#hi so night addons.

[bayleaf-2]

Lyra and Khunoth rolling Intimidation together against the Raven Queen in negotiations is a very funny image to me because. Lyra's not being intimidating on purpose. He just looks like that right now. Guy's got no facial expression as a result of trying to switch directly into work mode after spilling his heart (or something, she doesn't fuckin know man) and they're sitting more spread out (sitting in the chair sideways with one leg up and resting their arm on their knee. Also propping his head up with his other arm.) for the same reason.

It's less intimidation and more they look sure of themself, which I don't think Lyra has ever, ever done??

Like they're absolutely using it to their advantage once they catch on to what's happening but their body language is absolutely just in a default state.

[thatnonameuser]

Hello! I love love love your yandere AU for TWST. Hope you don't mind my brainrot(?)/ramble addon for the worldbuilding. Imagine a dainty darling of a powerful yandere who does love(?) their yandere. But their heart aches for their fellow darlings who aren't as lucky as them. So with multiple well-placed kisses on their powerful yandere's face. Darling establishes a "darling academy". A place where darlings are sent to be "educated" for a happier ending.

While it sounds like a nightmare for most darlings. It's the best shot they have at living normally without a yandere chasing them down. Darlings in the academy are allowed to learn and live freely within the confines of the academy as a "privilege" for agreeing to be educated (4 years max). They can hang out with fellow darlings, eat in the in academy cafes, shop at the minimalls, ect. A nice boarding school for darlings where yanderes can only enter for "socialization events". Bet the matchmaking service always visits the academy with a group of hopeful yanderes on strict visitations.

While the end goal of the academy is to make a 'willing' darling for a happier ending. Who knows maybe some darling teachers teach the darlings lessons other than pleasing their yandere.

Thanks for entertaining my rambling!

Your ramblings were great to hear!!!

I actually love this idea. So I expanded on it, and now it's a part of the AU.

Imagine...

Long ago, there was once a Beauty and a Beast. Their love story was a tale as old as time, as the beauty freed the beast from his curse, and they lived happily ever after.

But the truth of that story isn't as pretty and glamorous as it sounds in the books. The poor beauty, a village girl with a fondness for books, was chased by the best hunter in the village, a yandere. He was a possessive man who wanted to steal the few freedoms her father gave her.

The night before the beauty came of age, her beloved father was captured by the Beast for breaking into his place. Desperate to save her father and escape the hunter, she went to the castle to free him, only to be caught by the beast, who fell in love with her at first sight.

For a year, the darling Beauty was trapped in the palace almost completely alone, save for the cursed servants, with a yandere much more powerful than the hunter ever was.

But the Beast loved her, oh so much, giving her a life she dreamed of, where she could be with someone that understood her, that gave her a life with the things she loved.

So eventually, she loved him too.

Never mind the fact that he kept refusing to let her see her beloved father or visit her village friends. All that time alone made love spark in her heart.

So when the Hunter came to save her, she chose the Beast.

She chose to love him and break his curse. Revealing the even more obsessed prince.

She chose to marry him.

This tale of love, despite appearances, was a tale of manipulation and control, and yet beauty still loved her Beast.

Yanderes looked at this tale with delight and excitement.

Darlings look at it with fear.

Despite that, the two lived happily ever after.

But after happily ever after, the beauty, now Queen of the Roselune, became troubled.

She watched her people, darlings just like her, live in fear and terror of being stolen by their yanderes, and not being allowed to dream, of a future, of a life for themselves, of true love.

The Beauty wept for her people, unable to be as lucky as she was. But an idea came to her. If they could not achieve the same future as her, she would give it to them.

So she went to the Beast with an offer.

She wanted a safe haven for darlings made, where they could be allowed to dream, far away from yanderes.

At first, the Beast refused. But the Beauty was a smart little thing, and the Beast loved her dearly, so while it took some convincing (a few kisses, loving words, and her body promising their third child in the coming summer) she got what wanted.

But not without the Beast's rules, but we’ll get to that later.

And so, Beauty built a school. Similar to those that housed and schooled Yanderes, but instead, all those in attendance would be darlings.

Here, they could learn about the world they were often shielded from and learn how to find their happy endings.

She named it Rose Heart College, a school dedicated to the love she and her Beast shared where darlings could be safe from yanderes and find their happily ever afters.

Even with the rules the beast gave her would help the darlings find their happily ever afters.

Rose Heart College

It's a school darlings from every kingdom, nation, and island dream of attending. It was the first darling only school of its kind, where darlings could attend school without fear of being kidnapped and controlled by their yanderes.

Located on an island not far from the Kingdom of Roselune, the school is a sprawling castle with a picturesque village surrounding it, and high walls built all around it with enchantments done to forbid yanderes from entering without permission.

The school is co-ed and full of darlings from all different regions, from the darling rights cities in the Shaftlands and to the ancient kingdoms like the Briar Valley.

Once a darling comes of age, they can be sent an enrollment letter at the exact second they turn of age to ensure that a darling is able to enroll before they're snatched up by a yandere.

While they can't leave the school walls until graduation, or unless they decide to drop out, darlings can enjoy the freedom of not constantly looking over their shoulders as they attend. Eating at school cafes, shopping in the village Square, exploring the vast library, they can do everything in the school but leave. This wasn't done to slowly condition them into a life of captivity. What are you talking about?

For four years, darlings get to learn what is taught in other magic and non-magic schools, (With the exception of darling classes, to ensure they don't act out against the gentle conditioning.) And are allowed to able to join clubs and organizations to meet new friends.

Yanderes are almost never allowed on campus, and most of the staff are actually darlings, graduates who've married their yanderes and are enjoying newlywed life. Sometimes, they don't come to class, but they usually are more than happy to do it remotely from the safety of their homes.

Some teachers try to teach students how to escape yanderes, but they're usually fired soon after. No one knows why...

The only time yanderes are allowed to visit the darlings is at the annual 'Ball of Beauties and Beasts'. Where yanderes, invited by the main matchmaking service, are allowed to meet and bond with their future darlings. To the darlings, it's supposed to be a celebration of the school's love story, but what they don't know won't hurt them.

I imagine you would be invited to the ball, kind of like how NRC and RSA are invited to NBC for a celebration, because you're a darling attending a yandere school, and the school 'wants' to invite you to attend. Your yanderes will be going too, because of the same matchmaking service, to convince you not to switch schools.

I really like this idea, I might actually write it for a blog milestone.

[xalygatorx]

Le Petit Mori (Zestial x AFAB!Reader)

Written for Hooked on Hazbin 2024, an event by the wonderful @fraugwinska & @macabr3-barbi3 ❤️

Minors DNI, you are responsible for your own media consumption

Summary: You're offered a deal by one of the most ancient killers in the Entity's realm. You take it.

Warnings: Angsty smut, graphic (game-typical) violence, blood, descriptions of pain, the reader is a survivor but not a good person, they're also losing it a little, Zestial is in Hell (or the Entity's realm) for a reason, some body horror, one (1) movie reference, oral (reader receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, exhibitionism, size kink, reader wants to live deliciously, solo queue will wear you down, it gets a bit monster-fucky, AFAB!reader

A/N: For anyone here from my Hazbin crowd who isn't familiar with Dead by Daylight (DBD), here's a short(?) summary for some optional context.

DBD is an asymmetrical—one killer vs. a team of four survivors—horror game that is, in essence, freeze tag.

At its base level (lots of things can affect outcomes like match offerings and character perks and addons), the survivors' goal is to repair 5 generators to power the exit gates and escape alive. The killer's goal is to kill the survivors before that can happen.

The "freeze tag" element is executed via a hooking system—survivors can be hooked (literally) twice without dying as long as they're unhooked in a timely manner. Their third hook is their "death hook" and they're out of the game at that point.

When there's only one survivor left in a match, an escape hatch spawns in a random location on the map to give the lone survivor one last chance at escaping the trial.

There are lots of other ins and outs to the game as a whole (it can get convoluted), but this is the bare bones and I think all you'll really "need" for this oneshot. :) If you're just here for the smut and the sexual tension, you won't need any of it at all. LOL

If you have questions about specific details in the story related to game stuff, I'll happily answer them in the comments.

Good luck, have fun. x

Also on AO3

You don't know what you did—that not-knowing is the crux of everything you know now, as strange as that sounds.

You don't know why you stepped out into the road that day. Why instead of the impact of a fender, you felt gnarled, eldritch claws hook into you and pull. Why you were probably dead already and yet had to die again and again and again and again and again every goddamn day. Why the other "survivors," as you dead souls were all called, didn't trust you. Why you cared whether they did or not.

You suppose it's because this marrow-deep loneliness sometimes feels colder than death. It might've been easier to stomach oblivion—in fact, you're sure it would've been.

Instead, you're in the worst purgatory you can conceive of. A limbo of running for your life, tungsten hooks through your shoulders and already bloodied by the viscera of those sacrificed before you, and the same hateful eyes staring at you, through you, as the claws of the false god known only as the Entity spear you through and pull you up into where the fog is thickest. The same vacant, raging eyes of a killer simply masked within different faces.

All but one. One seemed to hate you less than the others—even less than your supposed "friends" by the campfire.

He still killed you. They all did. And despite his clear, present, and vibrant green gaze whenever he looked at you—whenever he smiled at you—he terrified you more than any of them.

Because the Overlord looked at you and saw you and saw something that made him keep looking. Maybe that was why the other survivors treated you like a killer the Entity could send home with them.

You feel not-so-hateful eyes on you that night after your last trial as you sit wrapping a sachet stuffed with herbs and laurel leaves from the nearby bog. Your hands still and you glance toward the source of the feeling, noting Claudette furtively watching your progress as she wrings her scarred, careful hands.

Caught, she fills the silence. "You're getting better at making those," she says, nodding toward the bundle balanced on your knee and the twine you're wrapping around it.

You nod a couple of times, acknowledging what she said although you aren't sure what she wants from the interaction. No one talks to you. At least not like this. She usually doesn't either, but she was more skittish than baleful in her avoidance. Claudette was the nicest and also the meekest of the bunch.

"It gets easier," she suddenly offers, pulling you out of your thoughts again. The fire crackles nearby and shadows are wrought up her drawn, concerned features. "They'll… They'll get nicer. You're still new. They're not used to new people. And there's a lot at stake out there."

"Thalita and Renato are newer than I am," you point out. There's no animosity in your tone, just facts. Your voice is hoarse from the screaming you did today.

Claudette sighs, glancing at the flames. "You're right," she admits. "I'm not sure why it's different for them. Maybe because they came together. Or maybe because they're similar in a lot of ways to a few of the others. You're…different. I can't put my finger on it, but there's a different energy to you, I guess."

"You're sounding like Mikaela," you point out, but it's with a faint smile cast her way as you go back to tying up your sachet.

She laughs and it relaxes her a little. "I know," she says, curling her knees up to her chest and resting her arms against the tops of them. "But I think I mean it. And, hey, it's helped you here and there in the trials so far, so it must be a good 'different'."

You know she's talking about the killers occasionally letting you go. That had been the first reason you'd considered for the others disliking you so much—that they were jealous of the number of times you'd already been delivered to the hatch or an open gate no matter how hateful the killer's stare—but it seemed to go deeper than that. Much deeper.

And they didn't even know about Zestial's apparent fixation with you.

"I think they've just done that because I'm new," you say, even if you didn't entirely believe it. "Can killers feel pity?"

"None that I've met," Claudette replies. "And I've been here a long time."

"How long?" you venture to ask.

Claudette's eyes grow distant, glazed by memory, and she purses her lips. "…I'm not sure. But long."

"Claude."

You both jolt a little at the hard tone that comes with Claudette's nickname. Jake casts a wary glance your way before returning his gaze to your sole companion at the fireside and jerking his head back toward the camp past the trees. "C'mon. It's late."

It was a sorry excuse to get her away from you. You didn't need to sleep here. Or eat, or drink, or rest. Purgatory.

Still, Claudette doesn't refuse him and doesn't point out his inconsistencies. She stands, brushes off her pants, and glances at you one more time.

"Hope you get some rest after today," she says, chafing one hand against her arm despite the heat from the fire. Again, she says, "It'll get easier."

Jake clears his throat and Claudette scampers away like an anxious rabbit, walking ahead of him into the trees to join the others. He looks back at you one more time, measuring you up, before nodding once and following your resident healer.

It was maybe the second time he'd acknowledged you since you were dragged here by the Entity months(?) ago. You had a feeling he only did because Claudette seemed to like you well enough and he didn't want to disappoint her.

Your fingers still against the twine and your eyes dip down to the fire.

You could still feel him.

From the first time, he never really left you. You still remember it. Meeting those brilliant green eyes across an expanse of Yamaoka, fiery slits cutting the dark, before you knew what being the first to look upon him in a trial would do.

Panic had laced through your ribs, clawed through your insides, and your thoughts had scrambled along with your teammates'. A perk of being the Overlord.

David's nails had raked deep, long scratches down his face as he screamed for the killer's aural effects to wear off. You heard them even now, the screams to "make it stop." He'd not been quite the same for days after and because he'd been the one to put those scratches in his face, they left the trial with him, too. Every time Claudette had sat down beside him to clean the cuts, he'd nearly leapt out of his skin.

Meg had been tunnel-visioned on a generator for once in her life and hadn't realized how close Zestial was until her body buckled with exposure and he swiped her right off the gen and straight to the ground. You learned in that precise instant what "exposure" meant in this realm as she lay on the dirt, bleeding and coughing, her fingertips burnt from where they'd tangled in the wires and caused the gen to backfire with her fall.

Yun-Jin had bolted immediately. You'd come to learn this was expected from her—she was efficient and bold, but she was nowhere near altruistic. You'd been left in a trial by her in exchange for a gate or on a hook for the hatch more times than you could count.

At least she didn't specifically hate you, it seemed—by what you could glean from catching the others' conversations and the trials you'd been in with her since, she treated everyone with equal detachment. It was how she protected herself, you imagined, in more ways than one.

After half the team had bolted and you stayed frozen in place, your eyes shifted back to the killer you'd never seen before that trial.

Zestial. "The Overlord." A towering, enigmatic figure of glowing eyes and void-black spines, wrapped up in a cloak that flowed like spider silk. Had you seen him in any other context, you may have scoffed at first—he looked like Halloween personified.

However, standing there, stock-still in horror as he stared back at you and smiled, you didn't have breath in your lungs to scoff. You'd told yourself every day since that it was only due to fear.

You'd never been the best at lying to yourself.

Meg had been the one to finally jar you enough to flee when she gritted from the ground, "Fucking run, you idiot!"

You'd stumbled back and done as she said, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste to leave the hulking figure and everything, everything he stirred in you behind. You chanced a glance over your shoulder as you left and saw that he'd picked Meg up at last—just one of his enormous, spidery hands was enough to fully encircle her waist.

Your eyes met his once more and he smirked, his free hand thumbing the brim of his tall hat in an antiquated gesture of farewell. The instant you turned away, your chest constricted with the feeling of needly claws around your heart and you hissed through your teeth. You looked down and saw those finger-like claws of the Entity in miniature beneath the skin of your chest, nearly retching at the way they stretched your flesh.

When you'd collapsed at a gen next to David, he'd glanced over and seen the new deformation around your throbbing heart.

"Fuck me," he mumbled, his scratched cheeks still trickling blood as he fought dissociation to focus on the generator in front of him. "I didn't know he did obsessions."

He did apparently. But only when you were in the trial. And it was always you.

You'd all died that first trial with minimal effort on Zestial's part. You'd come to understand later that this was perhaps a display of the ease with which he could dispatch you at any point. Because subsequent trials with him were different. Much different.

The most memorable one had been the last one, perhaps a week ago now assuming your sense of time could be trusted, in the Red Forest. Mother's Dwelling specifically, if you had the map variants correct. Cold rain had drizzled down from a steely sky as you'd felt that painful cage wrap around your heart again, warning you that you were the obsession in this trial as you set off to find a chest.

It'd been quite some time since you'd last faced the Overlord prior to then and you'd been able to write off his smirks and gestures as part of his persona up until that point. It had nothing to do with you.

Or so you'd thought.

It hadn't even occurred to you to be wary of the chests. It wasn't one of the Lich's and unless whoever the killer was this trial had a specific perk to notify them that a chest was being disturbed, you saw no reason to fret. Your only concern was getting it open and looted before you ran into the whoever the killer was this round.

You'd prayed for a toolbox to replace the one you'd foolishly forgotten at the campfire as you reached for the lid, only to be stalled by something you couldn't immediately see.

You'd tried to give your arms a shake, eyes narrowing with confusion until realization dawned. Glistening, diamondlike droplets of rainwater clung to the near-invisible strands of spider web woven in thick, previously hidden layers over the chest you'd reached for and had secured you in place on contact.

"Flies in a Web," you'd whispered in horror as you recognized the perk effect and forced yourself to still.

Feng had told you about this one after she'd been ensnared by it once before and had stopped you from trying to help her out of it. She'd held completely still and told you to do the same if you were ever in her position, even if you could shake them off faster at a cost—struggling against these webs would bring the Overlord right to you.

It was him again.

And it didn't matter that you'd stilled, it seemed. The air had shifted and staled, feeling heavy in itself, as a humid breath fanned across the back of your neck.

You'd jolted. You couldn't help it. And the next warm exhale came in the form of a chuckle because of that.

Don't turn around, don't turn around, don't turn around…

You hung your head and held your breath. The second you looked at him, you'd reveal your teammates with that same panic that always started a trial against him—you wouldn't be the one to do it this time. Not again. Not when it would hinder your team and give you an exposure effect for an even easier down. Not that he needed help to accomplish that.

"Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?"

You froze. He could speak? You'd only ever heard a handful of killers do more than grunt. The Overlord had been silent up to this point save for the occasional chuckle or sneer, as far as you knew.

Your heart had flown, aching in its cage of claws, as you focused on not collapsing into a panic of your own, of keeping your eyes down and remaining still as you waited for the claustrophobic sensation to be dispelled with the webbing on your arms. It couldn't be much longer now…

Zestial had chuckled in your ear, his hot breath against the shell making you shiver in spite of yourself. "So responsive in all but voice… I asked thee a question," he murmured.

You'd been horrified at yourself as his deep timbre sent a shock of heat down to your core. Shaking off the unwelcome sensation as best as you could, you'd wondered if it was better for you to speak to him.

He'd likely kill you either way, wouldn't he? What was the harm?

"What do you mean?" you ventured to ask, still keeping your eyes trained on your hands as you waited for his webs to disintegrate and tried to hold off activating his first-sight perk you couldn't remember the name of.

In truth, the altruistic thing for you to have done would've been to look back at him and trigger it early—no one else was nearby, so only you would be exposed. But you weren't trying to save the others anymore by then. You weren't near so selfless anymore after the last handful of trials in which you'd been left to die over and over.

You wouldn't protect them anymore the way you had. Not for free.

"I meant what I hath said. Is this enough for thee f'r the rest of thy days?" he purred against your ear, the heat of him now settled just behind your back and the contrastingly cold skin of his cheek near to brushing yours. "Or doth thee desire more?"

Perhaps once, you would've used some semblance of faith to shrug off what could only be called a devil's temptation. But where was your God when you died? When the Entity—a real god, if a false one—dragged you into what could only be regarded as Hell itself? What did you have now to fight this feeling?

Nothing. So why should you?

The Overlord sensed your hesitation and whispered, "Forsake thy friends. Forsake thy freedom, if thee can liken this to such distant dreams. I can off'r thee a deal beyond aught else in this realm of the damned. If thou wouldst only allow it…"

"What deal?" you whispered back, your gaze starting to slowly travel back toward where his mouth hovered near your ear. The webs had gone from your arms, but you hadn't noticed, enraptured by this quiet voice full of promises.

"What doth thou wish?" he wondered.

You'd hesitated only to jolt in place when you felt his huge hands rest against your thighs—they would've been able to wrap fully around them if he'd angled them so. However, he trailed his spread, spindly fingers up along the inner seam of your jeans and sent shocks of desire to the vee he deftly avoided to instead trace his claws against the hem of your shirt and the soft skin beneath.

You'd not been able to help rubbing your thighs together to try and dispel the sensation—a meager, quick shift of your body but he'd noticed. A dark chuckle had left him after.

"Methinks I may know, little one."

A generator finally popped in the distance, freeing both of you from whatever spell he'd placed you under. A faint sound of irritation rumbled in his throat and you felt him rise behind you to leave. You felt your body stiffen, learnedly bracing for impact.

"Think on thine sins," he advised you in parting. "Those thou hast committed ere this night…and those thy dream of anon. I will await thine answer."

You'd (stupidly) turned to look at him then and had just been lucky he'd left already. You had the chest open—it'd been a first-aid kit in the end—and had seated yourself at a gen before you heard and felt his panic-inducing perk activate. You had immediately fumbled the wires you were working on, cursed at yourself, and tried to get the repairs back to where they'd been before your misfire.

He'd properly gotten in your head that night. And he's still there. Even now, sitting beside the campfire and bundling offerings, you can feel his hands on your legs. His fingertips tracing upward, just shy of where you—Heaven help you—wanted him most.

Your jaw clenches. It's no wonder everyone is creeped out by you. You're sick.

Shaking off those thoughts of self-loathing, you look back down at the offering you're making and immediately recoil hard enough for it to tumble off your knees.

The sachet had been speared through, all but replaced by the bones and guts of a tanager bird and wound up in the same knots of twine. Worst of all, it was fashioned into a formation that resembled the arms of the Entity. You'd stared up into those ascending arms so many times already, both as you lay dying among them and in the times you were seconds too late to save someone else.

Where the bundle clattered to the dirt near the fire, sparks leapt out and ignited it. The acrid smell of burning bloody offal hit your nose as the offering you had apparently made was turned to ash at your feet.

The shaky breath that fell from your lips obscured the softer, deviant chuckle that ghosted from beyond where the flickering light of the flames could reach.

"Whatever's fucking with you today, get over it now," Meg grits at you as you walk with her, Jonah, and Claudette to the starting area. "I'm not saving your ass every time you get yourself hooked in the endgame. There could've been 'Blood Warden' and then we would've all gotten killed! Don't get fucking hooked when the gates are open!"

"Don't be so harsh, Meg," Claudette pleads, surveying their surroundings with undisguised unease as the woodsy path shivers around them and shifts into the Eyrie. Crows swarm the top of the tower at the center of the map, their cries piercing the air.

You grind your teeth together as you feel your chest constrict. You're the obsession this round. Some quiet, surely deranged part of you wonders with something almost eager if it's the Overlord again.

"If I'm not harsh, none of them ever learn," Meg shoots back and the two of them share a thousand-yard look that only comes from being in the throes of the Entity's grasp for so long. Something vulnerable passes through Meg's expression, but it's quickly extinguished as she turns back toward the map. "Hurry up. We're wasting time."

She walks past you with a hard clip of her shoulder to yours and you stumble, body rigid as you swallow your anger and the urge to scream at her. To turn on her. To put her on a hook yourself.

Have you always been this filled with rage?

You almost swing at the person who touches you next, but you still when you meet Claudette's apologetic eyes.

"She means well," she says softly, imploringly.

"Yeah," you murmur, shying away from her hand and heading into the arena, yourself. "You keep saying that."

What are you supposed to think when the kindest touch, the kindest offer you'd yet received in this wretched place had come from someone who had killed you? Who would likely kill you again? And again?

And again.

As you pass one of the sandstone outcroppings, you pause and listen. A faint crackling sound meets your ears again, almost as easily mistaken for the dead tree branches also rustling nearby despite a lack of wind. When you step back and worm your way through the rocky formations, you spot a lit totem nestled against a stony curve. You hunker down into a crouch and set to work dismantling it, working your lip between your teeth as you do so.

What would they do?

In your place, if offered an out—or even a sliver of something, anything!—from one of the killers, the persuasive Overlord in particular, what would the others do? They acted high and mighty with you at times, certainly, but you couldn't imagine they wouldn't buckle at least a little at the notion of…whatever it was you were being offered.

He'd left that up to you, hadn't he?

The last ties around the bones beneath your hands slip free and a resounding crack echoes through the map as the hex breaks and the flames licking the skulls now decorating the ground die away with a flicker.

Normally the thing to do would've been to hurry off. Go find a gen or at least walk around the corner in case the killer comes to see who's meddling with their plans.

You stay though. The squeeze of the cage in your chest increases as blood begins to roar in your ears and the air swells with something that just bridges the gap between music and a coming storm. The faint keen of a violin confirms who you will turn to see before you shift your gaze upward.

Meeting Zestial's eyes has its usual first-time effect. Panic rises in the form of bile in your throat and you hear your teammates shriek, near and far, from their stations. Anxiety muddles your senses, panic that isn't yours but induced by the power itself.

You feel a little drop of blood run from your nose as you hold his stare and watch his Jack-O-Lantern smile creep higher up his cheeks.

"Bold of thee not to flee, little one," he intones, stepping closer until he stands with you in the stone crevasse, his towering figure easily surpassing the height of the formations. "Or foolish. Unless, of course, thou hast come to some conclusion…"

He leans down toward your face to study your eyes. You saw them—wide and unsure—reflected in his. "I am most eager to learn which is thine truth."

"I think I want…," you force yourself to stammer out, stopping and holding a hand against your mouth as you hesitate. You could smell the dusty earth still on your fingertips from the totem, lingering notes of sand and rot.

"Go on," Zestial urges you, his tone kind and encouraging while something impatient like hunger alights his eyes.

"A deal," you finally choke out.

All four of his luminescent lime-green eyes flare at your words.

"A deal forsooth?" he purrs, the top pair of his eyes flickering with red irises for an instant until they calm back to a placid lake of pure green once more. "How curious. I am listening with mine full attention. As is She."

"She?" you repeat in a lowered voice, instinctively glancing around for signs of Meg or Claudette.

The Overlord chuckles. "The Entity, little one," he explains, his smile curling into a sinister grin as if sharing a well-kept secret. "She hungers."

"For what?" you ask, realizing how dumb your question sounds only after you speak it into existence.

Zestial merely hums though, as if your silly question is worth consideration. "For thine bodies of course," he says and the way his voice drops into a deeper tone sends shivers skimming up your spine. His eyes narrow on you and, although there are no pupils present to follow, you can feel him taking you in. "An unending craving nigh only sacrifice may appease."

"And whatever you're offering…has something to do with that?" you inquire with caution.

He smiles at you, the expression almost warm. When was the last time someone looked at you with warmth?

Something inside you begins to break. Is it from the pressure of the cage around your heart? You ask yourself that, even knowing it isn't.

"Forsooth, little one," he practically coos down at you, painfully gentle as he brushes the trail of blood away from your nose.

Somewhere a gen pops and your gaze flickers sideways toward the sound while his own stays completely fixed upon you. He takes your chin and turns your attention back to him, the grip of his long, clawed fingers tight but not painful. Not yet.

"Thy fate is sealed upon manifesting within this realm to oppose me," he warns you as you fight the urge to sag into his touch. The danger and the savior—he represents both now and you aren't sure which one is the truth.

He has you right where he wants you—a fly in a web.

"What doth thou wish to exchange f'r the heads of thy comrades? For thy head, verily?"

Your eyes widen. You'd committed to not sticking your neck out for the others anymore, but to offer them on a platter to the Entity? To him?

They would do it to you, whispers a traitorous voice, a tickle in the back of your skull. It doesn't entirely sound like yours though. They would sell you in an instant. You know it to be true.

"That's the only option?" you ask carefully, shuddering as he curiously runs his fingertips along your jawline. Around a lock of your hair. "That's the only way?"

Zestial nods with feigned compassion. "It is the only currency of this realm. Naught else is valued," he tells you as his hand skims down to your throat. "Or little else, perhaps, with regards to thee."

"What do you mean?" you ask again, feeling like it's the tenth time you've asked the same question.

It's hard to focus when he's touching you with hands that can and have plucked you right off your feet and slammed you onto a meat hook. When he's instead brushing those same digits across your scarred flesh with a rare, unspoken tenderness.

It isn't lost on you that a being that could kill you, that is meant to kill you and is choosing not to, instead finds you interesting enough to touch. To bargain with. In fact, it's disturbingly enthralling to you, but you don't realize that until heat blossoms in your core again, just like before.

Zestial just smiles at you instead of answering your repetitious question. He knows you needn't ask any longer what he means by his implications. You know.

You swallow hard under his burning gaze. "Okay," you murmur at last. If you were going to die again anyway, you should at least get something out of it.

"Exquisite," he whispers, running the pad of this thumb across your lower lip and freeing it from your teeth. "And what of thine reward, hm?"

You shudder. Your thighs tense and squeeze together as you draw in a shaky breath. His charcoal skin smells like brimstone, ink, and old books—you catch traces of all three as he continues to stroke your face.

"I thought you knew," you murmur sheepishly, shame washing over you.

"Of course, I do," Zestial coos, encroaching further on your personal space as the hand holding your chin tips your head back. Another two gens pop in succession as he murmurs, "For the sake of our deal, I would have thee speak it."

Your face goes red with deepened shame as he stares down at you expectantly, holding your head in a grip that doesn't allow you to look away. "Please…," is all you can muster, the barest breath of a whisper.

"Please…?" he coaxes you to continue as his free hand slides around the small of your back. Presses your smaller, so much more breakable body against his.

Something unmistakably hard digs into your stomach as he holds you to him and you fear you might give away your very soul for free in this moment if he only asks.

This is also what finally pulls the words out of you that he is looking to hear.

"Please just… I just want to feel good," you plead, feeling weak beyond measure as the dam breaks. A stream of tears escapes your right eye and falls against his hand. "I can't remember the last time I felt anything but hurt or angry or alone… I just want to feel good. Just for a little while. So I…"

You avert your eyes—shame reignites in your belly. You still aren't fully sure what you're asking for—or rather what you'll get by asking for it—even as you, at last, confess your poorly concealed desire.

"…I want you to fuck me."

Zestial's brow rises despite knowing that's where this was heading all along—all these centuries in the Entity's realm and he's never quite gotten used to the way modern language has worked in such harsh words with such casual meanings. Yet these particular sharp words from you inspire a dark coil in his gut that makes your request feel just as much his reward as it will be yours.

"Thine wish is for the taking," he murmurs as he slides the hand cradling your face down your neck to your shoulder—past the puncture scars he himself has added to—and then ultimately down to your hand. He clasps it as a flash of green light erupts from between your palms, his engulfing yours in full. "And a deal is struck."

You very nearly whine when he lets you go, but you swallow the sound. Somehow, despite quieting before you can embarrass yourself, he seems well aware of your disappointment.

"Do not beest so somber, little one," he murmurs, playfully tapping your nose with the tip of a claw. "Thine aura is mine to behold—and mine is thine. Aid thy sacrifices, then thou mayst find me in the collapse. I shall linger with bated breath 'til next we meet."

You aren't sure how you're meant to manage the elixir of dread and arousal flooding your veins until that time, but you do as he asks. Slinking off, you find an unrepaired generator and come across Jonah already bumbling through repairs on one side, the sluggish rate of the pistons something you might've found discouraging had you not already known how the trial would end.

How, for once, you were looking forward to the endgame.

Jonah gets his wires crossed and the generator blows back at him with a series of cantankerous sparks. He waves the air in front of him and glances at you fleetingly but with an air of sheepishness in place of his usually dismissive gaze. You just shrug and nod at the gen for him to get back to it, your own deftly done repairs already getting most of the progress back that he'd lost with his error.

The silent understanding between you isn't unwelcome. It's just a touch too late.

Your gen pops to life and Zestial suddenly swoops in out of the shadows, raking his claws up your back and shoving you aside to lunge after Jonah. Your fellow survivor bolts, panicking into a vault he's not ready to take and paying for it with a loss of speed—Zestial easily plucks him from the sill and drags him, kicking and thrashing in protest, toward the nearest hook.

You pull yourself off the ground by gripping the finished gen, stumbling away and wondering for an instant if you hallucinated the entire exchange between you and the Overlord earlier on. You suppose you might be unhinged enough by now to be delusional. Perhaps this was the more likely outcome anyway.

However, a sideways glance of his glowing green eyes and a faint, almost rueful smile says that you didn't and he's instead helping both of you save face. You scurry off to find a med kit or one of your teammates to help you patch up.

Meg finds you before you find anything at all. She spots your blood trail after dismantling a dull totem near the mausoleum and follows you, nearly startling you into a cry when she suddenly steps up behind you and pushes you down to her level.

"Quiet," she mumbles, pulling the fabric of your T-shirt back from the bleeding clawmarks. She begins rummaging in her pockets for the remnant of a bandage roll she still has from the med kit she came in with. Zestial must've gotten her earlier, too, before finding you and Jonah.

She pulls the bandages too tight when she's distracted by Jonah screaming in the distance, suspended at last on a sacrificial hook. When she hears the hmph of discomfort that escapes you, she shakes off her nerves and mutters a halfhearted, "Sorry."

Bandaged up and mobile, you readjust your shirt and she hangs back to help you—perhaps a wordless apology for her earlier attitude—and then sprints in the direction of Jonah's cries without further ado.

There's one generator left to do before the gates are powered and, spurred on by a drive that rivals anything the Entity could've inspired in you before, you find it. Claudette's already on it, blood dripping from her back, which has been sliced not dissimilarly to yours.

Something in you begins to eat at itself when you consider offering to help her wrap her wounds, knowing despite that surge of compassion what your deal with the Overlord—at least to some degree—will ultimately do to her. You know this time that going through the motions of suturing or binding up her cuts won't stop her from being annihilated with the rest of the team, yourself included, when the realm begins its tradition of falling apart around you. It's a time-old ritual of splintering, festering earth and the deep, foreboding toll of a bell you can't see with each tone signifying another moment to escape transpired.

You still offer because you aren't a monster, even if you're starting to feel a bit like one.

"Do you want to patch those up before we pop this?" you ask, pausing to glance behind you to make sure you're alone.

Claudette gives you a watery smile and stops what she's doing, presenting her back to you as she passes you her unused first-aid supplies.

"See?" she says as you pop open the box and get out some disinfectant and a suture set. "You're getting better. I was about to set this off like the Entity just dragged me down here yesterday."

Guilt pools in the base of your stomach. It rivals oddly with the lingering lust. The shame is spread evenly between the two, bridging the gap.

"It's not always the smart thing to do, I guess, but since we have time," you muse, hoping you sound as casual as you're attempting to.

"Yeah, it's weird," Claudette says, wincing a little as your unpracticed hands stitch her wounds but saying nothing to discourage you. "Folie à Deux happened pretty early"—that's what his panic perk is called—"and then we didn't see hide nor hair of him until just a few minutes ago. Did you see him first or did Jonah?"

Your belly churns. "I did," you say honestly. "I cleansed that hex and happened to see him when I was leaving the area. I think he was coming back to see who'd broken it."

"That was a good early find," Claudette says, but she doesn't seem to be paying attention in full to what she's saying. "Who knows what that might've been."

You hum agreement as you finish bandaging over her stitches. "All done," you say, handing her back the remainder of her med kit and settling yourself adjacent to her spot at the gen.

"Thanks," she murmurs, the sparks from the wires she tinkers with reflecting in her large glasses as she picks up where she left off. "I think we may all get out this time."

You can taste your own stomach acid as you say, "I hope so."

The generator pops and the gate sirens wail, one coming from across the map while the other goes off directly behind you both.

"C'mon!" she says, eagerly pulling you toward the gate just past the stone wall you're situated behind.

You hesitate, turning to look back at the eyrie and the graveyards sprawled around it. You espy a tall, rosy silhouette—an aura—within the eyrie itself, ascending the stairs with such grace it almost appears to glide.

When you make yourself look away to figure out how to escape Claudette's attention, you notice the switch she's about to grab.

"Wait!" you suddenly shout, stalling her with your urgency. "Look!"

Claudette casts a confused look at the switch but gives you the benefit of the doubt and steps around to view it from the same angle as you. Thick, faintly dusted ropes of spiderweb layer over the switch, presenting a trap for anyone too eager to pull the handle.

"Ugh," she mumbles, shrinking back from the spiderwebs. "Good eye. Maybe Meg and Jonah have the other one done already. Let's go see."

"I'll catch up," you say and she pauses to cock her head at you. "I have a glyph I was supposed to find. I'm going to take the long way around to see if I can spot it."

Claudette hesitates. "…Okay," she slowly agrees. "But don't get yourself killed, alright? We've made it this far. And the Overlord's not someone to screw around with." She cracks a smile. "Plus, I think Meg will actually kill you this time if you get hooked after they get the gate open again."

You shrug and offer her the best smile you have available. "Probably," you agree. "I won't be long."

Claudette blessedly leaves you to it and you feel bad about how easily she believes your lies. Even though warning her would do nothing, you still feel a slight urge to do so as you wait for her to leave and then begin your walk to the center building.

Still though, even if she was never cruel to you, did she ever really help you? What did you owe her, in all actuality?

Perhaps what you'd already given her—a healing touch and a well-wish. A chance for a gate you knew that, one way or another, none of you would be crossing today.

The cawing of the circling murder gets louder as you enter the building, the acoustics of the structure the truest thing of horror on this godforsaken map. At pace, but on shaky legs, you round to the stairs and begin the climb, spotting the static silhouette of the Overlord through the far wall on the top floor. Outside on the balcony.

When you arrive, you see that this side of the wraparound ledge provides a perfect vantage point of the other gate.

"Behold," Zestial murmurs as you join him, standing a polite distance from his side.

You follow his gesturing hand to the gate and see Jonah down there, still injured—likely because Meg used the last of her bandages on you—and holding down the gate lever with the strength he could still muster. It'd always bemused you how hard he took his first hook. While the rest of you were running on fumes and a death wish, every cut and minor inconvenience seemed to take years off his undead life.

The gate buzzer sounded. Once. Then twice. And then three times as the doors rattled open.

The entire gateway past the doors was covered in layer upon layer of webbing. So thick that the entirety of the other side, the exit and the field that would take them all back to the campfire, was obscured. There may as well have been nothing there at all.

You swear you can somehow hear them from your perch despite knowing it's impossible. Still, you aren't sure you need to hear Meg say "what the fuck" to know that Meg has said "what the fuck."

Your concern is flaky at best as you feel Zestial's hulking form slide up behind you, the expanse of his hands folding over your hips and pulling you back against the straining erection beneath his silken robes. You shudder, that mixture of fear and longing back and burning in your core, slicking the heat beneath your skirt. He hums softly against your hair, inhaling deep, and you aren't sure how you know, but you know he can smell your arousal by the way he presses harder against you.

"Thine sacrifice is made, little one. Thy first," he whispers over the shell of your ear, sounding almost proud. He shifts you by your hips, turning you and walking you back against the stone wall behind you both.

For a second, you think he might be shielding you from whatever is about to happen down on the ground, but he's doing no such thing.

Like you weigh nothing, he lifts you up, presses your back against the stone, and positions your legs over his shoulders. Your thighs clench in needy humiliation as Zestial puts himself at eye level with your wet, aching hole beneath just a skirt and the thin fabric of your underwear. You bite back a groan as he noses into the wet spot you've made there. You're practically panting as his hands curl fully around your thighs and he nuzzles into your heat with abandon.

Hooking a claw beneath the waistband, he removes the slip of fabric from beneath your skirt with surgical precision, tearing it out of his way and smirking at the way your body jerks with surprise above him. He feels your fingers burying themselves against his back for balance, not fully trusting him with your weight or at least not completely understanding that you weigh next to nothing straddling his shoulders.

The deep inhale he takes of your near-to-dripping cunt feels like sin incarnate.

"We begin," he murmurs just as the first bell of the endgame collapse belatedly tolls and he slides his too-long, monstrous tongue languidly along your lower lips.

Meanwhile, you remain hoisted and pinned in place, left to helplessly watch that which you've wrought upon the match. All while desperately grasping for purchase on his cloaked shoulders as he plows your tight channel with his tongue, reaching far deeper than your human fingers could ever go. It takes no time at all for him to have you moaning, crying out for relief, and wriggling in his grasp while your teammates scream for a far different release below.

"There has to be a way out, there has to be another way out!" Meg is rambling, in a full-blown panic. Her voice hitches up into a shriek as she yells, "There's ALWAYS another way out!"

"The other gate had webs on the switch, but maybe it's clear inside!" Claudette stammers, her eyes wet with frightened tears. "But wait, we have to get—"

"Forget her!" Meg shouts, her fingers knotting into her hair as she claws at her scalp. "She went off on her own and, even if she were over here with us, she's just as fucked!"

Claudette nods, reaching for Meg's arm and then thinking better of touching her right now. "Then let's—"

Claudette's no sooner started to suggest the alternative route again when the hook behind her pitches forward, forced into a bend by the long black limbs of the Entity, and spears her through the shoulder with its tungsten fang.

She screams as it repositions and yanks her back, the claws immediately descending upon her and bypassing the usual state of a first hook. Claudette is barely able to catch the claw that rounds down to impale her before it can succeed.

"CLAUDE!" Meg shouts, sprinting to get her down while Jonah loses his nerve behind her, whirling this way and that as if he might somehow spot a third exit where there is none.

Not yet, anyway, he realizes.

You've lost yourself in full above them, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks as you feverishly ride Zestial's face and he ruts for any semblance of friction against the wall he's pinned you to. He traces near-bruising circles over your clit as he continues to devour you, body and soul, and it's enough to make you unravel.

"Oh, fuck, please, Zestial, I can't—"

"Thou canst. Thou will."

He intends to make you come and a strategic curl of the oral muscle he stuffs back inside you ensures it.

His ministrations pull a genuine scream from you just as another scream echoes from below—this time from Meg, who's suffered the same fate as Claudette after unwittingly wandering too close to another hook. She's shrieking for Jonah to unhook them, but he's already made up his mind. He's waiting for them to die for a chance at the hatch. The second Meg realizes this, she hurls every insult at him she can think of.

Trembling as you try to unclench your thighs from around his head, needlessly fearful yet again of what match you might be to his strength, you raggedly suck in a breath and practically turn to jelly as he removes you from his shoulders and holds you like something cherished.

You think he might be finished with his end of the bargain—and fair enough, you'd half-expected him to take what he wanted from you, to use the loose wording of your deal and move things along as quickly or perhaps even as violently as possible to punish you for the loopholes you've allowed—until he takes you to the edge of the balcony.

You hear the hatch pop open down below as Zestial lays you across the crumbling stone edge of the overlook, your spine bowing back as he lets your limp weight settle in its new spot. He tangles one of his enormous hands in your hair and cranes your head back until you're able to watch, the realm on its inverse, as Jonah betrays the girls and makes a mad dash for the open hatch.

"Feel naught for those thou hast forsaken," the Overlord murmurs into your ear as you witness the remainder of the trial in detached delirium. He bends over you as one hand stays fisted in your hair and the other pushes aside his cloak and frees his hard, leaking cock from his pants. He grasps the base and pumps once, twice, three times, as he murmurs in a voice deeper and more gravelly than before, "These fools art purest folly compared to thee."

The second Jonah is within arm's length of the hatch, it snaps shut, and that's also the instant Zestial pushes into your primed, pliable entrance. He coos praises into your ear and drops a chaste kiss against your temple when you whimper. Still, he continues to stretch you beyond what you've taken before. It hurts, but it feels better than anything you can fathom, and the coil in your lower belly begins to tighten again as he finds a leisurely, thorough pace that agrees with him.

Your eyes roll back in ecstasy and it grants you a look at Jonah as he stumbles back from the slammed-shut hatch. He is immediately snatched by the very hook the hatch spawn was meant to lure him to, his keening screech mingling amongst the screaming crows circling with ever more fervor above. The bell tolls again and the ground around the tower begins to break apart in fiery, shuddering fissures.

There's a hollow sound that echoes through the map as Claudette ceases to struggle and is speared through by the Entity, its gnarled limbs crooking around her like a spider's legs as it lifts her up into the vacant sky. A sky you see stars in for the first time in what feels like an eternity as Zestial cants his hips just right and hits that sensitive, spongey spot inside you.

"Right there, right there, right there," you babble like a prayer, pressing your forehead against Zestial's when he leans in to tighten his hold around you and secure you in the position he wants. That he knows you both need. "Please, Zestial, please, I—"

The Overlord shushes you softly and brushes his lips across your face, his hand relaxing its grip on your hair now that there's nothing else below to witness. Instead, he simply cradles the base of your skull as he thrusts up into you and turns your whines back into wanton screams.

"T'is mine intention to take care of thee, little one, rest assured," he mumbles against your cheek, his pace stuttering as he feels his own release approaching. "Wouldst thou allow me to—" A surprise cant of your hips that lets him fuck even deeper into you takes him by surprise and he groans low into your ear, the sound making you shudder and pushing you closer to euphoria. "—to care for thee?"

You're not completely sure what he means, but you won't be asking that question anymore today.

"Yes," you moan, crying out as he shows his approval for your response with an intentional, deep thrust of his cock.

He seals his lips over yours and you grant him full access to your mouth without his needing to ask, tasting yourself on his tongue as he pounds into you and swallows your screams. You flutter and clench around him, your body desperately milking his until he can no longer hold off his own pleasure.

The hot rush of his seed filling you up nearly makes you come again in your oversensitive state and you whine as he fucks his release deeper into you, tilting your body back just a little more as if to make sure not a drop of the load you both worked so hard to spill escapes you.

Your arms and legs remain entangled around his body as your own body continues to shake with aftershocks. Your shivers stem from pleasure and not from fearing how easily he could send you plummeting from the tower if he chose to let go. You realize with some surprise that you, perhaps foolishly, trust him not to drop you at least.

You can't help another shiver when he finally pulls his softening cock from your heat and you whimper from too much sensation at once. He collects you in his arms again and lets you bury your face against his neck as he adjusts himself back into his pants and fixes his cloak, watching with fascinated satisfaction as your mixed releases drip down your quaking thighs.

He smooths your hair back from your head and kisses your cheek again, surprised at the depth of feeling this venture has unexpectedly brought him.

The final toll of the bell sounds and you tense in a Pavlovian response. You wait to be speared by the Entity and forcibly dragged down to respawn at the fire. You know you need to start conjuring your tale of what happened this endgame if you're ever going to be taken off a hook or healed again.

And yet…nothing happens.

Claudette, Meg, and Jonah have all long been taken. The map settles after the final toll, the ground pulling itself back together with the god of this realm appeased, and then…nothing.

"What's happening?" you whisper warily, as if speaking too loudly will alert the Entity that She missed a morsel on her trial grounds.

Zestial pauses to admire you in the afterglow before glancing skyward and then down toward the mending earth. "It would seem thou hast found your true place within the realm," he murmurs, the whispers of the Entity an undercurrent of song amidst the avian cacophony above you both. "For thy lovely hands, verily, be the lovely hands of a killer."

Your eyes widen. "A killer?" you repeat, your voice shaking.

He hums and begins your joint descent to the ground floor, carrying you along as you slowly recover control of your body and your shaking starts to cease.

"She is pleased with thee," Zestial tells you as he strides toward the edge of the map—an edge of the map you've never been privy to before. One that branches off into a darker, denser part of the woods you know. "Thou hast far more potential than a lamb for slaughter, little one. I didst know it from the first time mine eyes beheld thee. She doth know it now that thou hast proven thyself. Now the sole epiphany we wait f'r is thine own."

Your fingers tighten against his cloak, the fabric soft and cool against your warm skin. A glance down the path he approaches fills you with uncertainty, but something stirs awake as well. Something you've felt within you from the beginning, perhaps the very thing your "comrades" sensed as well.

And as you meet Zestial's eyes and nod for him to take you through, to take you with him, your soul settles as if for the first time—as if this is where it should've been all along.

This time, at least, you know precisely what you've done.

Bonus A/N: In case anyone's interested in the loadout details I wrote for Zestial before starting the story, here ya go. :)

Perk Loadout

Folie à Deux - A panic born in a crowd can mean the end for everyone. After the killer is sighted for the first time by a survivor, all survivors become aimless and scream for 15 seconds if 2+ survivors are within 50 meters of each other. If any survivors are within 10 meters of the killer, they also become exposed for a quick 5-second period.

Overlord's Influence - Strike a deal with a survivor. The survivor gets one more hook state before death but all progressive actions (healing, gens, gates) are at half-speed for the rest of the match. By contract, the survivor's aura and the killer's will be revealed to each other in the endgame collapse.

Flies in a Web - The lure of something tasty can be a tragic downfall. Two chests in the game are covered with a spiderweb that becomes visible after a survivor interacts with the chest. They're held in place for 15 seconds and a notification is given to the killer (additional notifications occur if the survivor struggles, but the effect wears off more quickly if they struggle). The chest can be opened normally after the web is activated.

Addons

(iri) Liminal Teacup - When hooking a survivor, any survivors within a 30-meter radius doing a progressive action (gens, healing) stop what they're doing (are interrupted).

(purple) Sewing Kit (patchwork hat) - Adds an extra 10 seconds to webs. When "Flies in a Web" is equipped, if no chests are disturbed for the entire round, one of the gate switches is webbed instead.

Check out the rest of the crew and their amazing works via the #hookedonhazbin2024 tag!

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Thanks for reading and happy Halloween! 🎃👻

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 15

Jaskier realizes that when Geralt comes back from a hunt, pent up, eyes black, still snarling and panting like a beast, the only thing that helps is cuddling him. He hugs him, and runs his hands through Geralt's hair, and gently washes him with a rag and hushes words into his ear, and it helps bring Geralt back down. Sometimes he wakes up to Geralt coming back from a late-night hunt and immediately grabbing Jaskier's waist and yoINking him into Geralt's bedroll so they can snuggle. It's cute. And Jaskier certainly has no complaints.

Jaskier tries to ask him about it one time, but all it earns him is a "Shut up, Bard." and Geralt acting weird the rest of the day. Maybe he's embarrassed? Jaskier doesn't know why. He has no idea what the potions must feel like to Geralt, perhaps he truly needs the warmth and mass of a person in order to not want to rip his own hair out or scratch off his own skin or something else? So he's just fine with hugging his beefcake of a bestie (of whom he may be completely head over heels in love with) if it means keeping some awful ailment at bay. And he believes this for at least a decade, before he meets Geralt's brothers. Don't get him wrong, they're lovely people! But one day, an exceptionally difficult hunt calls for all three of them to go together and leave Jaskier at camp. Jaskier is a bit concerned over how he'll comfort all three of them at once, but when they come back, he finds that Geralt is suddenly ignoring him, and Lambert and Eskel are acting normal, if not just very exhausted. Jaskier pulls Lambert aside and asks him why they're not itching to hug him, and Lambert is very confused. Jaskier explains that usually Geralt needs to hold him in order to deal with the after-effects of his potions. Lambert explains that's not a normal witcher thing, and that Geralt probably just likes him, but he explains it in his own lovely lambert-y way, meaning it's mostly just laughing hysterically at his big brother catching feelings for some bratty noisemaker in silk (He likes Jaskier! It's just... Not what he saw Geralt going for.) Jaskier tries to talk to Geralt about it, but Geralt stops him from even walking close to him, and walks farther off as extra salt in the wound. It's like he can't even bear to be around Jaskier. It hurts a bit. Jaskier asks Eskel if Geralt took different potions or has a toxin of some sort i him that makes him behave like this instead of the normal, and then explains everything Lambert told him. Eskel agrees that it sounds like him just being comforted by the feeling of his mate safe and sound next to him, and that they've never seen Geralt like that. Jaskier is confused, because surely Geralt doesn't feel the same way, right? sURPRISE SECOND ATTACK! THE MONSTER RETURNS! OH NOOOOO Anyways, It slashes the shit out of Jaskier's arm, or perhaps chest, I don't know, whichever wound strikes your fancy, and the witchers go after it, but as soon as the beast is killed, Geralt rushes to Jaskier, and holds him close. The others try to walk over to help patch Jaskier up only to get growled at by their own brother. So now Lambert and Eskel are playing rock paper scissors on the ground over who REALLY got the final hit on the beast while Geralt sits 12 feet away from them, mending his bard. He growls at them if they look at Jaskier and him too long. A while later, he's off the high of the potions and adrenaline combined, and the witchers sure are going to have a field day lovingly making fun of their brother over this. But first, Jaskier and Geralt need to have a heartfelt talk. ♡!Optional addons!♡

• Big bonus points for a sequel or additional chapter of Lambert starting to act the same way over Aiden (or other ship of your choice, but Lambert and Aiden are my bread and butter lol)

[fuxuannie]

could you do headcanons where the reader is ganke's cousin and miles fell first but she fell harder? tysm if you will do it<3

╭₊˚ ๑︰he fell first, she fell harder ♡

:★: relationship : miles morales x fem reader

:★: warnings : none, crack & fluff! no atsv spoilers

:★: a/n : suopr old req that i figured i should finish (ㅅ´ ˘ `) huhuoa RAAAGH pls dont be scared of me someone said im kind of intimidating PLZ im just a little guy

"What did I tell you to not do??"

"Fall inlove with your cousin.."

"What did you do???"

"Fall inlove with your cousin..."

"Morales I'm gonna KILL YOU."

I think that it was a sort of love at first sight moment, you walked through that door and his jaw was on the FLOOR. You were so pretty, you immediately smiled and waved at him once you noticed his presence and he was PANICKING in his boots trying to hold himself together.

You and Miles were mostly together when Ganke first brought you over, (of course with some complaining here and there from your favorite cousin) and Miles had the time of his life watching you rant about the smallest things as if they made a big impact in your life.

"POCKETS, MILES! MY DRESS HAS POCKETS!!"

He loved seeing you almost every other day, and after you left the dorm room of him and Ganke, the door closing reveals said roommate standing behind it with crossed arms. "How long have you been standing there..?" Miles raised a brow. "Not important."

"I can tell you've taken a liking to her."

"Have you ever heard of keeping a secret??"

"I don't plan on telling her, infact I wanna help you out. They've been single for so long that it's kinda sad." Ganke shrugged unapologetically as Miles blinked at him in disbelief. "You talk about your cousins like that?"

"Nope, just her."

And so the next 5 hours was Ganke telling Miles all about what you liked, going into detail about the endless date ideas you once rambled to him out of boredom and admittedly he took note of for times like this. Your favorite food, perfumes, type of gifts.. everything was discussed in the span of 5 hours.

If you can imagine Miles taking down notes with visual drawings thats because he can and WILL!! He's a dedicated man, just for you. <3

So for the past year, he's been trying to get you to fall for him. All through little hangouts, messages, calls and the sort.. Blissfully unaware that you had already liked him, just waiting for him to ask you out.

Miles' little mastermind plan was just an addon plus, you had feelings for him after a few weeks of knowing each other. Sure, it started off as a fun little 'happy crush' type of thing till you were up at night staring at your ceiling thinking about Miles' smile till 3AM.

You weren't going to ask first nor make the first move, but you didn't know how much longer you could pretend a mere brush of your shoulder against his doesn't have you thinking about him 24/7.

[yanderespamton78]

for those following @turntableart's addison arg!! (sorry for the tag)

TIMELINE

APR 16 :

 6:32 am : Turnons blog opened :D

APR 20 : 

8:35 am : Turnon makes the poll about whether he should investigate smth weird addons doing (this shows that addon has been slightly suspicious since the start)

8:35 am : First morse code!!! With the poll 

4:39 pm : “I miss my past” post (possibly relevant??)

4:53 pm : Maskons first post

4:54 pm : First interaction with maskon (through a comment on a post - he didn't yet have a proper blog)

7:24 pm : Addon makes a blog

8:01 pm : First interaction with the morse code entity

8:10 pm : Addon first translates what the morse code entity is saying

8:15 pm : the giftday party incident (i added this bc it makes me laugh a lot)

8:37 pm : rainbon mentioned. Possibly significant? 

9:24 pm : We find out the morse code entity is actually turnon (im guessing right after the acident but i could be wrong)  (the addisons never find this out)

9:47pm : First time the alphabet code entity speaks through turnons posts. Says “i think that's enough. you're scaring him. he's hurt, you wouldn't want him to dust would you?” presumably referring to the morse code entity. Right after this the morse code entity disappears, and any further interactions respond with “but no one came”

9:57 pm : Second interaction with alphabet code entity who says “stop talking to him you're giving him a headache”. Turnon complains about a headache. This is the first signs of a decline in his health. In the next post he says that hes going to go.

10:04 pm : Addon has been translating bits of the morse code for a bit now. The forth analysis ends up being corrupted, and all the characters are just black blocks. 

APR 21 :

9:26 am : First post says that he got a nosebleed and passed out on his desk the previous night. He also mentions that when he woke up there was a cup of tea on his desk which he presumes is from addon but it was never confirmed.

10:59 am : Mentions that the strange people are back (mentioned in the poll) and that hes getting a nosebleed. Mentions in the next post that he feel really dizzy and is going back to his desk

11:34 am : Turnon describes a building pressure in his head like bugs. 

11:50 am : Turnon says that the nosebleed stopped. Alphabet entity gets accused of being slick. It ignores the question and instead tells us to leave turnon alone as he’s stressed with work.

12:00 noon : This post from maskon? Not sure the relevance of the song. definitely creepy tho.

6:14 pm : Here addon confirms that turnon is in the medbay. This is later contradicted by addon himself.

6:14 pm : “turnon” says that he woke up and has no idea where he is. At 6:23 he tags addon for help.

6:19 pm : Addon says that he opened a zipped file and it shut down his pc. This is presumably what causes the medical documents to get leaked.

6:29 pm : “Turnon” says that he knows where he is and isn't happy about it. What??

6:52 pm : A few posts later “turnon” tells addon that he got hurt really badly. He says hes going to try to walk home against addons advice.

7:42 pm : Something happens and “turnon” starts making disturbing posts. They are in english but don’t have spaces. He seems frantic and scared and at 7:54 pm he doesnt respond to his own name, despite the fact that he mentions his goggles and crypton, which are obviously things that are unique to him. 

7:50 pm : Addon responds to the first spaceless post and comments on how turnon couldn't be making the posts as he is unconscious in medbay 

8:03 pm : When not-turnon is questioned on his name he says it is presson and seems confused. He says he found the phone in queens palace (if he is telling the truth, it would make sense why turnon was unhappy about where he was. Obviously he fell into the acid lake in queens mansion so its unsurprising that he would be on edge.)

8:20pm : Presson denies that it was him who typed the weird spaceless posts. 

9:34 pm - 9:59 pm : Presson comments on how dark and run down seraphim is. When questioned on it addon says its probably something interdimensional or timeline based. At this point, his text starts glitching out. Addon tells presson to put the phone in the big machine, but presson says that it looks dangerous and he doesn't want to. He seems genuinely worried about dying, but addon insists he returns the phone. Finally, he puts it in the machine and you are no longer able to contact presson.

10:52 pm : when questioned on the weird glitchy text, he again chalks it up to interdimensional lag

If we go by addons version of events (which he talked about a few days later on the 24th) at about 6-7pm turnon went out and got badly injured. At about 8 pm some kind of entity (presson) took his phone, who addon electrocuted. At about 9 pm Turnon was found in an alleyway with some kind of black fluid gushing out of his nose. 

APR 22 : 

5:37 pm : confirmation that Maskon is Slick

8:28 pm : The first leak of Turnons medical documents. 

9:07 pm - 9:53 pm : this whole saga... Look i know i put way too much trust into maskon and i apologise BUT ADDON STILL ISN’T TRUSTWORTHY!!

10:06 pm : Maskon refers to Turnon as his husband

APR 23 : 

11:04 am : Turnon wakes up!! In a bad state but alive :3 also at 11:08 am he says that hes missing a few parts

4:08 pm : turnon is told about the (made up) debt issues

4:37 pm : turnon is shown his medical document. At 4:57 pm hes told not to tell addon about it.

5:24 pm : Turnon is told about presson. He also says that his last phone is blown up.

5:25 pm : Turnon talks about maskon

5:42 pm : Turnon mentions his legs feeling numb D:

7:20 pm : Turnon secretly spells out help !! wow !! 

7:47 pm : second Turnon medical document leaked!!  (at 8:23 pm i made fun of addon for being bad at stopping important docs from getting leaked)

8:34 pm : we find out about the hats

APR 24 :

12:51 pm : Click gets a blog!!

10:30 pm : Turnon makes a post asking how long is legs are supposed to be numb, and asking why his fingers are turning black. Click reblogs the post and says that hes coming over. After that turnon starts typing his posts really,,, bad,, theres no better way to describe it. After a minute Surf (ambyu-lance) takes the phone and click demands to speak to him and addon

APR 25 : 

6:57 pm : the third medical document leaked. This hasn't been decoded yet, but the first bit seems to be in nihilistic cipher. 

8:16 pm : Turnon makes a post, a picture he drew of himself with the caption “im a little sad, i'll get better”. When questioned on it he says that hes not used to the feeling of being useless.

8:32 pm : THE TAGS. THE TAGS. LOOK AT THE TAGS turnon makes a post. In the tags it says “hes getting worse” “oops did i say that? oh well.” My dumbass cant tell if this is turnip or turnon saying this but worth mentioning anyway.

9:15 pm - 9:37 pm : Clickon is questioned on whether he talked to Surf and Addon. He says that he did, and no one is completely sure whats up with Turnon. Clickon says that Turnons condition is worsening. Hes paler than usual, his fingers are black, and Clickon accidentally pulled out a clump of his hair. Click says that Turnon is a survivor, but even this makes him worried. After this, Addon reblogs the post saying that he didn't talk to clickon last night and theres no footage of Click entering the building. Click is obviously confused, to which Addon tells click to wake up and to stop living in his fantasies. After this Clickon says he feels weird.

9:20 pm : cool lil drawing. Not really relevant but i thought it was neat lol

9:35 pm : TURNON STANDS!!!! He mentions that his legs are black and hurt like hell but hes standing!! (at 9:53 pm he falls over D:)

9:37 pm : Click makes a post that simply reads “Somethings wrong.”

9:57 pm : When questioned if he's ok, clickon replies saying he never made it, before a wall of binary. It reads “Everything feels stuffy, Shadows I'm in my car, I think I'm being watched”. At 10:02 pm Addon reblogs the post saying “get out. Now.” before a string of numbers that haven't been decoded. At 10:09 pm Clickon reblogs the post again with another binary code, this time reading “I don't know where I'm going, My eyes, My eyes, I can barely see, Is it following me”

10:15 pm : Maskon makes some kind of post about Cotton candy. It translates to “i do like cotton candy dont you?”

10:23 pm : someone asks maskon / slick if he did anything to Clickon. Slick said he didn't want yellow to hang out with someone like that, but he deserves his freedom.

10:40 pm : Clickon makes a post in binary. It reads “The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars”

APR 26 : 

Nothing from turnon all day. 

7:35 am : Ice cream blog opened

2:07 pm : The runner of the Ice cream blog says that he uses the alias pinup (but for some reason, he can't disclose his real name. Could be for privacy reasons though.)

2:32 pm : Pinup gets a coat!! He comments on how it doesn’t have a tag for some reason

5:12 pm : Pinup mentions addon. He says that he sees addon as a friend but he isnt sure if addon feels the same.

3:39 pm : Clickon mentions he just woke up in the woods with a massive headache. He doesn't know how he got there. 

3:42 pm - 4:26 pm : Complaining about various things. He mentions having frozen joints, so he probably slept in the woods all night. He says “at least hes alive” which means he probably thought he was genuinely going to die (or hes just being dramatic)

4:33 pm - 10:11 pm : lots of things happen in this thread. Firstly, Clickon says that it was him making the posts in binary. He says he vaguely remembers typing something out on his phone, and that he was very scared. The first two are relatively self explanatory, he was scared. The third one he said he remembered looking up at the stars. He describes everything feeling trippy and disorientating as he was running, and feeling like he was being chased. He ends up being told all about Slick and all that. He isnt actually too surprised?? He says that he is nearing the city and he can see buildings in the distance. Anyways Important Shit Happened Go read it

11:38 pm : Its confirmed that the reason why Turnon didn't post anything is because addon took away his phone.

APR 27 : 

6:37 pm : Clickon updates us saying he got back to the city and after a rough night and is driving to seraphim, presumably to check on turnon

6:44 pm : Turnon makes a post saying hes going to walk home and addon doesnt know. At about 6:55 pm he passes out in the middle of the road. At this point he is disoriented from the pain medication and thinks he is back home.

6:58 pm : Clickon finds addon in the road and mistakes him for roadkill. By 7:04 pm turnon is in his car and they were going back to seraphim. At 7:14 pm he says that turnon is speaking gibberish. 

7:15 pm : Addon says a taskforce has already been sent out to try find turnon

7:29 pm : no matter what turnip says, addon finds out that clickon has turnon and sends out a bunch of shit to stop him, presumably not realising that he has good intentions.

7:36 pm : Clickon gets fucking SHOT !! 2 mins later turnon also presumably gets shot. NICE!! Later addon confirms it was a tranquiliser dart.

7:51 pm : at this point both clickon and turnon have been captured. Addon refers to them as ”two ominous individuals” at 8:04 pm Addon reports that they have been hooked up to an experimental piece of darkner equipment that hurts them when they move. 

8:19 pm : Clickon makes a post saying he doesn't want to die. Addon replied a few minutes later with what is essentially a threat (8:22 pm) and at 8:28 pm he ends up confirming that he knows about Slick

OUGH WHAT A DAY 

THEN THERE'S THE 28TH!!!

APR 28 :

11:25 am : Turnon wakes up back at seraphim, chained to the bed and confused on why he is there, stating that hes supposed to be home.

5:17 pm : Turnon is acting weird. He is weirdly insistent to get home despite never complaining about the facilities at Seraphim, and says that he would break his leg to get home. At one point there is a font change. This is implied to be slick possessing him.

5:30 - 6:30 pm :Theres a whole thread thats very important. Despite there only being two accounts, there is obviously three people in the conversation. Turnon, Addon, and Slick. Addon seems insistent on getting Slick out, even if it involves hurting turnon (“You should be more carefully you signed the contract years ago now I can legally do whatever I wish to you to get the task finished. Parasite” “If not I can feed you to Melody, atleast someone should benefit from your pathetic existence.”).  Turnon seems scared and confused. POOR FUCKING WET TOWEL I WANNA HUG HIM SO BAD POOR CREATURES BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH

@emiplayzmc @tdlizardshinynest take it you freaks /lh

i put all of the longer threads in one bit to make life easier for everyone

Im going to edit this when needed so itll probably be updated once every day or two

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hi! I have the browser addon Shinigami Eyes, the one that clearly highlights certain individual names, companies, or platforms that either have a pro- or anti-trans leaning, and something like the BBC News which you've linked recently is transphobic.

I thought you may want to know, especially on the "the staff would rather defend transphobes than minorities so we have to take 5923 precautions just to protect ourselves and each other" website.

Shinigami Eyes free and easy to download yourself but if not a viable option for you those who have it could notify you if you happen to link/reblog/etc from something transphobic.

The main ones to avoid are BBC News, The Guardian, stuff like that.

Have a nice day :)

Hi there,

Thank you so much for letting me know. I wasn’t aware of this until now.

Thanks again. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️

[lukaherehelp]

Do you believe there is going to be a love story in Playboyy and if yes, who is it going to be ? I would say Zouey and Teena based on the character description and what we saw. Zouey is Zouey but Teena is a hopeless romantic, however I fear that we might get the cutie that turn bad with Zouey. Also do you know more about Captain/Puen/Aoab, I don’t get who is the pairing, are they going to be in a threesome. I noticed the actors were interacting together yesterday.

I was halfway done answering this and I deleted everything I had written so let's see if I remember.

Do I believe we are getting a love story and who?

In theory, we are getting multiple. The catch is what couples will be endgame, if that's even a possibility.

My money for now is fully on NuthPhop due to their character descriptions and the little addon of information they gave us. I know y'all haven't meet them yet, but trust me. However, something tells me there's not going to be a happy ending for them. I truly wish do, cause their teaser photo is the most beautiful one so far:

Another couple I feel it could be endgame is KeenCaptain. They are a really common archetype (brat/brat-tamer) and their storyline (Captain blackmailing Keen with a sextape) is one that, added to the accusations by Nont that he might be the reason Nant when missing, give foot for their love story to work as redemption arc for Captain's character. There's also this teaser photo:

which gives me major "we can work things out, I care about you". Really suits Keen's statement in the Foreplay video (now forever gone to the ages) saying that he has Captain's heart in his hands.

For AobPuen, JumpPorche and PromNont I cannot say anything yet cause we have seeing almost anything from them yet.

Now, TeenaZouy feels like it can be endgame. It has all the cards to be. It truly depends if neither of them had anything to do with Nant's disappearance.

The same could be said about SoongFirst, unless something major happens, I also feel like they could be endgame but I want to be cautious about it.

About Captain/Puen/Aob and the possibility of a threesome:

I think you got confused and that's okey, this is all a mess. Let me clarify things:

The guys in yesterday fuckery (cause that what happend in that club last night) are the actors for Captain (Vivit), Keen (Boat) and Puen (Parm).

which we have already seeing together in the show:

Could something happened between this three? Maybe... I mean, we are talking about three sports guys in university... The changing rooms are right there, if you know what I mean ✨👀

As far as we know, there hasn't being any info or hint about a trio, so we'll have to wait if anything happens.

[tia-amorosa]

🌴Lucky Palms🌴

A Summary of Gameplay - Part 3

First a bit long text. I already mentioned at some point that I like playing with the story progression from Nraas (with some associated addons). And she tells me a lot. Since there are already interesting households and relationships between some Sims in Lucky Palms, this little program makes everything a little spicier. I either let myself be inspired by the messages that pop up from time to time or I ignore them if they don't particularly interest me. But with one person there were a few things that made me go to her and accompany her for a while... unfortunately I couldn't avoid falling into story mode. The little pixels just give me so much incentive. And there will be several parts. Well, enough talking… Let’s take a look.

As I announced, the next household I am visiting is Marisol Loera. She is a young adult, a writer, and lives in a nice big house with a hot tub. I immediately set about making a few rooms a little nicer/cozy. Then I put the young lady through the CAS and I was able to concentrate on the essentials.

Marisol has a romantic interest with Donnovan Steel, that's right from the start when you start in this city. But Donnovan still seems to be interested in other women, according to Progression. I saw Marisol have the “cheated” symbol in her mood section.. And then there's someone else playing a role in Marisol's life. Her best friend Clark Bellamore, who is the leader and singer of a band. And the two of them got closer one day (or rather one evening). and here is the place where the story mode began.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marisol learned from a friend that Donnovan had apparently gone over the top again. "Don? It's me… No, don't hang up now, okay? I have questions… But I don't want to talk to you about it on the phone. Do you have time? no, I don't care, please come over"… And Don came by… Quite quickly actually, he seemed to have been nearby.

The doorbell rang a little later "So, what do you want to talk about?"/ "I'm sure you can guess. Naomi called me…"/ "uh… So… I can explain…"/ "I'm looking forward to the explanation!" .(ironic tone of her voice). Marisol let him into the house. But she couldn't look at him. "Hey, about Naomi… It's nothing. It was just harmless flirting, you know I like to flirt sometimes."/ "It wasn't just harmless, you groped her even though you know she's with Jaycen"/ "I didn't grope her, okay? What you did was probably a lot more blatant, …" (Marisol spoke to Don after spending time with her best friend Clark after a concert, the rest will be explained in more detail later).

"I haven't seen Clark for a long time, so I met up with him that evening after his concert". Don made a disgusted face. "Yes, you met him, got drunk and then fucked with him… Have you forgotten what I wrote to you, do you want me to show you again?". Donnovan's voice was a little sterner. "No, I… I just wasn't quite myself at that moment"/ "no, but he was in you… Man, Marisol. I like flirting with other people, but those words were meant seriously. I would have liked to have had you with me that night, shit, really…"

Marisol looked at him wistfully. "Why didn't you say something about your feelings before? You always wanted something casual, you said……"/ "Would that have prevented you from sleeping with him?"/ "Most likely yes, Don. Clark and I, we've known each other since school, we're best friends, and that night … we really drank and talked a lot…"/ "don't blame the alcohol, okay?"..,

"You must find something pretty great about him, best friends or not…"/ "That's not true, he… He's not really my type at all, but he's a nice person and…"/ "Yes, and now you're pregnant, but certainly not by me,…"/ "I know, Don…". Marisol and Donnovan also had longer conversations with each other and they agreed to sleep together with contraceptives because it was too early for them to have children… "Man…does he know about this yet?

She shook her head. "No, I haven't told him yet… Don, I really don't want anything from him"/ "But now you're having a child with him and what about him? Does he have feelings for you?"/ "No… No, I don't think so, he had a guilty conscience because he had taken advantage of the situation that night. I went straight home the next morning". Donnovan shook his head, annoyed. "He may be a cool singer, but he's never had any luck with girls, he's a klutz and he's always on tour with his band. The most he gets is the occasional shag with groupies…". Marisol looked at him reproachfully because of his words. "Don't be like that. But I have to tell him anyway…and what about us now?"/ "I'm not really keen on bringing up someone else's child".

----------------------------------------------------------------------

End of this Part

The conversation between Donnovan and Marisol continued for a bit, but overall Don was annoyed that he wasn't the father of her child (really?). And he once again explicitly stated that he was serious about her. Well…there was always a certain undertone in his voice, but she didn't really notice it. Anyway, a few days later she wanted to talk to Clark and inform him that he was going to be a father. You'll see that next time.

@cozygirlsimmer😊

[asinfullangel]

11 regret

“How was I supposed to know they were the vip.”

Working as a person’s personal assistance can be tiring on most days. Running around, doing the side tasks and in most cases speaking for your employer on their behalf because they are too lazy to do it themself. The pay is good and getting to be in the big city is a nice addon, but there are some things that I can’t stand doing. I don’t really need to mention this though it will make things easier to understand. I am a pred and being around such uptight people with so much cash just makes me want to eat their ass then keep the cash.

There was one time that I put up a week working for a shortie with a thick wallet, almost as thick as my thigh, and I was so ready to quit. Self centered, picky while unwilling to pay for stuff he already tried out and had the nerve to call me his “muscle pump brute” whenever he wanted to intimidate someone. When I finally decided to quit working with him he was so bold to ask me to hand back my paycheck. His ass was mine and it tasted as good as the rest of his wimpy body. What I came to regret kinda was when my agency asked me what happened to my previous employer. I know the police would be looking into his disappearance and with me being the last person that talked to him alone I was always the first suspect to get questioned heavily. I think that lasted a few weeks before those copiers left me alone after running out of leads (god, I was almost starving myself just waiting for them out).

The next guy I was assigned to work for was a bit nicer while having some annoying quirks that eventually got to me. Was thinking about what his needs most of the time when he thought he was “helping” others, didn’t think he needed a second more once he was done at an event and was kind of a shut in so… I got pretty tired from doing so much fetching since “I’m paying for your services so could you pretty please go buy me-” junk that was all over the city and he sure wasn’t dealing with all of the traffic. He tasted fatty for being a skinny pig, but taking a few hundred bucks from his private safe was a nice tip for my services. I think the same agent was looking into me when I once again turned out to be the last person that last saw him, watching me like a hawk. 2 delivery boys went down into the tank during that month and I’m sure either one of the two were secretly an agent (felt like I had a badge trying to pass through my gut).

I know these rich guys, agents and anyone else that I had as a meal will respawn back sooner or later, but I think my most recent rich prick I’m thinking of going after his tasty ass for seconds.

I mean I sure wouldn’t want to go revisit a previously eaten prey even if they may fear a foggy memory of my stomach, haha. Though these men left me wanting another taste eventually and I shouldn’t deny myself another taste when I crave more. He was half and half in my opinion, can give and don’t mine receiving a few complaints. He was entertaining enough of an employer and knew when to give me a break from doing daily trash… I kinda regret not grabbing a bit to eat before showing up to work that day. I’ll keep it brief just because I’m not really the kind to be sappy. A few buds of mine went out drinking the night before, I got pretty hammered and may have forgotten to grab a prey on the way home. I’m used to sleeping on a fun stomach and passively burning away what’s left as my breakfast till lunch. I had my boss for breakfast… Don’t blame me for eating him! I blame him for asking me to watch over him as he goes for a swim. Alone with him in his private sweep just tempted my hunger before I saw him wearing a speedo. A secretly fit hunk under all those suits he had me pick up personality, how did I not know this before (though it was best that I didn’t otherwise I wouldn’t have so many tips from him personally). He enjoyed a swim in his pool before I sent him into my stomach to swim in stomach acid.

There, you have the one person that I actually regretted eating. I could have gone back to working for him and made up some sort of story about what happened that day, but things wouldn’t have felt the same knowing what he looked like underneath his clothing along with his taste. So I made up a little lie once he respawned, traded my position with another work buddy of mine and now continuing on with my job… I come after him a few times a month and eat him again after my bud lends me his roomkey. Go ahead and question why go through the trouble of going after an old prey, I can sure as hell come after ya and let my stomach continue doing the talking if you keep this up.

[eachuisge-cc]

Hey, just wanted to let you know how absolutely pleased I am that there's another person with many Big Feelings (tm) about horses in skyrim. I completely yeeted my save game to get these gorgeous horsies. I am so excited for the light horse addon. I do have a suggestion, since you also mentioned making Cicero's cart horse unique. Unless he sold his horse for a fluffier one in Dawnstar, since he brought the night mother in from Cyrodiil it is possible his horse, if he indeed kept the same horse, would be a more Imperial type. That could be a neat way to make his horse unique! Although I totally get it if it's too much work for a horse we only see in passing.

aah thank you! very glad you're enjoying the mod.

I'm still debating what to do with Cicero's horse, my instinct is to keep it as a Skyrim horse for now because it would look a little odd to have a single barb-type horse pulling a wagon that size by itself, and I can believe that he might have changed horses/wagons between Cyrodiil and Whiterun, that would be a long way for a single horse to pull. I'll have to figure out the carriage horse situation if/when BS Cyrodiil comes out and at that point I'll replace Cicero's horse with whatever I end up with for that (I'm having a hell of a time finding info on work horses in Imperial Rome, everybody focuses on the war horses and the chariot horses which is all well and good until you need to know about the horses with less exciting jobs).

It seems like maybe they didn't have much in the way of draft horses (some pages on the Ardennes claim its history "dates back to ancient Rome" but don't elaborate in any way and it probably wasn't the contemporary version of the breed) but I'll have to do more research.

[scotianostra]

Bay City Rollers Les McKeown was born in Edinburgh on November 12th 1955.

Anyone who grew up in the 1970s will remember Bay City Rollers. With their tartan-trimmed flares worn at half-mast and platform shoes, they racked up a string of hits such as Shang-A-Lang and Saturday Night, which had young girls everywhere swooning and in hysterics.

Les at one point had it all, as lead singer with the Rollers, he had the world at his tartan-trimmed feet. But thanks to drugs, band arguments, and a long-hidden secret, it fell apart, leaving him at one stage destitute and addicted to heroin.

Luckily, unlike other stars we love so much Les survived, he sought help and as an “alcoholic celebrity”, he went to the Passages rehabilitation clinic in Malibu for the Living programme Rehab. Les has since faced his demons in a way that is commendable, admitting to being “date raped2 as a teenager by a man and coming to terms with all that must entail Les is happily married, his own band, Les McKeown’s Bay City Rollers still tours worldwide now in his sixties.

The Rollers were screwed out of money throughout their career, Tam Paton and others denied them money that was theirs and it is only in the past few years they have started making inroads and getting some of what they are due, but as far as I can work out, Sony, who bought out the label they were signed to, still hang on to money due to the boys, the figure that has been quoted that they were due was around 100 million pounds, interest and addons must mean it is a lot more. I think the main problem has been the majority of their hits were written by others, mainly Bill Martin and Phil Coulter, who I posted about on the 9th of this month.

Les McKeown passed away on April 20th 2021 , a coroner later revealed it was from a combination of natural causes, heart disease, and long-term excessive use of alcohol and drugs.

[xsavannahx987]

Hi! Just found you and I have to say, I ADORE your creations. Your addons are espescially helpful for builds. I was wondering if you'd ever consider doing an expansion of the Storybook Nursery ceiling light? For example, different heights, a smaller size for short ceilings, and a floor lamp (I was thinking a combo with the vampires floor lamp so it sort of hangs.) Just thought I'd throw it out there; maybe it will inspire you, haha. I hope you're doing well, and thank you for your work! :D <3

Oh wow! Thank you so much for your message. It's always nice to receive them and know that someone appreciates the little I know how to do.

I read your message this morning from smartphone and your idea seemed very nice to me. So I got to work and I can tell you that you will find everything online in a few hours. I'm finishing the last tests, fixing the textures, but I'm almost done.

Any new idea comes to mind, write to me. Lately I've been a little short on creativity and messages are all welcome.

Thanks again for writing to me, I really appreciate it. Have a good day/evening/night <3 Curiosity: where are you writing to me from?

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 13

How was Jaskier supposed to know that the lovely woman he spent the night with had a husband? Let alone a husband in a big scary poacher gang? So Jaskier is hauling ass through the forest, only to get his leg caught in a beartrap. He faceplants (very daintily, prettily, and most certainly not with an embarrassing wail, thank you very much) and begins sobbing with the pain. Not to mention his cheap lute breaking into splinters. Great. Just great. What a LOVELY day he's having! A pure white werewolf with bright golden eyes suddenly prowls out of the bushes, growling at him, and Jaskier decides that today really is his worst day. No matter how majestic the beast is, this is cearly the end of Jaskier the bard. He sobs and begs to live, apologizing profusely, and the last thing he sees is the monstrous snout getting closer. Geralt, the werewolf, is stalking for food for his pack, only to come across one of those humans in their own traps. Except... This human isn't one of them. He's wearing brightly colored delicate clothing, and wasn't familiar with where their traps were. It's an innocent human. One that smells very nice, under all the stench of blood and fear. Wolf!Geralt creeps closer, and pries open the trap, intending on releasing the human back into the wild, but it just kind of stares at him in horror before passing out. Hm. Well, it appears it needs more care than he initially thought. So imagine the other witcher's surprise when he doesn't bring food back to the pack, but instead brings a human to patch up. The moon dips out of the sky, they all turn back into their witcher-human forms, and now they're all SCRAMBLING over what they're meant to do!? HOW DO YOU CARE FOR A HUMAN AGAIN??? FUCK- I DON'T KNOW! Geralt stop petting him, he doesn't like that, he's human, not a wolf! What do you mean he likes it? Oh shit- EVERYONE QUICK PET HIM! No wait- He doesn't like it any more- One at a time pet him! And uh- Fuck- What do normal people eat!?

♡!Optional addons!♡ • (ORIGINALLY A TAG) Is Aiden a werecat or also a werewolf? And if he is a werewolf (and/or a werecat I suppose), perhaps he's from a rival pack (against his will) and needs to be rescued by Lambert as a sideplot • Maybe the poachers find poor trapped Jaskier and Geralt has to fight them off first, or perhaps they come back later, intent on killing the White Wolf • Perhaps Geralt turns Jaskier into a werewolf (Either with his consent or without his consent ONLY if he has to do it to save his life, we don't fuck with forced bonds here, people)

[ilikedetectives]

Hi! Would you mind sharing your DOF settings (if you use Otis DOF addon or just reshade dof) please? because i love how the circles/bokeh dof looks in your pictures but I cant really manage to get that result myself :(( thank you so much!

Hi anon,

Sharing my DoF settings wouldn't help your photo specifically, because I have to change them every time I take a photo (even when it's literally the same scene), none of the photos I take has the same DoF settings. DoF varies depending on where you place the camera and what your FoV is; the moment you change one of these two (or both), well DoF will need to be recalibrated (irl cameras work this way too especially in manual mode). This is why if you leave FoV on in the game settings and activate the freecam, the moment you move the cam around and/or zoom, DoF will go out of whack everything goes blurry, but it looks great during cutscenes when the cam is in its original location. IGCSDoF comprehensive guide (x) has what you need.

I put some general guidelines below for IGCSDOF, but it really boils down to a lot of practice (both in-game and irl) and how the in-game lightings are like in that given moment. A lot of what I do is always trial and error until it looks 'right' (this is highly subjective).

Highlight boost factor: I usually put to 1.0, but there are cases I tone it down to 0.3-0.5

Highlight gamma factor: 3.0 - 5.0, but some cases I do tone it down to 0.8 - 2.0 if the game is already bright

Quality: 13-16

Number of points of innermost ring: 4 - 8

Look for the right background: usually uniform background like trees on a bright day or starry sky/christmas lights at night work better than let's say a cabinet inside a dimly light house or a crowd of people in baldur's gate city. This article explains it nicely #3 to #7 (x)

CinematicDoF is similar but again, this varies by the scene and wildly different from game to game. I wish there's a one setting fits all but that's not the case. The other method is postprocessing in PS by adding them in manually. These are taken with Cinematic DoF (I just want an excuse to repost my Kassandra pics lol).

[quinloki]

Is the Host club event still on?

If so, May I ask about Thatch After Hours?

(^o^)

MY SUPER SECRET BLORBO! \o/

Thatch

After Hours Role: Chef / Escort

After Hours Attire: His signature pompadour is almost nowhere to be seen during afterhours, and his chef’s attire becomes less and less as the evening goes on (never enough to be a food safety risk, but he’ll spend less and less time in the kitchen as the night goes on unless he has a lot of reservations.) By the end of the evening he’s in black slacks, shined shoes, some faux cuffs and the yellow bandana around his neck with his hair down, or pulled into a lazy half ponytail.

After Hours Vibe: Comedic. Thatch is a bit of a ham, and he loves to have a fun time more than anything else. He’s the one who sets up any and all Nyotaimori requests made. Sanji and Killer are slowly becoming backups for the service in case Thatch is indisposed at the time of a request.

Flirty and silly, Thatch is just a big ball of goofball energy during afterhours. He has an old fashioned wine and dine approach, sometimes even leaving his client with someone else for a few minutes while he whips up a snack or puts the finishing touches on a meal. Ever polite and doling out praise with skill and delight, he’s certainly an experience.

Usually Thatch is… kind of an addon to the atmosphere, more than anything else. He’s only available by reservation, but unlike Mihawk, he doesn’t really turn anyone down.

Tag Line: “If it tastes half as good as you look, it might just be my best dish yet.”

Dom/Sub/Top/Bottom: Almost entirely a top and a dom.

Kink Preferences: Food play, tickling, sensory play, soft dom (but can also be an almost terrifyingly stern and demanding dom too), forced orgasms, Dacryphilia

Host Club AU Head Canon Event