#Roland Angerer

[wernerkraeutler]

Stilfs, Version 2.0

Dass mir ein Besuch des Bergdorfes Stilfs (oder Stilz, wie es die Einheimischen selbst bezeichnen) immer höchstes Vergnügen bereitet, habe ich in diesem Blog nie verschwiegen. Ich fühle mich hier wie auf einem Thron in einer natürlichen Loge sitzend. ‚König Ortler’, kühn himmelwärts strebend, krönt als Bühnenbild das Panorama. Dazu gesellt sich seit geraumer Zeit die Tatsache, dass Stilz eine…

[lei-lei-artz]

“I feel my world shake, like an earthquake. Hard to see clear. Is it me? Is it fear?”

(Roland Taggart + St. Anger by Metallica)

[doesgodexist]

Biblical Wisdom on Anger

“Don’t let the sun go down on your anger.” That’s the advice Paul gives in Ephesians 4:26, and it’s good advice. Recent research offers new meaning to that biblical wisdom on anger. Paul goes on to write, “…and give no opportunity to the devil.” Jesus said concerning the devil, “He was a murderer from the beginning” (John 8:44). Anger is one more method the devil uses to murder us. A team of…

[mechaknight-98]

Unforgiven at Lotus Junction (NSFW) Ft Chaewon

Author's Note: Cowgirl Chaewon…cowgirl Chaewon

A young man awakens with his left eye bandaged among other dressings. Fragments and flashes of memory course through his mind as he tries to orient himself, sitting up abruptly. The attending doctor notices him squirming and rushes back in.

“Sit down, don't squirm too much, or those stitches won't heal properly,” the doctor responds, and the young man complies as she finishes her work. He looks at her; she is a young woman with flawless skin and a focused demeanor. She returns his gaze with a bright smile, proud of her handiwork.

“There you go, all patched up,” she says as she tidies her tools. Turning back to him, she eyes him warily as he rises again, patting himself as if searching for something. In the young man’s mind, echoes of the ether call to him: “War, victory, win, murder, kill,” repeating in a haunting whisper. The doctor observes the young man, noting the asymmetric runes glowing on his arms. She has encountered magic before, but nothing as raw and untamed as this. It unsettles her.

“What are you looking for?” she asks suspiciously, calmly reaching for her nearby rifle.

“My tools and weapons,” the young man replies, trying to focus amidst the pain and the inexorable surge of fury flooding his thoughts. The doctor watches as he takes a few steps before collapsing once more.

“Oh, no!” she exclaims. The young man rises slowly before she can assist him.

“Easy there, partner. I don't think you're ready for that much physical activity,” the doctor cautions. He breathes heavily, attempting to steady himself and suppress the pain, but it proves challenging. The doctor meets his gaze, awestruck as his body begins to miraculously mend itself.

“How?” she asks as his brown eyes shift to a deep, eldritch green.

“Long story,” he replies.

The doctor narrows her eyes in annoyance. “Well, excuse me. Do you have somewhere to be?” she quips. He looks around and then sighs before answering, “No.”

“Good. Then tell me your story because all I know is that a tornado threw you to me,” she teases. He chuckles as his eyes revert to their brown hue.

“Okay,” he agrees, getting up. He staggers, and the doctor steadies him.

“Ugh, you're so heavy,” she jokes.

He looks down at her, and for the first time, the ether’s calling changes:

“Protect, Preserve, Endure, Revel,” chanted at intervals until his mind fell silent."Wait, tell me your name!" the doctor replied.

"What?" the young man scoffed, and the doctor rolled her eyes.

The doctor huffed. "Your name, what is it? I need to refer to you as something."

The young man looked at the doctor, confused. "I don't have one."

"So, what do people call you when they refer to you?" the doctor asked.

"They don't," the young man replied, his voice dipped in venomous rage.

The doctor sensed the sorrow and anger emanating from the young man, then smiled before saying, “Well then, I'll give you a name. From now on, I'll call you… Roland the Rebel."

The young man tried to hide his smile but couldn't. He finally had something that was his, something personal. "Roland the Rebel. I like it. I am keeping this," Roland said.

The doctor smiled. "Chaewon, nice to meet you, Roland," she said as she shook Roland’s hand.

Roland smiled and replied, “Nice to meet you, Chaewon.”

4 years later

The rebel walked into the home he shared with the doctor. He shook off the dust after riding back home from a long and arduous day working as a ranch hand for the nearby rancher. The Rebel was excited to

“Hey Puppy I'm home.” the rebel said as he opened the door to their shared abode. He took his bandana off and took two steps in. When he realized she wasn't in. he moved around their shared home and then decided to check the

He walked into seeing The doctor caring for a young boy who was recently feeling under the weather. He had a simple cold which meant she would have to give him one of her remedies. The doctor heard the door open and turned to see her “roommate” waving at her. She turned and smiled

“Hey Roly how was the ranch?” she asked curious

“Oh, you know same old same old. Mrs. Ware is still flirting with me but she knows I only have one love.” the rebel replies. The Doctor laughs as she finishes up with the boy named Thomas’ medicine. She hands it to Thomas who nods then goes over to the Rebel.

“Um excuse me, Mr Roland Sir can you take me home?” Thomas asks innocently.

The rebel turns to The doctor who nods and responds, “Yes! Please do! His mom made us pies and buns for us.” the doctor said excitedly. The rebel smiles in agreement Mrs. Hernandez (Thomas's mother) adores baking almost as much as she loves her husband (father Gabriel the priest of the town) and so she is sinfully good at it. So any chance to snag some of them is a chance well spent. So Roland puts on his gloves and his bandanna and gestures for Thomas to follow him.

As he walks out Chaewon takes off all of her Doctors gear and washes her hands. After she does so she blows Roland a kiss before saying, “Get back home safely Roly.”Roland nods as he leads young Thomas outside to his mount. When the two get on Roland’s mount Thomas asks about the weird “red things” in front of the clinic as they begin their journey.

“Oh, you don't need to worry about those. Just relics of a past time.” Roland answers

“Okay” Thomas replied and the two began their ride. For the most part, it was silent. Although Roland was well-liked in the town and considered as insensible as Chaewon due to his handiness and willingness to help anyone; the town was still wary of him. Arriving with no name out of a tornado is still arriving with no name out of a tornado. He was also spurned by the fact that he was an adrift. So all suspicions were considered admissions of guilt. However, the youngsters didn't see it that way. They just saw Roland as the friendly old guy who helped their parents and was living with the town doctor. So they were always more open to him, not by much though. Roland despite his openness tended to be reserved and very cagey with his answers especially about his past. He was a gentleman but had firm boundaries regardless.

"Hey, Mr. Roland. Are you going to marry Mrs. Chaewon?"

Roland turned to the young boy, surprised but smiling. "I'd like to. I am working hard to get her a ring. I just can't afford one right now, but I'm 9/10 of the way there," Roland explained. Thomas nodded then chuckled.

"She likes you," Thomas said. "While she was patching me up, she was frustrated that you weren't here helping."

"Oh really?" Roland asked.

"Yeah, she said how you're always within arm's reach and can help her get exactly what she needs. She is appreciative that you’re doing more, but she says she misses you during the day," Little Thomas said. Roland smiled, and then Thomas asked the million-dollar question.

"Hey, Mr. Roland. Why is your skin purple?"

Roland looked at the child and then said, "Well, my skin contains more of the chemical Antenalin. It's the reason why your school teacher’s skin is also pink."

"Oh, that’s why Mrs. Merryweather’s looks so sparkly?" Thomas asked, and Roland nodded. Thomas smiled and then said, “I am going to tell her when I get back to school." Roland smiled at the young boy before arriving at his home. The priest Gabriel was standing outside the door. Thomas giddily ran to his dad who lifted him.

“Dad, dad guess what Mr. Roland taught me?"

"What is it, son? (He eyes Roland) it better not have been curse words," he admonished.

"No, Dad, he taught me the reason his skin is purple."

Gabriel was taken aback by his son’s candid and excited response. "Oh, okay. What did he say?"

“He said it was a chemical called Antenalin," Thomas said with a smile.

Gabriel smiled and set Thomas down before sending him in with his mom. He faced Roland and chuckled.

“You know, for a simple ranch hand, you know quite a lot,” Gabriel said to Roland.

Roland shrugged as he responded, “Well, my parents told me knowledge is power, so I took it to heart when I had ‘higher ambitions,’ but now I’m happy I’m at peace.” As he finished, he dusted himself off before following Gabriel into his home.

Gabriel noticed Roland’s gait and affectation. “You look it. I remember when Chaewon and you first arrived together. I could see your emotions as if they were etched on your skin,” Gabriel said.

Feeling relaxed, Roland laughed before revealing, “I mean, technically they are.”

Gabriel’s eyes almost popped out at hearing that. “Wait? But that would make you a...” Gabriel responded, and Roland nodded.

“I was that, but I put that behind me, and hopefully it stays there,” Roland addressed.

Gabriel, still reeling from the revelation, said, “No wonder you know so much.” Gabriel smiled and hugged Roland. A gesture that, while appreciated in sentiment, always made Roland uncomfortable. After Mrs. Hernandez walked in and said, “Hey, Roly, I got food for you and your darling Chaewon.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hernandez.”

“Oh, always so polite. You know, to call me Izzy, Roland.” Roland apologized and graciously took the food. After that, Roland headed back to his new 'home.' When he arrived, Chaewon smiled upon seeing the food in his sack.

"Did she make the rolls?" Chaewon asked impatiently. Roland nodded and handed her one. Chaewon greedily scarfed it down and looked back at Roland with content and happy eyes. Roland smiles as he unpacks everything and has dinner with your favorite Doctor.

During the meal, Chaewon looks at Roland longingly. Roland catches glimpses of this and remembers what Thomas said. Roland looks at her and smiles graciously.

"Something the matter Chae," Roland asks hiding his knowledge.

Chaewon responds with an adorable pout, "Yeah you weren't here today. I couldn't cuddle you or use you to fetch me things,"

Roland squints hiding his intent he asks, "But Chae I thought you wanted me to help around with the bills?"

Chaewon squints back as she says, "I thought I did, but I'd much rather have my big burly nurse around."

"Okay. Well lucky for you I will be available tomorrow as Rancher Isiah is busy tomorrow," Roland Explains.

"Oh really? well, then how about we enjoy each other's company tonight," Chaewon suggests. Her implication sends a violent shiver through Roland's back. Chaewon finished her dinner and moved on to her favorite dessert Roland. Before Roland could take a breath Chaewon was already at his crotch unbuckling his pants. She smiled when his cock sprang free. Knowing all of Roland’s weak spots she blew a cold breath on his surging rod. She watched with erotic euphoria as he squirmed under.

“Come on Darling. You're this hard and I haven't even touched you yet,” Chaewon sticks her tongue out and wraps it around the tip and head of Roland’s cock. Roland groans as he spreads his legs further allowing Chaewon to explore his cock with her tongue. Precum begins to build at his tip.

Her grand finale of getting him ready for her. She wrapped her tongue around the tip before diving into his slit and lapping up his precum with an intense fervor that only separation could provide. Rolan groans as Chaewon engorged herself. He watched as she began to gag on his rod. Chaewon felt her arousal rising with each passing moment. It built making her light-headed as she stopped long enough to get oxygen to breathe before going back. She knew she had to stop herself otherwise she wouldn't be able to due to her love for Roland’s cock being down her throat. "Fuck Chae, How do you take me so well," Rolan questioned.

Chaewon knew Roland was ready for her when his eyes shifted to an intense crimson. He gets up and lifts the petite doctor to the table. She smiles knowing he is about to give her everything she's been wanting. As Roland urgently strips her Chaewon moans into his ear before nibbling on his cartilage. “Please be wild with me,” Roland nods as he pierces Chaewon. She moans uncontrollably as her pussy reflexively welcomes its favorite resident with a tight hug. He began to thrust as Chaewon enticed him to be rougher with her. She wasn't fragile after all. As Roland pumped in and out of Chaewon she brought herself up to kiss him. In between the fervent kisses she would moan.

"Ah fuck me. Fuck me harder Rebel." Hoping to satisfy her ventripotent lust for the adrift, and to his credit, Rolan would always try his hardest. As he fucked with more vigor Chaewon moaned harder as she neared her high. Roland smiled at his paramour as her moans filled their little love nest. when her eyes rolled back into her head he knew she was close.

"Cum for me Chae," Roland said and Chaewon obliged her lover. Her body tensed before her orgasm sent her spiraling into intense spasms and sensitivities. As she tried to calm herself through her high she watched helplessly as Roland kept fucking her.

"Yes, Yes, Yes Chaewon moaned as she flexed and tensed hoping to coax Roland to cum. before she could however she saw her seraph sheriff badge glow. She immediately pushed Roland off her and got serious.

"Wait Chae is everything okay," Roland asked.

Chaewon turned to her lover and nodded sweetly, "Yes I just have some business to take care of." she said. Roland nodded and said

"Well, then I am coming with you,"

[starryficsfinishwen]

✧!。◟[kinktober 2023] ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ — PGR & GI x reader [week 2]

write it on my neck, why don't you?

a.n. - hueheu midterm week this week and so much has/is happening, I'm super sorry for the delay. now you might be asking why they are paired with the other "evil" men, but I assure you: they're all randomly grouped LOL also, I hit 100 followers already, I'm so happy!!! thank you so much!! let's see what I can do, but I can assure that I'll try harder to post more now~ thank you so much ❤️

pairings - ascendants [roland, von negut] + sumeru, inazuma, and mondstadt men [alhaitham, albedo, ayato, diluc] x fem!reader

word count(s) - 400 to 2000+ words heuehueh (you can tell who I'm biased with, welp)

kinktober masterlist

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. NSFW THEMES: hate sex, corruption kink, orgasm denial, mirror sex, dry humping, shower sex, temperature play, sadism, degradation (bitch), sum praise kink. a bit of pet names (lamb, little lamb). slight bdsm (constraints). oral sex w/ handjob (m!receiving; von negut, diluc). sub!men (albedo, diluc). a little predator, prey? (von negut). STRONG USE OF LANGUAGE.

special mention: banner credits to @/rookthorneartistry, @/cafekitsune

! — Roland: Flambeau [ hate sex + orgasm denial ]

“My, what a sight to see.”

Roland's words were laced with amusement as if mocking you— tear-strained cheeks and quivering lips. His hands gripped your chin hard, caging you in between his arms.

“Shut up, Roland,” you spat out, “y-you're so weak.”

A surge of pleasure makes you choke on your own words. You're in his lap then, legs spread open and hung over his knees. Roland jerked his hips upward, a loud squelch as his dick throbs within your overstimulated walls. You whined softly, feeling the tip nudge that one spongy spot inside of you.

“Me, weak?” His laughter, although it brings you anger, tickles your chest, diving straight into your stomach, “said the girl who actually begged me to fuck her.”

“Roland, I swear to- ah,” you moaned out pathetically, his free hand caressing your clit, “ngh, n-no more...”

“Who would have thought that Luna's little lap dog is actually a bitch in heat, mm,” Roland dawdled out, laughing as he pinched your nub, “oh, did you like that? When I called you a bitch?”

“Fuck you.”

“Am I not doing you that favor already?”

You fumbled with your hands— tied tightly with your scarf —but all you could touch was the cold metal plate in his chest. Your anger bubbles brightly in your chest, yet all you can breathe out is your incessant moaning.

“I should admit: you look pretty when you're spewing nonsense to rile me up.” He chuckled, causing your pussy to flutter around his cock, “But you look the prettiest when you're ever so desperate to be fucked by me.”

When he was done playing with your overstimulated clit, he brought two fingers to your mouth, to which you obediently started sucking. Roland grunted in your ear, the other free hand dragging from your shoulders to your breast, causing you to jump.

“But I do admit, you look too beautiful when you're busy sucking on something else.” Pretty and beautiful is an understatement, not when you're mindlessly sucking his fingers as he toyed with the insides of your mouth, breathless sighs combining with your desperate grinding on his dick.

“Shit,” he breathed, licking under your ear, “squeezing me already. Your pussy is so greedy,” he called your name, voice dripping with sin and lust.

“I hate you,” you moaned out through your bared teeth and his fingers when Roland began to rut into your hips with reckless abandon, “I fucking hate you, Rola- ah, there, please-”

He groaned once more before grabbing you by the hips, manhandling you to the nearest table, uncaring whatever was there. Your chest lay flat on the surface, his hands now gripping as he fucks you on the corner of the table. Too fucked out to care, you moaned out his name as he rammed into you. And he felt like like it was second nature at that point— your erratic breathing, your pussy twitching and holding him like a vice grip. Hissing through your tight walls, Roland pulled out, the tip of his reddening dick teasing through your slit. You whined from the loss of pleasure, the only heaven that he denied you from—

“You've been nothing but a little tease.” Roland sighs, “Guess being a little bitch really makes you a brat, hm? Did Luna teach you that?”

Without a warning, Roland slammed his dick in one swift motion, the impact sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body, a cry of his name catching the both of you off guard. But Roland, he was too cruel for you; he effortlessly brought your hips higher to him, flushed against him. He saw a frothy white ring forming at the base of his dick, and he only laughed more.

“How about I teach little bitches like you on how to behave properly.”

! — Von Negut: ??? [ corruption kink ]

“Did your parents teach you not to stray from the right path?”

Lithe footsteps echo throughout the abandoned chapel. Your steps, unlike the ones trailing behind you, falter as you hear them not too far behind you. You were sure you were careful; you thought it was the priest guarding the chapel, or a nearby construct guard, but as you turned, you were met with unfamiliar golden eyes.

His complexion is human; hair tousled and soft, face relaxed as moonlight seeped through broken stained glass. He wore clothes that you only read from the books you've found during your hunts. And most importantly, the glint of his mask catches your attention.

He isn't from this town.

“Who are you?” You asked, voice trembling as you held onto your bag. He shouldn't find what you've scavaged; it's enough to feed for yourself for the next few days before the harsh winters would come to haunt you again.

“Little lamb,” he spoke, walking ever so slowly to you, “I should be the one asking you that question: who are you? And why are you even here?”

You hold onto your white hood, shifting to let the cape cover you, “I'm...sorry. Is this your property? I promise not to touch anything else. There was a blizzard outside, I found this place by accident. I will leave in a while-”

“-No, you're fine.” The man halts in front of you, golden eyes devoid of any emotion, that you thought he was a construct. “I don't mind trespassers. In fact, I think you should stay until the blizzard outside stops; you'll be safer here.”

“Thank-” you choke a cry, “thank you so much...”

“However, you should tell me; no wanderers would easily find this area. How did you find this place?”

You never noticed that he was closer than he was earlier. A hair's breadth away from seeing the lies you've concocted. You look away, dazzled by his eminent beauty.

“I...really got lost,” you held your breath, “I strayed from the path I was supposed to follow and the snowstorm led me here...”

“Alright, then can you explain the food you've stolen?”

“I didn't-!” you cried out, but the intense gaze he had on you made you shut your brain, “I-I found them...”

“You do realize that liars need to be punished, right?” Stoic expression on his face, yet a dull ache ran through your body and...down there. Punishment? What was it?

“I know you stole from us, little lamb.” he reached out to touch your chin, your hood dropping as your face is finally revealed to the mysterious man. “Bad girls like you need to be punished.”

“I-I'm not a-”

“On your knees.”

It was an order. An order, voice authoritative and firm, that made you sink to your knees, the bag of food forgotten as you dropped them to your side. What was wrong with you? Why did you suddenly drop to the floor?

You squeaked as he approached you, his nether regions closer to your face. Upon further inspection, a noticeable outline was seen, haloed by the broken lights.

“What a good girl, such a good little lamb.” The praise made you throb down there, now confused with the situation.

His gloved hands find themselves resting above his bulge. You swallowed your pride, as he spoke again, “I'm sure you humans have never heard the art of procreation, now that the punishing virus has been rampant. Have you heard of it, little lamb?”

“N-no...” you meekly admitted, yet you knew something related to what he meant, something that your late parents had spoken about, “I haven't...”

“That is your punishment.” He said, and you try to look for some emotion on his face, but cold, lifeless golden irises only stare back at you, “for breaching boundaries that you never should have reached.”

He dips his head low, that only moonlight and you could hear, a shadow overcasting his face, “for straying the path you should have taken instead.”

Your heart thrums harder in your chest— thump, thump, thump, —wildly, as the mysterious man unzips his pants, revealing a long, thick cock, littered with a prominent vein on one side, tip oozing with something sticky. You've been warned about men and their sadistic tendencies, that sex is bad when you're only a young girl trying to survive the storm and the virus. But seeing one, something so large and thick in reality made you question what you've learned.

“Pretty...” you unconsciously spoke, “I-I mean-”

The man only chuckles, “you think so, mm? Well, why don't you use your hands first.”

Shakily, you tried to hold onto the thing. You were very uncertain, but the loud noise the man made only encouraged you to touch more.

It's soft— you noted. Although long, it curves perfectly in your hand, and you try to touch the veins littering across the shaft. He only moans further, and down there, you've been throbbing alongside your heartbeat.

Was this really a punishment? You somehow enjoyed it, rubbing the shaft and eventually toying with the tip of his leaking cock. Suddenly, he grabs the top of your head, pushing it for your mouth to meet his dick.

“Easy now, little lamb,” he chuckled, “You think you could stop at that?”

You whined as he nudged his dick to your mouth, smearing the liquid to your lips. “Open your mouth. Let's see how good you are with it.”

You obliged to his wishes, uncomfortable yet feeling... unnaturally hot as you struggled to take him whole in your mouth. Tears like diamonds form by the corner of your eyes, but when you looked up, his golden irises reflected an emotion that you were familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time—

Lust.

“Good girl,” he spoke through gritted teeth, labored breaths filling the room, “I thought you'd be inexperienced, but look at you.”

He shallowly thrusts in your mouth. You try to breathe through your nose, but his grip on your head, and the dizzying, overwhelming feeling of pleasure slowly corrupts your mind.

And it's something that the mysterious man wants.

You feel his cock a bit bigger in your mouth, and you try to protest, but he quickly pulls away, his dick coated with his pre-cum and your saliva.

“Open your legs, little lamb,” you do as he asked, trembling as you feel something wet dribble down there that you almost whined, “mm, that's it.”

He leaned down, swiftly taking your panties, aware of the thin slick webbing them. Embarrassment fills you, but a new wave of pleasure replaces it with a small moan, as you feel the tip of his dick rub your clit.

“W-wait, sir-”

“Von Negut,” he smiles sadistically as he rubs his shaft over your drenched little pussy, “I want you to call me that while I claim you. That's my name. Try to say it.”

“S-Sir...V-Von Negut...”

“Mmh, that's right,” the golden irises only glint the same as his mask, “that's a good girl.”

In one swift movement, he sinks his whole cock into your pussy, feeling your walls tremble violently as you came on his cock for the first time that night. Von Negut marvels at you, your way to corruption.

“This is your punishment for straying from the right path, little lamb.”

! — Alhaitham: Admonishing Instruction [ mirror sex ]

Once upon a time, you said— quite proudly, to add —that you could take on the Grand Scribe without losing.

“Seems like you've miscalculated,” chuckled Alhaitham, as he grunted into the crook of your shoulder, his breath sending tingles from your tear to the tips of your toes, “you really ran your mouth dry, [Y/N].”

So there you were— split apart on Alhaitham's big cock, legs trembling as he pried them open on his legs, your fingers betraying you as they fumbled to rub your clit and open your hole wider. You whined louder, head thrown back onto Alhaitham's shoulder, refusing to look at yourself in the mirror that he placed in front of you.

“Ngh, no, no more,” you cried out, “y-you're too big, 'Haitham ... s'big,”

“Hm? Already?” He teased you mercilessly, thrusting harder on you, that you heard a loud squelch from where you're connected, “mm, I thought you said you could take me.”

“T-This doesn't count,” you whined, “n-no matter how many times we d-do this...you're just too b-big...”

Alhaitham couldn't lie, not when his ego was stroked like how your pussy enveloped his hard cock. He laughed, fingers aiding your own to rub your overstimulated cunt.

“That's good, isn't it?” He breathed deeply to the crook of your neck, nibbling that one spot that made you shake in his arms, “this pussy is accommodating me just right. I know you can take it more, dearest. I believe in you.”

You moaned, as if answering Alhaitham's mockery. One of his hands grabbed onto your hips, dictating you to his rhythm, causing you to jolt.

“See, this is the problem: I put this mirror in front of you, in front of us, so you could see how beautiful you are when you're busy jumping on my cock,” he tsked, your pathetic whines falling deaf to his ears, “why don't you listen to me and look at yourself in the mirror?”

You didn't listen. Instead, you shook your head, burying your face into his neck. “N-no, don't wanna...”

Alhaitham sighed, his thrusts becoming slower. You whined from the slowing loss, as you were already trying to chase your high. Alhaitham may be a tease, but he's patient and kind — he wouldn't cum unless you listened to his commands.

“Come on, darling,” he taunted, one hand gently holding your chin, “don't you want to cum, hm?”

Defeated, you let Alhaitham's hand lead you in front. By the time you opened your eyes, your pussy throbs.

Were you always this pretty? Looking nearly fucked out, legs trembling, body littered with bites and hickies, and how you looked perfect, slotted just right in Alhaitham's body. His large cock buried deep in your walls, and you were quite sure your pussy was greedily sucking him in, ever so perfectly split apart by him. Alhaitham was the prettiest— broad shoulders and sculpted body towering over yours, caging you just right. A loud moan escapes your lips, and Alhaitham thinks it's the best one, as your walls flutters around his cock.

“You like that, don't you?” He chuckled deeply, leaving another hickey on the side of your neck, “you like it when you see yourself in this mirror, being fucked by me?”

“A-Alhaitham,” you moaned, feeling his cock sink deeper, just nudging that one spot you've been looking for all this time, “f-fuck, right there, right there please- ah, hah-”

“Fuck,” he cursed, impatiently slamming his hips to you, sturdy fingers still gripping your chin to stay still, “we should do this more often, hm?”

“Don't look away; I want you to see how we look when we cum together.”

! — Albedo: Kreideprinz [ dry humping ]

You've always known that the Chief Alchemist of Mondstadt was an eye-candy.

Soft, fluffy hair (Klee said so, while you accompanied her during your walk to Starfell lake,), calculative teal eyes, a gentle baritone that makes you feel lightheaded whenever he talks to you. It's impossible not to fall for someone like Albedo. A man like him, with a life so guarded and clear, would always uphold his image.

That is, until he starts whimpering under you.

Trembling lips and teal eyes looking at you for mercy. You're straddling him— the heat of your cunt directly on his awfully hard and clothed dick, his hands holding your shoulders, and yours on his. How did this happen? You can't remember much; only when your cunt catches the outline of his bulge, that you moaned out Albedo's name, that he whimpers more under you.

“[Y/N],” he breathed out, the cloud of smoke escaping your lips, “m...more, please.”

A haughty laugh from you. You grind at the delicious friction, one that made Albedo moan louder.

“Oh, the Chief Alchemist is asking for more?” You teased, the torchlight behind you granting you the chance to see the strained look on Albedo's face, “I thought you said you're done.”

“Ngh, I-I am,” he muttered, “b-but you're still here...you're still teasing me.”

Your mind is mushed, drowning in Albedo's scent— cecilias and the snow —and you roll your hips closer to him, twin moans from the both of you.

You forget you're an assistant, and he's your boss; right now, in this small space of the cave, you would chase your high with the man you've been pining on all this time.

“Don't you like this?” Your faux innocence is alluring to Albedo, much to his chagrin, “you're awfully hard, Albedo. Do you not want to be relieved from this?”

“Ah, I would, if only Sucrose and Timaeus were not-”

“-Don't say other people's names when we're like this, Albedo,” you hold Albedo's jaw in between your fingers, staring deeply into his teal irises, “I get jealous rather easily.”

You leaned down to kiss him, to which he reciprocated; unconsciously, you grinded hard on him, the outline deliciously rubbing your clit and catches your weeping hole. Albedo groans into your mouth, hips jerking as he comfortably finds the spot that made your knees weak.

Grinding, panting, incessant touches— it's mesmerizing, it's intoxicating; the smell of your arousal clogging his rational thoughts, and the heat of your bare cunt staining his trousers. Forget it then— Sucrose, alchemy, the world; heaven descended and landed on his lap, in the form of you.

Relentlessly, he ruts into you, both your moans swallowed by each other's mouths. Hands tangled in the expanse and gaps of skins that can be reached, reckless abandon to the point of intoxication.

Albedo fits perfectly with you; it makes him wonder what it'd like when his dick sinks into yours?

That very thought sends him to his climax, lips detaching to groan to you, hips jerking uncontrollably as he cums in his underwear. You followed after, cunt sitting on top of the outline of his dick. Both of you try to catch your breaths, content with each other's warmth.

“So,” he spoke after a while, hand slipping underneath your coat, “would you...mind staying the night?”

! — Ayato: Pillar of Fortitude [ shower sex ]

Taking a shower is one of the ways for Ayato to de-stress after a long, long day. Seeing you is also another way.

But having both at the same time? What a perfectly good way to de-stress.

“Archons,” he breathes, “you're taking me so good, darling.”

You moan out in response, arms trembling to support yourself as you held yourself against the wall, Ayato rails you from behind.

“A-are you sure?” you whimpered, “I-I haven't really prepared for this...”

“You're perfect, god,” he pants, lips finding refuge in the nape of your neck, thrusts still going strong, “you've always been a good little wife to me, darling. You need no preparation, I know you'll take what you're getting.”

There's something about today though. Naturally, Ayato is a careful man, he'd never do something like this as he respects your privacy. But you know, the very moment he came home, he was ready to ravage you.

“I've had a terrible day today,” he paused, a slow and careful thrust to your pussy, “you...just you, you clamping down on me is just what I need.”

The shower water drips down to you both. You forget your fingers pruning, you forget how wet you are; just that Ayato is here, and he's fucking you until you can't walk. Just when you thought he can't get any deeper, he raised one of your legs closer to his chest, a loud moan as an answer to his actions.

“A-Ayato...!”

He slung your leg to his arm. His other hand, from your chest, drifts down to your pulsating cunt, strumming on your clit. The coil in your stomach knocks as your second orgasm for the night draws closer, Ayato's dick nudging on the sweet spots that's making you see stars.

“Why don't you cum for your beloved husband, darling? I want to feel you cum first, before I fill your womb with my seed.”

! — Diluc: The Dark Side of Dawn [ temperature play ]

Although he may not admit it, but Diluc's orange eyes glowed in the dark, anticipation and excitement reflecting as you slowly dragged his zipper down ever so slowly.

“Must you tease me this way, love?” He groaned, seeing as you laughed at his demise.

“Mm, maybe?” Giggling, you dragged out his pants even slower, “it's fun teasing you this way.”

“You are cruel.”

“I am a saint,” you grinned, taking the surprise out of your breast, a small container in your hand, “and you are following what I'm saying.”

You opened the container. You are immediately met with the smell of asters and wine, courtesy of Albedo's experiment. It's a surprise, really— how your lover, Diluc, decides to join in on your antics.

“Is that Albedo's new experiment?”

You nodded, “he was using slime condensate as a new form of lubricant. He wanted to copy that consistency, and here we are now.”

“It sounds successful,” he coughed, “are you sure there are no other side effects?”

“One way to find out,” you hummed, grabbing a scoop with your fingers, before rubbing it in your hands, “I'll be testing this out now.”

Without breaking eye contact, you looked at your husband as you carefully grabbed his half-hard cock. Must have been the reaction with the cold condensate and his natural body heat— he throws his head back into the pillows, groaning. It felt...nicer in your hands. His thick cock comes to life, already hard and hot in your hands. Graciously, you rub along his shaft, paying close attention to the prominent vein by the side of it. He groans and growls louder, fingers gripping the sheets. You revel in his actions as you pump him, occasionally rubbing the tip of his reddening long and hard cock.

He looks amazing when he's writhing under you, as if your control was enough for him to feel this way. Your pussy throbs at that thought.

“How are you feeling, love?”

“Mmph, fuck,” he moaned softly, “i-it's cold, but at the same time, i-it's so hot...”

His hips jerk to your touch, as if sensitive. The gears in your head starts to turn, but it's too late— Diluc cums in your hands, a low groan escaping his lips.

Warm, creamy cum overfills your hands. You can't help but grin, the new lubrication extending his orgasm as you pump his dick more.

“Mm, cumming already, love?”

“I-I- uh,” he shook his head, an arm over his eyes, “sorry...it felt so good...”

“No worries,” you beamed at him, lowering down to meet his still-hard cock, “let me clean you up.”

Diluc shot up, only to find you already sucking the tip of his dick, his hips jerking once more as he felt your warm mouth down there.

“Hah, love, w-wait,” he reached out to grab hold of your hair, tugging as you bob your head, struggling to take his whole dick into your mouth, “s-slow down, please...”

Diluc wasn't joking; you tasted the coolness of the lubricant, but at the same time, it lingered with his heat. Your tongue teasingly licks the prominent vein, and Diluc harshly tugs on your hair.

“L-love, wait, f-fuck, hah,” Diluc's cock feels bigger as you try to swallow him deeper, “I-I think I'm coming-”

But you stopped before he could finish that statement. Saliva drips out of your mouth as you catch your breath, staining your nightgown. You look up to see Diluc's flustered appearance— flushed cheeks, labored breathing, and twitching cock. You licked your lips, before taking the container to Diluc's hands.

“Rub me, Diluc,” you spoke, flirty and honest, “I want to feel what you're feeling, too.”

Without hesitation, Diluc scoops with his fingers as you straddled his legs, leaking little pussy presented neatly to him. Your lover growls, as he lightly smears the lubricant across your cunt, your moans intertwining with his. You felt the cold seeping through your hot skin now, and it makes you want more.

You quickly slid and grinded your weeping cunt along Diluc's shaft, your moans and his getting louder as you feel pleasure builds up faster than ever. You looked deeply into Diluc's warm eyes, as you aligned your pussy to his hard cock, entering into you in one fell swoop. Cold and hot lingers— outside and inside of you, as you felt his cum fill your womb. Diluc growls in your ear, and it makes you grab onto his shoulders, nails digging deep there.

“Let's see how many times we can come from this, darling.”

please like, reblog, comment if you likey! please don't copy, plagiarize, or translate my work without my permission!

-ˋˏ starryficsfinishwen ˎˊ

[sweetbonniebel]

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Ten

Daemon x reader

Synopsis: A time skip!

Masterlist <-previous , next->

122 AC Blackfyre, Stepstones

"You must push your highness!" The midwife exclaimed looking between your legs.

"I know I have to fucking push!" You screamed in anger as you crushed your husbands hand in pain.

"I can see the head!" Annora said patting down your forehead. You groaned as you felt another contraction, you screamed in pain as you pushed with all your might.

The screeches of Vermithor were heard through the island as he circled the castle sensing your pain.

"Fuck!" You screamed squeezing your muscles to deliver the child. The cries of a babe were heard, you sighed in relief thanking that the hardest part was over.

"A healthy boy your highness!" Annora said happily, the midwife cut the cord and handed you the kicking babe.

"Another boy?" You whispered pressing your son against your breast.

"You did great, my love." Daemon said kissing your sweaty forehead. "What shall we name him?"

The newborn babe opened his large eyes to reveal one violet eye one green. "Aerion" You said seeing the wisps of silver gold hair on his little head

"A fine name your highness." Maester Roland approved as he watched the newborn prince. The chambers were opened, Rhaenyra, Laenor and their children entered followed by your children Darren, Nymor, Baelon and Vhaenor, Aegon entered last.

"A boy?" Rhaenyra asked glancing at the babe you nodded handing her the infant.

"It seems that the gods do not want me to have daughters" You laughed as your sons curiously watched the babe. Baelon four sat at your side and Vhaenor two, crawled into Daemon's lap.

The realm rejoiced at the news of another prince named Aerion Targaryen, your third child with Daemon.

As soon as your legs allowed you, you took your sons to the Dragonbone where the dragons Vermithor, Silverwing, Caraxes, Moondancer and Sunfyre resided. Aerion in bundles slept comfortably in your arms as his brothers followed you. The dragon keepers welcomed you and your children with open arms.

"The news are great your highness." Joqar the elder dragon keeper said.

"What is it Joqar?" You asked

"Silverwing has laid a clutch of eggs! Five big eggs!" He said happily.

"Where is she?" You asked and searched for Silverwing and your bonded dragon that often coiled with the silver she-dragon.

You limped towards the bronze fury with Aerion in your arms, the dragon expelled a fume of smoke as he examined the babe. Silverwing laid beside him. You knew that Vermithor fathered the eggs that Silverwing laid, it was as if on instinct. Rhaena must be very proud.

"You have laid eggs for my sons..." You whispered pressing your forehead against his scaly snout. "Thank you" The dragon purred, Aerion grabbed one of Vermithor's horns and laughed gleefully.

"Where are the eggs?" You asked the elder dragonkeeper as you left the caves with your sons, they brought the eggs in a cauldron filled with hot rocks. Red with spare orange scales, green with purple swirls, white with gold shimmer, a pink one with black streaks, one of the colour of rust covered in black spots. "Call for Rhaena" You ordered knowing that the eggs belonged to Rhaena's dragon. Your sons observed the eggs curiously.

"Step-mother!" Rhaena said gleefully jumping from her horse. You kissed her dreaded hair and ushered her in the direction where the eggs resided.

"Silverwing has laid a clutch of eggs" You said showing her Silverwing's and Vermithor's clutch. She stared with sparkles in her eyes at the various eggs. "With your permission I would like to give them to your brothers."

"Of course, I assume the eggs are also Vermithor's. Therefore they also belong to you, step-mother." Rhaena said.

"That is very kind of you, Rhaena." You answered.

"Rhae!" Baelon pulled his half-sisters skirts, taking her attention.

"What is it?" She kneeled next to the four year old.

"Can I have egg?" He babbled pointing his little hand at the cauldron. The girl smiled and picked him up letting him see the eggs.

"Go on love, which one?" You caressed Baelon's silver hair. Your son stayed silent for a moment, observing the scaly objects. He pointed at the green egg, you kissed his chubby cheek.

"A fine egg Baelon." Rhaena said.

The dragon keepers transferred the green and purple egg to another bassinet.

"Place it in the princes room." You ordered the Dragonkeeper. "Come along now, we have to tell your father the good news."

"What of the other four?" Your step-daughter asked.

"They will Vhaenor's, Aerion's and any of the future children I might have." You responded glancing at the eggs before you. "Rhaena, which one should be Vhaenor's?"

She hummed and pointed at the red egg, you nodded. The infant in your arms begun to fuss, Aerion gurgled displeased.

"I think he is angry we forgot about him." You chuckled and swayed the babe in your arms. The white and gold egg called to you, you gently placed your palm on it and glanced at your son. A small smile made its way on his red face. "This one will be for Aerion."

...

"I have heard the news! Five eggs! Five!" Daemon exclaimed happily as he entered the nursery, your sons played on the floor, their eggs in their cradles.

"Silverwing and Vermithor laid them for our children." You spoke as your husband kissed your lips and placed a kiss upon little Aerion's blonde wisps of hair.

"My mother Alyssa had the same eyes as our son." Daemon said caressing Aerion's hair and looking at his round face and eyes. He moved to his second son and picked him up.

"Hm." Daemon hummed and placed Vhaenor in his cradle along with the red and orange egg. His large palm grazed the scaly surface. "It is hot."

"It shall hatch soon then." You answered walking towards the crib that belonged to Aerion, his own white egg with golden streaks laid comfortably against the pillows. As you placed your son he immediately clutched onto the egg. You watched him with happiness spread on your features.

"What of the other eggs?" Daemon asked.

"They are in Dragonbone, the keepers are taking care of them." You answered, your husband pressed his forehead against yours.

"Do you think they'll hatch?" He questioned.

"I think they will, sooner or later."

...

"Mother!" Baelon ran into your chambers a wide grin on his chubby cheeks, he jumped on the bed startling you and waking you up from slumber.

"Baelon it is night, whatever it is can wait until sunrise." You said turning in your bed hoping your son will let you sleep. Aerion taking much of your strength these days.

"No mama! Egg!" Vhaenor appeared and exclaimed jumping onto his father who slept soundly on your left.

"What of the eggs?" Daemon awoke and asked mindlessly his son.

"Dragon!" Baelon's words awoke you from your slumber for good, your husband took Vhaenor into his arms and rushed to his nursery.

Before opening the doors you could hear the familiar screeching of newly hatched dragons. Vhaenor bounced excitedly in his fathers arms as you enter the nursery.

Three baby dragons flied through the chambers knocking off the candles, books and toys of the shelves. Vhaenor freed himself of his father's grip and the red dragon landed in his arms. Your husband stared at you in amusement. Baelon stood next to you and observed his younger brothers.

Vhaenor sat on the carpet as he stared at the ceiling as his bonded dragon circled above. A small red dragon with membranes and horns of a lighter red colour. Aerion giggled as his own white dragon with a golden belly chirped and screeched above him. Another one, landed on Baelon's head chirping happily.

"God's be good." You whispered to yourself seeing the three new dragons wreak havoc in the nursery.

"Can I name?" Baelon asked with his green dragon that possessed purple eyes. The little green creature sat on his shoulder staring into your eyes.

"It is your dragon, it is only fitting." You whispered kneeling next to your son.

"Aegarax!" He said proudly, the red lizard jumped from Baelon to you. It purred and chafed himself on you, drowning you in his scent.

"Creator of the first dragon.. A great name dearest." You said, gently touching Aegarax. He screeched but let you pet his snout.

"What of the other two?" Daemon asked glancing at the remaining hatchlings.

"Aerion what do you think?" You asked your four month old son he chortled and clapped his hands. Too young to understand.

"Perhaps we should wait until he is old enough to name it himself" Daemon said pressing his hand against the white and gold hatchling.

You wondered if the rest of the eggs hatched, if three already did it is most likely.

"We shall take them to Dragonbone." You husband said, your brows furrowed.

"No." You denied Daemons plan. "Until they are small enough, they will stay here with their bonded riders."

Your son's cheered and occupied themselves with their new companions.

...

You laid in your bed cradling Aerion to your breast, his hatchling chirped happily as he sat on your shoulder. Darren entered your chambers a sword in hand.

"Good morrow mother." He approached and pressed a kiss to you cheek and gently ruffled Aerion's hair. Darren grew quickly, at two and ten he was almost your height.

"How was your training?" You asked patting the empty space next to you.

"Daemon is ruthless." He answered "But a good teacher."

You chuckled at your son's opinion on his step-father.

"And where is Aegon, you have lessons together." You inquired. Your nephew and son were attached at the hip, they shared lessons, meals and their free time.

"He went to the Dragonbone with Baelon." Darren mused sinking his teeth in a fig.

"You didn't want to accompany them? I remember how eager you were to visit Vermithor with me." Your youngest son unlatched from your breast and chortled.

"That was back home, mother. Now not a day goes by where I don't see a dragon." The violet eyed boy answered.

"That is true, I suppose... But now I wish to go the Dragonbone and you and your siblings will accompany me." You ordered fixing your dress and swaddling Aerion, the baby dragon refused to leave his tiny humans side.

Darren took his youngest sibling from your arms, cooing at the happy baby. Nymor was in the training grounds practicing with your husband, Vhaenor was playing with wooden soldiers and dragons as Annora watched over him.

"Husband, I must steal my son away from his training." You approached Daemon, he has barely broken a sweat. Dressed in black pants and a red shirt he looked quite handsome.

"Whatever for, dear wife? I cannot simply let our son end his training early because of your whim." He answered, his tone filled with jest. You chuckled and pressed your lips together.

"I am taking our children to the Dragonbone, it seems that Aegon has already kidnapped our eldest."

"I shall join you then."

...

The two unbonded hatchlings sreeched circling their scaly siblings. The tall ceiling of the volcano allowed them to fly freely.

You saw as Aegon held Baelon in his arms, introducing him to Sunfyre.

"Kidnapping a prince is a grave crime, Aegon." You jested approaching the ten and five year old boy.

"Mother!" Baelon wiggled in Aegon's grasp extending his arms towards you.

"I am also a prince, therefore not a crime." He countered and leaned into your touch as you pressed a kiss to his braided hair.

"How is Sunfyre doing?" You asked glancing at the dragon before you.

"Quite well, however the hatchings like to pick on him and he gets irritated." You laughed and Sunfyre screeched unhappily.

You left your children in the care of your husband, walking into the depths of the volcano. The familiar path that led you to your mount was engraved in your mind.

The bronze fury laid comfortably in his lair, spare bonzes scattered though the space. You approached the old dragon, he huffed as he turned to face you. He blew smoke from his nostrils, the smell of sulphur and coal filled your senses.

"Hello, old boy." You said and scratched the scales under his bull like jaw, he leaned into your touch and purred. "I am sorry we have not flown in a while, being a mother is tiresome." You said and sat leaning on his ribs. His tails wrapped itself around you, protecting your form. You begun the hum and old nursery rhyme, the heat of his scales brought comfort to your sore body.

So many things changed since your wedding with Daemon, you bore three children Baelon, Vhaenar and Aerion. The Stepstones became your new home, castle Bloodfyre was nearly finished thanks to dragon fire. Your sons Derran and Nymor travelled between Sunspear and Bloodstone as they wished. Baela and Rhaena lived with you, sometimes visiting Driftmark on Moondancer and Silverwing. Rhaenyra lived with her children and court on Dragonstone, sometimes visiting on Syrax.

Aegon was turning six and ten soon, which meant he could return to King's Landing, if he wished. You didn't know if you could let him go after so long. He was like your son and Derran wouldn't bear it if he left.

"What are you thinking about?" Aegon entered the cave. You stared at him with fondness in your eyes.

„I was thinking about you.” You answered patting the floor next to you for Aegon to sit.

„Me?” The Prince curiously shot back „Have I done something?”

„No,no Aegon. You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just that you are turning into a man soon.”

„So?”

„It means that you will have to return to King’s Landing.” You barely said the words, your throat closing up.

„I- I don’t have to, right?”

„Your mother will except you to come ba-„

„She’s not my mother!” He raised his voice „You have raised me for the past decade, I don’t have any ties with that woman.”

„Aegon, as much as I and Derran want you here there are some things I cannot control. Your wardship is coming to an end and there is not much I can do. Especially since your grandsire is now hand.”

„So what? You’re the King’s sister.”

„And you’re his son.”

„I don’t want to go.”

„I know Aegon.” You wrapped your arms around his body. Bringing him some comfort. „If you wish I can go with you to King’s Landing. I can stay with you for some time. It has been a while since I saw my brother.”

„I would like that.”

…

„Your highness!” Maester Roland clutched his grey robes as he approached you.

„What is it?” You questioned turning around.

„A letter from princess Rhaenyra.” He handed you to scroll, the black wax of the Targaryen sigil bonded the parchment. You broke the seal and quickly read the letter.

Laenor Velaryon is dead.

You slapped your hand on your mouth as you read the news. Maester Roland stared with worry etched on his aged features.

„Your highness, are you all right?” He questioned.

„I am all right, Roland.” You answered „My niece’s husband is dead. There is to be a funereal on Driftmark.”

„I am very sorry to hear that.”

„I must find my husband, if you’ll excuse me.” You said and turned on your heel, searching for Daemon.

You entered the nursery, your children and husband playing with wooden soldier on the ground.

„Mommy!” Your sons abandoned their toys and ran into your skirts.

„Hello, my loves.” You kissed both of their heads „Go back to playing, I need to borrow your father.”

Baelon and Vhaenor nodded their little heads and resumed playing, their hatchlings squabbling with themselves.

„What has happened, my love?” Daemon questioned, standing up from the ground. He placed his palms on your hips and pressing a kiss to your lips.

„Laenor Velaryon is dead.”

He raised his thin silver brows.

„How?”

„Killed in Spicetown by his paramour.” You replied leaning into his touch „We shall fly to Driftmark at once.”

…

It is rather uncommon for a dragon to lay as much as five eggs at once. Not including the fact that all of the eggs hatched. The three princes bonded with the hatchling immediately, it is knows for dragons to be protective and aggressive for their riders. That rule did not apply to Princess y/n, every dragon she met has never dared to attack her. - From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

For anyone confused here are the ages:

Derran 14 Nymor 12

Baelon 4 Vhaenar 2 Aerion four months

Baela 14 Rhaena 14

Jace 13 Luke 11 Joffrey 6

Aegon 16 Helaena 15 Aemond 14

[rachetmath]

RWBY X Video Games Pt 2.5

Ruby: Hey I bet you can't figure out what characters we played as in Borderlands.

Jaune: Hm. Ren? Nora?

Nora: Yeah I think so.

Ren: Me too.

Yang: Alright guess.

Jaune: Weiss was a Siren two times, so she was Lilith and Maya.

Weiss: How?

Jaune: Your semblance is similar to their move set. Obviously, plus I bet you enjoyed the look.

Weiss: shut up.

Nora: Yang, no doubt was Brick. He was a desecrator.

Yang: So true.

Ren: Blake had to Mordecai.

Jaune is leaving Ruby to Roland because she is a little more tech-wise than you. But mainly because she likes guns.

Ruby: Okay what about the sequel? I mean Weiss is already figured out.

Weiss: Shut it.

Ruby: But what about us?

Jaune: Hm. Hey.

Messenger: What?

Jaune: Did you give them DLCs?

Messenger: Yeah.

Jaune: Okay thanks.

Nora: Hm.

Yang: What's the matter? You guys are stumped?

Ren: I mean a little, we know Blake was Zero.

Blake: Damn that quick?

Jaune: Yeah that quick, come on. However you and Ruby we are torn against.

Ruby: Pfft how come?

Jaune: Were you two fighting over one character?

Yang: … Um.

Ruby: I-I-I mean-

Nora: It was over Salvador the Gunzerker wasn't it?

Yang: … mmm

Ruby: mmmm

Jaune: it was. It was. Give me five.

Nora: Damn right. *High five Jaune*

Jaune: I haven't forgiven you though.

Nora: Can we please talk?

Ren: Um can we get back on topic?

Jaune: Since when are we on topic? Anyway, it's clear why either of you wanted him. Mainly, why Yang wanted him.

Ren: I mean their personalities match so-

Jaune: No Ren, it's clear as day.

Ren: I mean- Oh. Oh. I see.

Yang: *blushes covering her breast*

Jaune: I don't understand why you are showing boating those balloons every day.

Nora: He's right, girl, there is no shame.

Blake: I don't get it.

Jaune: There were two options for both Ruby and Yang. Ruby could played as Gaige but she loves guns more than giant robots so she wanted Gunzker. Yang however didn't want the other character, Krieg because he was half naked.

Blake: So that's why two were arguing that time? Why didn't either of you choose Axton?

Jaune: Roland’s clone? Really?

Blake: Fine.

Nora: So Ruby understood why Yang wanted Salvador so she played as Gaige.

Blake: Alright, but you three won't figure this out. Pre-sequel.

Jaune: Ah shoot.

Ren: mm. Mm

Nora: Damn. That is hard.

Ren: No Handsome Jack Clone right?

Blake: Ew.

Weiss: I hate you for saying that.

Yang: I'm too sexy to be that arrogant.

Ruby: I mean the weapons are cool but no.

Yang: I mean I could have been-

Jaune: Hell no, don't say that. You ain't no Athena.

Yang: gasp how dare you sir? I’ll have you know-

Jaune: Athena has a shield and a sword. She is more about defense than offense. Plus you never used a sword.

Yang: How does that matter?

Jaune: Anyways I believe Ruby was Claptrap.

Ruby: What? how did you -

Jaune: Claptrap has access to all the previous Borderland character's moveset. I know you would be happy to use them.

Weiss: Guess you've become basic Ruby.

Nora: Lady Hammerlock.

Weiss:*stares at Nora in anger*

Nora: *cockly smiles* It suits you, considering your previous statues, Ice Queen.

Ren: Blake was Nisha. Her skill is very useful and she has a whip.

Blake: *blushes*

Jaune: Which leaves with Wilhelm the Enforcer. Mainly because you both lost an arm.

Yang: Okay. True.

Weiss: Well you won't guess who we-

Jaune: Borderlands 3. Weiss the Beastmaster. Blake the Operative. Yang the Siren. And Ruby the Gunner.

RWBY: ………………

Ruby: Man. No fair.

Nora: Come on, it wasn't that hard. Blake's semblance is basically Zane’s hologram. Amara power is Yang semblance except stronger and more versatile. FL4K just fights with his pets like Weiss with her summons except he does a better job.

Weiss: What was that?

Nora: And Moze has a giant robot with guns. Ruby would never miss a chance like that.

Ruby: Damn right!

Jaune: So are we done?

Yang: Yeah we’re done. But I have a question. How does it feel to be maiden-less in the Elden Ring and real life?

RWB: Oh.

Emerald: Shit!

Oscar: DAMN! You get no bitches!

Jaune: I mean, in the Elden Ring, I’ve seen a lot of crazy women. One was hell-bent on destroying a tree. A blue-doll woman who basically wants me to devote myself to her. A dragon woman. A flower woman who I’m surprised can live for so long. A woman who believes in a snake, so much so she was willing to eat off his corpse. And a knight who was dying and was beating me like no tomorrow. Took me three times to beat that woman and it wasn’t on her second phase. So yeah, being maiden less was more of a blessing than having one of either them.

Yang: Oh.

Jaune: As for real life. I mean I had women look at me funny back at Mantle, I had Pyrrha back at Vale. Glyanda believed in me so she might count. Then you got Weiss who complimented me. And it seems I was on your girl's mind before you even entered the picture. Regardless, I don’t care, but at least I don’t settle for less.

Yang: Um..

Jaune: And I love my mom. Too bad you will never know that feeling cause you never had one

Yang: Jau-

Jaune: I mean I’m not too judgemental but come on, at least I’m not a hypocrite, an irresponsible brat whose only accomplishment was getting a lamp. Oh, wait, that’s gone too.

Ruby:: Jaune.

Jaune: How does feel bitch? To be motherless, having to show nothing for all life's struggles but a girl who once fantasized about another man.

Yang: *cries*

Ruby: Really, Jaune?

Jaune: I mean I may have messed up a few times. But I was right on the majority of things and I produce great results.

[yuri-is-online]

you said that yutu and his friends have fought the heartslabyul boys in the bad timeline before, and it got the gears of my head turning. are they aware that their yutu is their kid? we know that ob! trey loved toying with his kids. even if they're not themselves anymore, it's interesting to know what their first reaction would be when this/these random kid/s (who looks a little TOO CLOSE to their long lost pregnant s/o or weirdly enough them in some cases) gets within their vicinity. can they even connect the dots since they’re phantoms now? do they seethe at this brat who masquerades as a memory of the past? (i can see ob! deuce getting extremely violent since his yutu looks like yuu, especially since i headcanon him acting as his delinquent self but 100x) Or do they just somehow know and not give af at all lmao.

How aware they are depends on 1) whether or not they died before of after the phantom possessed them and 2) who exactly killed them. This doesn't mean they act like themselves though, what I was trying to get across in Rook's pt. 2 is that he knows Roland is someone important, and might even be aware that this is his child, but the finer details are lost on him. He won't kill him outright, but if he starts using magic or if he were to try and kill him then the Hunter would kill him without much hesitation. What's left of Rook's soul would be distraught, his panic would likely influence the Hunter to take the boy's corpse to the Fairest Queen so she could "fix" him. And he wouldn't notice any difference between the two Rolands, if anything he might be relived that his son was no longer "sick." Now as for the specifics of the Heartslabyul boys:

Riddle is a wildly violent phantom. He is actively looking to enforce the Queen's law and take out his own pain on anything that looks wrong or moves. He is so caught up in his own anger, that he doesn't think Yutu is real. He thinks he is a hallucination mocking him for thinking he ever could have been happy, that you ever loved him or wanted to build a family in such a broken world. The real Yutu can't come home now, he hasn't made things perfect for him yet.

We have already talked about Trey, and I don't really want to pull back the curtain too much but (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵) The hatter is very independent. He is one of maybe two phantoms who have traveled outside of their domain but what the Phantom does and what Trey thinks he is doing are two very different things. When Trey leaves the Queendom he thinks he is going on vacation, when really he is hunting for more victims. As for his children, what is left of him genuinely thinks he is playing with them, and if one of them dies well then they just need to be taken home and put to sleep. As time goes on, the more he watches over them and tries his best to take care of them... then he might start to realize something is wrong. He gets a lot less intelligent and a lot more violent after that.

Cater's unique magic allows him to sit back and relax while his clones do most of the work for him, so actually seeing him is very rare. He spends most of his time in a state that looks like he's sleeping, only ever really waking up to do much of anything when Riddle forces him to. The clones don't recognize Yutu at all, and treat him in much the same way they do everyone else; they tend to be very annoying to fight and narrate how bad you are running for your life in very mocking tones. Actual Cater is much different; he's slow, deliberate in his movements and surrounded by a river of polluted water with a look that suggests he's tired. Maybe he is, he's been splitting off pieces of himself to trap you here and can't be whole anymore. He doesn't recognize Yutu until he finally gets in the killing blow, the only thing he has the energy left to do by then is smile.

Ace and Deuce are typically seen together. They're very similar to their duo magic line, where Deuce charges ahead and Ace laments that Deuce has lost it again, but there is a strange sort of desperation to a lot of their actions. Even if Yutu isn't their child, they recognize him sort of, they have been looking for you for a long time now and are very upset that someone is trying to use this against them.

For Ace, this manifests in him mocking whoever he thinks sent Yutu. He can't look the kid in the eye, if he is forced to think about what happened to you and your child any semblance of intelligence his phantom has leaves. Not even Riddle can control him when he thinks about how that makes him feel. He wants to kill Yutu, remove anything reminding him of what happened from the world at all. But as soon as he looks at him he loses most of his nerve. He's perfect... are you here too? Do you see what Ace is being forced to do to him? He was hoping he would look more like you...

Deuce's phantom refuses to think of Yutu as real. He is similar to Riddle in that he thinks the similarities he notices are just his imagination. It makes him violent, but unlike Ace he has no real problem looking Yutu in the eye. He makes no secret that he is looking to crush Yutu like a bug, how dare he pretend to be someone who has been dead and buried for years now? How dare he mock his grief? He wants nothing more than for you and your child to be here with him, but you aren't and that's just something he needs to accept. It's his fault you aren't here, he sees his current state as fitting punishment for that.

[unhappy-last-resort]

Counting Minutes (Yandere Roland x GN Reader)

Warnings: Implied stalking, unstable grip on reality, bombing threat, abandonment issues, non consensual touching (basically a strip search, not in a sexy way)

A/N: Finally working through my drafts.

Status: edited

Where. The fuck. Are you?

Roland glowered at the digital clock on the wall the numbers 7:30 glowing into the dim room. Usually you'd have been here by now, tactical terminal in one hand and coffee in the other, but you're late.

Everything was already a drag when you weren't around to tease or observe, even more so since he had to sneak onto Babylonia and absolutely can't be found out so he's forced to stay within a more abandoned area of Babylonia.

He already fears that he may have alerted Lee on accident when he was exiting your room earlier this morning. What the hell was that bastard doing outside your room so early anyway? Did Lee also have a habit of watching his Commandant sleep, or was he suspicious of his presence? Roland heaved a sigh, honestly, you should be honored by his presence here, he wouldn't endure Babylonia and their lackeys just for anyone. The only thing that makes all his efforts worth it is you. Being able to hear you, touch you, watch you, see you, being able to confirm that you're real. That he's not lost himself to an insanity so intense he's hallucinating everything, that a camera crew won't jump out somewhere.

"Roland, Roland, Roland...how naive you are." Roland tenses at the familiar voice. Of all things, he doesn't want to have this talk now.

"Whatever do you mean, my dear Hermano?" Roland responds with a languidness that they all know is merely performative as he slowly leans onto the wall behind him and casts a side glance at the door. Just come here already, what's taking you so long? Did you sleep late? Are you in a meeting? Are you...

Hermano bursts into a small fit of laughter. The sound irritates the edges of his M.I.N.D. "Of course they'd sell you out! Why wouldn't they? You're enemies after all, they were always going to abandon you in the end."

Roland's fists clench, anger coming over him so strongly it's almost shocking to him. No, no, no, no! You can't, you wouldn't! You would never do such a thing! You were too loyal to those morals of yours to back stab him like this, but... if you did, would it truly be such a surprise? Would it be that shocking if you did? After all, capturing him would give you a great amount of fame and power in Babylonia. Slowly, his hand reaches down to his coat pocket, the familiar square shape of that small remote in his palm as the room starts to feel almost suffocating.

Roland stills suddenly and he smiles, a chilling clarity surging through his M.I.N.D. like a tidal wave clearing away the filth. Well, then...if you're going to betray him like this, he slowly brings the remote out of his pocket and holds it to his face as his smile widens. Then no one will be opposed to him setting off the bomb he put in Babylonia's engine systems, no? To be fair, he has warned you a number of times to not betray him. Whether you understood them or not, well, that's not his problem now is it?

His thumb brushes over the detonation button in contemplation. Yes, he may as well before he gets caught and used for Babylonia's-

Click.

His breath hitches and his eyes immediately stare at the door, pointedly ignoring Hermano's scoff. Could it be that you've finally returned to him? His mechanical heart thrums at the thought, his grip on the remote becoming shaky and weak as seconds turn into hours. Would the door open to you, or an army? Will you betray him like everyone else, or will you stay? He hated to admit it, but he was desperate that it was the latter, he was desperate for something- someone that wouldn't abandon him and leave him floundering in an endless sea of regrets.

If fate was listening, grant him this one thing and let it please be you, please be you, please be-

The door opens to you, with your tactical terminal in one hand and fresh coffee in the other, just like how you look every morning, you're too busy studying your terminal to notice how your entrance has shifted every star in the universe back to their place and made everything right again. You're here, you're here at last in this little side room you've made your temporary office, you're here with him where you belong and you're real...you're real, right?

His body starts moving before he can stop himself, his breath lodged in his throat. He has to know, he has to confirm you are what you say you are and not just a cheap copy made by some invisible puppeteer. He yanks the terminal out of your hand, knocks your coffee away and drags you to him, terminal clattering to the floor and the mug shattering just after it, spreading coffee and ceramic everywhere as you voice your confusion. He wraps his arms around you tightly, too tightly, his hands moving all over your body, needing to confirm that you are made of flesh and bone as you claim. He slips his hands under your shirt to squeeze at your ribs, pushing just enough at the bone to feel it give slightly as it should, he buries his face in your hair and neck to make sure you smell the same way you should, he pries your mouth open to shove his fingers inside and thoroughly check your mouth for anything that might feel synthetic or mechanical, he shoves you against a wall so he can put his ear against your chest to count your heart beats, all these checks and more he conducts not even so much as responding to your cries for him to stop, opting to clamp a hand over your mouth when you become noisy enough to distract him.

After an hour of invasive and painful poking, he finally feels certain that you're human and real, with a sigh he lets you go and relaxes. Roland stares at you for a moment, observing your disheveled appearance, emotion absent from his face. Your commandant attire has been thoroughly picked apart. Your navy blue turtleneck is wrinkled and pulled unnaturally in several directions, the beige coat having been discarded long ago, your buckle is probably somewhere on the floor behind him, the fly of your pants hanging open. If he wasn't so upset with you he'd help put you together again. "Don't be late like this again." He mutters coldly before turning to stand at his usual spot beside your makeshift desk, leaving your dumbfounded and agitated expression behind.

For a few seconds, there's silence. The anger radiating from you is palpable in the air. "What the fuck are you talking about? Late? It's 6 AM? If anything I'm late because of you and your freakish strip search." Roland freezes in his place. Six? But that would mean when you arrived it was five.

Seeing his confusion you grumble and walk up to him, shoving your watch in his face with a look of disdain. The LED numbers stare back at him coldly.

6:04 AM.

Your expression remains unimpressed at his stunned countenance. Dropping your wrist you glance at the clock on the wall. "The clock in here is broken, that's why I started wearing my watch again."

You were indeed, not late. For the first time in a very long while, Roland feels humiliated. He even almost apologizes to you before stopping himself. If a simple misunderstanding is enough to break him, then he might as well give you another warning. A wide grin quickly replaces whatever apology he was going to say before.

"Well then, little rabbit of mine," Roland leans down towards you, his tone was taunting but a glance at his eyes would tell you the true weight of his words. "You'd better make sure you don't keep the wolf waiting for too long. Who knows what might happen if you leave a hungry wolf unattended."

[kit-williams]

Venom of Venus

I think I might write anything Yandere Black Templar I'll probably give it a Powerwolf song title

Hey... ya'll want another Yandere Black Templar? But with that Civilian Darling? Still attempting to make the darling a nameless reader insert

Expect canon typical violence and religious overtones

They would have to fall back. Brother Roland could hear it in the chatter as his position was being flooded by some nameless xeno foe. He glanced to the ammo boxes as his throat tightened at the thought... they wouldn't send her back out here again. Brother Roland was certain that she would heed his warning. The planet was struggling by the time the Crusade fleet had made the unexpected exit from the warp. The Champion had seemingly recieved a holy vision of these people needing their help and they were so desperate for the salvation that the Black Templars would bring. But, they would make sure the populace was not a complacent populace... they would earn their victory. They were certainly pleased by how many civilians stayed back to try and help stem the tide.

"Brother Roland!" Her voice pierced the fog that flooded the trench as he watched this poor woman laidened with three heavy bolter ammo boxes. His Bäckerin with hands far more suited for kneeding dough than carrying around the heavy ammo boxes. Her feet were unsteady as she nearly collapsed under the weight as she clearly ran here. She was so unuse to the heavy flak armor on her and much less the weight of the ammo.

"Bäckerin, I told you to not come back." He speaks with no anger in his voice far more annoyance but his hearts fluttered with pride at the little civilian woman who stayed behind for all these months. How she was the source of a comfort for Roland; a distraction? He did not see it as such as the God Emperor's wrath and will can flood into the lowliest of mortals and it was clear in the way she always looked at him that there was that spark that the God Emperor bestows upon his followers. Her spark burned hot for her small frame just as his spark was a roaring bonfire in comparison but it was no less impressive.

"And-" She gulps down air as her limbs tremble from her effort; the rations barely keeping her physically fit enough, she wasn't trained for the front lines so she was in no shape for what she was doing, "I... I told you... I still owe you a loaf of bread. You-" Another gulp of air, "Can't die before then." She looks up and smiles before covering her ears as he fires his boltgun in rapid succession.

"Go little Bäckerin this is no place for you anymore." He could see her nod and start to run back the way she came.

She didn't get very far before her scream caused his head to snap over and time slowed to a crawl as one of the xenos had rushed over and was bearing down on his Bäckerin. To her... her life was flashing before her very eyes as the horror of the alien was upon her. But what happened next was so fast as a black blur slamed into the far to many jointed limbs. A thank you bubbled in her throat but it died as her face was pressed into the rough cloth over his armor, she was caged under him as the world shook around her.

She was screaming as she covered her ears and hot tears were running down her face. It wore a suicide switch and the sudden "shelling" wasn't helping but he prayed to the God Emperor trying to soothe his Bäckerin, his voice roughly coming through his vox as he tried to drown out the noises with his prayers.

"I'm sorry Roland I'm so sorry!" She bluthered as the stress of it all got to her and of course she was but a mortal... he understood she was scared. She was a campfire to his bonfire but he would make sure her flame did not go out even if it flickered. She could feel the way he gently pet her head as he switched to his internal vox and updated his superiors that he was alive after that.

"Bäckerin, meine liebster Bäckerin. Das hast du so gut gemacht, bitte keine Tränen mehr." Roland cooed at her, remembering when she asked to hear his mother language and the way her eyes lit up at the way he spoke. How enamored she was when he said his prayers in this tongue. How he watched her open her eyes and look at him, how her pretty eyes glistened with tears still. "There's meine Bäckerin." He said with his chest rumbling but he picked her up and dirt fell off of his back. The trench was ruined.

"You should get out of here my Lord." She said wiping her eyes, "I can run and make noise to-" She spoke as he started to mag lock ammo to his belt and body.

"Bäckerin," He said in a tone that made her flinch, "if that thought ends with you trying to sacrfice yourself." She couldn't stop the whimper as she could feel his overwhelming presence.

"I'll just sl-" She managed to whimper out before he fully turned to face her.

"Bäckerin." He hissed out and of course she crumpled.

"I'm sorry my lord please forgive me." She squeaks out before he picks her up and starts to run toward the fall back point.

"I can forgive you if you remember that your duty is not that of a martyr besides you have teased me with the prospect of having some fresh bread for months. You will not deny me that."

She let out a soft laugh as he carried her so easily but the lightheartedness died as Roland had to whip out his bolter and fire back at the skittering xenos. He could feel her grab his rosary, grabbing the large golden aquilia and starting to pray as the fog was unnatural and created by them and she could see them in the fog.

He knew no fear but he could worry. He worried for his Bäckerin. "Bäckerin tell me again what you're going to do after you survive this and the xenos are gone!" He demands trying to distract her.

"I'm going to open my bakery back up and I'm going to finally get married and have babies, so many babies!" She screeches out that final part as out of the fog one of them jump and he back hands it so hard that the sickening crunching noise will never leave her. "Oh by the God Emperor I'm so sorry I put it off!" She just sobs as she just is so stressed and scared she can't help but sob as she prays and confesses her perceived transgressions.

"I'll give them to you Bäckerin. As many as you want." He pants out but his promise falls upon her deaf ears. "It's why I can't leave you behind. How can I give you what you want!" He doesn't know why he says such things to her. But the thought of her... under him... the thought of making good on his promises to her gives him a boost to his running making him run faster. The smell of her blood hits him as she squeezed his aquilia so tightly it cut her palm as she is just praying so fervently that he can't stop himself from shouting his own prayers. His third lung fills up as he pushes himself harder. They have to survive how else can he give her what she desires and deserves. To be full of his babies! He won't tell her how he's wanted her since she gave him that first loaf of bread. How her soft smile and devotion is what brought him so much joy.

Her devotion to the God Emperor, her devotion to her planet and people, and most of all her devotion to him. Why else would she come out risking her life if she did not care?! Oh he'll kill so many xenos for her. He can see the way she presses her face against his armor to try and hide her tears and to hide her face from the wind that stings her face from how fast he runs. He ignores her pleas to be left behind to stop being dead weight. She's never a burden in fact she tries so hard... for a baseline human she tries so hard.

He's already made up his mind if she survives it's by the will of the God Emperor and his to have! He'll make her so heavy and happy! As his little Bäckerin makes daily bread. All according to the will of the God Emperor.

All of it.

[nesiacha]

The difference in treatment between the Indulgents and the Cordeliers or Hébertistes

I have an opinion that will seem unpopular, no worries I am open to any criticism or to being corrected in the event of an error so do not hesitate to correct me. I have much more sympathy for the Hébertist faction, the exaggerators or the Cordeliers than that of Danton's Indulgents. Indeed if we exclude the Hebert case who is an indefensible man, mediocre in my eyes (I don't think I need to explain why) this is not the case for so many others. I mean Ronsin was a competent and honest administrator. Despite his mysoginism (horribly reprehensible, just look at the speech he gave concerning the execution of Gouges and Manon Roland) Chaumette could be as competent as procureur syndicale de Paris and had also generous ideas (such as banning whipping in schools, equalization of funeral rites for all, protective measures for the elderly and hospitalized). One of the most impressive cases is Momoro. Even the historian Mathiez, who nevertheless has little sympathy for the revolutionaries who were against the Committee of Public Safety in the spring of 1794, had practically nothing but praise for Momoro. He voluntarily lived in poverty and when he was tried he said he had given everything for the revolution. It was true in my eyes. Of course I understand in a certain way the repression exercised by the Committee of Public Safety (more precisely the Convention since an arrest cannot be made without its agreement, it is not a dictatorship either) when Cordeliers wanted to launch a new insurrection against the Convention ( like Momoro for example). The fact of wanting to persecute the priests did not help, not to mention the fact that they wanted stronger repression of the enemies at the risk of making the Revolution even harsher. But when we analyze, I can understand where come frome their anger. Their hatred about religion was due to the fact that not long ago, a lot of religious fanatics infantilized the people, constantly made prohibitions against them (we must NEVER accept infantilization or loss of free will for religious reasons) and atrocious repressions without counting the their wealth that they monopolized (in terms of absurd repression there is nothing but to see the Calas affair, or that of the case of Chevalier de la Barre etc…), even if there were a lot of priest and believers weren't like that . Although the Cordeliers were wrong to respond to religious intolerance by intolerance, I can agree. The same goes for the Terror. At that time France was threatened by enemies from within and without and quite a few of their enemies carried out atrocious tortures (although rotten people like Fouché, Carrier, were not to be outdone in atrocities to the point that the Committee of Public Safety recalled them immediately). Prices were increasing because of the war, so without excusing them once again I can understand their minds when they demanded ever greater repression of the Terror (even if once again it was a serious error ,a mistake and even a fault).

Let's compare to the indulgent (or Dantonists) who are caught up in financial scandals (according to for a lot of historians like Jean Marc Schiappa). Danton moved only because of the financial scandals which were beginning to erupt and did not dare to attack head-on in this period of factional clashes, he let his friends do so. Moreover, according to certain historians like Decaux if I am not mistaken, he only came back against the Hebertists because they attacked them (and they did not only have them as enemies). He is not a clean character. Let's not talk about Fabre d'Eglantine. For Desmoulins I have an unpopular opinion of him. I find him very overrated and no matter how much I tried to appreciate his historical figure (by reading the very good biography of Leuwers or the book by Joseph Andras) I cannot. I don't think that despite the fact that he is very cultured, a man who rightly think that women must have the right of vote and even a republican before his time, he is not capable of assuming an important position unlike Saint Just or Ronsin who he made fun of. And worst of all I find him hypocritical, he who demanded clemency applauded the execution of the Hebertists following a parody of justice (yes I like the Montagnards of this period but this kind of thing should never be tolerated) . He didn't say anything when the wives of Momoro and Hebert were arrested which was very serious (afterwards I don't know well if they were arrested at the same time as Lucile Desmoulins), but he didn't realize that it was going well back in his face.

The Dantonists were irresponsible in my eyes. I completely agree that it was necessary to examine each prisoner on a case-by-case basis because there were surely a large number who had nothing to do there by creating as many commissions as possible as quickly as possible and getting down to business. job right away because prison is a horrible place, even more so for innocent people. But releasing everyone without distinction immediately would have been dangerous because there were also dangerous counter-revolutionaries or spies. I mean have they forgotten that the fall of Toulon to the English was due to betrayal? The betrayal of Dumouriez, the assassinations of some deputies, etc… Where did this idea of making peace with foreign armies still occupying France come from when the French army was beginning to be victorious? Opposing a war of conquest I completely agree, but allowing one's own territory to be annexed is something else. And how dangerous would it be to leave corrupt people like Danton in power. Sooner or later, he could perhaps have given in to blackmail in view of the evidence of corruption that contemporaries have today, which would have been very dangerous for France. As a result, I never understood why the “good” indulgent ones were portrayed against the “bad” Cordeliers and Hébertists. Whatever happens for all these factions, no matter my great admiration for revolutionaries like Le Bas, Saint Just, Couthon, the fact that I am sorry like many people that Robespierre is demonized, the fact that they allowed a parody of justice against these factions is an unforgivable fault and to have allowed the execution of Marie Françoise Goupil and Lucile Desmoulins among others to consolidate this parody of justice is unacceptable. Even if I understand their states of mind because they could not afford to lose especially in this period against these different factions and contrary to what the Thermidorians put forward, the majority of the Convention was just as guilty as them, there is no excuse for this kind of behavior. Did Saint Just realize this when he said that the Revolution was frozen (even he spoke more about the consequences of this repression and that the revolution is weakened on this point) ? It would later fall on them and Elisabeth Le Bas was threatened with being guillotined for having been Le Bas' wife (some wanted to force her into a marriage with one of the Termidorians). If they had not allowed the fate of Goupil or Lucile Desmoulins earlier perhaps it would have been more difficult for the Thermidorians to threaten her. For more information in the form of a movie , I invite you to see" Saint Just ou la Force des Choses" and " la Camera explore le temps Danton, la terreur et la vertue" in English sub. These are good movies about this period.

And you what do you think ?

[wernerkraeutler]

Stilfs hat den “20-Millionen-Jackpot” geknackt

[skag-lick]

i cannot think about the last few missions of bl2 + fight for sanctuary bc i will just explode about mordecai and lilith's friendship. it is so so important to me. mordecai's anger and fear towards potentially losing lilith at the end of bl2 and lilith's worry about him in fight for sanctuary, plus her talking about how he comforted and supported her after roland's death,,,, agh. im so normal about them.

i CANNOT think about how technically mordecai was with roland the longest, since lilith went into hiding and brick was cast out of sanctuary for several years. can't think about how we don't really get any dialogue of anyone supporting mordecai after roland's death. the bl1 vhs make me ill

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Three

Day: Friday, January 5th Time: 11:10 PM EST

Kevin kept making inroads into the drinks. Andrew watched the crowd and sipped his drink at a snail's pace. Neil didn't know what to say to either of them, so he made himself busy. He traded the remaining full glasses on the tray for the empty ones littering the table and headed to the bar. Roland took it from him as soon as he was able. Neil folded his arms on the bar counter and watched Roland mix the next batch. "So Andrew finally gave in, huh?" Roland said. "That looks pretty bad." Neil almost reached for his face, but Roland was looking at his wrists. Neil's new shirt was long-sleeved, but it was made of a thin material meant to breathe easy in a packed club. The ends had slid up his forearms a bit when he folded his arms. He tugged the hems back down, knowing it was too late to hide the half-healed lacerations. As he did so he realized that rumble in Roland's words was all checked laughter. Roland gave an apologetic grin when Neil frowned up at him. "I'd wondered if being clean would cure that hands-off rule of his. Makes sense it wouldn't, now that we know about..." Roland shook his head and visibly forced his anger back. "I don't know whether to say 'thanks' for easing my curiosity or 'sorry' that sobriety has obviously exacerbated the problem. Just so you know, they make padded cuffs. You should look into them." "The problem," Neil echoed, lost. "What hands-off rule?" Roland looked startled, then confused. "You don't know? But then..." "I got these in a fight," Neil said. "Why would Andrew do this to me?" "Uh, you don't know," Roland said again, not a question anymore but a backpedal out of the conversation. "You know what, let's just forget I said anything. No, really," he said when Neil opened his mouth to argue. "Hey, here. Your drinks are done. I've gotta check on the rest of my customers." He vanished before Neil could get more than a "What" out. Neil stared after him, but there were no answers here.

Art used with permission by Smokesontheroof. Thank you so much @smokesontheroof

[throneofsapphics]

just angst, and maybe some toxicity, with any of the tog characters

pretty poison

Dorian x f!Reader

Summary: Dorian breaks one of the rules set for your turbulent relationship. 

Warnings: cheating-ish?, unhinged reader, toxic relationships, implied sex, angst, referenced execution (not reader)

A/N: I'm sorry this is all over the place, thank you for the request! this follows empire of storms a bit

You’d felt a million kinds of hurt, but this one might take the cake. 

Hands bracing the counter, you focused on breathing. Box breaths, you vaguely registered. At least the self help books were good for something, even if you wanted to smash every glass in these rooms and leave a massacre behind for him to find when he gets back this afternoon

Be the bigger person, your mothers voice echoed. 

Fuck that. You didn’t want to be the bigger person, you wanted to be as unhinged as your mind felt. 

Not an exclusive relationship, but you'd always told each other when there would be someone else in your shared bedroom. ‘Shared’ was an exaggeration, you snuck in and out of there most days, but stayed frequently enough to have a good portion of your things there. 

Smashed glass decorating the floors, you carefully poured yourself a glass of wine and settled in your favorite armchair, angling your book so he’d see the title as soon as he walked in. A particular romance-thriller you knew he’d read, something about a woman getting revenge. The words blurred as your mind raced. Everything had an expiration date, and this one had been a long time coming, but it didn't mean you were quite ready to let it go.

-

“We were done.” As soon as the words came out, he winced. 

“Really, when were you going to tell me that?” Tears burning at your eyes, your voice shook and rose with the last syllable. 

“We already discussed it.” 

“Not was official,” you countered. 

“It was as good as,” his eyes softened for the briefest moment, so quick you may have imagined it, before turning to … gods, you wish they’d hardened in anger, maybe narrowed, but you only saw a blank slate. Nothing. Dorian felt nothing for you, not an ounce or trace of guilt. The other day, you did discuss ending your relationship, but it wasn’t official. A rational line of thinking would tell you this wasn’t that big of a deal, but when it came to him you were never really rational in the first place. 

Being silent, some might have assumed you were going for the 'better person' route, but you let the thing he hated the most cover your features - pity. As good as a fuck you. 

It worked, a small muscle flexing in their jaw. Without giving them the chance to reply, you pivoted towards your room, throwing random items into a bag. Anything you didn’t have, your friend would.  

In hindsight, you were always destined to burn. It wasn’t a healthy relationship, by any means, the chaos dragged you in, the toxicity absolutely enchanting. It wasn’t the fact that Dorian brought someone else home, it was that he didn’t deign to inform you. And that it was your friend. 

Two Rules - simple enough, and crystal clear. 

No friends. 

Give each other a heads up. 

Maybe he thought he wouldn’t get caught - shame on him for forgetting your demi-Fae. At least he was a decent enough man he wouldn’t get you executed. Besides, she wasn’t really your friend - a shitty one he knew you didn’t associate with too closely. 

Would any of his friends sleep with you? You rapped your fingers against the table. Maybe you could fuck his ex … or his cousin - that would piss him off. A smirk forming on your lips, you knew there was some kind of ball or party you could make your way into tonight.

-

The next morning, you came to grab the rest of your things - making sure you still looked freshly fucked. 

“Roland sends his regards,” you called over your shoulder.  

It was a tad too effective, you found your back pressed against the door, wood digging deliciously into your spine. 

His forehead pressed against yours, chest heaving, “Why can’t I let go of you?” 

He didn’t expect an answer, but you knew the truth - he craved the chaos as much as you did. 

-

“Something’s changing,” you breathed. “I have to go.” 

“I want to be selfish,” he murmured, hand gripping yours, “but I know.” 

Something was wrong in the castle, wrong in the city. The new guards had something to do with it, and your instincts had never led you wrong in the past. Your sense of self-preservation was keen and finely honed from years of living on the edge. Chaol sending Celaena away was another hint. 

“I should .. I should st-” 

“No,” his voice was firm. “If it’s dangerous, go.” 

The voice of a blossoming king. He cared about you enough to get you out before things got worse. Fighting for you to stay would be … well, it meant more to you that he genuinely wanted you to stay safe. That he trusted you, that he didn’t call you crazy or paranoid. 

“Thank you,” not giving him the chance to reply, you wrapped your arms around his torso and pressed your head into his chest. Without hesitation, he held you close to him.

-

Dorian ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to let you go, not really, but the idea of you in danger was worse. Something he couldn’t risk. Some would argue you were one of the worst things that happened to him, but in his mind you were one of the few real people he encountered. You never hesitated to let him know what you thought, and he returned the favor. Made to burn. At least you were just as bad for each other, an equal level of toxicity. 

Finding out you slept with Roland. Not for the first time, he debated murdering his cousin, and wouldn’t feel the slightest guilt about it, but it would cause a bit too much uproar. 

If anything happened to you in this city, there’s a strong chance he’d burn the entire place to the ground in anger and vengeance. His father was picking up there was something - someone, consistent in his life and that put you in enough danger as is. 

“I’m thinking i’ll go to-” 

“Don’t tell me,” he cut you off and your eyes flared in irritation. 

“Why?” 

“I’m not putting you in danger.” 

You looked disgruntled, probably offended he thought you couldn’t ‘take care of yourself’ or some bullshit like that, but you ended up agreeing. 

“Do you think we’ll see each other again,” you ran your thumb over the back of his hand. 

“In a better world,” he meant it as a joke but the truth lay heavy in the room. Maybe if he created a better world, the two of you could be together in it. A small flame sparked in him, a determination and sense of purpose beginning to burn.

The two of you chatted idly for the next few hours, interrupted by long stretches of comfortable silence, before you glanced at the clock again. The moon was high and bright, and he knew you’d be leaving in the next few minutes, headed to Gods-know-where. 

“In another world, another time, I think I could’ve loved you.”

Your parting words stayed with him. 

-

One sentence consistently filtered through the darkness, “in another world, another time, I think I could’ve loved you.”

-

Dorian saw a ghost. Not a ghost, but someone he never expected to see again in this lifetime. You were there, breathing, eyes wide, and looking just as shocked as he was. How the hell had you ended up here?

Rowan watched him from the corner of his eyes, then turned a lethal glare at you - one that should’ve sent you running, but you only had eyes for him. It was as if the Fae warrior didn’t exist, as if the world narrowed down to the two of you, everyone else a mere buzz in the background. 

You glanced at the innkeeper, jerking your chin, and she scattered. Skull’s bay. He certainly hadn’t expected for you to end up here, of all places. But .. he shouldn’t have been surprised. Nor should he be surprised at the magic he felt rolling from you, he’d always known you were demi-Fae, it’s likely you’d inherited magic along with it. Some ancient kind of magic he couldn’t place. 

You slid two keys across the counter, still ignoring Rowan, “enjoy your stay.” He could recognize the caution in your eyes - not here. 

A barely perceptible nod, and he snatched the keys from the counter. This was dangerous, having someone he knew so intimately this close, in this precarious situation … although he supposed you didn’t know each other anymore. You’d likely changed just as much as he did over the last several months. 

“Who was that?” Rowan finally asked after Fenrys and Gavriel were long gone. 

“An old … friend, she fled Adarlan a while ago.” The male didn’t need to know the specifics of your friendship.

Then, Rowan said your gods-damned name. His head turned rapidly, and a certain amused glint showed in his eyes. 

“Aelin told me.” Gods, he didn’t want to know what she told him. But, he supposed the two of you had gotten along fairly well. “Is she going to be a … problem?” 

This is not a conversation he wanted to have. “No,” he answered honestly. “She’s from Terrasen.” And a demi-Fae, he didn’t need to add. If anything, you’d be thrilled to see your rightful Queen, maybe enough to want to fight for her. You’d be a good ally.

Rowan gave a quick nod, and Dorian realized he’d only provided confirmation of what the male already knew. 

-

The next morning, you waited for them in the courtyard. 

“I won’t ask you for any answers,” you rushed, “but you should know Rolfe might be a self-serving bastard, but he’d do anything to keep these islands safe.” 

Others might take it as a warning, plea, or justification of character, but he knew better. You were dropping a hint at how to gain his allegiance. 

“Tell me,” fuck he knew that tone, “does Lillian go by Celeana or Aelin now?”

He didn’t need to look to know Rowan was the perfect impression of stone beside him. 

“Still one for the dramatics,” he drawled. You snorted, a small smile curving at your lips as you met his eyes. 

“Just let me know how I can help, Dorian.” A small wink, and you disappeared into the shadows, some kind of magic obscuring you from view. That told him all he needed to know; you intended to drag some chaos out of this situation. Perhaps he still knew you well. 

“Do you trust her?” Rowan asked later. He hesitated. Did he trust you? 

“I do,” he said slowly, trying to find the best words to put next, “I trust her intentions. She was one of Aelin’s … friends.” Based on your conversation, Dorian got the sense you’d known who Aelin was for a while, and kept it to yourself. 

“Any hint of betrayal-”

“I know,” Dorian cut him off. He didn’t need to hear the words aloud, didn’t need confirmation of what the prince would do if you posed a threat to Aelin. 

‘In another world, another time, I think I could’ve loved you.’

You were unhinged and dangerous in your own right, but maybe they needed people like you to win this war.

-

Dorian thought you’d surprised him enough already, until he saw you greet Aedion like an old friend. 

The Bane. You’d worked as a spy for them, and that’s how you ended up in Skull’s Bay - to keep an eye on and report on Rolfe. Is that what you were doing in the castle? Had you reported on him?

There was an apology in your eyes. No guilt. You had. 

Dorian didn’t know what to feel anymore. His questions waited until the two of you were alone. 

“Was any of it real to you? Was I just an assignment?” It was a struggle to keep his voice low. 

“Will what I say make a difference? You’ve made your mind up.” 

The temperature in the room dropped. 

“Tell me. Don’t fucking lie to me.” 

Your eyes flared. “It was real to me. I won’t fucking lie to you, I did my job - that doesn’t mean I didn’t fall for you,” you bit your bottom lip, like you’d said too much. “I meant what I said. In another world, another time, I think I could’ve loved you.” The words rolling from your lips felt like sweet poison. That’s what you were. Pure poison, wrapped in a pretty and deceiving package. He told you that. 

“I told them five words,” your voice had dropped and as much as he wanted to walk away he couldn’t help listening, like the next phrase could make up for the hurt he felt. “He’s not like his father.”

-

It would’ve been so, so easy to lie but you respected Dorian enough to tell him the truth. He didn’t need to know all of the dirty details on who you reported on, on what you had to do to get that information, on the sacrifices you made, but you could offer him that bit. So much wanted to spill from your lips, to tell him he was the only real person you knew, that you did fall for him in some way. But … he’d already discovered your ‘betrayal’ and there was no going back from that. Nothing to go back to. Sure, you’d said something complimentary, but you’d still reported on him - still gotten close to him for that purpose. 

The second time walking away from him was harder. Leave before you’re left. It’ll soothe the pain. 

[docgold13]

Batman: The Animated Series - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Professor Milo

Achilles Milo was an unscrupulous scientist from Gotham City who specialized in the biological tampering of animal subjects. He had long been engaging in these illegal practices when he raised the ire of Catwoman, whose cat Isis he had had captured. At the time, Milo was working for Roland Daggett to infect stray animals with a special derivative of the rabies virus, as well as an antidote which Daggett could market, netting them fortune and acclaim. This drew the attention of Batman who teamed up with Catwoman to bring the operation down and save Isis.  

Although his plans were dashed, Milo managed to escape.  He was later sought out by the athlete Anthony Romulus.  Romulus had Milo create for him a performance enhancing drug that could not be detected by standard dope-screening tests.  Milo created such a serum utilizing the genetic material of a timber wolf.  This proved highly effective and Romulus went on to become a celebrated winner of multiple Olympic Gold Medals.  

Continued use of the serum caused Romulus to transform, becoming more and more wolf-like.  Milo stated he could cure the condition, yet he instead hastened it so that Romulus transformed into a werewolf.  Milo then blackmailed Romulus, stating that he would only reverse the lycanthropy if Romulus used his abilities to take out Batman.   This effort failed and Milo again went into hiding.  

He was later recruited by Amanda Waller to work in research and development at the shadowy Cadmus Project.  Milo’s lack of success led to his being fired from the project.  In a fit of anger, Milo released the creature known as Doomsday who was being held in confinement at Cadmus.  Doomsday’s first act of freedom was to kill Professor Milo.

Actor Treat Williams voiced Achilles Milo with the villain first appearing in the thirty-third episode of the first season of Batman: The Animated Series, ‘Cat Scratch Fever.’