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hyperfixat · 4 months

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hbd to me!!!!!!! here’s a vent fic i wrote a few months ago so proceed with caution; reader attempted suicide, reader continues to have suicidal thoughts/attempts, reader seeks harm onto themself (both from external sources and self inflicted), reader is depressed!!! be sure to evaluate your mental state before reading this fic :3. this also contains a scene that i felt compelled to write for some reason involving assisted hygiene: idk i felt that needed a little acknowledgment..

ik its my birthday fic and it proably should be happy, but theres a bit of hurt comfort to this that i love and i polished it up to share so that hopefully u like it too.. again heed my warnings^

also final note; formatted on my pc, sprry if its funky

The first thing you feel upon waking up is disappointment. This… you rub your face with your hands. You can’t do anything right, you sigh. Waking up is a clear sign of a failure as to your plans.

Although you frown as you observe your surroundings, this isn’t where you would be if someone had caught you attempting to take your life. You wouldn’t be dumped in the middle of a sunny field. This isn’t a hospital or ward, in fact there’s no sign of any modern buildings from where you sit.

Just where are you…?

You use shaky arms to lift yourself up, and begin to attempt to find a way home. Or for something to just kill you.

What luck, you realize morbidly, you spawned on a plateau, and that’s all you allow yourself to think before breaking into a sprint and running both to and over the edge.

You hit the plains with a crack and you wheeze out a pained groan. Before you can lift yourself up to try again or seek help or check for any witnesses, you feel your body fade away. It’s a weightless feeling as you sink into the earth of Teyvat.

There is not much pain, not as much as you had hoped or expected. In ways this is a pro, for you are a coward in the face of pain no matter deserved or otherwise.

You fade, but not into the hold of death, at least you don’t think this is death, rather you fade from your spot crumpled on the ground into a sitting position firmly in the arms of an Anemo Statue of Seven. The marble orb of Barbatos’ lookalike stops you from falling out of the statue’s arms and you heave a sigh.

How unfortunate. It seems you cannot permanently die here. Though… what if it was a fluke…? With another bone deep sigh you fall to the ground and walk back to the ledge and stare down at the fifty foot drop.

Before you work up the courage to take the plunge a high, excited voice calls out for you. You flinch, opening your eyes to see a youthful bard dressed in Mondstatian green, holding his hands out for you. Venti is sprinting towards you and you take a step back nervously. He seems to recognize you… but how could that be?

His face falls as you back away and his sprint slows when he’s a few yards away from being able to reach out to you. Venti calls your name again. He falters, the smile adorning his face slips.

“Wait…” his voice wavers. “What are you doing, Divine One?”

Why did he call you that…? Is it some Mondstat greeting of sorts? You can’t kill yourself in front of him and retraumatize the poor guy, so you allow him to get closer to you, and you don’t stop him when he sweeps his lythe form down into a kneeling bow.

“Hello.” You greet, unsure of how one is supposed to act when approached by a fictional character.

Venti lifts his gaze from the ground up to your face, looking downright awestruck.

“I, we, have long awaited your descent, Divine One, it is an honor to have you grace the lands of Freedom with your presence first.”

Uh-oh. He seems to have confused you with someone else, because you are certainly no one special and definitely not any sort of divine. How are you gonna break that to him without too much embarrassment on either of your parts?

“Please, come with me to the city, I’m certain the people will be delighted to host the one who shaped the world.” His voice is high with a musical lilt, and it’s hard to decline him.

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out dry, and you realize you’re terribly dehydrated. “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m not whoever you think I am.”

You take a step back, backing yourself up the hill onto higher ground.

“Whatever do you mean, Divine One? Your presence is unmistakable.”

You shake your head, stepping further away from the Archon. Venti reaches his hand out to grasp at the bottom hem of your pajama pants. “Please! I’ve waited so long for you.” He falls onto his knees to beg.

Fuck, his eyes are so pretty when he pleads. You don’t want to risk angering whatever God he’s mistaking you with, though, “Venti….”

The blue-green sky of his eyes turns to the color of the ocean as tears well up in his waterline. His whole body shivers when you utter his chosen name. “I can keep it a secret from the public. Surely only Archons and those blessed with a Vision will be able to sense you. We can keep it quiet, please, Divine One, I beg of you.”

“I’m not this Divine One you speak of,” you kneel and place a hand on his hat. Venti’s eyes search yours with confusion. As he lifts his head, your hand presses into the curve of his skull, making him lean harder into your touch.

“Th-That’s okay, please just stay in Mondstadt for a night, that’s all I wish.” He doesn’t believe you, that’s clear, but he seems so eager to appease you.

You pause, looking away from the pathetically begging archon. His hands clench on your pant fabric.

“Okay. Just for the night.” You hope no one else from Mondsat is as strange as Venti is…

“I don’t have any way to pay for this,” you smile at Diluc, placing a hand on the side of the glass to push it back across the counter.

“I wouldn’t dream of making you pay, please drink all you wish.�� Let me know if it isn’t to your taste.”

“Does that apply to their guide as well, Master Diluc?”

“No.”

“A shame,” Venti sighs, taking a deep drink from his glass.

You have to hand it to Venti, he is a good guide. He’s quick to shut down any vision holder you come across with a quick whisper in their ear, and he truly knows Mondstadt in and out.

The bell above the door jingles as it swings open, and you glance behind you in time to see Rosaria come strolling in with a timid Barbara clutching the back of her cathedral robes. She must not visit the Angel’s Share much, seeing as the hydro-user looks around with quick, nervous eyes. When her eyes land on you they widen comically, her small hand darting out to steady herself on Rosaria’s forearm.

—

“Farewell, my Divinity,” “Safe travels, Divine One,” and “May the wind bless your travels, Your Grace,” follow your retreating form as you make the hike to Dragonspine.

Honestly you aren’t certain where you’re heading. If the other nations treat you the same as Mondstadt, that's a no-go. You won’t know unless you go, though. Maybe you should head the same route the Traveler would. That would mean Dragonspine is your next destination.

Who will you meet there? Albedo…? He’s the only one you can think of that stays there.

As you begin the trek you realize; he’s a research-type dude, you hesitate to say scientist, but he does experiments and such. Perhaps, you can make use of yourself by giving your body up to him to work on. Surely an undying body would greatly interest the research of life?

After a surprisingly simple search you find him and present your proposition.

“Absolutely not,” Albedo dismisses you without thought. He doesn’t even bother to spare you a look. “That is blasphemy of the highest order, I’d suggest giving that attitude up sooner rather than later.”

You flinch back at the words, taking a step back into the chill of Dragonspine.

“I can offer you sanctuary here if you seek it, but I will not harm you.”

“That’s…” not at all what you want. “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I must decline.”

His haunting blue eyes follow you down the snowy path to Liyue. Once you are far too away to hear, he states calmly, “safe travels.”

As you walk down the icy paths lining the gravel streets you think… Albedo had rejected you just like that. What’s the next step?

You might as well stop by Liyue Harbor, maybe meet some characters before… before maybe heading to Sumeru?

Ahhah! It hits you then, the harbinger introduced in Sumeru: Il Dottore. If Albedo had reservations, then Dottore would have none.

Even still, Liyue is a harbor. You’re sure to find a way to Snezhnaya from there.

You almost get to the docks without drawing any attention to yourself. Almost.

Your mistake laid in the fact that you passed the Golden House, the weekly Childe Boss fight. In your defense you didn’t actually think he’d be in there. And it’s not like you even went in, only going up the steps and around for a detour.

And it was a quick route until a strangled gasp came from behind you, making you spin around in alarm. There, Tartaglia stood, with pupils nearly the size of his gray-blue eyes, staring, completely enraptured by your visage. Your knees buckle and you make to sprint, but your body is no match for a Fatui Harbinger.

In retrospect you’re not entirely sure what drove you to run, perhaps some fight or flight instinct buried inside of you.

His long hand wraps around your forearm, tugging you to a stop, you face him, and your face must portray your panic clearly because Tartaglia’s twists into sorrowful sympathy.

“My Divinity… it is an honor to meet you in the flesh.”

“Let go.” He does, promptly so.

“I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself. May I ask where you are headed, and if you are in need of company?”

“No. Thank you, Childe.”

His face shifts into a serious look, nodding. “Do you need an escort to Liyue then? Is that where you’re heading?”

“No. I know where I’m going, and I much prefer to go alone.” It’s not entirely false, you know where you’re headed, just not how.

“Well… be safe, okay? I hope to see you again.”

“I will.” The lie comes out and you cringe, because its delivery falls flat and its so obviously untrue.

“Does Mr Zhongli know you’re here? Surely you’re here to see Morax?” He strolls to your other side, offering a hand to lead you to the city. You ignore the hand.

“Goodbye, Tartaglia.”

“I can’t let you leave alone in good conscience…. You don’t seem well. Let me lead you to the harbor at least.”

Since he is as unmoving as stone, you let him take you to the main city, managing to ditch him before more people can know about your presence.

The boats docked at Liyue Harbor are hopeful. “Where is this ship headed?” you ask one of the dock workers. They look up at your voice before glancing at the ship they’re loading up with lumber.

“Snezhnaya.” They say glancing up at the grand vessel. “Why? Where’re you tryna go, friend?”

“Snezhnaya. How much does the fare cost, one way?”

—

“News of your travels have reached Snezhnaya, Divine One.” Dottore starts, fixing his posture from a lean on a surgical table to something more proper. You shake your head, the weariness you’ve accumulated on your journey weighing down on you. You’re finally where you deserve to be.

“I’m not the Divine One you speak of, Dottore.”

“Hm? Do you think so little of my intelligence? Your presence is unmistakable.”

“No, it’s not that. But I’m not. I’m just a regular person. And I came to you for a reason.”

“Oh? The Creator themself, seeking me out? It’s an honor,” the doctor bows to you, smirking at you from beneath his beaklike mask.

“I need you to hurt me.”

“What?” He pulls himself up with a startled question. “I’m afraid I misheard you, Divine One.”

“I can’t die, Dottore. I’m giving myself to you, you…” you heave a sigh as you explain your reasoning. “You could make use of me. I’m not whoever you think I am, please just take me. I don’t care what you do to me.”

“You’re… giving yourself to me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what happens to my… patients?”

“Yes, that's why I’m here. I can’t die, I imagine I would make a good test subject.”

“Is this a test?” Dottore seems to be speaking to himself more than anything. He pushes away from the table and paces to the back room of the lab, muttering madly to himself as he does so. The door swings open with a loud screeching and you catch sight of multiple mops of blue hair and masks.

His Segments.

You can hear a conversation ongoing between all of the parts of Zandik, it seems he doesn’t want to be rash and take you in too hastily. You can understand his (their?) hesitancy; if a god offered themselves up to you, you would surely think it was a trap. But you aren’t a god, so it should be a no brainer for him. How often does he get consenting test subjects?

It seems this absurd idea of you being a higher power has infiltrated Snezhnaya as well, which is… not good. Everyone is saying you’re more than what you are, you can’t be a god, you barely consider yourself a human.

An older, completely unmasked Segment sticks his head out of the door, frowning once he makes eye contact with you. There’s gray leaking from his roots into the teal of Dottore’s hair, and visible aging lines on his face; crows feet and tension on his cheekbones. Glowing red eyes narrow upon meeting your own, mouth pulling into a tight line.

A younger segment, smaller in size and stature, with a nearly full face mask, only showing part of his mouth. You think that is the one that the Fandom surrounding him dubbed Webttore. You usually see pictures of him with a wide, jagged-tooth smile, but, like his older part, he looks solemn.

You wonder just how many Segments Il Dottore has, because you can still hear an entire conversation going on without the two.

The conversation seems to be dying down, not ending without a few red eyes peeking out from behind the door at you. It’s surreal seeing so many versions of the same person at once; the youthful ones, eyes wide, and the older ones with wrinkles built with time and age, all at the same moment in time.

Eventually though, they do seem to come to a verdict: the Omega segment, the one you met upon walking into his lab, exits, closing the door behind him with a click that resonates through the room.

His answer is a simple word. “No.”

Your heart drops and stomach sinks at the rejection, and based on il Dottore’s reaction it must show. “Why?” your voice is small and sounds foreign to your own ears.

“I cannot forsake the true god in such a way, whether you acknowledge it or not, you have that power.”

All the turmoil and hardships it took to get here come crashing down, the light at the end of the tunnel is rejecting you. You hadn’t known this was something that could happen, your… your savior, the one you were looking for is telling you no. He won’t lay a finger on you, and it’s tearing you apart. This was the only thing that kept you from burying yourself in the deep forest of Sumeru and letting yourself rot.

“Oh.” It’s shaky and you nod, trying to take it maturely. “I see.” Your voice is warbling like you're on the verge of tears. Blinking rapidly to dispel the water from your eyes, you lower your head and make to scamper out of the lab.

Dottore lets out a heavy sigh, and his leather gloves wrap around your wrist.

“Wait.” You nervously glance up at his mask.

“You said you would ‘give yourself to me,’ no?”

Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, “yes.” Has he suddenly changed his mind? You shouldn't get your hopes up.

“I will take you. I doubt you will appreciate my intentions, but if I were to own you, you wouldn’t be able to complain. After all, you will have done it to yourself.”

You don’t know what those words mean, but the stinging rejection welling up in your eyes turns to relief. “Thank you,” he doesn’t stop you from dashing to his side and wrapping your arms around his waist. You press your face into his abdomen, letting his clothes soak up your tears. A hesitant hand rubs over your spine, an effort to soothe you.

You pull yourself together, sucking in a deep breath of the sterile lab air.

“Alright,” Dottore says after he deems you put together enough. “Come.” His hand covers your wrist, gently tugging you behind him. You aren’t sure where he is leading you, as he takes you out of the lab. The halls are tall and gorgeously crafted, intermittent with intricate moldings on the wall.

It’s a small room you find yourself in, but it is infinitely better than the wilderness. The size is comparable to an average hotel room. Dottore instructs you to sit and stay on the bed, which you do obediently. Nerves swirl inside of you, as to where he has gone and what he will bring back with - when he will return, if at all.

Il Dottore knows. While he is not well versed on human, much less godly, psychology, he can tell you’re depressed when you first stumbled your way into his workstation. Besides, he’d be hard pressed to deny the rumors from various agents that had been located in places you’d traveled through.

With a small caddy in his hands Dottore kneels next to the nightstand and places a hand on your shoulder to force you to lay down. “Arm.” Is what he prompts for you to let him maneuver your arm to lay open and flat over the edge of the bed.

The scent of alcohol alerts you to the sanitary wipe before you feel the chill of it. You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling as you feel the slight pinch of a needle and a clicking as an IV is deposited into your arm. Out of the corner of your eye you see Dottore set up a drip, but you don’t bother to ask what it is, the excitement of the day catching up with you.

Il Dottore eventually leaves the room in silence after pushing an odd vial of liquid into the drip, not bothering to look behind him as he closes the door and leaves with confident strides.

Although it’s entirely possible it’s simply the Placebo Effect, as the drip spreads throughout your veins you can feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier. Before long you can no longer keep them open and slip into a dreamless sleep.

You wake up to a Mirror Maiden tidying up the nightstand next to you. You observe her work, wondering how she can manage to navigate with the blind pulled over her eyes. She startles when she catches your eyes on her, though returns back to work, quietly disposing of the used needles from earlier. You wonder what The Doctor has injected you with; wonder if he added more of whatever it is while you were unconscious.

There’s a brisk, impatient knock on the door and the Maiden straightens up, taking hold of everything to discard and striding over to change positions with Tartaglia behind the door.

You stay flat on your back, looking at the ginger in mild surprise. Last you saw him he was in Liyue and set to stay for quite a while. Had he heard you gave yourself away to Il Dottore? Is he here to plead for you to change your mind?

But to your bemusement he stays quiet, walking over to and kneeling next to your bed. Instead of speaking he merely rests his head on the nightstand, dull blue eyes gazing at you sadly, yet reverently.

You’re unsure of how long you look up at the ceiling, doing your best to ignore Tartaglia’s eyes on you. His gaze is unwavering, and eventually, you turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry for my behavior in Liyue. I was too excited to see you, and my manners deserted me.”

“It’s okay.” You croak, throat dry from sleep. “I was dismissive as well.”

Dottore doesn’t bother to knock when he comes in.

“I see you’re awake and seem to have found a stray harbinger.”

Tartaglia doesn’t react to his entrance, merely moving to the far end of the bed, laying his head on the covers near your feet. You realize someone has drapped a plain, solid color duvet over your body when you slept.

“Are you feeling anything out of the ordinary?” Dottore asks, checking the emptied IV bag. He unclips it and pulls a fresh one from his lab coat pocket.

You take the moment to assess (how do you spell it) your body. In all honesty you’re feeling much better, the hydration from the drip really made a difference.

“I feel hydrated.”

Dottore hums, he sounds disinterested. “How’s your appetite? Can you stomach anything for me?” He clips a new bag onto the pole, screwing it into your IV’s tube. “Stand if you can.”

Dottore’s eyes watch you intensely behind his mask, observing how you tremble when you put a leg onto the floor. “Childe, help them and follow me.”

Tartaglia scrambles to steady your arm as you fully get out of the bed, wrapping the one without the needle in it around his shoulder to support you. You stiffen, but aren’t in any position to be able to get around without him, not with the emptiness of your stomach and the way black fades into your vision when you stand. “Get them to the restroom, take care of their needs. I will return with what they will eat.”

“Come on, I got you,” Tartaglia assures as he leads you to the ensuite restroom. It’s nothing too fancy; simply a sink, shower, and toilet.

You eye the toilet, realizing how long it’s been since you’ve relieved yourself. A shower would also be nice…

“Allow me to assist you, Divine One,” Tartaglia remains stoic and respectful as he shimmies your pants and underwear down your legs, letting you support yourself on his broad shoulders as you step out of the pant holes. After making sure you get to the toilet safely he turns around and starts the shower faucet.

The sound of the water helps you get over your pee shyness and by the time Tartaglia finishes soaking and preparing a cloth for you, you’ve finished and are ready to bathe.

With weak arms you gather the hem of your shirt in your hands and remove the remainder of your clothes.

Tartaglia helps you get clean with warm, respectful touches, passing you the cloth for you to clean more intimate areas, before helping you out of the shower and wrapping a large, soft towel around your body. It’s huge, covering the top of your bust to well past mid-calf, looping around your body almost twice. He tucks the towel tightly with practiced precision.

“Il Dottore will be back soon, I’ll help you get dressed before he returns. Do you have any material preferences?”

—

You sit up in bed, feeling marginally better than the day before. The day after that, and the day after that all proceed in a similar fashion; each time you feel just a little bit better. More clear headed, a better appetite, less like a corpse walking.

Only after Dottore deems you well enough to remove the IV do you get your suspicions that it was more than just the proper nutrition making you feel better. He still stops by your room twice a day for some shots; he encouraged you to choose where he would deposit them (when you said into your brain or through your chest, it did not amuse him). It feels suspiciously like the antidepressants you’ve been on before.

It only further confuses you, though. Does he want you in a proper state of mind for something? He has no reason other than unfounded faith to help you, you don’t like it. It’s … uncomfortable receiving this type of care, knowing it’s only because they think you're better than who you really are.

The food they feed you, the clothes they dress you in, it's all much more than you deserve.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Pardon?” Dottore sets the syringe down with a metallic click. Through his mask you can feel his gaze on you.

“You’re… you’re trying to— to…” the words fail you.

“Mitigate your depressive symptoms? Yes, I am. What of it?” Il Dottore picks the syringe back up, pushing the knob back before stabbing it into the vial in his hand. He pulls the liquid up with ease before removing the needle and pushing to remove the excess air in the syringe.

“Why?”

“Hm? Why would I not?” He flicks the syringe and some liquid flies from the point of the needle.

“If I were anyone else you wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Indeed.”

“Haven’t you realized by now that I’m not who you think I am? That I’m just a normal human in a horrible situation of being unable to die?”

“That is not so. Your skin cultures and biopsy results do not share that conclusion. Even if you continue to deny your god-hood, it changes nothing. I know for certain who you are, and you will remain in my care until you utilize your divine right to revoke such.”

Biopsy? When on Earth — Teyvat? — did that happen? But there’s more important things to discuss with him for now, not that you care how or when it happened. You’re more surprised you never noticed, that’s all.

“You’re wrong!” You wail, tears finally coming for the first time in a while. You had thrown your head back to speak, but now you collapse in on yourself with your head between your arms and legs. It’s humid, but saves you from having to look at the doctor and his unreadable bird mask.

“Oh my,” you hear Dottore murmur, then he sets his medical supplies to the side and places a hand on your shoulder. He remains there while you sob, when finally the lack of speech seems to reach the boiling point, he heaves a sigh. “If it is of any consolation, if it were to come to my attention that you are not in any way godly or divine, I would treat you the same. I’ve put far too much care into you to just toss you aside..”

That consoles you, if only a little, damn the drugs making you want to continue life to see the future. But you broke the dam of tears, and it’ll take a while for them to stop; you need to cry out everything that led you here….

Your… attempt that put you in Teyvat, the one you tried right after arrival, the false death, all the eyes and praise that aren’t meant for you. It’s dysphoric.

The lurches of your body with your cries, stitches your sides and you sniffle harder into the crevice your body makes, the moisture of the confined body space blending in with your tears.

“There now,” Dottore says, quieter as you get so as well. “Perhaps some more rest will do you good. I’ll be at the ready whenever you wake.”

#verified hyperfixat post #genshin impact x reader #sagau #genshin comfort #genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore x reader #dottore #dottore fanfic #il dottore x reader #childe sagau #venti #genshin isekai #sagau isekai #genshin impact isekai #hurt comfort #heed the warnings

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spacexseven · 1 year

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I saw art of Nikolai in the backrooms and the bursting out the computer screen

And now I'm think of demon Nikolai who also haunts your electronics...and randomly busting out them.

You almost never see Nikolai, he for sure mumbles about attachments and fickle silly human lives. He's gone for weeks at a time and then suddenly he just busts out your pc screen and starts yammering about boredom and silly human lives and that he just needs to see you!

He would find your attempts at getting him away super funny and just laughs at you before waving it away and tormenting you still. Maybe sometimes he'll play into your dumb human fantasies and pretend to be sent away before just being on your couch, eating your food too that bum, as you walk in from work. He would act like nothing happened.

Demon bsd lives in my brain and now I suffer the consequences

demon bsd is a parasite that has taken over my brain. Help.

cw: mentions of murder

nikolai is an unprecedented guest.

not like you expected any of the demons you've met to show up when they did, but nikolai in particular had never shown any prior interest in you before turning up one day. he's so inconsistent and unpredictable that you can't even tell when he's around—he tends to like hiding from you and creeping up on you when he's in a particularly mischievous mood. most of the time, however, he just comes to your place and lingers around like an unpleasant memory you can't get rid of. always there, even if you don't remember in the moment.

his initial entrance is perplexing. you were simply reading through a random and suspicious-looking webpage that promised foolproof and effective ways to ward off demons and other evil spirits (it was about time you kicked fyodor out for good), when suddenly your screen glitched out and the whole room went dark, before this white-haired man with a card over his eye came out of a portal in your computer. he stood up after pulling his bottom half out, shook off his coat, and took a deep bow in front of you, a wicked grin on his face the whole time.

"it's wonderful to meet you!" he exclaims, though you note that his uncovered eye looked at you far too calculatedly for his words to be genuine, "i hear you have quite the party here. mind if i join?"

he doesn't wait for your answer before he spins around and starts exploring your apartment.

from behind him, you demand he put down your things, though everything you say is easily ignored. he picks up your phone, which had suddenly stopped working the day before—"i didn't realize it couldn't handle my portal," he sighs, "it's beyond saving now. but dos already said that, right?" (you don't get an opportunity to ask how he knew fyodor, or demand for compensation—and inspects your couch with a frown, trying to lie down on it before huffing. "this won't do. i'll be taking your bed," he declares, as though you had no say in the matter.

the good news is that nikolai doesn't come around very often.

the bad news is that he never tells you when he's coming by.

you come home after an exhausting day at work to find nikolai on your bed, giggling as he scribbles all over the papers you had painstakingly finished organizing over the weekend. while doing some work at home, you get up for a late-night snack, only to come back to find nikolai at your seat and typing whatever he likes onto your open documents. once, you're trying to sync your phone to your tv in order to put on a movie for dazai, and instead, nikolai crawls out in the most terrifying way (dazai screams so loud and leaps into your arms, after which he refuses to face you out of embarrassment for the rest of the week).

and nikolai prods at you like he was dealing with an unexpected experimental result, pinching and poking and coming up to look at you from awkwardly close like he was studying you. and then he'd pull away and go back to loitering around your place.

"humans are so boring," he groans, splayed out on your sheets, "do something fun! go commit a crime! sell your soul to me!" he huffs and glares at you, "i can't believe i left everything to come see you." "weren't you here for fyodor?" you ask, tired of his whining. "i was, but i was also curious because he's never been so enthralled by a human before. i don't know what he sees in you." you roll your eyes, biting back a snarky reply. from the corner of your eye, nikolai visibly deflates.

he talks a lot too, if he's in a good mood. you don't necessarily know what to make of his ramblings of fleeting life and feelings and freedom, but he's a lot more entertaining than any of the other demons when he gets like this, and so you have no complaints. sometimes, he even promises to come back and kill you ("really!" he says, "i mean it!") because he was starting to spend too much time with you, but he has yet to act on it. and if his reaction to fyodor's usual threats was anything to go by, he definitely did not want you dead anytime soon.

the salt circles become challenging when it concerns him. his coat, it appears, has some kind of portal in it, and just as you start drawing the circle, he's gone with the flap of his coat, now in a completely different corner of your room. he laughs at you the more you fail, and by the end of it, you don't have any salt left—dazai and chuuya have never been happier.

you convince fyodor to stand guard for a day, bribing him with a promise to increase his daily limit of humans he can torment (because if nikolai scribbled over your documents one more time you might actually lose your job), but it doesn't help. nikolai finds a way, crawling in through the mirror in your bathroom and waiting for you to wash off your cleanser to come face to face with him.

but when he finds dazai on your lap one day, giggling as you read out a bedtime story for him—an intriguing collection of curses—nikolai looks the most angry you've ever seen him. he disappears then, and doesn't stop by for almost a month afterwards. while the demons are happy, you can't shake off a sticky feeling of dread.

you realize exactly what you should have been scared off when you come home one day to all the other demons gone, with your whole apartment in disarray and nikolai waiting for you on your bed, with an innocent smile and a book in hand.

#yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #yandere nikolai x reader #yandere nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x reader #yandere nikolai gogol x reader #yandere nikolai #ask 🐟#anon 🐟#bsd 🐟#nikolai 🐟#demon au 🐟

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angrelysimpping · 1 year

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as a request i would like to see bailey obliviously buying prostitutes more often than before and that the prostitutes (wether on attitude, or looks) resemble the pc and his reaction to realizing this

Contents: AMAB Bailey (he/him); Reader (you/your); dubcon, not that explicit; implied future dubcon/noncon of reader

Words: 616

Bailey isn’t a stupid man, but he is stubborn.

He also has a fairly low sex drive, using sex as more of a display of dominance or free stress relief. When he starts seeking out prostitutes once a week, he knows he’s doing it in reaction to your weekly payment. The itch sets in right after you leave his office, after all.

He just doesn’t acknowledge it, he refuses to acknowledge it.

Some brat like you has no right affecting Bailey like this, making him waste money so he can bully his cock into some desperate whore each week just so he can think straight. Of course, this means each person who ends up pinned under Bailey, impaled on his cock, gets pounded to hell as he takes every ounce of his frustration towards you out on them. He leaves them in shivering heaps; limp bodies and vacant eyes as they try to recover enough to scamper off.

He doesn’t care. He got his money’s worth and that’s what’s important.

Then one week, he can’t find one. He can’t fucking find one. Sure, there are prostitutes galore in this shit-hole town, but none of them are worth it. Each one bold enough - desperate enough? - to approach him, he turns down. Snears at them and tells them to fuck off.

But it’s there, that annoying itch, that incessant nagging in the back of his mind that he needs to get out if he has any hope of not completely wasting his day.

He should charge you for this. Tack it on an extra expanse, mental distress, or something like that. After all, he’s having to stoop to visiting Briar’s place. Briar, who’s all smug grins and grand gestures as they greet Bailey, asking what they’ve done to deserve the honor of having Bailey grace their establishment with his presence. If he was looking for anything in particular.

Bailey cuts to the chase, biting out what he wants. And Briar laughs, they fucking laugh.

“Sounds like you’ve got a type. Like you’re thinking of someone else when fucking my whores.”

And that’s when it hits him. It really, truly hits Bailey that he’s picking stand-ins for you. Fucking brat. One with the same shaped eyes. Another with similar hands. A third with a voice just a hair off from yours. Yet a fourth with the same sense of humor, Bailey dragging them off after hearing them crack a joke to a friend. You. Fucking you.

Strangely, Bailey’s rage ebbs even as Briar continues to make comments at his expense. He’s still pissed, fingers still twitching to wrap around someone’s throat, but it’s not as intense as when the realization first hit.

He’s been wasting all this time, all this money, fucking prostitutes because they reminded him enough of you. Why continue? Why, when he had you living under his roof, should he keep seeking out piss-poor stand-ins for the real thing? Sure, Bailey had a rule against fucking his own wards, but these were special circumstances. He was throwing away time, energy, and money because of you. So, you’d have to make up for it, right?

And, well, maybe you’d find it more agreeable, getting ruined by your caretake, than sold off to the underground. Especially after he raided your hidey-hole, that loose floorboard under your bed, and made sure you wouldn’t have a single bill to fork over next week. Would make his life easier if you did, but it wouldn’t stop him if he had to pin you down and take you that way. He might even enjoy it more than if you quietly gave in, really.

Regardless, Bailey won’t be spending money on prostitutes anymore.

#bailey the caretaker #degrees of lewdity #tw dubcon #cw dubcon #tw noncon #cw noncon

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cor-lapis-candy · 2 years

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@venusandsaturnsrings the fucken fantastic writer they are turned a spew of my words into wonderful filth and I wanna return the favour with something in return.

So here we have more nasty obsessed childe and his very not slimy lust for you!

I had this written for so long and just needed the push to give it to someone as a character and they deserve more Childe filth.

Minors DNI or I will block you.

If anyone was to look into his camera roll they would see the normal things, screenshots from his work, saved memes, and other random photos of various things, but one gallery was for him and him alone locked and kept behind a password that was several letters and numbers that would mean nothing to anyone but him. That gallery was his digital shrine to you and your form, every picture was taken either as a joke or when you hadn't been paying attention, a few even darker in how they show you vulnerable and sweet but those are for his eyes only.

But here and now in the dark of his room, PC abandoned as some stream plays in the background, phone in hand and pants just barely pulled down, there would be nothing stopping him from enjoying the pictures he had of you to the fullest. Letting the gallery play like a slideshow of your face and body, pausing on certain pictures where he can see more than just small slivers of skin, eyes glued to the beach photos he had managed to nab from your socials.

The sight of you drenched and smiling so widely at the camera had him spiralling, though blooming of how you would look fully naked in his shower, hair pushed back working his soap into your skin, laughing when you catch him staring, reaching out to him and pulling him into the water with you uncaring of how his clothes would get drenched.

The idea of you being in his home, bare, fluttering your eyes at him and letting him touch you as the water cascaded down your back had his cock throbbing in his hand, drops of white dribbling past his still-moving hand and covering his phone screen is the cum that his mind was still painting your form in, still filling his head and making his shoulders and highs shake as his hand keeps going, keeps flicking his wrist and wrings another orgasm from him.

When the pleasure turns to pain does he stop, hand falling away as his cock finally softens, sensitive and oh so spent, flopping back wards onto his chair, cringing at the mess he had made of his phone, white spots of cum coating the screen, edges and the desk around it, a true mess if he had ever made one.

But the sight gives him one last idea, making him whine as a tightness in his gut stirs, sure it may have only been a picture of you now coated in his cum but his mind whispers about what it would look like if it was actually your face or better yet the mess he could have made between your legs.

The nickname childe has for you flashes under the mess of his cum from your number and his cock is half hard again, now all he had to do was clean up this round of cum and answer you, hopefully, you were wanting him to come out to see you…

#genshin impact smut #childe x reader #tartagalia x reader #genshin smut #incel childe #cw: obsessive behaviour #cw: stalking #corposting

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balmondmilk · 1 year

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When the pc is sent to the asylum Bailey always seems to be there yelling about them being taken away

I'm using he/him pronouns for him cuz my games Bailey used those

I always am wondering what he's saying and trying to do there

Especially when he stopped picking pc up from the hospital when they pass out?

Like why is he There? Maybe he's actually concerned??? Or maybe he just wants to keep an eye on his ward and just is making sure they get sent back out into the world and when they're not???

I'm trying to decide if he's panicking or annoyed

Does he know what Harper is doing? Does he just not like being in at least viewing distance of his ward?

I know he lets those missing posters stay up when he is Also looking for PC and that also kinda confused me

Is it cause he's losing income? That seems like a really likely explanation but I also think he feels some sort of responsibility as well, especially seeing how he treats the baby PC comes home with

He seems Very protective of children, despite everything

God bailey is such a fascinating character tbh like I don't have a close relationship to him in game but I'm always kinda thinking about it

#bailey #bailey the caretaker #dol bailey #dol #degrees of lewdity bailey #degrees of lewdity #thoughts and onions #feel free to add any thoughts i àm a sucker for character thoughts truly

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drownedinlavender · 11 months

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Helloooo, so I'm writing a long kyman fic. It's gonna be a slow burn multi-chapter one. I got like a good 1/3 of it down with like a skeleton of events mapped out. Since I haven't been active in any fandom or like written fanfic since I was a teen, I wanted to post an excerpt to kinda test the waters a bit haha I'm kinda shy about sharing stuff but was greatly inspired by a lot of people's work.

Anyway, the premise is Cartman impulsively taking the fall on something and being admitted to inpatient cause of it. This excerpt is when he facetimes the gang to tell them about it. Stan and Kenny are at school during lunch, Kyle's at the hospital (has to do with what Cartman took the blame for), and Eric's at home about to leave.

I'd greatly appreciate any criticism or input! Thank u for ur time 💜💖 ^^)/

"Dude, a psych ward? That sounds pretty serious," Stan looks mildly concerned.

"It is serious, Stan. That's why Kyle's gonna owe me big time when I get back," Eric smuggly declares, "Like sucking my balls big big time."

Kenny sneakers at the brunette still obsessing over a bet they made years ago when they were just kids.

"Man, you gotta lay off the balls thing, Cartman. That's hella gay," Stan drily informs while munching on a fry.

"Hey! It's not gay! It's about humiliation and having power over an individual," Eric offendedly denies, choosing to die on that hill.

Kyle, who has been absolutely seething in the background, finally bursts, "Fuck you, Cartman! I didn't ask you to cover for me, you did that all on your own!"

Eric scoffs, "Okay, fine, Kahl, would you prefer me going to PC principal and telling him I take it all back. That he should take you off the team like he wanted? Is that what you want, Kahl?"

Kyle tenses his jaw muscles as he grinds his teeth. Of course that's not what he wants but is Cartman holding one over his head any better? His eyes flicker to the side as he contemplates for a brief moment. Stan continues eating, staring at his screen waiting for his best friend to speak as if he's watching an enthralling reality tv show. Once Kenny's giggling fit finally subsides, he lays his head on one outstretched arm and sneaks a French fry from whoever's lunch tray is right across from him.

"Fine," Kyle bitterly concedes with a sigh, "but I'm not helping you do anything illegal like murder or whatever. And I'm definitely not sucking your balls," he points at Cartman through the screen.

"Oh…" a small voice utters in surprise across the room from Kyle. The redhead looks up at a shocked nurse half way through the door. "I-I'll come back in a second to check your vitals," she embarrassedly scurries out of the room.

Kyle's mortified face soon matches his hair. "God, damn it, Cartman!"

Kenny practically dies of laughter, not even bothering to hold his phone up right anymore.

"Dude," Stan snorts before cracking up as well.

Kyle hides his face with one hand, trying with every fiber of his being to maintain any ounce of composure he can muster before combusting from rage.

Eric's amused smile warps into a shit eating grin, he absolutely could not be any more delighted by the current turn of events. He obnoxiously clears his throat before continuing, "Very well, I'll leave a legally binding contract in your room before departing, Kahl. Now Kenny," he seamlessly changes the topic.

Kenny straightens himself out the best he can. "Uh-huh?" He responds through tears.

"Wait a second, fatass, do NOT break into my room!" Kyle protests.

Eric purposely ignores his rival, knowing it'll anger him further. "Kenny, my mom says you can use your spare key to clear out my fridge whenever. She's gonna stay up in Denver with some cousin until I'm out. We don't want the food rotting up and stinking up the place so do it sooner rather than later, got it?"

"Seriously, dude?!" Kenny immediately straightens himself out in elated surprise. Woohoo!" He cheers. He knows their fridge is always packed so he and his little sister are definitely set for bit.

"Knock yourself out, dude, just don't let anything rot in there. Seriously, I'll kick your ass if I come back and my house reeks like spoiled ass."

"You got it, bro," Kenny assures with a thumbs up.

"Don't ignore me, asshole!" Kyle's demands only serve to further Cartman's amusement.

"Welp, gotta go pack up some essentials. Don't know how long I'll have to be admitted … but it's all worth it for my dear friend Kahl's sake," Eric fakes sincerity. With a hand over his heart, he winks at Kyle.

"Oh, Fuck off," Kyle rolls his eyes.

"Well, good luck, dude. Don't blow up the place trying to escape," Stan waves goodbye from his screen.

"Guys, wanna say bye to Cartman? He's gonna go do some time at a loony bin," Kenny asks, reversing his camera to show the rest of their lunch table.

"We heard. You guys are super loud," Craig complains before biting his burger.

"Hey! Don't call it a loony bin, asswipe! That's totally insensitive to people with mental health issues. Not cool dude," Cartman condescendingly lectures, doing what he does best, playing the victim.

"Cartman's getting admitted? Dude, that's crazy!" Tweek comments.

"Wait, who's getting what now?" Clyde looks up from his phone, unaware of the conversation going on around him.

"Cartman, dude, he got in trouble again so PC principal's sending him to a psych ward," Tweek rapidly explains.

"Oh," Clyde responds in his usual nasally tone.

"All in order to save Kyle from getting kicked off the team," Cartman adds.

"Don't act like you did it from the kindness of your heart, fatass!" Kyle quickly corrects.

"First it's Cartman, then they'll be coming for the rest of us!" The jittery blond panics.

Craig pats his boyfriend's shoulder. "No they won't, honey, we don't cause the town to blow up every other month like they do."

"Hey!" Kyle indignantly exclaims.

"We haven't been directly responsible for the town's destruction for like," Stan counts the time in his head, "at least a year now!" He defends himself and his friends, receiving a middle finger from an unimpressed Craig.

"L-l-later, Eric, don't dr-dro-dr-dro-drop the soap," Jimmy jokes before offering up his signature smile.

"Jim, that's for jail," Tolkien corrects.

"Aw, we'll miss you, Eric! Don't take too long in the psych ward!" Butters gleefully shouts.

Kyle rolls his eyes, feeling himself getting more and more irritated by the situation at hand. "Oh, for Pete's sake, it's not like he's dying, you guys." The longer these farewells are dragging on, the more he can feel a twinge of guilt spreading throughout his subconscious and twisting up his guts.

"Poopsikins, mommy can't find Mr. Kitty's carrier, do you remember where we left it?" Liane can be heard calling from the background.

"Just a second, meeem!" Eric hollers off camera before getting back in frame and sticking out his tongue with a peace sign, "Later, losers ~ " he sings-songs and hangs up.

"You know …. For someone being sent off to an insane asylum, he seems really unbothered by it," Tolkien points out.

Kyle's eyes flicker down for just a second before choosing to quickly dismiss further analyzing Cartman's reaction to being sent away. "Well, yeah, it's Cartman. Do you really expect him to react normally about anything?"

"That's true," Tolkien immediately agrees, chalking it up to Cartman just being Cartman.

For a brief moment, Kyle remembers the time he was admitted when the town wouldn't believe him about Mr. Hankey but before he can even decide on entertaining that thought, Stan speaks.

"Wow … so he's really leaving, huh?" Stan says more than asks, looking a bit absent minded.

"I guess so," Kenny pensively looks down at the lunch table, head resting on crossed arms. He turns to Stan and forlornly admits, "dude … I'm actually feeling kinda bummed out."

Kyle bites the inside of his cheek. The reality of their current predicament further sinking in.

"Aw, Ken," Stan frowns and pats Kenny's shoulder.

"It's okay, Ken," Butters comforts, patting Kenny's back, "he said so himself, he probably won't be there for long."

"Isn't this a good thing though? Things are going to be a lot more peaceful while he's gone," Tolkien suggests.

"If Cartman gets admitted for the rest of the school year, I'll be sooooo happy," Craig chants in a monotone.

A sniffle directs everyone's focus towards Clyde.

"Clyde, you okay, buddy?" Craig puts down his lunch to fully focus on his friend's concerns.

"We *sniff* were starting to *sniff* get along more *sniff* this year," he powers through a closing throat.

Kyle bites his cheek even harder. Cartman was certainly a lot tamer as of late. Things were finally getting comfortable between the two of them, too.

"He was being a lot c-coo-c-coo-cooler this y-year," Jimmy admits.

The nurse knocks before entering Kyle's room this time. "I'm going to take your vitals again, okay?" She smiles.

"Yeah, sure," Kyle replies before addressing his friends, "I gotta go guys. Stan, can you come pick up my keys and move my car before my parents get back? I have a minor concussion so I'm under observation for a bit."

"Yeah, dude, totally," Stan confirms.

"Later," Kenny mumbles, waving with one hand, his face fully immersed in his crossed arms.

"Alright, thanks, see you guys later," Kyle says his goodbyes, queuing the nurse to begin taking his blood pressure.

Kyle barely moves, too busy contemplating Eric's departure. First, Stan moves and now Cartman's going to be gone for God knows how long? He bitterly sighs.

#kyman #kyman fanfic #kyman fanfiction #eric x kyle #eric cartman x kyle broflovski #cartyle #south park kyman #drownedinthekiddiepool

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sumiresaitozakiloveher · 8 days

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degree of lewdity x reader PC got turned into a cow Charters reaction

if you don't know, you can get kidnapped by Remy. You can get turned into a cow if you eat grass and get milked. PC mannges to escape the farm and return home.

Robbin: Robbin would be the first to notice you're missing due to you failing to walk to school and walk home with him. He inmiditly noticed Bailey lack of care and put two and together. Bailey sold you, but where? He knows what happens to those who fail to pay him, but he never expected you to be the next. For weeks, he put up missing posters around, hoping it would help. Two months passed. Robbin was about to give up, but then he saw you in the orphanage hallway. He rushes up to you to give you a big hug. Pulling away from the hug, he notices some big differences in your appearance. You have small horns, cow ears, and a tail. Embarrsed and feeling insecure, you begged him not to look at you. Robbin would comfort you, saying that you're not hideous instead your adorable. Your cute cow. Once you fully calm down, Robbin would politely question you about where you have been and how you became a cow. You'll tell Robbin about how Bailey sold you to a cruel man named Remy, who turns people into live stock. As you do, Robbin comforts you drying each tear that drips.

after math: things between you and Robbin wouldn't dramatically change because your part cow except Robbin is trying to fix your eating grass habit. Even though it's probably better than what you're fed at the orphanage. You two are still best friends, you'll still walk together and play video games together. You'll even use your sharpened horns to defend Robbin from bullies. One thing about being a cow is lactation. Your breast will become full of delicious breast milk. Robbin suggested donating your milk to the youth ward. One problem is that you're not allowed in there, so you'll have another orphan to help you with the donation process.

Whitney: It's gonna need a few days for him to notice his favorite slut was missing. Unless your dating, then hell, notice the very next day. Despite your enormous cow tits and perfect ass your very unpopular. More unpopular than Kylar. Because of the bullying you would take sick days every so often. After a month, he finally noticed you gone missing. He'll try his best to act like he doesn't care, but his dick says different. He'll first go to Robbin for questioning, trying to squeeze as much information as he can. Robbin quickly cracks, saying that the last time he saw you was when you and Robbin would usually walk home together. On the same morning, you said you were gonna take another break from school and head to work for some extra cash. Next month, you were finally back to school with a bit of cow horns and tail. Whitney wouldn't show how happy he is to have you back but rather insult you. After all, his favorite thing to pick on you about you was your huge cow tits.

After math: Sex. Lots of sex. He always said you must have escaped a cow farm to get those sizes of breast. Now he's finally right. Since you're his property in his eyes, all of your delicious milk belongs to him and only him. I can see him give you a breast pump to make sure he gets every since drop of milk. If your breast turns out to be a mini milk factory, he'll probably sell a few bottles for a good amount of cash. If he sees you acting like a cow like eating grass, he's gonna take pictures of it and post them to all of your friends to see. You have no saying in this. you're just his dumb cow. Whitney will keep feeding your insecurity about your cow parts, making you wear clothes to him them. Even if you're sweating bullets, you still refuse to refuse to take off the extra layers of clothes, not wanting it to be seen.

Kylar: Kylar often watches you from a distance because you're never in his life except when you save him from bullies. He is always forced to watch his future wife and mother of his twenty kids spend time with Robin. But recently you stopped. He can't find you no matter how hard he tries. Craving you Kylar pushes his hatred aside and asks him about your wearabouts. Kylar goes completely insane after weeks of you being missing. By the time you return from Remy farm He's completely insane. He'll be staring at your cute cow features as you try to hide yourself. Just staring at your huge breast makes him wanna breed you even more. You could feed all the babies in town with those breasts. Shortly after you return, he's gonna kidnap you any chance he can get. It's gonna be difficult since after being kidnapped, you're gonna be on high alert.

After math: Once you brought to your new home, he's gonna go to town knocking you up. Your breast gonna produce even more milk with you being pregnant. He'll get a breast pump and milk you every day and properly store them away so him and his soon to be child can have some. (Pregnancy in degree of lewdity can last for a few weeks, btw)

Alex: Remy would absolutely kidnap you since you're causing his farm to be so successful, plus you have huge breasts. Bigger than any of his cows. With your disipearnce, his first suspect would be that no good caretaker of yours. Bailey obviously knows, but he doesn't tell Alex anything. He won't give up so esay since he sees you more of a girlfriend than an employee. You wouldn't return until a couple of months later. You befriended Remy horse cery escape but it took you so long to escape because those guards were on constant look out for you. By that time, the farm went under. Your way with animals was keeping the farm from going under. Like any other farmer, he will emiditly notice you're a cow and not wearing a costume. He'll believe everything you say about how Remy men knocked you out and took you to Remy farm. As if Alex needed another reason to hate Remy. He'll call the police on Remy's farm, but the cops probably won't really do anything about it.

After math: From now, every time you milk the cow, you would spend five minutes trying to get the cows respect before milking each one. You'll never tuch the milking machine ever in your life. Alex would never milk you if you're uncomfortable about it. If you're kinky like that, which would be socking if you did because you're innocent and gentle, but if you're into that shit he wouldn't mind it.

Morgan: He emiditly knew you went missing because you escaped. He's heart broken, he lost his child twice. He searched for you everywhere in town but had no luck. A couple of months later, you manage to escape by befriending Remy horse. After everything that happened, you were traumatized and craved someone's love, care, and comfort. You couldn't go back to the orphanage because who knows what Bailey would do to you if he saw you. He sold you to Remy, after all. Using what little money you bought tea flavors, tea cups, new suit for a male, bunch of snacks, and a large basket. You're planning on going back to Morgan, and you hope the gift basket is enugh to fix escaping him. Morgan would be more than happy to see you came back after so long. He loves the gift basket, but you're still gonna be punished for leaving home.

after math: He's too insane to notice any of your cow body parts. He is gonna keep a close eye of you so you don't run away from home. For your breast milk, I can see you drinking it instead of what he calls tea. Seriously, it's not tea he's drinking. You'll have empathy and swap his tea with your milk. There's no grass in the sewer, so you'll have to eat whatever he fixes up.

Remy: Bitch allready knows he was the one who done this you.

after math: The after math depends on how you act and how much milk your breast can produce. If your breasts are huge and produce tons of milk, you're his prized cow.

#degree of lewdity #kylar the loner #whitney the bully

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14dayswithyou · 2 years

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*slides you a 20* Can we get some Soft™ Ren/[Redacted] headcanons? I'm talking the real good stuff, enough to turn me into a loveydovey pile of mush on the ground

✦゜ANSWERED: *slides the $20 back because the thought of soft Ren is enough to fuel me for the rest of eternity*

Ren:

Will cuddle you on the days when you feel terrible, or the days when you just don't want to get out of bed. He'll cover you in all of your/his plushies and take cute, candid photos of you to look back on later. (He'll probably also make it his lock screen too ^^;)

Sometimes Ren might show up at your work with your favourite food and drinks, and would just sit with you during your breaks if you ever need the company.

Similarly, he also likes to help you clean up at the end of your shifts; whether it's by sweeping the floors, closing all the doors, returning books, etc. He's eager to help in any way he can -- and if it makes things easier for you, then he'd do it in a heartbeat.

He'll let you play with his hair (or even dye it!), as well as paint his nails, choose outfits for him to wear, or even do your entire skin-care routine on his face ^^

Ren would send you random photos/texts throughout the day that include things that remind him of you. It might be pictures of a flower or a cute dog, or even an outfit you might like or a book he saw you look at once.

[REDACTED]:

He created an (albeit janky) phone app that sends you cute reminders throughout the day, as well words of affirmations and memes about your current likes and interests. It's probably one of the only things he's installed on your phone that he doesn't use to track or monitor you.

He's recently started painting his nails to match your exact eye colour, and finds that he likes it more than the abysmal black he used to paint them. Plus, every time he looks at his hands, he gets to be reminded of you. Sometimes he finds himself flexing his fingers and missing the way your hand feels in his.

He likes to bundle you up in his slasher hoodies so that you both can match, and likes to rest his hands in your pockets. He's also not above tying the strings together and doing this to make you laugh :')

[REDACTED] will use his scary dog privileges to ward off shady people and make queues/waiting in line shorter -- and would ensure that you don't get harassed or tired from standing around too long.

He has like 4 monitors hooked up to his (main) PC, and one of them is dedicated solely for you. He's let you take artistic liberties with the wallpaper and desktop icons -- and even lets you use it to watch any of your favourite shows, anime, play games, or browse the web while he silently hacks beside you. [REDACTED] always wants you by his side, so this would be an easy compromise for him.

#💌 — answered.#💖 — about ren.#queued post #to be proofread later

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fool-errant · 9 months

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Company

Oops my hand slipped.

This is hot off the keyboard. No beta - we die like gnomes. Just felt like getting this out. As much as Astarion needs a hug and cuddles I imagine getting him to understand or accept the concept would be hard. Which is how we ended up here. Halla is my current PC - she's an actual DnD tabletop character of mine I dumped into the game. She's a lot better with words when she's doing her usual conniving shit. In this case - she's trying to be genuine. Which is new for everyone. They are both bad at this which is why I feel they work. Halla is a half elf bard - whose very meh with elven shit. And this takes place in the front half of Act 2. No spoilers in it just set dressing.

Astarion wasn’t sure why he’d assumed the nightmares wouldn’t reach him Here. Out in the middle of this godsdamned land covered in shadows. The land was brutal enough he’d thought he would be too tired for Cazador -even a memory of him -to reach. The worm was clearly eating the intelligent part of his brain.

As his mind cleared he found himself sitting up clutching his knees. His racing thoughts started dying down as he made his eyes focus on the campfire in front of him. The glow warding off the darkness of the curse and now his own dreams. A delicate cough attracted his attention from the fire. He found himself meeting a familiar pair of gold eyes. “Darling,” he said quietly with a forced smile. The woman wordlessly sat next to him. Close enough for him to feel her warmth but not touching him. Ever since their talk about their, whatever they were doing, she seemed more careful to not touch him. An odd amount of care that gnawed on him, being treated so delicately. Like he was made of glass. Him. It’d be funny if it wasn’t a relief. “Dreams again.” It was a question that wasn’t. She gave him a look he was unable to read. Concern? Exasperation? Exhaustion? It was late, and the days had not been kind to anyone. “It was noth-” he tried to shrug it off with a laugh. A lie. But the bard’s face changed to a more readable expression. Skepticism. He trailed off awkwardly. They had talked about being more…upfront. “It was Him.” he finally spat out. “Cazador.” The name hung in the air - sullying the aura of the campfire. Halla held out her hand. After a moment of hesitation he accepted it and found himself clinging to it like it and soon her whole arm like it was a rock in a raging river. Leaning slightly he found her bony shoulder under his cheek. Pushing himself closer, the woman offered no resistance, just a small hum in response. He breathed the scent of her, warm skin, her blood, her sweat, leather oil and the pine rosin she was always using on her violin. “Sorry about the stink, I need to do the washing,” she sighed. “It’s been hard to get the laundry service out here. Turns out they all run the other way when they hear “shadow curse.” He smiled weakly. It was a poor stab at humor, but it was still funnier than his lingering dreams. He briefly wondered about telling her he didn’t mind. That the earthy smells were better than the stale old decay and rot of his nightmares. That probably was something best left to himself. “I hope I didn't wake you. Did I?" nightmares were embarrassing. Nightmares where you were so loud you woke others were mortifying.

“Nah” she shook her head, her brown hair glinting gold in the firelight. “It’s my turn to keep watch. I drew the short straw tonight.” she offered with a shrug. The short straw was usually the darkest/latest shift in the night watch rotation. But in this place, there was little difference from the brightest to the darkest parts. Or even a night or day. Exactly how long they had been here was hard to calculate. Days flew by without any indicators but new injuries and horrors. It reminded him of the days in Cazador’s kennels, hours and weeks swept by like a stranger with no notice or regard. That might have been what brought the nightmares plaguing him tonight. The monotonous misery.

“Do you mind giving me my arm back?” Halla’s voice cut into his thoughts. Oh. He was dragged back to the here and now, the campfire. Clinging to this woman like he was a child with a security blanket. Fool. He let go of her arm like it was burning. “Karlach’s shift’s coming up.” she said getting to her feet. Straightening up Astarion nodded and gestured for her to go on.

Standing up with a stretch he turned to walk into his tent. Try to salvage the night - get some rest before they marched back into the cursed dark and shadows. If the shadows would leave him alone. He was about to duck into his tent when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “Erm.” Turning over his shoulder was Halla. She was probably here to chide him for being scared of nightmares, tell him it was nothing to worry about. “You uh…” she faltered, “want to come to my tent?” So that’s what this was. He’d assumed she was too tired for this. Shadowlands were hardly known for their, erotic qualities. Maybe this was payment. Get a shoulder to cry on, give some pleasure. He’d wondered how much of his words she had heard, how much she had meant of him making his own choices. Or how little she cared for sex. He had hoped. But he was a fool. “If that’s what you want.” he said trying to hide his exhausted resignation. She bristled, “Not like that.” she replied. “I meant.” her hands wringing, “I mean. Not for that.” She was usually so good at words it would have been amusing to watch her flounder if it weren’t his nerves she was playing like a bow string. “Want to sl-” she stopped gnawing on her lower lip before finally she spat out something that it took him a moment to realize was elven true tongue. The words for a night's rest and meditation. “Rest with me?” Her tone and language so formal and stiff it was impossible to sound lewd. “What?” he found himself staring at her in bewilderment. “If that was a proposition you have no right to critique mine.” The woman was of some elven blood so it wasn’t a surprise she knew the tongue. She had just never spoken it before. Her face was turning red, a performance he’d never seen her do before. “Do you want to rest with me?” she repeated again in Common her tone quiet. “Just rest. Just sleep. Nothing else. You don’t have to, you can say no if you want to. I just thought you could use the company.” Being alone he was used to. Even in a crowded room, or stacked like kindling with his “siblings” in their bunks. But did he want to be? Now? In this endless night and shadow. “I think” he swallowed. “I think I would like that.” He let her take him by the hand, as she led him to her tent. Karlach settling down by the fire, sharpening her axe, glanced up and smiled like she was going to say something but was silenced with a glare from Halla. The tiefling made a gesture like she was locking her mouth and went back to her business. He ducked to get through the door of the bard’s tent. She drew the drape over the entrance as they came in. They’d made love under the stars, fucked in his bedroll, but he had never gone into her tent. It had felt wrong to do that while he was toying with her, using her. Even with the new found freedom of the parasite it felt wrong to cross the threshold. Violate what odd trust she had given to him. But now he was being led in. It felt strange to be invited so warmly. Reminded him of all the other times he’d been trusted and shouldn’t have been. This was going to end badly. “One moment.” she said and tapped a lantern. The gray darkness of the tent was illuminated into a warm glow. The floor was a beaten battered carpet stolen in their wanderings. Its original design, now worn and faded, still provided some color and degree of separation from the dirt. A few books and scrolls were scattered about. Her boots and hat were carefully placed next to a stool where her armor rested. Ready at a moment's notice. Removing her sandals - the woman began arranging her bedroll and blankets. “You can make yourself comfortable.” Glancing around he tried to find a place to sit, but the only spare cushion that wasn’t part of her bedroll was providing a resting place for her violin. Touching that would be more of an invasion than entering her tent. Gesturing around the room he looked at her quizzically.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. You can move that and sit there, if you prefer to meditate sitting up” she gestured at the musical instrument. “Or you can join me. If you like.” “I thought you said-” “I said sleep. And I mean sleep.” she said with more patience than he felt he deserved. Getting to her feet - she stooped, though less than he had to and gently placed her hands on his face. Lightly. Giving him space to move away if he wanted. He didn’t move from her touch. “We can share a bedroll, blanket, or pillows or whatever you like.” she said gently. She kneeled back down onto the bedroom and started to stretch out, pulling blankets over her. Leaving some for him, he noticed. A sweet gesture even if he didn’t need it. Carefully he laid down next to her, not touching her at all. When was the last time he’d shared a bed with someone? He wondered. Just for sleep. Not post cloitally. Surely he must have at some point when he was young. Alive. Those days were a blur to him. A blur of sunshine and comfort that swam away when he tried to focus on it. As Halla began to shift her pillow around he was pulled from his musings by a glint of metal. He reached under her pillow and his hand found a stiletto knife. “I never expected you to be the sort to use blades in the bedroom.” “That’s not for you.” she said rolling her eyes, taking the blade from him. “Old habit.” With that she tucked it back under her pillow. She wasn’t asking him if he cared or was concerned about it. He decided not to press her hospitality any further. An odd mix of naivete and steel. Sweet enough to invite a vampire to lay next to her but savvy enough to keep a knife close. He could respect that. “You can turn off the lamp if you want.” she murmured her voice half muffled by her pillow. She sounded like she was halfway off to dreaming. He hoped hers were more pleasant than his had been.

The light was better than shadows, real or imagined he decided. Leaving the lamp lit he closed his own eyes and tried to get himself to rest as well. At least for the moment he wasn't alone in the dark.

#fanfic #bg3 #astarion

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yoonalgc · 9 months

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( ❀ Hello, everyone! ...What a surprise, right? It's me again... attempting to bring a girl into this world. WIll I succeed? Let's see. It's Sera here to introduce to you my character! She is brand new so I'm expecting her to grow as I write her. I've listed some plots at the bottom but I prefer to do brainstorming. I'm open to plotting in either Tumblr IMs or over Discord, whichever you prefer. Without further ado, please read my rambling. ( I'll have a pinned I'll post later. ) Like this post ♡ and we can plot! )

◡ profile / plots / pinterest / playlist

BACKGROUND !!

Born october 4th, 2001. ( 1004, she asserts reflects her — it is an angel number after all )

Grew up in Gumi which is a smaller city just outside of Daegu.

Parents were high school sweethearts who waited to start a family until he finished his military service and she finished school. Mother was a flight attendant. Father is a former professional choreographer.

Family used to be fairly well off before the drastic change and her mother's medical bills became increasingly more expensive.

They eventually moved to Seoul in 2016 when her father got an opportunity to choreograph for an entertainment company.

Father gave up his career after his wife’s passing in 2019 to attend to a portable convenience stand by the Han River once owned by his own father. Their formerly close relationship grew estranged and tense rather quickly.

Used to be a competitive archer. Failed to make it on the national team multiple times, nevermind the Olympics. Became easily discouraged and decided to quit after an argument with her father. She even threatened to drop out of school unless she could join a company to focus on her dancing.

Before lgc, she joined an entertainment company while in high school only to get scammed into a trainee program and drained of almost all her money via their training debt scheme.

Waited until she graduated to audition for Legacy Entertainment. Somehow, she got in... and from there, she begins to change a bit as a person.

PERSONALITY & MORE !!

Works at an arcade/PC Bang for now. She likes to sneak in a nap in the dinosaur safari VR machine.

She uses the nerf gun and water gun from the prize table to ward off unwanted guests or customers who overstay their welcome. Careful, she has great aim.

Oddly good at fixing things ( to a certain extent ), a trait she picked up from her brother who has a penchant for inventing. Being practical helps quite a bit, though.

She is no stranger to putting on an act to get something for free. a convincing & skilled liar. she even stole someone’s phone once to sell but will never admit this. jokes about needing a glucose guardian but never say never.

Tendency to be flirtatious. offers compliments — sincere & underhanded.

Only actually been in one serious relationship that she considers was worthwhile & lacks the motivation to pursue anything else. Often finds herself leading people on but falls for people easily as she's rather susceptible to romantic gestures, then forces herself to lose interest when things get a little too spicy.

Good listener. Purveyor of gossip. Collects many rumors, rarely spills to anyone. Tell things to her at your own risk. She will hardly speak a word about her own background ( and will even lie sometimes ) but is content to know everything about everyone else.

Has a good sense of humor and able to laugh at herself.

Actually kinda lazy about everything unless it's dancing. She just likes to say she's just laid back.

Speaking of dancing, she is especially into the art of waacking/tutting/vogueing, as she finds the elegant precision to be appealing and especially fun to do.

Very opinionated & can come across judgmental for her willingness to speak her mind, Notorious for reacting with her face ( ie. side eyeing ).

An introvert. Also claims to really hate people but is naturally social despite this.

Often plays a vain character, usually an exaggerated version of herself ( channeling Goddess Gyuri & Mijoo ) — perhaps to compensate for or conceal… something. Part of it being that she enjoys entertaining people with her antics. It is not rare to catch a glimpse at her "real self" but it's hard to even say what that even is.

Calm but when she's memeing and being crazy, she becomes unhinged. Like so.

A bit fickle & indecisive, sometimes allowing her impulses to take control of a decision ... or out of pure spite.

Had a time where she was so desperate for money, that she was willing to lie to get freebies or sympathy discounts. But we don't talk about that time anymore. It was just a phase.

Not malicious by any means but it is easy to interpret her actions as such. She desires attention and love in this aftermath of her life plummeting, and just goes about it in a rather unconventional way.

Hates people who smoke. Her mother's lung cancer being the main cause. If you smoke any substance, prepare for to be side-eyed and judged.

Lastly, she is @lgcxnoeul's weirdo cousin.

CONNECTIONS ??

anyone who comes to the arcade/pc bang. she's almost always there. bonus points if you're a bit of a menace or you want to challenge her to a game. the possibilities with this one are pretty endless!

flirtationships a plenty. applicable to any gender; she certainly does not discriminate. she is the type to unabashedly flirt, compliment people, or make flirtatious jokes. ( however when the heat comes, she usually resorts to aloof behavior and runs away. )

obviously people will be put off by her antics so frenemies and antis alike are welcome! antagonistic or toxic relationships are welcome in general.

gossip friend. what is said between us stays between us ... of other people's rumors, of course. but it's best to be careful who to trust with secrets.

fake friends. speaks for itself. mutually beneficial, forced laughter, eye rolls when the other looks away. she's been entrenched in this fake friend group just for the laughs

an ex. she's only dated one person in a serious way before and it didn't turn out too well... or it ended amicably. who knows? was a rather innocent relationship but it broke her heart. happened shortly after she joined lgc in 2020 or overlapped. discussion is required!!!

that being said, she most likely had a couple flings here and there that lasted a short time. she's prone to running away or getting "bored".

jokingly, she always says she wants a "glucose guardian" and you are the perfect candidate. she constantly convinces you to buy things for her ( mostly bubble tea ) or you might even do so willingly. either way, it makes her happy.

she has a "dark past" ( not so distant... maybe 5 days ago is considered the past ) in which she tried to fleece people out of money just to get by. don't look at her if she might have pretended to fall in front of you for sympathy, too.

this is vague but... people she can assist with dancing in any way or their overall confidence.

people who know her real personality and are tired of her putting on this strange over confident persona.

went to high school together ( Hanlim gang )

for the lgcu event, she is in younggong. i'm still figuring out what she will be doing but i will need one person from there to do a thread with.

#❀ ◡ reality speaking! ( ooc. )#hi #lgc:intro

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heliads · 5 months

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everything is blue • conrisa space au • Chapter Twenty: The Final Call

Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever.

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previous / series masterlist

The nurse in charge of Risa’s last rites is surprisingly cavalier about the whole affair. Probably because she’s been too busy flirting with one of the guards outside to really care about Risa’s personal feelings regarding her own imminent demise. Once the nurse got over the lingering remains of a boy named Starkey still encrusted on Risa’s skin and clothes, she started ignoring Risa entirely. It’s as if Risa is nothing more than a beating heart and breathing lungs.

Then again, to the workers of the Proactive Citizenry, that’s all she’s ever been, ever since her distribution order was signed by the OH-10 State Home. More than a year ago, Risa Ward was marked for death, and now she’s finally about to face her fate. Funny, she really thought she could escape it. Guess it just goes to show that no one can avoid their path, not forever. Not Starkey. Not even Risa.

The nurse cranes her neck to glance at the soldier standing guard just outside the door of Risa’s holding room, and blushes saccharinely. Risa fights the urge to roll her eyes and asks dourly, “How’s the sweetheart?”

“Charming,” the nurse gushes, then remembers that she probably isn’t supposed to be talking to the sacrificial lamb and shuts up.

Risa snorts. “Yeah, I just love it when my future boyfriends are supportive of killing kids. It really brings out the best in both of us.”

The nurse’s eyes narrow, and she deliberately wraps the cuff too tightly around Risa’s arm when checking her blood pressure. “It’s not murder,” she says, “Murder is what you just did to that boy. This is distribution. It’s different.”

Usually, Risa would like nothing better than to engage in a fascinating debate on the true meanings of distribution, but all of a sudden it strikes her that the whole thing would be pointless. Risa is going to be dismembered regardless of whether or not she can argue with one of the Proactive Citizenry’s many nameless nurses. She’d just be wasting her breath, as if that isn’t also going to be taken away from her in a matter of hours.

The nurse smirks slightly when Risa goes silent, evidently assuming that she’s won. In a way, Risa supposes she has. Everyone in the PC has won. All this time, Risa’s been running around the galaxy in an attempt to escape this, yet here she is, having her vitals checked in preparation for the one problem she couldn’t solve, the one trap she couldn’t help but fall for.

The nurse enters something into the records, then unwraps the cuff from Risa’s arm and places it back in her basket of essentials. Her hand moves towards another device, but stalls halfway there when she gets a message, no doubt from her complicit boyfriend out in the hall. The nurse’s face flushes a happy pink when she opens the message, but quickly her smile fades, replaced by an unnerved, tight-lipped stare.

“What is it?” Risa asks, unable to resist.

The nurse shakes her head tightly. “Nothing you’ll have to be concerned with, I can assure you. Your operation will continue as scheduled.”

Risa groans. “Just tell me what’s going on. Like you said, I’ll be distributed anyway. What if my cranial matter is damaged because I’m dying of curiosity when you slice me up?”

She’s not entirely sure if that’s a thing or not, but evidently the nurse isn’t willing to risk her job like that, so the woman sighs and answers Risa. “Apparently, some contraband radio broadcast went out a few hours ago while that boy was being distributed. It told all listeners to meet up here to protest distribution. Ridiculous, I can assure you, but it’s got some of the stockholders worried. The guards have all been placed on high alert, so be confident in the fact that the PC will hold strong.”

Inside, Risa’s heart leaps. The broadcast the nurse was talking about has to be Radio Free Hayden, which means that Connor is still alive and somehow managed to get the Graveyard AWOLs to safety. No one else would have the means of uniting that many people.

If Hayden’s calling the galaxy to arms, that means they must have a plan. Admittedly, Risa would have appreciated it if they could have rescued her first, then maybe sent out the broadcast later, but perhaps it’s harder to break into the PC headquarters than she thinks. Or maybe that’s just the terror in her talking, trying to dissuade her from thinking that Connor and her friends will have enough time to break her out before Risa gets split into a thousand different vials. If they fail, this time there will be no one there to shatter the pieces and put her to rest.

Risa’s lip curls. “I don’t know. I’d tell your little boyfriend that he’ll get slaughtered with the rest when they come to save me. Don’t you know what the Akron AWOL does to Juvey-cops?”

The nurse rears back. “Don’t talk like that, young lady.”

Risa eyes her maniacally. “You already know it’s true,” she says in a sing-song voice. “Even if we lose, they’ll still get to him. Do you think you could still love your boyfriend if he had unwind parts?”

The nurse jams a syringe into Risa’s arm. Risa hisses in pain, but the nurse doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it. Suns, the nurse is even pleased by prospect of throwing Risa off. “Nothing will happen to Heyward. Don’t be absurd.”

“Tell Heyward to watch his back, or we’ll take it back,” Risa grins.

“Sick, all of you,” the nurse spits. “This is why we distribute kids.”

Risa’s stomach twists. “Every one of us is more deserving to live than you.”

The nurse’s lips thin to the point where they look as if they’ve been stitched shut. She doesn’t answer Risa, instead opting to tighten the restraints keeping her in place, just in case. The nurse takes a few more readings, all the while glancing frantically towards her small holo display whenever a new message from Heyward pings in. For someone who insists that Hayden’s broadcast was nothing more than a scare tactic, the nurse looks awfully worried.

As if catching her looking, the nurse grits her teeth and mutters again, “Nothing is going to happen.”

Just as she says this, Risa starts to hear voices out in the hall, shouts of surprise and confusion. Around the same time, the ground shakes. Risa lurches forward in her seat, kept in place by the restraints and only able to loll around like a doll with its strings cut.

“That doesn’t feel like nothing, does it?” Risa asks, pushing herself back into a sitting position.

The door flies open. A young man in soldier’s fatigues stands in the door, eyes wide like a startled synth-rabbit. “Time to go,” he shouts to the nurse, who wastes no time in abandoning Risa to run to the guard.

This must be the illustrious Heyward of the nurse’s giggles and blushes, but Risa quickly realizes that he isn’t here on official business. “Wait!” She shouts desperately as the pair head to the door, “Aren’t you going to take me with you?”

The nurse doesn’t spare so much as a backward glance towards Risa, shutting the door behind her with a loud click. Risa screams again, a guttural, twisting yell, and thrashes against her restraints to no avail. The building rocks again. Risa doesn’t know what’s going on out there, but it feels as if the whole PC complex is about to be ripped from its foundations. Normally, Risa would have no problem with this, but there is the small issue that she’s still inside it, and if Connor is coming to get her, she would like him to retrieve her, not just her corpse.

The door flies open again. Risa looks to it eagerly– could the AWOLs be inside already, are the defenses here that bad– but instead, she’s just greeted by the sight of four armed guards. They undo the restraints on her chair and start to yank her into the hallway. Risa’s feet give out beneath her when the walls shake again, but other than a slight stumble, the soldiers carry on.

“Wait,” Risa says, suddenly frantic, “Where are you taking me?”

“Last minute distribution,” one of the guards grunts out. “Orders from higher up.”

No. Risa puts her entire body weight into the sole task of trying to get free. She twists and writhes and claws at the guards, hoping to slow them down or otherwise break away, but their grip remains firm. She is carried down the corridor regardless of her attempts.

When they turn around a corner, Risa realizes that she remembers this particular hallway from earlier that day. The door at the far end is marred slightly, its surface blotted by bloody handprints. Risa’s handprints. This is the room where Starkey was distributed, and soon, Risa will face that same fate within those same walls.

As they draw closer, Risa starts screaming again, the words scraping her throat as they’re forced out. No, no, NO, NO. Vividly, forcefully, Risa cannot help but remember Starkey’s last moments outside of the machine, how he had begged and pleaded with her to kill him or otherwise save him from distribution, how his words had lost all sense at the end until the only thing out of his mouth was loud, horrified gibberish. She’s there now, fully mad, absolutely terrified of what is about to befall her.

The force of her screams brings tears to Risa’s eyes, and then she’s sobbing in earnest, tripping over the sound of her begging for her own life. She doesn’t want to die. She doesn’t want to die.

(No one listens).

They’re at the door now. One of the guards pauses, reaching in his pocket for the key. Risa stares at the dried blood and gore on the surface before her. They’re here. Connor is too late. Stars, she hopes he forgives himself for it, that he won’t spend the rest of his life wondering if there were moments he wasted that, if used properly, would have led him to her in time. She’s wondering this now, and remembering a long-ago conversation with a blond boy named Hayden Upchurch, back when she was safe with friends and thought she might live to die of natural causes, if she would ever die at all.

The boy had asked her a question.

Which is better?

In front of her, the key clicks in the lock.

Death?

The guards ready themselves to pull her inside. She’s screaming again.

Or distribution?

Risa makes a choice right now. Dying is better than this. Dying is better than this. She screams once again, gutturally, and stamps her foot down hard on the shoe of the guard who’s attempting to open the door. Risa’s ears are ringing to the point where she can’t hear anything but the tumultuous beat of her heart against her temples.

And– it’s funny, really, what the power of a stressful situation can do to you. Risa didn’t think she was that strong, but the second she slams her foot against the guard’s ankle, he crumples and falls like a stone. He doesn’t move, just lies there on the ground, pulling Risa down somewhat with him. The guard doesn’t land on the ground immediately, supported as he is by the dense web of arms of the other soldiers. Risa pauses in her escape efforts momentarily, staring with confusion at why this guard has suddenly gone silent. The soldier’s head lolls to the side, and then she sees his empty eyes, the perfect circle of red leaking out from the back of his neck.

The other guards see it at the same time, and start shouting in surprise. They wheel around, dragging Risa with them. She blinks stupidly at the people rushing towards her down the hallway. They’re too young to be soldiers, but they’ve got guns, big ones. They aim at the soldiers around Risa. She flings her hands in front of her face instinctively, as if that’ll do any good to stop real bullets, but she isn’t hurt. The other guards either get killed or take off running, leaving Risa’s attackers to run after them, all except one, who takes her in his arms like she’s a dying synth-dove, and whispers tenderly, “Risa?”

She blinks, and then the face comes into focus. Connor. Suns. Risa chokes and flings her arms around him. Connor holds her close, tighter than he ever has before. She thinks it’s a better embrace even than when they had been separated across the worlds and he had found her in the avenging path of an angry cyborg. One of his hands rises to cradle her head all too carefully, and when he finally leans away, he can’t stop looking at her, eyes raking her body over and over again. There’s a horrified expression on his face, a sick and twisted guilt, and it takes Risa a moment to realize why before she remembers that she’s still covered with the debris of a boy named Mason Michael Starkey.

“No,” she says quickly, “It’s not my blood, Connor. I’m fine, I promise. Look at me. I’m fine.”

Connor breathes out slowly. “But– there’s so much of it–”

He raises a shaking hand to trace at Risa’s cheek, her throat. Risa can feel the uneven stickiness of dried blood on her skin. She must look a fright, but the only thing that matters now is convincing Connor that she’s still alive.

“They unwound Starkey,” she chokes out. “I smashed the pieces so they couldn’t use him. I killed him, Connor. I killed him. Starkey wanted me to save him and I couldn’t.”

It’s strange. Risa hasn’t cried about Starkey since he came out of the distribution machine. When the nurse had expressed discomfort about Risa’s condition, Risa had been proud of what she had done. Once she’s face to face with Connor again, though, all Risa can think about is the horrible, horrible thing she had been forced to do. Sunfire, it must be all he can see when he looks at her. There is no Risa anymore, just some creature in her skin, covered in the gore of what had once been a living, breathing boy.

She waits for him to let go, to take several steps back, to run from her as you would any other monster. Instead, Connor holds her close again, and whispers against her ear, “It wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault.”

Risa is shaking and she can’t seem to stop. “No, you don’t understand. I pressed the button. I did it. All Heartland had to do was stand there and watch. Starkey was begging me to help, and I couldn’t do it.”

If she tries hard enough, Risa thinks that she might be able to float away into the vast and unknowable sky. Her soul could leave this terrible, exhausted frame and find somewhere else to stay, somewhere she wouldn’t have to think about everything that she has done. She could, maybe, except Connor is holding on to her tight, keeping her back on the ground like a tether. She couldn’t leave him if she tried.

“I know you, Risa,” Connor says softly. “I know that you’ve saved my life about a thousand times. I know that I fell in love with the kindest girl I ever met. I know that girl wouldn’t do something like that unless she had no choice. I know that this wasn’t your fault, and I know that we’re going to get out of here now. Is that okay with you?”

Slowly, carefully, Risa pieces herself back together enough to answer in a shallow voice, “Yes.”

Connor smiles. “That’s my girl. Come on, the others will help us out.”

Risa lets Connor lead her carefully back the way they’d come. “I’m confused. How were you possibly able to get in here? Heartland must have a small army of Juvey-cops just in case you tried something like this.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Connor says. For some reason, he’s grinning. “I had to get a large army, just in case.”

Risa frowns at him. “You have an army?”

Connor’s grin broadens. “Wait and see.”

He pulls her to a stop in front of a large window. They look out at the chaos surrounding the PC complex. At first, Risa doesn’t understand what she’s looking at. She can see the Juvey-cops immersed in fights across the area around them, but she doesn’t recognize any of their opponents at first glance.

“Who are those people?” She asks, craning her neck to see farther.

“Everybody,” Connor answers, a trace of raw wonder in his voice. “Bankers and scientists and regular, ordinary, every-day people from across the galaxy. They all heard Hayden’s distress call and showed up. There are hundreds of them, and more show up by the minute. Some of them you might recognize, though. Sonia from the boundary checkpoint. Your best friend Cam from Molokai. Suns, even Lev.”

Risa’s jaw actually drops. “You can’t be serious. Lev Calder is here? The tithe?”

“The tithe,” Connor confirms, halfway to a laugh. “Trust me, I had the exact same reaction.”

Risa shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t imagine how he found you again.”

“You can ask him once we get out of here,” Connor promises her. “My plan was just to get you and then leave.”

Risa nods, but before she can say anything, a voice from down the hall tells them, “You won’t be doing either of those things, Lassiter.”

Risa bites back a scream. Slowly, they both turn around to see Dorian Heartland walking towards them. How is it that he always shows up when they least want to see him?

Connor grabs her arm, tugging her back down the corridor and away from Heartland. She follows him, but the door slams shut in front of their faces before they can make it out. When they pivot and try a different direction, the doors shut again.

Behind them, Heartland clicks his tongue disapprovingly. He holds up a small remote in his hand. “Security systems. You have to love them. When you run a building full of AWOLs, you have to be able to shut down sections of the complex whenever you want.”

Connor pushes Risa behind him. “Let us go, Heartland. You’ve lost.”

Heartland cocks his head to the side. “Have I? Yes, you’ve amassed quite a cult following, but those always die down over time. They’ll lose interest and we’ll be right back where we started.”

“They won’t forget this,” Connor vows. “Look around you. The galaxy is up in arms because of who you are and what you’ve done to us. No one is willing to settle anymore.”

Heartland sighs. “Yes, I must admit that your little exposé of my true identity was vexing, but I can come up with a suitable lie to hide it again. Do you think you’re the only people to attempt to reveal me over the years? I’ve had plenty of practice with making ends meet. I’ll get a new face and it’ll be like none of this ever matters.”

Risa actually snarls at him, her anger coiling white-hot in her throat. “No, you won’t. The hounds are at your door, Heartland. Your time is up.”

Heartland sniffs. “Is it?”

He pulls a gun from his waistband and aims it at Risa. His grip is perfectly steady, and Risa has no doubt that he has centuries of experience that would give him impeccable aim. She drops to the floor at once, tugging Connor down with her. The shot goes right over her ear, cracking the glass of the window. It’s a long drop down to the ground, where the only salvation would be Juvey-cops frothing at the mouth at the thought of re-capturing them.

Not a good end for Risa, then. But– an idea occurs to her. She locks eyes with Connor. “The window,” she says unsteadily.

His eyebrows lift, and she sees that he understands. They stand up shakily, each drifting slightly to the side such that their shadows seem to cut off Heartland like dark pincers.

Heartland laughs bitterly. “You won’t get another window escape, Connor Lassiter. I’ll shoot you before you manage to get that thing open, and there’s nothing to throw and break the glass here.”

“You’re right,” Connor drawls. “The only thing to break the glass is you.”

Heartland’s eyes widen. For a moment, Risa looks into the gaze of an old-Earth man and she swears she sees fear, real fear. It takes a lot to shatter a monument, to reintroduce terror into a man who thinks he’s past such base humanity.

When she and Connor lunge at Heartland, she sees it again. Heartland fires blindly at both of them, but his aim is off when he’s no longer careful and assured of himself. The bullet pings uselessly against the glass, fracturing it further. Risa’s hands connect with the man’s torso and she digs her fingers into the fabric of his clothes. His gun is next to her, and she rips it out of his hand with such brutal force that she thinks she takes some skin off his palm with it. The gun clatters to the ground behind the downed Heartland.

Risa’s fingernails are tinged with blood. Not hers. Not Starkey’s, either. Heartland’s head hits the floor with an audible thunk, but he doesn’t stay there for long. Risa and Connor force him up again, dragging the man down the hall and towards the window. He fights against their hold, but this time the momentum is in their favor, and they make traction before Heartland can shake them.

Risa sees the scene as if in slow motion. One of her hands is behind Heartland’s skull, digging into the snug skin with such force that she can feel the seams of different forced donors beneath her fingertips. The other is on his arm, pulling him forward even as he attempts to fight his way free of them. Connor’s stance mimics hers, except his hand is on Heartland’s throat instead, leaving bloody red crescents as Heartland’s diaphragm rattles for breath. Around them, soldiers and AWOLs streak past, fighting battles intense and totally independent of their own. Somehow, the three of them traverse on, interfered by no one. For Heartland’s claims of a loyal workforce, none of his guards stop to help their boss.

Or perhaps they simply don’t care. Right now, there are no age-old monoliths of distribution glory to be seen. Only an old man forced to his knees by two kids. They say the passage of the torch from generation to generation isn’t always easy. Sometimes, the old ones don’t want to give up control. Sometimes, the kids have to force the change themselves.

Heartland’s breath is fogging up the glass before Risa even knows what’s happening. His mismatched forehead leans against the window. “Please,” he says unsteadily. “You don’t know what you’re doing. We can reach an agreement.”

“No more agreements,” Connor hisses.

“Please,” Heartland insists. “You don’t– you can’t–”

A sick sense of victory taints Risa’s tongue. “Every AWOL begs for life before you unwind them. You never listened to them, why should we listen to you?”

“You children,” Heartland says, licking cracked and bloody lips, “So uncivilized.”

Risa and Connor shove in unison. The window has taken several bullet beatings by now. It doesn’t take much for the glass to break, and the full weight of Dorian Heartland is enough by far. The panes shatter around him as he falls through space. For a moment, he hangs there effortlessly, twisting midair to reach back to them for any sort of salvation, diamonds of glass collapsing around him like the rings of a planet.

Then he falls, and falls ugly and beaten. His body crumples on the ground below. Everyone fighting outside turns to stop and stare. Heartland starts to claw his way up, gaze still fixed single-mindedly on Risa and Connor up above him like a wounded synth-dog.

The first AWOL to reach him steps down hard on Heartland’s hand, sending him back down to the ground once more. Another teenager joins in, then another, then another. Heartland is engulfed in a swarm of tearing, kicking, beating AWOLs in a matter of moments. Risa catches one last glimpse of Heartland’s asymmetrical eyes glaring hatefully up at her, and then even that sliver of skin is gone, replaced instead by the mass of people. There’s one low, choking scream of agony, and then Dorian Heartland goes silent.

The teenagers don’t clear out for a while, and when they do, the lump of flesh on the ground is unrecognizable as a man, let alone a distribution magnate.

“They took back their pieces,” Connor says under his breath.

Risa feels a twisted sort of satisfaction cloud her judgment. “Good,” she says.

Turning away from the grisly scene below them, Risa notices that some of the doors have opened up again. “Guess Heartland’s remote got damaged in the fall. I think we can leave now.”

Connor sighs, an exhalation of something far more grave and terrible than just breath. “I would like to leave.”

They depart together. They’ve collected injuries throughout this whole affair, and limping slightly, they emerge into the bright sunlight of their long-awaited freedom. Risa lets her eyes close against the harsh glare, and when she opens them, a blond boy is walking towards her.

“Hayden,” Risa says gratefully.

Hayden extends an arm, pulling her in for a quick hug before releasing her to Connor’s waiting hand again. “It’s good to see you, Risa. Glad you haven’t been distributed.”

“Right back at you,” Risa says. “Thanks for calling up an army for my rescue mission.”

“Connor insisted,” Hayden replies gallantly. “But of course, I could hardly pass up a chance to do another good speech.”

“I’m sure you couldn’t,” Risa says fondly.

Hayden cracks a grin, then turns upon hearing his name called and heads over to a girl several paces away. She’s got a deep glower, but it fades slightly when Hayden says something to her, probably one of his classic jokes.

“That’s Bam,” Connor supplies. “They’re hitting it off, actually.”

“Are they, or is Hayden just wearing her down with bad jokes and sentimentality until she caves?” Risa asks doubtfully.

Connor chuckles quietly. “Hey, it’s been known to pay off before.”

She looks over at him and smiles. “I suppose it has.”

Risa leans against Connor, resting her head against his shoulder. For the first time in a very long time, she realizes that she’s got nothing more to fear, no immediate concerns.

“What happens to us?” She asks.

Connor hums slightly, thinking. “I don’t know. That’s the best part, I guess. We get to decide.”

Risa likes the idea of that. As it turns out, they’ve got plenty of time to decide.

The fight is not over. It never will be. No one will ever stop looking for reasons to provoke each other, not until the last of the stars burn out, not until all of the ships and outposts and starfights are gone. First blood will continue to be drawn, but for once, it will not be the problem of two runaways from the OH-10 sector. Wars will be waged, and they will be safe. Those battles are not their story. They’re finally out of the books, but not for terrible reasons. Just because they’ve finally found peace.

Some people would say that peace doesn’t make for good stories. Connor and Risa would disagree. For once, their worries will be mundane. If a day goes badly, it’ll be because of something small. Maybe the galaxy doesn’t want to hear about the pitfalls of normalcy anymore, but Connor and Risa do. And they’ll do it as they have done everything since their lives started over again, how they’ll go on living for years and years to come: together.

With Dorian Heartland out of the picture, the Proactive Citizenry lost momentum, and, over time, significant chunks of its influence. Legislators across the galaxy were severely pressured to do something about distribution, and although the Collective initially didn’t seem inclined to change it, the sheer force of the galaxy is something no one anticipated. Laws were passed dropping the age of distribution, and then, eventually, it fell off the map altogether.

This is significantly helped by one formerly contraband and now supposedly historical broadcast entitled Radio Free Hayden. Hayden and Bam poked around the PC complex after Heartland’s death and ended up finding evidence of the Proactive Citizenry working in concert with the Collective to hide scientific progress regarding organ synthesis technology. Turns out, there actually isn’t a need for distribution outside of political control, and hasn’t been for a while.

Once that information was leaked, and a subsequent uproar was kicked up, distribution was obsolete almost immediately. Information never passes quickly through space when you want it, but the universe made an exception this time. Some things are important, like our children. When they’ve gone this far for their right to live, who are we to take it away again?

The galaxy is changing. The Chancefolk are returning to their homes in greater numbers. The veil of Collective propaganda is starting to slip from our eyes, and soon, it will disappear entirely. We have a lot to learn as a species. The galaxy holds many secrets that we’ve overlooked in our mad spree to conquer all of it. Slowly, carefully, we must retrace our steps, and look for the small details that hold the greatest of importance, the most enchanting of lessons.

As for Connor and Risa? Well. Their story is over. It’s a good thing, for once. They’re free. Free of the Proactive Citizenry, free of distribution, free of Dorian Heartland. Free of fear.

And, also, free of us.

a/n: the space au has ended!! thank you all so so much for reading, this ended up being wayyyy longer than i expected but i truly had so much fun writing it + interacting with everybody about it. please feel free to ask questions about worldbuilding/yell at me for creating too much drama, i would be delighted to hear from you. over 103,000 words later, it's been a lovely time. xoxo lisa

unwind tags: @reinekes-fox, @sirofreak, @locke-writes

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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satoshi-mochida · 15 days

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Alliance Arts, ACQUIRE, and WSS playground announce poker-themed adventure RPG All in Abyss: Judge the Fake for PC - Gematsu

From Gematsu

Publisher Alliance Arts and developers ACQUIRE and WSS playground have announced poker-themed adventure RPG All in Abyss: Judge the Fake for PC (Steam). It will launch in 2024.

Here is an overview of the game, via its Steam page:

About

…for every victor who gains it all …there is a loser, left with nothing. In this game, you adventure to become a successful gambler by challenging others at the game of Texas Hold’em Poker. —poker battles.

Texas Hold’em

In this game you will challenge others in a one-versus-one battle of a variant of poker called Texas Hold’em. Texas Hold’em is a popular variation of poker where players are dealt two cards each and use a combination of those cards and five community cards to make the best possible five-card hand.

Activate Skills

The “gambling prodigy” Asuha is capable of turning the tides of battle using various skills, sourcing from her aptitude in gambling. Limit the opponent’s play, gain insight beyond their hand, and much more… stay victorious with skills that expand the pool of decision-making.

All-In

“All-In” is a command that puts all chips on the table and your life as a gambler on the line. Use various means to put yourself in a favorable position, and use this command to slam the final nail in the coffin.

Showdown vs. The Witches

A “Witch” is a Boss Character present in each chapter of the game. All Witches excel at poker, but with enough preparation, the player can expose the Witches’ fraudulent acts and sink them to the depths of hell with a deadly All-In.

The City

The scene is set in The City, where various information can be gathered. Find sources to help unveil the secrets behind the Witches’ cheats and frauds to achieve sweet vengeance. Out of cash? The City abounds with gamblers, challenge them in poker to earn some buck. Be careful though, as losses may lead you into the depths …

Expose the Witches’ Hand

Your finesse in poker may earn you some cash in The City, but the Witches—who rule the districts, will not allow for a fair victory. Their methods of cheating seems to be fool-proof, but the evidence you uncover will say otherwise. Explore every inch of the city and expose the cheaters of their tricks.

Story

Asuha Senahara, a self-proclaimed genius gambler, is a wanderer. Amidst the tables of cards and dice, it is she alone who snatches the chips at stake. One day, she learns of the “gambling district,” a special ward where gambling holds influence above all else. The “Witches”—a group of the most extraordinary gamblers rule over the place—treat Asuha to the taste of defeat; something she was unfamiliar with. They exercised not luck, not skill, but dirty tricks, such that felled Asuha to the depths of the abyss. As a self-proclaimed genius gambler, Asuha becomes determined to take down the Witches. The Coliseum is the battlefield. The challenger is Asuha Senahara. The chips are on the table, and the Witches are ready to be exposed.

Characters

Asuha Senahara – Self-proclaimed genius gambler. A failure of a human being, but has a strong resolve and is determined when it comes to gambling. A pretty young lady on the cover, a middle-aged old man on the inside.

Mina – Savior of the freshly-defeated Asuha. Has good eye sight.

Uru – The First Witch. Uses her mysterious powers to easily defeat Asuha. Loves snacks and sweets.

Staff

Planning and Development: ACQUIRE (developers of Octopath Traveler)

Scenario: Shusei Sakagami (scenario of Heaven Burns Red)

Character Design: SKYn

Production: WSS Playground (planning and production of NEEDY STREAMER OVERLOAD)

Watch the announcement trailer below. View the first screenshots at the gallery.

Announce Trailer

English

youtube

Japanese

youtube

#All in Abyss: Judge the Fake #All in Abyss #ACQUIRE #Alliance Arts #WSS playground #adventure game #RPG #Gematsu

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thatcrazyshaman · 5 months

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Had a dream today that I was playing a demo made out of cut content from Half Life

It was

Bizarre

The premise of said content was that there was a hidden medical ward in Black Mesa that had been added at some point years prior to the resonance cascade during a rash of accidents that occurred, that was maintained by one guy who had experience as a surgeon of some sort, referred to as Dr. --- from here on out, as I have no memory of his name

During the resonance cascade, he had gathered as many personnel there as he could, as the ward had everything they would need and was essentially a glorified bunker - unfortunately for everyone involved, the incident made this guy go straight off the deep end

In a misguided attempt to keep everyone alive and well, he enforced an involuntary lockdown, recruiting the security guards whom were present to help him prevent any escape attempts, and that's where the demo picked up

Gordon was swapped out with an unnamed PC, who had stumbled across the ward while trying to find a safe place to hide out, immediately being "welcomed" in (it was more like they acted as if he should have been there the whole time), and was directed to go to Dr. ---'s meeting - this meeting, held in a cramped side room set up in a manner vaguely reminiscent of a classroom, was filled with all of the personnel he'd taken hostage, who sat at rows of desks just listening to him talk in an almost belligerent tone

What he was talking about I've no idea, because his speech in this portion was represented by jibberish with an occasional audible word here and there that gave no context whatsoever, as if it was meant to play through different lines of speech and placeholders had been used instead

He stood at the front of the room behind a podium as if he was doing a scientific presentation to his peers, in front of a terracotta-colored chalkboard that had various odd symbols drawn on it that I didn't recognize

I walked up to him to get a better look at his model, which was unique and mildly uncanny - he looked a tad like a low-poly Magnusson in overall appearance, with wide eyes that had barely discernable pinprick pupils and rolled up sleeves

It seemed to be implied that he had attempted at one point to saw his left hand off, as he had jagged reddish scars around his wrist like he had tried to go at it from multiple angles but gave up (the demo itself never confirmed this, but the dream presented the idea omnisciently as a potential fact)

He stared directly at the PC the whole time I was present, turning to keep his gaze locked on him as he moved

That detail wasn't particularly weird until I figured I'd go look around the ward to figure out my next objective

As soon as I exited the room, his formerly belligerent jibberish talk became belligerent jibberish shrieking, which caught me off guard and I ran into the next room to find a place to lay low for a moment just in case

The room was spacious, but seemingly not by design - it appeared to have originally been two rooms, a bathroom with stalls on one side and the actual ward itself opposite, but they had torn down the wall separating them and left the stalls standing across from the rows of beds, which was an interesting choice

I ducked into the middle stall, thinking that was a decent place to hide, just for Dr. --- to come storming over seconds afterwards AND KICK THE DOOR SO HARD THAT THE LOCK FAILED AND THE DOOR FLEW OPEN, BEFORE PROCEEDING TO PUNCH THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME, which resulted in a game over

This is where the demo took a turn from the way HL was structured, confusing me even further

Going back in led to the sequence restarting, except this time I realized suddenly (via omniscent dream mechanics) that I had the option to 'apologize' via keybind and it was spammable - this had the effect of calming Dr. --- down in increments, which led to him not punching me to death, but very animatedly moving about as if he was talking, though no audio accompanied it seemingly due to the lack of actual voicelines or filler noise being present, though he did utter an occasional word like before that still provided 0 context for what he was actually trying to communicate

In the process of trying to figure out what was happening, I accidentally took a swing at him at one point, which immediately led to him starting to punch me again at the same time that literally everyone else present in the room put their fists up and ran towards the stall to join in, but this time I made the PC crouch in some half-assed attempt to dodge a killing blow from the doc himself and started spamming the apologies again, to which he responded by crouching himself to forcibly keep eye contact and went back to animatedly talking while everyone else went back to idling until the lights suddenly went out and an announcement was made that it was time to sleep - Dr. --- backed off and went to patrolling the room, while I made an attempt to walk around a bit more

Bad idea - the moment I moved anywhere that wasn't in the direction of the beds, the security guards would immediately bumrush me from wherever they were in the room, ready to deck me (everyone here really likes punching people, I guess), but I managed to find a spot to hide behind a desk until they de-aggro'd

I lost track of what happened immediately after this, as I was on the cusp of waking up and the dream's continuity started to fall apart, but it ended with the PC and another resident of the ward slipping into a nearby side room together where the npc offered to fill him in on everything, but they got distracted momentarily looking around the mostly dark room and finding an implication that the ward had once had a pair of animals present as pets, due to crates with bedding and water dishes being there - no animals were to be seen, but on approaching the crates curiously, something unseen growled from inside

And then I woke up

#half life #dream #dream journaling #tw implied sh #my dreams get weirder by the year I stg #I have never had a normal HL dream but this is fucking out there #one of these days I need to make a blog to keep track of these weird ass things

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angrelysimpping · 2 years

Note

I was referring to the ficlet where the pc just uses him for sex while he’s in love with them!! Sorry for not clarifying well enough!! 😸😸

God im sorry this took forever for me to answer ><"""

Continuation of this

AMAB Bailey (he/him); GN Reader (you/your); dubcon ish; rough sex

Words: 623

It’s ridiculous, what he’s doing. Bailey knows this. He knows that he’s being ridiculous, that you’re manipulating him.

How could he not when he practically raised you?

Yet, here you are again, hands on his shoulders and face tucked into his neck, moaning about how he feels so good stretching you out as you bounce on his cock.

You’re just using him, taking advantage where you can. Your one shot at controlling anything in your miserable little life, and you chose to try to make him into your personal dildo.

You'll regret that. He'll make sure you do.

His grip on you tightens, rough hands on your waist making you still, fingers digging into your already heavily bruised skin and pulling a whine from you. The sound quickly morphs into one of pleasure as his hips snap up, fucking into you.

His cockhead presses against a spot inside you that leaves you babbling into his skin, slurring his praises as you come undone. Even as your hole tries to milk his cock for all he’s worth, he keeps going, hips snapping up into yours at a brutal pace. It’s not long before you’re lifted up and pressed into his desk, limp and pliant under his hands as you get the rough fuck that you craved so much that you went and threw yourself at the caretaker.

Do you even know exactly how you affect him? He hopes you don’t. Hopes you have no clue how often his mind drifts to you, how fury burns through him every time he sees you smiling at anyone else. It's preferable you come stumbling into the orphanage, limping with bloody cum on your thighs, then have you laughing with someone else, brushing their hair behind their ear and cradling their face in your palms.

He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want your gentle touches or your soft smiles. But, he doesn't want you giving them to anyone else, either.

You’re crying, tears wetting his neck as you push weakly at his shoulders, overstimulated but unable to make him stop. He won’t stop. You both know it. He won’t stop until he’s painted your insides white. It’s the least he deserves after you’ve gone and done this to him. Made him break his own rules and fuck one of his wards. Bailey thinks so, anyway.

It’s when he finally cums, keeping your hips up and pressing in so deep that you squirm, that he lets you go.

You lay like that for a moment, exhausted on his desk, spent hole twitching and leaking his cum. It’s a nice sight. Something he should take a photo of, one of these days. Keep it in his wallet and pull it out the next time you try to mouth off to him in front of the other brats. Show them all how you kept coming back for his cock.

Before you have a chance to collect yourself, Bailey reaches out. Dragging calloused fingers through his cum on your thighs, it’s an almost tender action. That is, it’s tender until the digits are roughly shoved into your sore hole. You writhe on the desk, gasping and mewling, but you don’t try to stop him. That fact alone almost has Bailey back between your thighs, cock twitching in interest as you clamp down on his fingers.

He doesn’t, pulling his fingers out of you, wiping excess fluids on your thigh.

Shakily, you slide from the desk, knees almost buckling as you struggle to stand. Bailey’s eyes follow you as you get dressed, slipping from his office without glancing back at him. Just like you always do.

Ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous.

Yet, he knows the next time you come knocking, he’ll still let you in.

[part 3]

#degrees of lewdity #bailey the caretaker

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eclipsecrowned · 8 months

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OC INFO PACKET: VALAS D*VIR (Galdur Bait 3 PC / Companion)

NAME: Valas D*vir (assumed alias) AGE: 110+ HAIR: Snow white Eyes: Violet blue Height: 5'11" Occupation: Researcher ; Lifelong adventurer ; Menace to the Population Family: G*rion's Ward (father, deceased) ; V*conia D*vir (mother, status unknown) ; Bh**l (grandfather) ; Bh**lspawn (paternal relatives)

It was never going to be easy for him. Oh, his parents had their delusions, putting down their arms and taking up more common ambitions towards power and wealth after years shaping the Sword Coast, dreaming of building a dynasty in the famed city of B*ldurs Gate. And what good is a dynasty without endurance? Valas was born into both love and expectation, son of two of the most powerful figures in the known world. It was a boyhood of privilege, jewel-stitched velvet clothes and the finest tutors his mother could cow, his pride and potential honed to perfection. His father had turned to politics and his mother kept her whisper wars and ambitions burning from their fine manse. But all childhoods end, and as is the case with many Bh**lspawn, Valas' was severed by blood.

He doesn't remember what happened, really. He had been so young, still fat and jovial and exuberant, when his mother vanished. Some said she had been killed by rivals, and others by old enemies, and Valas' father would speak of his great love no longer. There were no more velvet clothes, no more tutors, no more mansion in the finest district. His hero father left it all behind, refusing to call the old manor a home in absence of his beloved wife. Father and son returned to the road that the hero had known so well, and what they sought, Valas can recall no longer. Only that his feet were blistered and his sleep fitful, and his father the only steadfast thing in those days. He nurtured Valas' innate magic and his endless questions with his characteristic patience, and saw his son grow to manhood with a quiet pride. The real tragedy is that the hero was only a Human man, and divine blood only bought him so much time. He passed quietly, and while his name is still sung in taverns and immortalized in tales, the only legacy that mattered to him by the end was Valas.

Valas has wandered alone ever since, with no fancies towards his father's heroics or his mother's grasping ambitions. However, their mark is stark upon him. He possesses his father's probing mind and intrigue, a man determined to understand the world that so changed and then stole his mother. He has fastidiously traveled every corner of the world available for him, and boldly stolen into what locations would bar him entrance. His notes are meticulous, his knowledge sharpened to a blade's cruelty. It has been enough, for a Half-Drow denied most comforts and companionship that many take for granted. A hero's son he might be, but his mother is always a Drow, and he will never deny her by look or by word.

Loneliness has its end, too. He had put his father's kin out of mind, until they crawled out of whatever Hell was put aside for Bh**l and his spawn. The woman in red had been many things to him, a fellow traveler, a rare friend, a child in need, but by the end, she was always herself. Their blood called to one another, and it needed to be spilt. But Valas has always been the escape artist. He had only just put some miles between he and that blasted woman when the ship caught him, dragging him out of one inferno and into a far less metaphorical one.

Joins the party out of self-preservation. Their odds are improved together, and if he must rectify the larval situation himself, he would sooner use his medical implements on a third party than default to self surgery. He is equal parts a mentor and a source of fury, not a team player but a great asset to have. A glory hound, a master mage, and a smirking pretty boy all in one, he's as divisive as he is divine. however, when the cards are down, proper effort might see his carefully crafted walls crumble when his companions have need of him as a man more than a myth.

A scholar, but never a gentleman. He can infodump with the party nerds one day and then have them ready to kill him the next. He's not here to be understood or please others, and while he has moments of sincerity, he smothers them almost immediately. He's spent so long running and surviving that it's hard for anyone to take root in his heart. Still, he feels a keen pull towards the cleric and her situation, and can match wits with the rogue and relish leaving him high and dry. More than anything, he pities the more heroic members of the party: he knows firsthand how their tales end, no matter their choices or strengths.

A prodigious Storm Sorcerer, built around high mobility and explosive damage. He's been on his own too long to really account for team tactics at first, aiming to act for himself alone as swiftly as possible. He can, however, be sufficiently persuaded to help more than he hinders, and to spread the thrill of battle around. Just keep in mind he will never stop preening and posturing about his prowess. He's chock full of Lightning and Thunder spells just waiting to be unleashed and enhanced.

His character is nebulous and his moral compass is a roulette wheel. He's haughty, but experienced enough that it doesn't come across as arrogance. He's rightfully proud of what he's achieved, but allows little more of him to rise to the service than his bit as a seasoned traveler and handsome devil. He refuses to yield to another's will, but a part of him longs to be part as a whole. He gets a read on others with relative ease just based on his age, there is nothing new under the sun, but Gods, he's waiting for someone to surprise him and prove him wrong. It's hard to get on his bad side/net disapproval, but it's also best to consult a walkthrough if trying to curry favor. Loves pragmatic self-service as it affirms his beliefs, but will feel funny and eventually approve of unpretentious heroism.

His arc is do or die. Either the apathy takes him and he ends the journey very much like he began it, he reawakens to being an active player seeking to save the world his parents gave so much for and he has so much to learn from, or he becomes ruled by his baser impulses and seeks conquest and power like the worst of his blood. It all depends on how the PC approaches him, and in fact, investing in him at all is the first step towards his agreeing to saving or damning the world.

He wants to understand the tadpole. Will do whatever it takes the understand the tadpole. Will volunteer to examine the PC's tadpole... which involves breaking out his medical implements. What sounded like innuendo of a 'private physical' is instead dead serious, he wants to basically trepanate the player. If they refuse him he'll later be found trying the same schtick on Astarion who also intuits this as a seduction rather than scientific curiosity. We love a creepy king.

#valastbt

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