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iwonderwh0 · 11 months

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Another fic idea that I'll never write:

Connor accidentally transfers from his body and temporarily exists as non-physical entity in Hank's devices

Starts with situation where there's something that requires Connor to be connected to computer via cable (like for example to manually delete some CyberLife junk that slows down the system and lost its purpose) and needs Hank's help to be there and do what it takes, because Connor needs to be in stand by for this to work, so he's just sitting/lying next to him completely limp with caple connected to the back of his neck.

At some point something goes wrong and Hank's computer goes into restart, and when it loads Hank notices that first this CL maintenance program loads in, then blank text document opens on his computer and in a matter of seconds text appears, first some unreadable wall of symbols, then normal text, something along the lines of

"Hank, are you there? I'm afraid my program is running on your computer. I'm trying to move but I'm not sure if it's going through. Am I moving right now?"

Then

"If you're there please write something, I can't hear you."

Hank will stare at the screen, then at motionless Connor next to him, when he look back at the screen there'll be another couple of messages asking him to write something and from the way they're written and the speed at which new text appears it'll look like an escalating panic – from just asking Hank to write something it'll turn into begging to at least interact somehow with the computer, at some point within merely a second they'll start to appear too quickly to read. Hank'll grab keyboard and as fast as he can write something, maybe first just gibberish to write something asap, then delete it and write

"Connor?"

New wave of about a ten new lines of text will appear, most of which just repetition of the general message of "yes, I'm here"

"Can you hear me?" Hank will ask at loud, then type it after not getting any response

Another wave of lines of text with general message being "No, I can't hear you. I can't see you. I can't move." and "please don't leave me", desparation slipping through the lines

Hank will ask if he can do something to fix it

"I don't know" will appear on one line after another in some slight variations, then

"Can you connect some mic and headphones? I can't find any available."

Hank will look around the room, then type "wait, I'll go grab some" to which another wave of desperate "Please don't leave" appear in response, then "when will you get back?"

Unsure if he should go search for headphones at all Hank will type

"3 min"

Then search for headphones

"Connor?" He'll call again, hearing some noise his headphones "Hey, hey, can you hear me now?"

"Yes. I can hear you, but I can't move. I don't- I don't feel like I have any body at all"

"So you're in my computer... How did that-"

"Am I still connected?"

Hank moves to check that Connor has cable securely connected to the port on the back of his neck, and on the other side it's just as properly inserted into according port on the computer. He carefully moves Connor to confirm that one more time.

"Did you feel that?" Hank asks

"Feel what?"

After initial panic when both of them get slightly calmer they'll come to realisation that in order to allow the kind of changes they were about to make android's mind is basically temporarily transferred into another device, in their cases Hank's computer, but due to some mistake in process, computer went into a restart, so no transfer back occured + some component burned down making transfer back temporarily impossible (unless it's replaced). Or idk how it works, it's actually against my headcanons, but fuck it. The point is that this will take time to replace it, because it has to be ordered as something custom that can't be found as it is available the same day.

Without the need to move actual physical body (that occupies most of the resources) actual "mind" is not so big so it can even run on a phone, which is exactly what happens next. (Don't attack me, it's a silly little story idea, so let me have fun)

So for a couple of days or up to a week Connor exists within this non-physical predicament, learning ways to interact with other devices (like connecting to cameras that are within same network just to see something, although it's hard to understand the depth (regular cameras are sure different than the ones used for android's eyes)), surfing the web, etc. Basically like in the movie "Her"(2013) but as a temporary measure.

During this time Hank adopts a habit of wearing a headphones (or just one) at practically all times just to keep Connor a company while he's like that, because (at least at first) he's freaking out and is really opposed to the thought of being left alone even for a short time, because without a body and barely any inputs from the real world (compared to usual amount and quality) the experience is way too similar to non-existence and shit is understandably freaky. It seems like constantly having such a company, basically enduring someone else's presense at almost all times can rapidly become annoying and unbearable, but somehow it quickly becomes a second nature instead. In a way it's even nice. Consequently they talk more than ever, often ending up discussing something minor or ridiculous, something they'd never talked about otherwise, just because they're basically getting used to thinking out loud with a company.

Story ends with Hank finally replacing the component that got broken with a new one, allowing Connor to finally transfer back. The image of his body moving for the first time after being completely still for a relatively long period of time seems to me weirdly adorable. Being able to finally move and feel again must be similar to the feeling of wearing the right type of glasses for the first time after living with way too weak ones without realising how fucking blind you actually are. But yeah, it must be about 10 times better than that.

The first thing after finally being able to feel physically present like an actually existing person? A hug. Of course.

#dbh #Fic ideas that I'll never write #hankcon #probably (although it can be platonic. I mean there is literally no physical body in question)#pocket ghost

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sweetandfunky · 2 years

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I fucking NEED a fic where Babs, Jay and Tim all work together to quietly take out the Joker and no one is any the wiser.

Like, Babs who was crippled by him, Jay who was killed by him, and Tim who went through and came out the other side of that Joker Jr bullshit.

They all decide you know what? It just isn't worth it to uphold The Rule when it comes to Joker. Or, well, Babs and Tim get on board with where Jason already was, but they're like "You gotta be more circumspect, dude".

So the three crazy smart, crazy focused, thoroughly traumatized by Joker kids get together, plan it out perfectly, and just ice that dude and disappear the body. Poof. Joker is just gone.

And for the first time in years, all three of them get a halfway decent night's sleep.

#fics i'll never write #jason todd #barbara gordon #tim drake #red hood #oracle #Red Robin #JayTim #probably #because I can't not want that #but really just #hardcore batfam bonding over justifiable homicide #fuck the joker

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theoddino · 5 months

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*Rises from the grave*

coUgh so uh, I keep forgetting I have a new Tumblr blog now... Whoopsies!!

Please take my silly arts as sorry

I've also fallen greatly for the ship CornYaoi in the past few weeks soooo maybe look out for a fic of it from me in the future! :>

#I freaking love this little yeehaw star man and his gay vampire husband #Dalv and Starlo my beloveds <3 #Also sun. Can't forget him. My silly jester goob #Uty #starlo uty #uty dalv #corn yaoi #Fnaf sun #<- only using that tag bc I don't feel like tagging the whole dca fandom on a post primarily with UTY art akfhjsjcjs #starlo x dalv #There's probably only like 4 corn yaoi fics on ao3 I need this to be changed so I'm taking things into my own hands #I promise I'll try my best to fully write that fic. Even if I've never actually posted one before #My art

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rosalind-hawkins · 2 months

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I'll forever be fascinated with the idea of what Seto would have become if he'd never gotten control of KaibaCorp. What Gozaburo would have turned him into. How much worse he would have gotten without an outlet for the pent up everything negative in his heart.

What Mokuba would have become, once Gozaburo decided to take an interest in his education. How the brothers' relationship might never recover because Mokuba blames his brother for all of this.

What paramilitary training they might have eventually gotten. What crimes Kaiba would probably go on to commit.

How Seto probably would have snapped one day and finally murdered his stepfather to take control.

#seto kaiba #kaiba seto #mokuba kaiba #kaiba mokuba #gozaburo kaiba #kaiba brothers #musings #for some reason watching Oppenheimer gave me an entire vivid fic idea about this premise but i'll probably never get around to writing it

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steddieasitgoes · 9 months

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AU where Steve is a First Mate/Chief Officer on a vacation sailing yacht and Eddie is the lead guitarist of the successful metal band Corroded Coffin.

The band has just finished their second world tour, and as a thank you for their hard work, the label gifts them a vacation on a world renowned sailing yacht. Eddie's not exactly thrilled with the vacation; he's spent enough time on fishing boats with Wayne to last a lifetime, but he completely changes his tune when he's welcomed aboard by the sexiest man he's ever seen.

Steve is usually good about keeping a distance and staying professional around the guests, but there's just something about Eddie that has him sneaking out of his bunk at night to listen to him play his guitar. Steve's so enamored he even convinces the Bosun, Robin, to pretend to be sick so he can handle all her duties like driving the tender and organizing guest activities.

And if Steve and Eddie happen to find themselves sneaking kisses in tiny corridors and quickly falling in love, well, that's no one's business but theirs.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #yes this was inspired by those pictures of keery and my affinity for below deck sailing yacht #file this under things I'll probably never write #dani writes

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comic-sans-chan · 1 year

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Fic I'll never write where Julian has a latent one-way telepath gene activated by some sci-fi nonsense and can suddenly hear everyone's thoughts. And he's like, "Shit, I don't remember there ever being any betazoid blood in the family. This must be connected to my augmentations. No! I have to fix this James Bond style." So while he's doing that, life goes on and he has to keep a straight face against the cacophony of noise from all his friends and patients.

With his patients, the telepathy actually ends up being pretty useful. He can hear everything they're too embarrassed or proud to say, so examinations go much smoother. Though he really could do without all the sudden "mmm sexy doctor" thoughts interrupting his professionalism. Especially when they cause him to bash his head on his own equipment out of pure, scandalized shock. Twice.

With friends, the challenge is mainly in not responding to their thoughts, because they’re always interesting. His friends are incredible people and he's bursting at the seams to talk to them about their interests, hobbies and concerns. Then, of course, there are the occasional "Julian is annoying" thoughts. He always knew they were there, but actually hearing them sucks. He takes heart in the equal amount of "Julian is a sweetheart" thoughts that pop up, often shortly after the annoyed ones.

Then there's Garak, who Julian avoided for as long as he could because he knows Garak wouldn't appreciate having his thoughts heard. He was literally a spy. Julian listening in on his thoughts would be tantamount to bugging his quarters or something. It's not fair to him. Julian and Garak might lie to each other all the time, but that doesn't mean there isn't a trust there, and Julian doesn't want to break that. Maybe in the beginning, but not all these years later. Not now that they're close.

But ultimately, it's just (hopefully) one lunch, and if he avoids Garak for too long, he's going to hurt his feelings and he can't do that, either. Garak only has so many friends. And anyway, what's the worst that could happen? Julian finds out what Garak really thinks of a book? Maybe Garak's soup is too hot, but he won't admit it? Maybe he'll mentally shit-talk a Bajoran, and that'll suck to know about him, but it won't be shocking. Hell, he’ll flatter himself, maybe Garak will have a lustful thought or two about him. That wouldn't be any great revelation. He knows Garak's attracted to him, and he's attracted back, but fucking an ex-intelligence agent isn't a good idea for someone with a secret as big as Julian's. So, he might have to rub one out after lunch. He can deal with that. No harm done. He comes to lunch.

And it's a spectacular mistake. He should have made another excuse, any excuse. He should have known better. He knows who and what Garak is. He knows he's traumatized and hypervigilant and a little bit of a maniac. Garak's even hinted at sentiment being a particular weakness of his before. He should have anticipated Garak filing away every little thing he hears and sees like his life depends on it. He should have anticipated the checked violent instincts and guilt and depression. He should have anticipated Garak wondering what secret Julian's keeping and coming startlingly close to certain truths. He especially should have accounted for the possibility that Garak is more than just attracted to him. He's deeply in love with him.

He leaves lunch shaken and sick to his stomach. So much of it is unsurprising. Garak's life has been terrible. Is terrible. Julian has known that much ever since meeting Tain. Since Garak spat that he hated it on Deep Space Nine and he hated Julian specifically for being something he doesn't hate. He doesn't hate him at all, apparently, but he does resent him. He feels ashamed for wanting an alien so much, for feeling such a strong connection to something outside of the State. Something that Tain would punish him for. He punishes himself in Tain's absence. It's horrible, the cruel things he thinks so calmly about himself, like it's natural. Obvious.

Julian's always known Garak was miserable and he's done what he can to help him, but he admits there's been a part of him that thought being away from Cardassia and the Order was good for him. That the station hurt him so much because it was a remedy, and sometimes remedies feel like poison at first when you're so used to sickness. But of course it's more complicated than that, of course it runs deeper, and Julian should have done more. Should have invited him out. Should have dragged him into some tennis matches. Should have double-checked that his damn medication was still working after the number that implant did on his brain chemistry.

Shouldn't have gone to lunch, because now he knows Garak fantasizes about taking him back to Cardassia and enjoining with him and fucking him in fields of flowers and... adopting bloody war orphans together. That is not the sort of thing Julian should know without Garak's consent.

Even worse, now Garak is suspicious, and he pops into the infirmary the next day to "check on him after his hasty departure the other day." It's not even subtle. They both know Julian's hiding something, but Julian can't have this conversation without having about ten others that he has no idea how to have yet. And Garak won't stop thinking about running a soothing hand through his weird human hair and over his fucked up human eyebrows and - once when he makes the mistake of turning around - grabbing his ass. He doesn't even have an ass, but apparently that doesn't stop Garak. Bastard! Julian snaps that he's fine and rushes him out because he has work to do, thank you, my dear tailor. Garak jokes that this is the first time he's ever been forced out of the infirmary before, but he's thinking about hacking Julian's computer while he does it, so Julian growls at him and storms off to upgrade his security system. Again.

Time passes and Julian's losing his mind trying to solve this mind-reading problem and figure out what to do about Garak. Because of course he has feelings for the man, but he's avoided thinking too hard about that because Garak's never been a romantic option. Now he knows there's a very real possibility that Garak can be trusted, just like he’s always hoped. That Garak loves him to a degree that challenges his loyalties, and if Garak is loyal to Julian, then Julian doesn't have to worry about him using his augmentations against him. He could finally have a partner he doesn’t have to lie to, who might even understand and accept him. But the fact remains that Garak didn't want him to know that, and Julian feels guilty. And conflicted. And horny, because Garak's been spying on him in the promenade without knowing Julian can literally sense his stupid ass and every third lizard-brained thought is about how much he wants to lick him. There's a part of Julian that wants to just yank him into a changing room and hope that the healing power of sex will just solve everything.

Unfortunately, he knows there's no way out of Garak freaking out about Julian having heard his every crazy, paranoid and lovelorn thought. And Julian's savior-complex is going haywire. How do you comfort a man who won't allow himself to be comforted? How do you return a love someone hates themselves for feeling? Julian updates his medication, but there's only so much medication can do. Garak needs more than just Julian to kiss him. He needs things Julian doesn't know how to give.

In the end, Julian is able to deactivate the gene responsible for the telepathy, and things go back to normal. He has lunch with Garak, who is notably pouty, but Julian can only guess at the reason (probably because he couldn't hack into Julian's computer--ha), and it's a relief. They're back on even footing, Garak is an enigma once more, and all is right with the universe.

Except that everything has changed.

Julian can't tell him he could read his mind without concocting a lie about why he could suddenly read minds in the first place, because he can't tell him about Adigeon Prime. In the end, it's less about whether Garak can be trusted, and more about Julian's issues. It's selfish, but Julian's never told anyone before and he's not ready to now. It's too big. Too much. He couldn't stand it if Garak looked at him differently after. But to lie about it now, so baldly, after the profound vulnerabilities Garak's expressed without having any idea he's expressed them, feels wrong, too.

So, Julian doesn't tell him a lie or the truth or anything at all. He doesn't tell him until they're in a prison camp, until Garak's told him Tain is his father, until the possibility of Garak being ordered to betray Julian is dead and they might die soon after and Julian needs Garak to know he was loved by someone. He needs Garak to know who Julian Bashir really was. A liar. An imposter. A coward. Someone who only ever wanted to heal, who didn’t ask to be a monster. And Garak will forgive him.

But for now, Julian is all those things, so instead of confessing his sins, he brushes his hand against Garak's. He squeezes his shoulder on his way to get a refill. He brings back a dessert for them to share. He argues and recommends terrible books and invites him out to shows and drags him to tennis matches. He encourages his friendship with Odo and Keiko and later Ziyal. He asks him to teach him Cardassian. He brings him fresh Red Leaf tea. He starts keeping a heated blanket in his quarters. When Garak falls asleep for seventeen minutes and fifty-two seconds while they're watching a holofilm, Julian pretends not to notice. Inwardly, he cheers.

In the absence of one type of honesty, another takes its place.

#garashir #my posts #another fic i'll never write even tho lowkey i just wrote it #anyway #will probably edit later cuz i always do #it's not the focus but i love the potential hijinx julian with mind-reading powers could get into #because people have weeeiiiirrrd thoughts #he gets distracted in the middle of a conversation cuz some guy who passed by had an earworm #that was actually just three different songs from three different planets all mushed together #and julian's brain breaks hearing that shit #fics i'll never write

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dont-offend-the-bees · 4 months

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God I fucking miss my days of Dirk Gently fandom

#unfortunately i have just never managed to rekindle the fixation to the same levels #so my various WIPs are kinda stuck for now #but fuck. Best fandom experience #I love you guys #Never in my life have I had so many comments and been recced so many times #and I will probably never again be as fond of a fic I wrote as I am of Strange Magic #I miss these vibes #any DGHDA friends who are also into Saw need to come hit me up and be friends in another fandom 💛#Maybe one day I'll write a stupid DGHDA Saw AU (or indeed a Saw DGHDA AU) for shits and giggles #mr. bees speaks #pardon me I'm awake earlier than intended and feeling nostalgic for that Community

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youchangedmedestiel · 2 months

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I happen to have a fic with two endings.

I can't choose the one I prefer. One ending has light angst and the other is funnier. And I just... can't choose.

So I'll guess I'll post the fic with the two possible endings in different chapters and like that YOU can choose which one you prefer because I can't. It just gives you more content so I guess it's fine.

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stabbyfoxandrew · 10 months

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🕊️WIP Wednesday 8/9🕊️

Y'all know the rules, send me an ask with which WIP I should work on and I'll share what I write!

Here are my wares*, peruse them if you wish: 1. Vampire Andrew AU 2. Guardian Angel Neil AU 3. Mafia Front Restaurant AU *click the links for masterposts for each au!

Here's a bit I just wrote for the Guardian Angel Neil AU:

“What do you mean, you’re my guardian angel?” Andrew drawls, looking at this boy like he’s insane. The boy sits down beside him, leaving plenty of space.

“Listen, all I know is… I died, apparently.” The boy says, hugging his knees to his chest and shuddering so hard Andrew can almost feel it despite the two feet between them. “And I saw a bright light and a booming voice told me I was supposed to keep you safe. So here I am.”

“Keep me safe from what?” Andrew asks, cocking a brow.

The boy shrugs, “Everything I guess.”

next->

#send me asks about these fics i'll probably never write them if i don't do it this way!#diaerie #wip wednesday game #andreil #🕊️#WIP Wednesday #Guardian Angel Neil AU

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mocksart · 11 months

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The world shifted around Stanley as the bean's car lurched to a stop. Various dry goods and produce leaned into the borrower before returning to their stations. He could hardly move, squished between a box of pasta and the side of the tote bag in which he was trapped. They had been traveling for an awfully long time, or at least it felt that way to Stanley. He had no way of knowing, being unable to see out from his canvas prison.

Hi, I put up a chapter of my borrower au fic on Ao3, for those who might be interested <3

Once again, I'd like to thank @lizzybeanbutt for allowing me to drag her into my funney au thoughts

#the stanley parable #tsp #tspud #stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp stanley #borrower au #the borrowers #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t #look at my fic boy #i've never really considered myself a “writer”#but this au actually inspired me to write for the first time in years #i have a few more things written for the au #so if folks like this i'll probably add more to it #thank u for all the interest and enthusiasm so far #i'm really glad other folks have been enjoying the au as much as i have #it makes me very happy

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radioactivepeasant · 6 months

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Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

(Picks up where Viper left off)

"You know you've got like a whole bucket of cactus paddles down there?"

Jak sauntered back into the throne room from the hidden door and tossed Damas a sealed bag of roasted crickets.

"I should hope it's a full bucket, considering I picked those this morning."

Damas pulled out one of the cooked insects, plucked off the legs, and popped the rest into his mouth.

"You don't eat the legs?"

Jak draped himself over the edge of the throne to snatch a handful of crickets from the bag.

"They get stuck in my teeth," Damas complained, "I save them for my birds."

Daxter snickered. "Even Pecker?"

"If Pecker doesn't like the food, he's free to fly back to Onin," replied the king with an almost mischievous look.

"Oye, you didn't mess with anything in the kitchens, did you? The head cook is...tetchy."

"She's a miserable old cuss and she threw a knife at me," Jak said indignantly.

"She throws knives at everyone. You're lucky it was only a knife."

Around another mouthful of crickets, Jak made an appalled expression. "What else does she throw?!"

Damas grimaced and rubbed his forehead as if remembering an old injury. "Whatever is closest. Pans. Porridge. Whole onions. Cactus paddles with the spines still on."

Daxter started to come closer, but glanced at the dead snake still decorating the dais and thought better of it. "Hey, Jak doesn't need to go to the kitchens to experience that! All he has to do is get distracted while on the Leaper again and he'll have a mouth full of prickly-pear!"

"That wasn't my fault!" Jak protested hotly.

Damas raised a brow. "Oh? I hadn't heard about this one."

Hoping to avoid retelling the story, Jak quickly changed the subject.

"Wait, can you actually eat cactus?" he demanded.

He moved to sit cross-legged directly in front of the throne, and began examining the viper's mouth to get an idea of how to harvest the fangs later. Absentmindedly, he reached a hand back behind him, and was too deep in focus mode to register that this wasn't Daxter or Keira he was non-verbally bumming snacks off of. Nonetheless, Damas made a goodnatured scoff and placed several more crickets in his hand.

"You can eat specific kinds of cactus," Damas clarified. By the emphasis he placed on "specific", it was fairly obvious he was anticipating Jak trying to eat random cacti in town.

"Only the ones with the paddles like you saw, understand?"

"Sure, sure." Jak brushed this off. "But what do you make with them, though?"

Damas inspected the bag of crickets and sealed it back up to ensure that they would have some snacks during the coming meetings. "You use them for just about anything you need a vegetable for, honestly. I tend to grill them with lemon. Some people boil them for salads. Sig's mother is known in the East Quarter for frying it in batter and selling it in little cups."

"Ooh! We still haven't met Sig's ma!" Daxter chirped. He grinned wickedly. "We should ask her about Sig's embarrassing baby stories."

"She has no shortage of them," Damas agreed.

Daxter glanced back at Jak, happily munching crickets, and shuddered.

"On a scale of one to "Jak eats things raw if he can't figure out how to cook them", how hard is it to cook?"

Jak looked insulted. Damas snorted.

"After the afternoon appointments, I'll teach you one of the simpler methods. You won't need much- Jak, don't touch the fangs. We still need the evidence intact."

"I was just looking!" Jak defended.

"With your hands?"

With a gusty sigh, the teenager scooted back to the right of Damas’s seat. He looked a little cross, but it faded soon enough.

"What appointments do you have, anyway?"

Damas stood up to stretch. Precursors knew he wouldn't get a chance in the next few hours.

"Third bell after noon through fifth bell is reserved for Arbitration Court," he said. "Which is why I do not usually call you during those hours. My job as king is to uphold the safety of my people, ensure the continued functioning of the Beacon and the water filtration system, mediate disputes not serious enough for the Arena, and enforce laws agreed upon by myself and my council."

Jak made a face. "That sounds like a lot of being stuck inside."

Dryly, Damas asked, "Why do you think I planted an entire grove of date palms in here? I would have died of boredom years ago if I did not."

He turned to fix both boys with a stern look.

"Out of respect for your fellow Spargans, try not to fidget during Arbitration Court unless you notice something suspicious. After five is a monthly meeting with the northern clifftop farmers to discuss rent payments."

"You rent farmland?"

"They rent from me," corrected Damas. "I didn't clear boulders until my hands bled just to abandon my land when I became king."

Jak blinked. "Fair enough. Man, we should've charged Sandover rent, Dax."

"Pal, they thought we owed them compensation for being allowed to sleep on their porches and eat a bare minimum of their food," Daxter pointed out sourly.

He caught a troubled frown on Damas’s face after the statement.

"Hm. I would like your attention to be on the visitors most during the rent meeting and the council meeting after evening meal. If anyone has a problem with me, specifically, that's likely where they'll turn up."

Jak eyed the snake again. "And if they blow their cover, I get to take 'em out, right?"

"No." Damas narrowed his eyes and pointed at Jak as he sat down again. "I need to determine how far the plot goes. No killing the assassin or accomplices."

"What about after?" Jak pressed.

"I'm the aggrieved party, I'm the one who deals with them," Damas said in mild reproof.

Jak folded his arms. "I dunno, we're feeling pretty aggrieved, right Daxter?"

"Positively outraged," Daxter added, sounding more bored than offended. "More Jak than me, but he's the sensitive type. You know him."

"Yes," Damas said, shaking his head with a small smile, "Yes I do. The answer is still "no", Jak."

Jak huffed and settled more comfortably against the throne. "You never let me do anything fun," he joked.

"I don't, I really don't." Damas reached over to prod the back of Jak's head affectionately.

"I'm a horrible, mean, adult who only lets you risk life and limb four days out of the week instead of every three hours."

"The folks in Haven would think that was the worst kind of tyranny, not being able to make us do all their work for them," Daxter scoffed.

The lift began to rattle, and Damas cleared his throat.

"Well, back to work. Eyes open, my boys. Let us see if we can't catch a would-be assassin. Jak, don't touch the fangs."

"I wasn't!" Jak protested.

Neither of his companions looked convinced.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter au #free day thursday #long post #welcome to adult supervision Jak #never had roasted cricket but as long as it didn't gave the head I'd try it #i guess i should give the viper oneshot a tag now that its not a oneshot anymore #its an au where Damas is subtly coaching Jak to be his successor so maybe that could have something to do with the name?#or maybe I'll just stick to Viper au #Jak has impulse problems but in his defense i would also be poking a dead viper with a stick #tw animal death #said animal went down in self defense i grant you but I'm actually rather fond of snakes so the warning stays #we'll just say this particular snake was a Known Problem to the wider Snake Community #it probably double parked in snake parking lots and tried to make all its old highschool peers join snake mlms #rip random fictional snake: you shall be hissed #viper au

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vllergy · 9 months

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emerges from the ether for 5 seconds before vanishing again--i don't post here often i go through phases, the moon has phases i have phases whatever but i've been playing a lot of b@lders g@ate and while i don't think i'll ever feel comfortable writing canon character content (maybe h@lsin??? g@le??? who knows) this one NPC interaction had me by the throat. feat: tw: canon courtesan/sex worker NPC, kink!reader, second person narration since the game is like that, hunky sneezy drow man, honestly a lot of build up for little payoff im sorry idk what happened. i also don't know the word count im useless (dialog is in-game dialogue up until the lil time skip to his room, then it's all me baybbyeee)

The drow is one of the most handsome you’ve ever seen. Not that you expected him to be ugly, of course. The fabled drow twins of Sharress’ Caress are known far and wide for their talents as well as their beauty. Its just, seeing them in person is quite different from sustaining on mere rumor alone. Sorn Orlith, as he introduces himself, is rather muscular for a drow. He stands nearly a good head taller than you with a broad, brazenly defined chest. His outfit is nothing more than a metal cage topped over his heavy shoulders and flared out down his sternum like witch’s fingers, pointing towards an abdomen taut with muscle.

His long skirt rides around his hips but you can still see the shadow of indents against bluish-gray skin there, as if they are inviting you to take a closer look. They likely are. Nothing about his appearance is not meticulously crafted to draw you in. From the slight sheen on his lips that are plush and naturally the color of ripe blueberries, to the way his wintry hair is falls effortlessly back from his face in perfect waves. He is a vision, and yet his eyes are not cold and imperious like you might expect. They’re warm. Inviting. Somehow kind, despite what kind of debauchery goes on in a place like this.

You ask him how he ended up here in the first place. Apparently, the Underdark isn’t kind to male courtesans. Also, he was bored.

“The entirety of drow culture is obsessed with bondage beyond reason. While such activities have their charms, I yearned to reach greater depths.” He gives a dazzling smile. “And there is no society on this planet more laterally, imaginatively and confusingly depraved as that of Baldur’s Gate. Although of late, I do feel I’ve seen everything. Perhaps you’ll show me something new?”

Your throat goes dry.

“I’m…glad you’re happy here,” you manage out.

Sorn laughs, but not unkindly “I’d have to restrain myself far more than any play-bindings do if I worked in another field. This is a place where I can be myself boundlessly.”

His arms widen, emphasizing the violet taut flesh of muscle in his shoulders and biceps. You do your best not to stare.

“There are so many who come to me speaking of a fixation that no one else has ever been able to share with them…” he leans close, “And never will again.

He smells of bergamot and brandy. It’s intoxicating. “A once in a lifetime moment of passion. Every day. What could be better? Don’t you want to try it?”

You do. And he can tell. His grin widens, almost wolfish.

“Trust me, you don’t want to miss my signature Menzoberranzan Love Trick.”

—

With the door to Sorn’s private room shut, you feel a sense of calm overwhelm you. The room is beautiful—long enough to be someone’s home, crystals and plants glowing in every corner, a bed surrounded by flowers, shadows in all the right places. It looks like it was plucked free from the most beautiful parts of the Underdark and brought here to Wyrms Crossing. It feels comforting. Safe.

“Now, are you going to tell me about this little secret of yours? Or would you prefer to keep me in the dark?”

Sorn’s voice startles you and he slips a hand around your waist, nosing at your neck as he comes from behind you. He releases you at the reaction, but doesn’t make a show of it. He’s masterful at what he does. Reading his partner, gauging their comfort level, adjusting and maneuvering as necessary. Your blushing cheeks must give you away because he gives you an encouraging smile instead and reaches for your wrists.

“Come, let us sit first. I find it’s easier to talk like that.”

He leads you to the foot of the bed. The sheets are luxurious, obsidian satin, and the mattress sinks with your weight. He sits close, angling his body towards you, but not so close as to crowd you. Your knees touch. You can see his breath flexing the hardened muscles of his torso and chest as he lingers there, expectant but not impatient. His hands cover yours in your own lap.

“It’s perfectly all right to be nervous,” Sorn continues, “But I assure you, your secret is safe with me. And not only that, it is *treasured*. I meant what I said earlier. There is very little that surprises me these days. Should you present me with something unexpected, I will be noting more than delighted.”

You avoid his eyes, despite how gentle they are. You’ve never said this in front of anyone. But he’s right. Odds are, there are multiple someones in Baldurs Gate who have stranger interests than you. Sorn has likely indulged them all and without complaint. As he said downstairs, he rather enjoys this aspect of his work. Still, your tongue is in knots as you work up the nerve to say it. Your eyes travel up from his chin to his perfectly shaped mouth, the cupids bow of his lips and then finally the long, aquiline shape of his nose. It’s a fine nose. Prominent on his face and somehow as elegant as the rest of him, it captivates your attention for a moment.

When you realize you’ve been staring for a moment too long, the confession rushes out of you in a breath, “Sneezing.”

Your face feels like it might explode from the heat. Sorn blinks. You expect him to laugh, or tell you to leave the room, or some other horrible outcome but instead he merely tilts his head. His hands give yours an assuring squeeze.

“And what about it do you like, my love?”

You lean over with a groan. You truly cannot believe you’re having this conversation—but his warm chuckle sends something fluttering in your chest and you gather the courage to straighten back up again and look him in the eye.

“I’m…not quite sure, I just know I enjoy it,” you say carefully, “And when my partners do it.”

“Mmm,” he says, contemplating, “So you’d like it if I sneezed for you then?”

Your lips purse, holding the answer hostage in your throat. You nod helplessly instead. He laughs again and releases one of his hands to brush a knuckle along your cheek.

“Look how red you are, it’s positively darling. Was that all, little bird? That was what you were so afraid to tell me?”

You nod again, nearly in tears. It’s off your chest now and it feels incredible, but it’s also freeing in a way that makes you feel raw and exposed. He’s being so kind about it that you’re not quite sure how to react. Emotions clash together, warring for dominance inside the confines of your skull.

Sorn seems to understand immediately. His hand skirts below your jaw and tips your chin up as he leans forward and captures your lips with his own. It’s a simple, nearly chaste kiss. So featherlight and innocent that it feels like the sun peeking through the clouds. “Shh, shhh,” he soothes as he pulls away, “I think it’s wonderful. I will say it’s the first time I’ve encountered it, but I think it’s quite endearing.” He pulls away a little further, leaving you breathless. His white smile gleams. “And what an exciting challenge besides!”

He releases you fully and stands from the bed, his hands on his hips. He looks about the room, brow furrowed in concentration. You’re still a little dazed from the kiss, wondering how he manages to taste like brandy and sweetwine and smell as good as he does while also trying to get your brain to stop swimming. You blink a few times to get your bearings as Sorn stalks to one of his shelves.

“Now, the only trouble is—“ he starts as he rifles through a few things, “There isn��t much that makes me sneeze, I’m afraid.”

Your stomach wilts a bit. Perhaps it was too much to hope that this strapping drow would have a terrible allergy to lavender. Though, to be fair, he hardly looks like the type to be beset by anything so pedestrian. Sorn is so maddeningly put together. From his perfect hair, meticulous ensemble and finely crafted expressions, he is clearly a man that keeps up appearances. Decorum is important to him. Should he ever be laid low by an allergy, you imagine he would fight it with the all the dignity and stoicism he so proudly displayed.

Still—you didn’t work up all this nerve just to get here and *not* have anticipated something like this happening. Shyly, you let your fingers linger over the vial in your pocket.

“I…may have something that will help,” you say.

Sorn turns from the shelf with what looks like a raven feather in his hand, his eyes bright. He looks positively delighted at the news.

“Oh I love when my clients come prepared,” he says, “You are a dream.”

“We could try that first, though,” you say, gesturing to the feather. There’s definitely something to that idea and it’s already stirring a feeling in your belly that has you shifting on the bed and your heart rising. There’s no possible way Sorn can know this, but somehow you sense he does, because his eyes sharpen their focus on you and his grin goes syrupy.

“Lovely,” he comments and returns to your side. As he sinks back into the mattress, he gestures a hand. “Is here all right? Or would you like to do it somewhere else?”

“Here is fine,” you choke out. The idea that this is happening, really happening, is making your brain turn to lightning. You can hardly wait.

He holds out the feather to you, “I assume you’d like to do the honors?”

You nod. The feather has little weight to it, and it’s gorgeous up close. The black shimmers with hues of purples and blues in the low light, glimmering in the reflection of your eyes. You run your eyes along the length of it and then find yourself starting at Sorn again, heart in your throat.

“Is it… all right if I touch you?” you ask. You lean forward, hand with the feather outstretched, but think you may need to position yourself a little closer and brace yourself on his shoulder to get a good angle.

“Darling,” he laughs. He suddenly seizes your wrist and brings you closer, lowering his voice near your ear. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

You gulp as he slides back, demure and innocent as if he hadn’t just made goosebumps appear along your arms and thighs with his words alone. A nervous smile paints your lips and you do finally take his shoulder in your hand. You’re kneeling almost into his lap at this point and to support you, he draws an arm around your back. It’s so intimate you’re almost dizzy with the closeness alone, and you haven’t even gotten to—

The feather brushes at the corner of his mouth and his mouth twitches in a smile. Even just that response alone makes your heart race. From there, you slowly move it up to the indent above his mouth, and then his septum. He wrinkles his nose, skin avoiding the stimulation on instinct before he wrests his control back. He smiles but says nothing, allowing you to continue.

You draw the tip of the feather around one nostril. It quivers in response, but otherwise, Sorn’s eyes remained focused on you. You test a bit farther, drawing slow, soft circles. There isn’t anything for a few seconds, and then he starts to blink, irritated tears prickling in his eyes. He sniffs a few times and then has to cough, politely turning his head away on instinct as he does so. “Apologies,” he says and then grins, “What a strange sensation.”

“Are you all right?” you ask.

“Very much so,” he nods, “Please, continue.”

You do, but to mixed results. You’re certainly irritating his nasal passages, but sadly not enough to make him sneeze. After a few minutes of attempting, all you’ve really done is making him cough and cry irritated tears. Disappointed, you’re about to give up when he takes your wrist again, holding the feather inside his nose.

“W-wait,” he says, “I had it for but a moment.”

Your heart stutters. Carefully, you twist the feather as you had been a moment earlier. His eyelashes, pale as new fallen snow, sweep his cheeks and a breath catches on the roof of his mouth. The hand that was around your wrist falls slack, fingers drifting down towards your elbow.

“Yes, I feel it,” he whispers.

His grip around your back tightens and he draws in another breath. His eyebrows crumple and hoist upwards and his nose practically twitches.

“Hh—hiiyh—“

As his expression snaps, you pull the feather away just in time. His head wrenches away as the sneeze whisks through him.

“Hi-ISSHh!”

It’s a spartan, nearly soft sound. Wet, given the amount of torture his nose has been put through for the last few unproductive minutes, but otherwise without frills or embellishments. It’s a very honest sneeze you think, but perhaps one he was not entirely prepared for. By his clenched teeth you think he might have held back at the last moment out of some sense of propriety. The way he lightly touches the backs of his knuckles to the underside of his nose in the aftermath and gives a delicate sniff further enforces your theory.

Still, it was a sight.

“Blessings,” you say, enraptured.

Sorn recovers quickly and smiles at you.

“Did you—snf—enjoy that? I am sorry it took so long.”

Your red cheeks are enough of a glowing recommendation, but you nod anyway. Feeling a little braver, and a little desperate for him now that you’ve seen him lose control the once, your hand slips down against his abdomen. The warm skin there flexes against your palm as he breathes in. He hums a soft noise of approval and clasps his hand over yours before leaning in to kiss you. There’s just the briefest moisture in the kiss, only you would ever notice it, and it sets your brain on fire.

“Perhaps we should try your method instead,” he suggests when he pulls away for a breath, kissing a line across your jaw and to your throat next, “It might be more…productive.”

You feel dizzy. His hand skirts along your thigh and meets the joint of your hip, squeezing with enough pressure to make you moan.

“If you’re sure,” you say, “It can be…strong.” It’s only fair to warn him, after all. Everyone reacts differently, but you’ve never not seen it work on someone.

“All the better,” he hums against the hollow of your throat, nipping softly at the skin, “I simply won’t have you leaving here disappointed.”

You shift upwards to get access to your pocket. Sorn discards the sodden feather and watches with curious, eager eyes. When you reveal the tiny glass vial, he smirks.

“I see,” is all he says before nodding his head toward the collection of pillows at the head of the bed, “Let’s get more comfortable first, shall we?”

Moments later, you’re lying side by side, both propped up by pillows and surrounded by the soft glowing plants and crystals that make a canopy of the bed. Sorn holds himself up on an elbow and examines the vial that looks comically small in his much larger fingers. You lay your cheek against one of the pillows and stare up at him, still feeling your heartbeat pound in your ears. You’d thought this would have gotten easier after seeing it happen once, but the idea of seeing it happen again is almost worst. Now that you know the sound, know how his lip curls a little, how his eyes flutter—all you want to do is see it more, see him unravel.

“So, just a pinch of this?” Sorn asks. He seems more curious than anything. Like he doesn’t quite totally believe that whatever is in there is actually going to be able to make him sneeze.

“Mhmhm,” you say.

He grins and sets to work. A hefty pinch between his thumb and forefinger is gathered and then quickly—and in a rather sophisticated manner—snorted up one nostril. It doesn’t seem to cause him any harm like you worried it might, and he merely clears his throat once it’s over and brushes his hands off.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” he comments, “Almost medicinal.”

You can’t answer him because you can’t breathe. You’re waiting for something. Anything. A flicker of his expression, a quiver of his nose, something to indicate that the powder is set to work. But nothing happens. Sorn merely looks back at you questioningly.

“When does it start to take effect?” he asks.

“Usually right away.”

He frowns, “Oh. Perhaps I should take more?”

You saw the amount he took. It was already sizable. Any more and you’d be concerned for him. You quickly shake your head, “No, I wouldn’t. Maybe it’s just…slow to start.”

Sorn huffs, his disappointment mirroring your own. He sets the vial aside and turns back to you, pulling you flush against his body. That’s still nice, sneezing or no. Every hard angle of him presses against you and the heat of his skin makes you shudder. He kisses you deeply and you can still smell the slightly earthy scent of the powder on him as you return it.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he murmurs close to your mouth, “I’ve done nothing but disappoint you tonight.”

You blink up at him, “That’s not true!”

He sighs and tucks a bit of your hair behind your ear. “It is, but I promise you, I will make it up to you. We still have plenty of time, and there are other things we can do, besides.”

Sorn dips an arm under you and pulls you flat against the bed, hovering over you. He grins down at you and starts to remove your top.

“Is this alright?” he asks softly.

You nod, nearly choking on your want for him. Everywhere he uncovers bare skin, he lavishes in kisses until you’re bare from the waist up and the two of you are flesh against flesh. His skin sears yours with warmth. He trails fingers down your sternum and then down to your bellybutton, then lower.

“You are a delightful little thing,” he says. His voice is velvet, and his warm breath paints down your ribs as he follows the path of his hand.

You feel the gasp as much as you hear it. It’s a sudden, reckless thing—so quick that neither of you are prepared for it. Sorn’s expression flinches for just a moment and he barely has time to turn his head to the side before a sneeze completely overtakes him—misting your side in the process. “hh-EDSHHH’iuh!”

You’re stunned. Sorn looks like he might be too, if not for the telltale signs of another impending sneeze close behind the first. He shifts and places a hand on your hip as he sits up a little. You watch as his upper lip curls over bright teeth and his nostrils flare once before he wrenches away from you successfully this time. “hhHH’RRSCCH!” This one is stronger than the last, more voice to it. It shakes him and you by extension on the mattress.

“Bless you,” you say, but he shakes his head. His hand squeezes your hip gently as if to say ‘not yet’. “Hih-ih!”

His fist goes to his mouth before you can stop it, and he squelches the last sneeze into submission. His eyes cinch shut and he bends at the waist, shoulders trembling as the colossal sound is contained to nothing more than a whisper. “hHh-nGXST!”

He opens his eyes, though somewhat warily. As if he’s not sure the tickle is quite gone yet. He gives a cagey sniffle and blots his knuckle under his nostrils, “Goodness.” Then, he turns to you and finds your gaze positively enraptured. He smiles.

“I suppose it does work ah-after all!” He rubs at the tip of his nose for a moment and then flutters his eyes, “I do hope you’re ready for more because it seh—seems…”

Your hand goes to his chest. You feel the swell of his breath deepen, the warm feeling of his skin moving under your fingers. Sorn seems to get the idea because his palm reaches up to cover yours. His fingers wrap around your palm as his breath continues to snag. You catch his eyes just for a moment before they slide back.

“hHH’RRSCh’euh!” He trembles under your touch with the force of it. He lifts his head just barely, eyebrows canted desperately, and then pitches downwards again, spraying your arm with abandon. “hh’AEEShhh’ah!”

“Such a tickle,” he says breathily as he recovers. He gives a wet sniffle and smiles at you, but it’s hazy, the look in his eyes already distracted by the mounting itch. But he doesn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, he’s enjoying the newness of the sensation. The break from monotony.

His nostrils flare and he releases his hand to rub his knuckle against his septum once more.

You feel a little bold for asking, “Are you all right?”

He nods, smiling. He tries to hold your eyes but the tickle steals his concentration once more.

“Quite!Just—hh…sn’tsCHh’eeze-hhHH! H’RRSHC’hu!”

You reach your other hand up to stroke through his hair and turn him a little more towards you as he prepares for another. He resists at first out of instinct alone, but adjusts in the moment it takes for the sneeze to have its way with him. As his breath snaps, he ducks his head in the space between you and releases it into your lap. “hh”hRRRASsh’chu!”

“Bless you,” you say, smoothing back his hair. You crawl into his lap and he welcomes you without hesitation, securing your thighs around his hips even as his head tilts back for two more with barely a breath in between. He ducks them between the two of you but there isn’t much space. His hands clench against your thighs with each outburst. “hh-eHH’SCCHE’uh! h’RRSH’ue!”

Blearily, he looks up. He’s dazed. Sniffly. His cheeks are indigo and the area around his nostrils is too. You kiss him, because he just looks so stupidly *kissable* and he murmurs a laugh against your mouth.

“It is quite comforting thatyou find me attractive in such a state,” he sniffs once you pull away.

“Very attractive,” you remind him.

He smiles, and continues smiling even as his expression flickers again. “Ah, one-hh more perhaps,” he says. He raises a hand in front of his face and a rather tired sounding sneeze ripples through him. “hH’EDShh!”

“Bless you.”

“I don’t thhhink I’ve ever snhheezed so much in my life-hh!” He leans his forehead onto your shoulder and does away with using his hand to cover, opting to simply hold onto your hips and let the sensation take him. “hh’UEHDSHH’iu!” You stroke his bare back and feel his ribs expand beneath your fingers before tightening twice in quick succession. “hh’NGXT! nG’ssT!”

He clears his throat after and lifts his head back up, adjusting you on his lap. “Ah, I should have asked, do you prefer if I hold them in or let them out? Often I don’t know which it will be until it happens but… perhaps I could try…try to—”

His eyes roll and he turns his head, giving you a clear view of his twitching profile. “If I could juhhst get through a sehh’ESsch!—sentence!”

“I don’t mind either way, I just don’t want you to hurt yourself if you hold them in,” you say to try and spare him.

“Oh, darling, it takes much more than that to hurt me,” he wriggles his nose handsomely and turns back to you with a devilish grin. His eyebrows raise. “And lo! A full sentence! The effects must be wearing off.” He sniffs experimentally and for the first time, his eyes don’t get hazy in the aftermath.

You feel disappointment sink your heart like a stone. It was bound to wear off eventually. But before you can even lament the course of events, he pats your thigh and shifts you off his lap.

“Come, where’s the vial?”

You blink. Surely he doesn’t want to do more of that?

He seems to know exactly what you’re thinking because he taps the bottom of your chin and winks.

“Oh, we’re far from finished, love. Ready for round two?”

#snzblr #snz kink #snz fic #i didn't proofread this and i probably wont until way too late and that's on me #i dont actually even like this but something in me had me at gunpoint until i posted it #anyway this stupid game is fun #idk if i'll write more for it #but this man demanded to be written #HOPE YOU ARE ALL WELL #SORRY IM NEVER HERE I LITERALLY GO FROM 0 to 100 IN TERMS OF MOOD #but this week the dogs be barkin

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