Human, in any sense but the literal.

The few agents met along the way, still as statue, lead the way towards the other... but didn't prepare him for what was going to come. He's suddenly just... standing there, no matter how much he attempts to move. Arms and legs are unresponsive, firm, as if they were made of stone. He breathes, still, he can look down to his limbs in confusion, then well hidden fear as he realizes this could go horribly.

"I won't hurt you!"

Those words come out instinctively. He would've lifted his hands, if it wasn't for his predicament.

"I promise."

MY MAN IS COMING BAAAAAACK

« no, it's less about turning a bad situation into a tragedy, and more avoid bleeding to death because you took a arrow out of your leg like that instead of listening to someone who fucking cares about your wellbeing. »

no, miss croft. mister drake always has the last word. this battle can go on as long as you like. he'd probably make sure to keep answering even after death anyway. he sure knows how to be a pain in the ass when he wants to, even when he cares about someone (which admittedly might happen very fast. he doesn't need a lot of time with someone to care about them), and he won't be any less with lara, wounded or not.

he stands up with a push, giving her the back as he looks up, half pretending to be planning the way out seemingly unperturbed by her, and taking the time to finally take a hidden deep breath, closing his eyes for just a few seconds.

everyone always pretending that what happens doesn't touch them, him included. yet the only one that ends up breaking like an egg is always him. is he that weak, to be the first one - hell, the only one, more often than not - to give up? it's like when he ran through an entire running train to get to chloe, and then... why is he like this - why are they all like this? him, elena, lara. is it even worth it to play the hero?

it's his time to shake his head, forcing himself to stop half pretending to look for a way up and actually start doing it with full focus. still, lara's words can't but make him turn towards her, and this time he's the one smirking. « damsel in distress? you? » he muses. « don't make me laugh. »

he turns again towards the wall, and the nearest handhole he found. it would be a good jump, but nothing he isn't used to make. he moves a few steps towards it, cracking his knuckles.

« thanks. » he replies, genuine. « if you change your mind and wish some help, whistle or something. i'll be around here for a while. » and with that he takes a small run, jumps, and takes a hold of the handhole. he swings, jumping to the next one still a little far, and then begins a much easier climb, at least for a little while.

"It's less understimating, and more avoiding turning a bad situation into a tragedy."

Miss Croft always has the last word. If she doesn't, it's because she's dead... and even then, she'll make sure to leave everyone behind with a sarcastic quip nonetheless.

It's better to think she'll go with a funny one-liner than accepting the truth. Her last words to Werner when she was sure she couldn't get out alive of the pyramid were much more sincere and weaker than she'd like to admit.

...shaking her head to avoid thinking too much about that time, she prefers to focus on Nathan, who's... really not taking his time to calm down, huh. If she had a coconut for every man who freaked out because of her calm reactions to those kind of wounds...

"And leaving behind the poor damsel in distress? What a charmer..." she can't help but comment with a smirk, tilting her head a little more before looking up at the ceiling. No spikes, no boulders ready to fall on them, no more holes for rogue arrows or poisonous gas, as far as she knew. At least he picked a good place where to rest.

"In that case. Have a good climb. It's a long way up from here."

he ignores the first two "drake", but at the third one he can't hold back a « what?! » that results in a very gentle karate chop in the middle of his eyes. and, yeah. he will admit, that does make him reset for a moment. if anything, for the confusion that the gesture causes him.

it doesn't mean, though, that he holds back a groan at her words, and this time it's his turn to roll his eyes. he rises his hands, pushing himself back to sit down instead of staying kneeled, folding his arms. despite attempting to not look at his own hands, he doesn't seem to mind leaving bloody marks on his arms - because the moment of panic, he can't say he isn't used to that kind of situation. still, it's always somehow easier when the blood is his own, despite meaning he is the one in danger.

« i'm missing how underestimating the situation because you're used to get wounded is of any help, too, but alright. » he comments, a little more acid than he'd like to admit perhaps. his look of reproach is still there, in all its hypocritial glory. « yeah, i can relax for ten minutes. but i don't want to right now, so. ». he waves at her leg. « do as you please. i'm going to parkour out of here with my sane legs. »

"Drake--" she starts, watching as he... panics? Yeah, okay. He's panicking. I guess we're not keeping our cool today. She takes a moment to lift the sane leg to move an arm on it, tilting her head.

"Drake?"she repeats as he cleans her wound and fixes it. She was going to get the kit herself in just a moment, but I guess he felt like hyperventilating and turning a relatively small injury into something much bigger.

"Draaake~" a third time, now lifting her eyes to the ceiling. She could've stopped in that previous room, sure, but sitting down in the middle of a clearly boobytrapped area was just going to make things worse. With a scoff, she brings a hand to her cheek, leaning on it with clear annoyance in her eyes (and her pout) as he looks at her - not at his hands, she notices - and the other... bonks him on the forehead? The most gentle karate chop she ever gave anyone.

At least that will make him reset for a moment.

"How about you try to breathe for a few seconds too, while we're at it?

Hyperventilation isn't much better than an arrow in my thigh." her tone is playful, but she's also clearly serious "I dealt with poisonous traps. And since I can still feel my leg--" she proves, moving it ever so slightly not to undo his hard work "clearly this isn't so. And it didn't hit any important vein. So, let me ask you the same."

She smirks at that.

"I can relax for ten minutes. Can you?"

« listen, i'm not talking about never getting wounded, but it would certainly help stopping to take cover and heal instead of dAMN IT LARA——!! »

his own hand is on the now opened wound just as fast as hers, pressing hard to stop the bleeding, or at least slow it down. he doesn't need for lara to name the medkit in her backpack: as she talks, he's already taking out his own from his backpack, so quickly that it almost seems it appeared out of thin air.

« well, i sure hope so as well! » he cries, his voice so tense to give the impression it might break any moment. he probably shouldn't yell that loud, but keeping calm with this woman is proving to be an impossible task. « damn it, how the hell did you survive up to now?! didn't anyone tell you to not take an arrow out before getting medical attention?! you could bleed to death, you—— you idiot!! »

his hands are fast, way more expert than he would admit, cotton on the wound and bandages tight around her leg, both there and above it to slow down the blood. it's not an awesome job - it's barely one that will hopefully get lara out of there and into the studio of a medic alive -, and definitely one that will make their way to the outside all the more difficult.

what a pain in the ass of an expedition.

« do i have even the most remote chance of you staying put while i look around for a safe way up for you? » he asks her as he ties the last knot, side glancing her reproachfully as an excuse to not look at how bloody his hands are. « ten minutes. can you stay put for ten minutes? »

@crownhcart ► Nathan

« stop trying to be brave for one minute! ». is his voice trembling with worry? maybe a little bit, yes.

"That, this? It's but a flesh wound."

She laughs, but... man. This hurt. Her voice is just a little too weak for comfort. Specifically her comfort. It was a stupid mistake. She got too cocky, she took a step too far.

How those traps still worked after so many decades is so fascinating...!

"You talk like someone who-- never got an arrow in his leg...!"

--aaand now the arrow is out. Not without a held in groan, not without her quickly putting a hand on the now open wound.

"I should have a medikit in the backpack-- oh I sure hope this isn't a poisonous one."

𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬. / @busygirlgcttagc ↳ hi. what if. ❛  you lay one hand on me and it'll be the last thing you ever do.  ❜

luis retracts the hand just as smoothly as he drew it towards the woman just a few moments before. he can't hold himself back from letting out a whistle, mostly of appreciation, despite not really understanding. he's not the one hanging from the border of a platform above a bottomless pit, after all.

at the same time, she seems much more physically able to take care of herself than he will ever be. still, that was pretty rude.

« okay, señorita. lo siento. ». his reply has a subtle veil of sarcasm, accompanied by an amused but interested smile. he rests his chin on the hand, not yet standing up from his crouched position, very interested in seeing how she will push herself up. not because he thinks she won't be able to - he's genuinely interested in seeing her in action. « i thought you needed someone to get out of here... i must have been wrong. »

AARON HOTCHNER | 3.12 “3RD LIFE”

🐝  *  ―  𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

❛  how could you do that? i thought we were friends!  ❜ ❛  the world would be a better place without you in it.  ❜ ❛  don't even think about trying to beg for forgiveness.  ❜ ❛  do you have any idea how much harm you've caused?  ❜ ❛  i don't ever want to see your face again!  ❜ ❛  i promise you i'm going to make your life a living hell.  ❜ ❛  the others may be able to ignore the past, but i surely won't.  ❜ ❛  if you ever hurt them, i swear, i won't hesitate to punch you.  ❜ ❛  don't even try and act friendly with me.  ❜ ❛  that's not a threat. it's a promise.  ❜ ❛  i'm not the same helpless little girl i used to be. now i can finally defend myself against you.  ❜ ❛  you lay one hand on me and it'll be the last thing you ever do.  ❜ ❛  it's about time you finally get what's been coming to you for years.  ❜ ❛  actually, you're not as bad as people say. you are so much worse.  ❜ ❛  tell me one good reason why i should believe anything you say.  ❜ ❛  oh look, it's the useless one again.  ❜ ❛  i'm glad to see you're not letting your education get in the way of your ignorance.  ❜ ❛  how anyone can stand being in the same room as you is beyond me.  ❜ ❛  that's a low blow. even for you.  ❜ ❛  unless you want to end up with my fist in your face, i'd rather shut my mouth.  ❜ ❛  i wish i could be there when you finally get what's coming to you.  ❜ ❛  i wish you'd never been born!  ❜ ❛  fuck you! this is all your fault!  ❜ ❛  have you lost your mind?!  ❜ ❛  you betrayed us and still you think you can think you can just waltz back in here like nothing ever happened?  ❜ ❛  no! i've had enough with you. go to hell!  ❜ ❛  i want you to go and never come back. and if you do, i promise you'll regret it.  ❜ ❛  do you have another clever idea to get us killed?  ❜ ❛  name one good reason why i shouldn't hurt you right now.  ❜ ❛  next time we see each other i won't be so nice.  ❜ ❛  is this supposed to scare me?  ❜ ❛  i can't believe i ever trusted you ...  ❜ ❛  you should have killed me when you had the chance.  ❜ ❛  come any closer and you'll regret it.  ❜ ❛  you may win this time ... but i will get my revenge sooner or later.  ❜ ❛  are you threatening me?  ❜ ❛  and you can go to hell for all i care.  ❜ ❛  lay one hand on them and i'll make sure you won't ever be able to lay a hand on anyone ever again.  ❜ ❛  i'm not your friend! i never was, i never will be.  ❜ ❛  i'll make you regret the day you were born.  ❜

i love how h.u.n.k. is the cool character in the resident evil franchise and everybody is lost in how badass he is, and then here i come. taking him and filling him with trauma and survivor's guilt, c-ptsd and paranoia, maybe even a bit of an obsessive-compulsive disorder and the worst kind of coping mechanisms.

♕ —— liars settle into sockets. 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐑𝐔𝐍! a 18+ multifandom & ocs multimuse, loved by ghost. follows from soultoken.

𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃... 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 !

18+ | selective | 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 & 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓, 27 y/o, italian, any pronouns. sideblog of soultoken

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘, 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋, 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐍, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞! 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭.

this blog will contain triggering content, depending on the muse. each most common trigger for each is specified in the muses' list. reader discretion is adviced.

RULES UNDER THE CUT | 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 | 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 | 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐎 | 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐒

𝐨𝟏. » i'm a generally slow roleplayer with not much time and the attention span of a goldfish, that loves to write a lot and jump constantly between muses: as such, all my blogs have fluctuating activity, almost constantly on the lower side. anything you will send i will reply to, it might just take some time! all the prompts i reblog never expire, so you can send one whenever you like.

𝐨𝟐. » i love all types of interactions and love improvising on prompts, so never fear to send me something, both from a list or completely original. i always love receiving them! if you are willing to, i'm always open for plotting, as certainly plotted threads keep my attention span longer. also, feel always free to drop threads with me if you have lost inspiration, i promise i won't get offended! we're here to write and have fun - if we're stuck, we can simply drop it and begin something else!

𝐨𝟑. » while it's generally not the main focus i have in roleplay, i am open to romantic relationships, though i am not comfortable with smut in general.

tumblr ims work when they want, and am not very present on the site through the day; if we're mutuals, you can always ask me for my discord!

muses list. ( temporary, while i work on a much more decent list on a gdoc or something )

original characters. • john clark piranesi | fallen london oc

videogames. • sabin rene figaro | final fantasy vi • adalbert steiner | final fantasy ix • vivi | final fantasy ix • auron | final fantasy x • detective grimoire | detective grimoire • little girl | detective grimoire • geno | super mario rpg • leon s. kennedy | resident evil series ( remakes centred ) • luis serra | resident evil 4 ( remake centred ) • h.u.n.k. | resident evil series ( remake centred, fully hc based ) • reynauld | darkest dungeon & darkest dungeon ii • baldwin | darkest dungeon & darkest dungeon ii • sarmenti | darkest dungeon & darkest dungeon ii • nathan drake | uncharted ( currently playing through uncharted 1! no spoilers! )

movies. • puss in boots | from the shrek and puss in boots movies

tv series. • wander | wander over yonder • tenth doctor | doctor who

books & comics. • edgin darvis | dnd honor among thieves: the road to neverwinter • john blacksad | blacksad

venting, just venting. their late night meetings in one another's home rarely had any other significance than that, even more as for lately. with his stress so high, nightmares plaguing his every dream unless honey sweetens them, his wounds still burning under the bandages… he intended to talk it out when he knocked at lady's door, but he wasn't surprised when it became much more physical.

and though lady seemed almost unperturbed, she might have had a lot to let out as well, for that became almost violent. enough to leave him almost breathless as she slides down from him after the act, the wounds on his chest hurting just a little bit with every heavy breath of stale air. still, he thinks while looking at the ceiling, i got what i wanted, didn't i? he feels empty, tired - no, exhausted -, he feels he might even fall asleep without honey for once.

there is only one problem. his heart, it still feels heavy - maybe even more than before. for his thoughts, for his obsession, for his guilt… as his eyes slide down the ceiling and onto lady by his side, he can't but wonder if she thinks he considers her only an object. should he ask her? would her answer even be a sincere one? they never talked about something as futile as feelings up to that moment, not during these meetings.

he thinks that he should - that he wants - to demonstrate how much she means to him. the moment after, he finds himself pushing gently onto her, and prove it.

it has been so long since the last time he gave a kiss like that. it lasts for but a moment, but it somehow feels to go on forever to him, his eyes closing briefly as long as the contact of their lips lasts. when they part, her hand caressing his cheek, he stays near, his eyes into hers, his own hand mirroring hers on her visage.

« no, no… it's not that. ». despite such a gentle and intimate gesture, his voice comes out flat. just an uncertain murmur, talking to someone that he might be drawing way too close for both of their comfort. « i… needed that. way more than other bruised knuckles in the rings. ». he bends towards her another time, leaving another small, quick kiss on the lips.

« … you mean a lot to me. you know that, right? »

@crownhcart ► John

🧡 a kiss on the lips + 😵 a kiss given after sex

The lady's back finds the matress with a loud thud, practically sliding off of John once they were done. Once again... it's nothing really personal. Hell, their night meetings are rarely loving to begin with, often started in a desperate attempt to release some stress without being forced to use honey or shed blood.

...most of the time, anyway. Compared to the last time, neither of them were bleeding, at least. That's a plus.

Her chest moves up and down, slowly, taking in the. Disgusting air of her apartment after having finished. Oh, how she would love a smoke in moments like these.

"...I hope having the plant watching wasn't too awkward." she mutters eventually, feeling him move next to her "Take your time, I know I just rocked your c--"

--she didn't expect for him to move on her, tho! The Lady blinks, clearly surprised by the sudden movement... and by how softly he presses his lips. It's chaste, quick, one that makes her instinctively reach for his cheek and chuckle as he moves back.

"...hey. If you wanted me to be a little more gentle, you could've asked."