#it's like he locked himself into the route in this moment. you had one choice and now you never will again

[lgbtlunaverse]

As a character Meng Yao is largely defined by his lack of freedom and while I think it's very important to understand that when he insists over and over that he had no other choices (that wouldn't put him at serious risk of death or severe harm) he is usually right, I do fucking love that just once- just once- the narative presents him and us with a crystal clear heartbreaking example of a better choice, a way out that he didn't even know was there, right as that possibility is taken away from him forever.

When Nie Mingjue walks into a forest angry on Meng Yao's behalf, ready to help him in any way he can, and Meng Yao kills a Jin captain thinking no one's gonna come. And then their eyes meet.

Fucks me up.

[rosesareredrosa]

There's a Difference

Mattheo Riddle x fem reader

Summary: Mattheo thinks he is not worth it and thinks he will hurt y/n because of his past but y/n doesn't think so shes ready to take a risk

w/c: 924

You shouldn’t love me.

Mattheo’s voice was laced with a mix of defiance and resignation as he spoke the words that had been haunting him for weeks. The dim light from the torches cast flickering shadows across his face, accentuating the hard edges of his jaw and the turmoil in his dark eyes. He stood just a few feet away from you, his usual confidence faltering as he forced himself to look away.

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him slip away so easily. “Well, why not?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder as if he could find an escape route hidden in the stone walls of the Hogwarts corridor. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, before he finally turned his attention back to you. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, one that he rarely let anyone see.

“I’m not worth it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “All I’m going to end up doing is hurting you.”

You could hear the sincerity in his words, the fear that drove them. But you weren’t one to be easily scared off, especially not by Mattheo Riddle. The boy who was always so confident, so untouchable, now stood before you with all his walls down. You took a step closer, refusing to let him push you away.

“Is that a promise,” you challenged, “or are you just afraid?”

The question hung in the air between you, daring him to confront the truth he was trying so hard to deny. Mattheo’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides as he struggled with the emotions he usually kept locked away. No one had ever called him out like this before. He was used to people either fearing him or idolizing him, but you… you were different. You saw right through his carefully constructed facade, and that terrified him more than anything.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “But that’s all I know how to do. It’s in my blood, Y/N. It’s who I am.”

You shook your head, refusing to accept that as the end of the conversation. “That’s not who you are, Mattheo. It’s who you think you have to be. There’s a difference.”

His eyes searched yours, looking for some sign that you understood the darkness he carried, that you knew what you were getting yourself into. “You don’t know what you’re saying. My father… the things I’ve seen… the things I’ve done…”

You took another step closer, until you were standing directly in front of him, your eyes locked onto his. “I know who you are, Mattheo. I see the way you fight against what you think you have to be. I see the good in you, even if you don’t.”

His breath hitched, the walls he had spent years building up around his heart beginning to crumble under the intensity of your gaze. For a moment, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, you were right. But then the fear crept back in, reminding him of all the reasons why he had to keep you at arm’s length.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice shaking, “I can’t let you get close. If something happened to you because of me…”

You reached up, gently cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I’m not afraid of you, Mattheo. I’m not afraid of what could happen. What scares me is the thought of you shutting me out, of you letting your fear dictate your life.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if drawing strength from your words. “You’re crazy,” he muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Maybe,” you replied softly, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Or maybe I just see something worth fighting for.”

Mattheo’s eyes fluttered open, and in that moment, the battle within him finally reached its peak. He could keep fighting against his feelings, pushing you away until you had no choice but to give up on him, or he could take the risk and let himself be vulnerable, let himself love you the way he so desperately wanted to.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Mattheo closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, as if he was pouring all of his fear, his hope, his love into that single moment. You responded immediately, your hands sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as if you could hold him together by sheer force of will.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, but the tension that had been hanging over you was gone, replaced by a sense of calm that neither of you had expected.

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you,” Mattheo said quietly, his forehead resting against yours.

You smiled, your heart swelling with a fierce determination. “Then we’ll hurt each other. But we’ll also heal together.”

He let out a shaky breath, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close as if afraid you might disappear if he let go. “You’re too good for me,” he whispered.

“Maybe,” you teased, a smile playing on your lips. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

Mattheo chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was worth it after all.

[gothamitewriter]

Whumpcember Day 3: Begging

These keep getting longer every day, I'm scared for when we get to the prompts I'm Really excited for

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Slade Wilson, Rose Wilson

Words: 1893

Warnings: Violence, hallucinations, guns, suicidal ideation/threats of suicide, murder, emotional manipulation

Summary: Dick Grayson spent six months as the mercenary Renegade. He would rather forget the blood on his hands, unfortunately Scarecrow's newest concoction seems to have other plans.

Dick hated it when Scarecrow broke out of Arkham. Honestly, of all of Gotham’s rogues Dick found Scarecrow one of the worst to deal with, second only to the Joker. He was smart, always coming up with new dispersal methods, new toxins. New ways to bring fear to the masses.

He had waited a few days after breaking out to strike, no doubt refining his weapon of choice. They all knew that an attack was coming, the question would just be when and how. The answer was apparently 10 pm on a Friday night, with motion activated smoke bombs hidden in alleys.

All of the Bats and Birds were out trying to wrangle the fear-mad criminals and civilians who were wreaking havoc across the city. They were spread thin, the toxin bombs having been found from Old Gotham all the way to Newtown.

Dick was dealing with Newtown, Red Hood was in Crime Alley and The Bowery, the two of them the only ones on Gotham’s northernmost island. Both Batgirls were tied up in The Narrows, the ultra-dense urban sprawl causing far higher incidence of toxin exposure. Everyone else was split between Midtown and Downtown, going wherever Oracle guided them.

Dick dropped down into an alley from the roof he was perched on as he heard a shrill scream. His rebreather was clutched firmly between his teeth as he descended, not willing to risk even a moment of exposure. The screams started up again and Dick sprinted through the alley, throwing himself to the side as a smoke bomb exploded to his right.

He made it to the end of the alley where the screams originated from, a man had a younger woman pushed against the wall, ripping at her clothing. Dick leapt into action, ripping the man away from the girl and aiming a series of quick, precise hits to stun and take him down.

On any other night he could have left it there, but of course with the ominous green smoke quickly moving to fill the space things could never be that easy. The girl against the wall had only just began to gather herself when the wave of smoke overtook them, instantly her eyes shot wide and locked onto Dick. Fuck.

A heavy handbag came hurtling straight towards his face, the space too small and the visibility too poor for him to dodge. The crack of hard plastic echoed and Dick swore as the front of his rebreather fell off and clattered to the ground.

“Nightwing, status report?” Jason asked as comms crackled to life.

Dick coughed through the green haze of Jonathan Crane’s newest pet project. The alleyway felt like it was closing in as the fog grew thicker and Dick’s perception warped. His rebreather lay broken on the ground next to him, leaving him helpless against this new strain of the toxin.

“Shit. Nightwing, come in! Where are you?” That was Jason. It was nice, Dick thought, that Jason was working with them again. He would have answered, but he was too busy trying to take the shallowest breaths possible as he stumbled away from the alley, trying to escape the suffocating green.

The comm line went quiet for a few moments, enough time for a few more staggered steps. Steps that grew shorter and shorter as his heart rate picked up and sweat beaded on his forehead. Giving up, Dick slumped against the wall to his left, hearing the brick scrape at his body armor.

“Nightwing I am en route, stay where you are. Get close to the ground, if you can. This smoke rises just like normal stuff,” Jason’s voice filtered through the haze that was already clouding Dick’s mind. He used the moment of clarity to obey, dropping to the ground, back against the wall.

Part of him was glad that this strain seemed slower-acting, but the other loathed it. He hated knowing what was happening and being powerless to stop it as the shadows seemed to grow into shapes around him. Paranoia stabbed into him as he wildly turned his head, scanning for threats.

He sat there, focusing on his breathing, for as long as he could. He knew it was hopeless, as the shadowed shapes sharpened into all-too-real human forms. A tall figure laden in weaponry. A too-small body cradled in his arms.

“Nightwing, come on, we need to get you out of here and to fresh air,” The voice was so far away. Mechanical, filtered through a mask or helmet of some sort. So many guns. No. He had left, hadn’t he? He escaped and swore he would never go back, never become what that man wanted him to be.

“You will train my daughter, Grayson. Before I allow her out into the field with you, though, I will train you.” Slade’s voice was quiet, commanding, and deadly. Dick couldn’t help but nod. He had brought this upon himself, after all. Besides, he couldn’t blame the man for wanting to make sure that Rose was looked after. Not after what had happened to his other kids.

“What kind of training?” Dick asked. He knew the answer already.

“You vigilantes, you protect people with your own lives. That’s admirable. Stupid, but admirable. I don’t want you to kill yourself for my Rose,” Slade said, and Dick was almost surprised.

“You don’t?” He asked before he even realized that he had opened his mouth.

"Not unless you really need to. No, I need you to be prepared to kill for her. Your fancy sticks there are very nice pieces of weaponry, but a decisive end to a fight? That requires a decisive weapon,” The weight of the gun that Slade placed into his hand felt foreign. Even holding the handgun felt like a betrayal.

The feeling of holding a gun didn’t stay unfamiliar for long. Every minute not spent training Rose was spent with Slade. At first the man was almost polite, businesslike. Dick could almost start to relax into the familiar routine of training. Almost pretend that it was a different grieving father stood behind him, adjusting his stance.

The figure moved forward slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. Or like a predator stalking its prey.

“No. Please- don’t make me go back. You can’t make me go back! I did everything you asked me, I was good! I protected her, just like you taught me. You said I could leave it all behind. Why- why are you here again?” Dick screamed, his voice cracking with heaving sobs.

“Wha-“ Dick didn’t hear what he said next, plunged back into the past.

“I need to know that you can do it, Renegade. Pull the trigger.” Dick- Renegade, he didn’t deserve that name anymore, not after what he’s done. Renegade’s hands shook. He couldn’t even see the person’s face, strapped as they were to the chair with a brown sack over their head.

“I- I can’t.” He stuttered out, pre-emptively flinching away from the raised hand. Gloved hand met cheek and Renegade shut his mouth, blinking away tears.

“Pull. The. Trigger. You wanted this, Renegade. Never forget that. Show me how much you want this.” Slade was right in his ear, now. Like the snake of Eden, hissing temptations.

BANG

Renegade fell forward towards the body, chanting apologies.

“Good.”

Dick could feel himself be pulled to his feet and dragged around. He was limp, helpless to the mercy of the masked man. Just like he always was, always would be.

“Don’t make me kill again, please. If- if you try I’ll just shoot myself. I’ll do it, I swear!” Dick spat at the boots beneath him. He knew it was a lie, he had always been a coward.

“You won’t do it.” The words were flat. Bored.

“You don’t know that! I’m already more similar to a corpse than I am to what I used to be.” The barrel of the gun was cold against his head. A month ago he would have been shaking like a twig, now there was nothing but steady determination. He was getting out of this, one way or another.

“In my experience you hero types don’t like to die, and even when you do it doesn’t like to stick.”

“I’m no hero, not anymore. Not after all I’ve done for you,” He whispered, but still the gun slipped from his hands.

“Oh- not on the boots, man! No one’s making you kill anyone, Dickiebird. Come on, into the safehouse. One of the Batgirls and Red Robin are coming to pick up our patrol,” Safehouse? That made sense. Dick only hoped there wasn’t already a victim sitting on the dining table. He had lost count of the amount of times he’d found some poor soul tied up for him to execute. To prove that he wasn’t going to go soft.

Dick was maneuvered to a couch, brown and musty. Dick kicked up a cloud of dust as he sat down. His heart was running a mile a minute as he cataloged every exit, ingrained the locations of every door and window into his mind. He hardly even noticed as boot steps echoed on the hardwood floor, moving towards the kitchen.

“Drink, until we have an antidote this is the best way to flush the toxin out of your system,” The mechanical voice was gone, replaced with something equal parts gruff and… concerned? Dick automatically caught the water bottle thrown at him, sighing in relief at the factory seal.

Looking up, the helmet was gone. Wait, no. “Jason? Did he get you too? If he hurt a hair on your head I’ll kill him.”

“Relax, Dick. There is no one else, just us. Just you, me, and whatever twisted shit your brain’s tormenting you with this time. This version of the toxin passes on its own pretty quickly, now that you’re in fresh air it shouldn’t take too long to work out of your system.” Dick did already feel a bit better, admittedly. He couldn’t trust it, though. He trusted his instincts that screamed at him. That Slade was right around the corner, ready to drag Dick back down with him.

“Are you sure? Please, you have to be sure. He- he always said I’d end up back with him somehow. Even when he let me leave he said it. That my place was always going to be by his side. I can’t go back to that. Please.” He begged, begged for Jason not to give him false hope.

“I swear. No killing for golden boys, that’s-“ Jason cut himself off there. Dick wondered what he would have said that even he decided was too far. Jason wasn’t particularly known for his filter.

As Dick breathed and drank the fog cleared from his head. He sat in comfortable silence with Jason, who had taken a seat with him on the horrifically dusty couch.

“Who were you seeing?” Jason broke the silence.

“What?” Dick asked, still a bit disoriented.

“When you looked at me. You weren’t seeing me. Who made you kill?”

“… Deathstroke. It was my own fault, really. All of it. I got in too deep, and then he made himself into the only person I had.” There was more he could say. Maybe even more that he should say. But, as always Slade was right. Dick was a coward.

[wolfwoocl]

The longest route, the highest sky

@typhoonvash

When the time came, Wolfwood had made his choice a long time ago. Long before the glass cracked between his teeth and serum flowed past his lips and down the column of his throat, long before angels concerned themselves with the affairs of men. 

He never did go around fixing churches like they said, but…

He’d saved this one.

Hopeland was saved, even if he ended up needing a little help at the end. His mistake was not realizing he mattered. He could feel Vash attempting to quell that bottomless grief even if he could no longer feel the twin suns’ warmth on his skin. Shadows of fluttering confetti cut across his fading vision.

The bell tolls. 

…

“Huh?”

The pearly white ceiling he opens his eyes to is not the confetti-dotted sky he remembers seeing last. He blinks rapidly, clearing the bleariness from his vision and the fog of sleep still clinging to him. A plethora of medical equipment encircles his bed like attending nurses. 

Beep. Bu-beep. Beep, pip pip. Beep beep beep. 

Reminds him of some old Earth pop song. How does it go again? 

Ooh, baby, do you know what that’s worth?

There’s more to the chorus, but he can’t quite summon the energy to remember the words right now. Wolfwood sits up, grimacing as he overcomes the inertia of moving stiff muscles. Following the natural timeline of muscle regeneration, he must have been out for a good few weeks. Would make sense, considering…Looking around at the various screens and blinking lights crowding him in, both familiar and not, he surmises that he must be on Home ship. 

Disappointment leaves a pit in his stomach. There isn’t a bed next to his. Hell, there doesn’t even seem to be a single window in the whole damn room. He can’t even tell what time of day it is. 

“Nicholas D. Wolfwood, you’re awake.”

“Oh, fuck!”

The guardrail rattles when Wolfwood nearly throws himself against it. He heard the disembodied voice first, but it was the ghostly apparition that appeared afterward that set him off. Once he’s managed to swallow his heart from where it leapt into his throat, he recognizes the patient, downturned eyes and dark, short-cropped hair. The ghost looks like Luida, only way too young.

That’s the part that least concerns him. He’s seen and faced worse, and knowing space age technology is involved, there’s probably a reasonable explanation besides. 

“Where’s–”

Ghost-Luida holds up a hand to stop him. “Vash is not here. I know you must have many questions, Nicholas, but please hold them for now. You’ve been asleep for a very, very long time and we have a great deal to discuss.”

With great effort, Wolfwood manages to keep his growing list of concerns locked away behind his teeth. Begrudgingly, he settles back into the sheets and folds his arms across his chest. The mere weight of them makes him grimace briefly. He distracts himself by rhythmically tapping his fingers against his bicep. A window to look out of would be nice to have right about now. “Alright.”

“Thank you. First, I want to make it clear to you that I am not Luida. I am merely an imaged clone, and thus act only as a reflection of the person from which I was created. We felt that it would be best that you were greeted with a familiar face.”

“Right. So, assumin’ I understood a word ya just said…”

Luida’s face falls eerily blank for a moment before she responds, “Apologies. Let me rephrase appropriately. I am merely a recreation of SEED Ship designation 0-3’s leader of approximately seven generations ago. Her experiences, her memories, her appearance, are used by me as a means to provide counsel to Ship 03’s leadership.”

The longer she talks, the harder it gets to ignore his own growing sense of apprehension. “The hell do ya mean, seven generations ago?!”

Blankness again. Not-Luida seems for a moment uncertain of how to handle his outburst. 

“Perhaps I ought to start from the beginning.” She assesses him for a moment. “Do I have your word that I will be permitted to speak uninterrupted for fifteen minutes?”

While the obvious inclination written on Nicholas’s face is a ‘no,’ he eventually sighs and nods his assent. 

“Fine, fine. Just tell me one thing before ya start– he’s still alive, right? Vash?”

“Yes. His story and yours are intertwined. He first brought you here nearly two centuries ago…”

[amemixfan]

Replaying The Royal Romance with a Maxwell route and I love the little build up to his romance with MC. Book 2 really kicks it off but even Book 1 had little moments where you could flirt and see that he was interested but shy about it. It’s a nice friends to lovers route in the background with cute little moments that point to the budding romance.

For example, at the beginning of Book 2, he establishes himself as MC’s confidant. He’s there when Bertrand can’t be and is always on her side. MC learns to rely on him.

When MC returns from the scandal, Adelaide (Madeline’s mother) mistakes Maxwell and MC for a couple since they arrive together. If MC plays along, Maxwell isn’t bothered and seems rather shy about it.

Ana de Luca (the reporter) even asks MC at one point what’s going on between her and Maxwell. She flat out states that they seem inseparable and thinks there’s something romantic going on between them.

Penelope asks MC later in the book if she thinks Maxwell would be interested in a political marriage with her. If MC says no, she proceeds to list out characteristics that Maxwell would prefer in a partner. It’s very obvious she’s listing herself. Even Penelope goes, “Oh, so like you?” The first time I read that without deciding to do his route I actually had a “oh-uh…” moment.

And then there’s the state dinner with the Italian diplomat. When MC needs a distraction to lure a photographer, one of the options presented is to have Maxwell fake propose to her. When this happens, the reporters believe it. It’s not far fetched for them to end up together.

It’s a cute little route that builds up in the background. By the time you “lock” it in, in Chapter 14, it makes sense. You see that there was something there if you were making those earlier choices. Even Maxwell admits he’s had a crush on MC for a while by then but didn’t want to get in the way of her and Liam and never thought she’d ever go for him.

If you’ve never played his route before, I’d recommend it. It’s a nice slow burn since he was added late but it’s a cute friends to lovers. It also really makes The Royal Heir make sense and be extra angsty. Maxwell loses his brother and his father in one series while trying to protect his wife and child. It clicks really well. Just a thought.

[asheepinthenight]

Thank you for your explanations about the "mechanics" behind Hawk's relationship!

And I agree with the person saying it's nice to have a "proper" slow burn without a lock-in that comes too early - though I can also understand the logistics behind early lock-ins, so that the playthrough can be tailored - ultimately it depends on the author's preferences.

That aside, since this is something I forgot to comment on before, I must say I really like the "previous engagement" plot in the game. And I'm especially grateful that we have the option for our MC to say they are happy for that person, when they meet. My MC is a sweet person and he really wished for love to blossom in his marriage. But well, because he's nice and wishes for love, the way I see it he's certainly hurt bu what happened, but at the same time, I feel like he'd have a mindset that as it is, there is ONE person unhappy (and he's just the unlucky chosen one), while of the marriage had gone through, there would have been three unhappy people - himself and his spouse, locked in a marriage without love, as well as his spouse's actual love. So in a way, I think even if he hurts, he also knows he was just a lose-lose situation for him anyway, and as it is, at least the two other people involved in this are happy. It was a moment that really stood out to me in the game, especially the sheer relief of that girl when MC told her it's fine. Since neither my MC nor her had a say in her being there, I can only assume how stressful it was for her too.

One of the main reasons I decided to have just a couple ROs was to keep that flexibility. Locking in routes makes perfect sense if there are a lot of ROs available—otherwise, the coding and writing load grows exponentially! It also allows for more structured romance arcs that have well defined start and end points, and that can be useful for pacing. So there are definitely pros and cons to each option!

I did want to have options to be understanding/kind to characters like MC's mother and their former betrothed. Some MCs might see them as "villains" in their lives, but others see them as people who were also put in bad positions and made the choices they thought were best. Some of it comes down to player headcanon on how bad they feel an MC's relationship was with each of them, too! Some may have relatively healthy relationships from the start, others may be most at peace with cutting them off entirely, and a few may initially resent them but eventually come to have a more positive view of them in the future. And with their former betrothed, it may even make some MCs feel quite a bit more charitable toward them when it turns out that breaking their engagement actually ended happily for everyone!

[ectogeo-art]

Trick or treat!

(for this ask game)

Lol, thanks for sending this on anon because I didn't want to curse anyone I actually knew with my weird siskarak bullshit but since this is anon I can safely send you a fic about my most beloved cursed rarepair, mwahahaha! <3 Anyway, here's a very rough draft (written today lol, def subject to change) of the start of a Way of the Warrior siskarak fic (working title "A New Suit"):

Just as he finished trying yet again to sell Morn on the concept of Vitarian wool undergarments, Garak’s communicator buzzed against his chest indicating an incoming call. He didn’t get many comms besides his dear Doctor inviting him to lunch (or letting him know he’d be late for the same), but they’d already eaten together today so this was quite unusual. He allowed the call through.

“Mr. Garak,” said Sisko’s voice, “I'd like to see you in the wardroom immediately. Bring your tailor's kit.”

He raised his eyeridges intrigued. Did that mean what he thought it meant? Was Sisko finally taking him up on that offer he’d made a few years ago?

After a stunned moment, he acknowledged the request and closed the line.

His blood pounded in eager anticipation as he gathered his tools from his workbench and packed them into a small case. Measuring tape, pins, chalk, sonic stitcher… He also tucked a few condoms into one of the pockets on the inside.

He locked up his shop and walked down the Promenade towards the turbolift that would take him to the command level, maintaining his usual gait despite wanting to rush to this encounter. The choice of location clearly indicated that Sisko wanted discretion. They couldn’t meet in his office without Garak walking conspicuously through Ops, they couldn’t meet in either of their quarters without it being obvious exactly what they were up to, but the wardroom had multiple routes that could be taken to get to it. Warmth coiled between his legs. He had to admit, he quite liked the idea of being Sisko’s dirty little secret. 

The turbolift whirred. He wondered if Sisko would take him on the table, or up against a wall. Or perhaps in the window, on vulgar display to the stars (and any passing freighter crews who happened to look). 

He stepped into the hall. He felt like he was on the brink of everting already. It had been quite awhile since his last bit of… company. Quark had been the first to hear the rumors of Terok Nor being about to fall under Federation control and, in a low moment, Garak had duly rewarded him for passing along this valuable information. But the experience hadn’t been one either of them was willing to repeat, so he’d stuck to doling out more conventional rewards for information since. And as for enjoyable company… well, that had been longer ago still. 

Garak had never quite been able to give up hope that his dear Doctor would one day let things progress past flirting and take him to bed (and then, ideally, rail him so hard that he’d forget how cold and lonely his existence was, for a moment). But, aside from the incomparable Julian Bashir, Sisko certainly had to be one of the most physically attractive residents of the station. 

Sisko was, of course, just as hopelessly brainwashed by his Federation values as dear Julian, but he certainly didn’t seem to hesitate when it was necessary to momentarily route around such values in order to work towards a future outcome that was more in line with them. Garak found his pragmatism quite refreshing. 

Not to mention that there had always been something compelling to him about power and commands… If Sisko ordered him down on his knees, he would surely drop to them instantly with little regard for the sorry state of his ever stiffening joints. Just look at how embarrassingly fast he’d come running when he’d called.

The tip of his thorn slipped out unbidden. He squeezed his thighs together to keep himself from everting fully. It was a mercy that he hadn’t encountered anyone in the corridors. He was rounding the last corner now…

He entered the wardroom and froze. 

He realized quickly that either his assumption about the nature of this meeting had been incorrect, or Sisko had planned something much kinkier than he’d expected. It wasn’t just Sisko in here, it was nearly the entire senior staff—though no Julian, thankfully. Sisko stood in the center of one part of the room, with all of the others either seated or standing around him. If there was one good thing about this, it was that any of the concerns from a moment ago about everting too early had vanished, as he now felt more confused than aroused. 

When Dax finished rattling off some kind of statistics about fleet movements, Garak spoke up, and everyone turned toward him.

“Excuse me. I hope I'm not interrupting,” he said, hoping for some explanation before he embarrassed himself.

“I'd like to be measured for a new suit.” Sisko said it very seriously, but there seemed to be laughter buried inside of it. The edges of his eyes were crinkled from the slightest of smiles.

Moreover, his words felt like some kind of code, but Garak wasn’t sure for what. What made it all feel even more ambiguous was that when Garak had overtly propositioned Sisko during the Natima Lang business, he’d specifically couched it in terms of fitting him for a suit. Just like Sisko was now asking him for. 

Garak licked his lips. “Now?”

“Right now,” Sisko said. Where Garak was uncertain, he was definitive.

[morganaux]

@rose-from-ashes (Continued from here!)

Heart skipping a beat as he heard footsteps approaching from the hallway, Morganaux closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath as he tried to calm himself. There had been plenty of times when he had dealt with potential suitors on his rare visits home, but never had he been faced with such a serious arrangement before. He had tried to think nothing of it in the days that led up to this meeting. He had spent little time dwelling upon this mystery man and what his intentions might have been, planning to playfully dismiss him like all the others who had once tried to win his heart, but in that moment, he wasn't sure what he felt.

Before his visitor set foot into the sunroom, he did what he always did whenever his anger, his sorrow, his fears began to slip out from beneath the surface— and with a gentle fwoosh of aether, he wove a glamoured smile on his face. By the time ser Forgettable de Durendaire stepped into the doorway, Morganaux was the very picture of serenity, leisurely popping a macaron into his mouth as he looked the man over from head to toe.

"That would be me," he answered, gaze locking onto the bouquet the other held. Curiosity, light, and friendly intentions was the meaning the man had intended to convey, from the looks of it. Either that, or he had simply gotten lucky with the flowers he chose and just so happened to put together a somewhat thoughtful-sounding meaning with it. But then again, most of the men who brought him flowers without care for their meaning would have chosen the simple route of bringing red roses. The message that the bouquet conveyed was far too fitting to be a matter of coincidence, and the choice of flowers far too unique, and so, Morganaux supposed he would give this man a chance instead of outright dismissing him.

Eyelashes fluttering, he lifted up a hand to beckon the other over, though he made no move to make room for Emelian to sit beside him. There were many subtle ways he could judge a man's character before they revealed their true colors, and this would be one of a few tricks he had learned to test the waters. Would he be a gentleman and ask to sit with him, or would he push his skirt out of the way and make room? Or, Halone forbid, would he be oafish enough to sit down on his skirt, crushing his favorite petticoat in the process?

"'Tis a pleasure to finally meet you, Emelian," Morganaux greeted, reaching up to adjust the hairpin— a cluster of peach blossoms— that adorned his head. "It seems I might be in the presence of another fluent in the language of flowers. Tell me, what sort of flower am I wearing, and what meaning have you gathered from it?"

[vobomon]

Timelines and Clocks

It is said that there are many different timelines and routes that are possible for a single soul to take. it all depends on their choices in life and the decisions they make along the way. But what if the universe was locked onto one specific route? Despite all the millions of timelines that exist... what if a glitch occurred in the system? What would the universe do to erase this abnormality? 

His clock begin to tick down to his demise the moment he met the girl known as Meryl Stryfe. “Hello, I’m your new partner! Staring today we’ll be working together! I hope we can get along well!” 

At the beginning, they were close-- believe it or not. He called her Meryl from their first meeting. He was a good mentor and showed her the ways of being a reporter. She smiled and he would smile back.

And so, the universe killed him at Jeneora Rock. 

But he woke up again. He met Meryl again. He still called her “Meryl Stryfe” and inevitably walked his way to his demise at Jeneora Rock again. There came a point that he lost count of the times he had died at Jeneora Rock. It was always a different death that he couldn’t prepare for. By the time he had lost count, Roberto had taken his first sip of whiskey. 

When he had successfully survived past Jeneora Rock, Roberto began to relax again. Until they met the Undertaker. He shot him in the back; made it look like an accident. So he chose to not trust the Undertaker in the next timeline. 

The worst death was being digested by those god-awful worms. By that point, he started smoking cigarettes to ease his nerves. 

He stopped calling the girl as “Meryl” because he never knew how long he’d last in a specific timeline. He distanced himself. He became an alcoholic because it became too much... he was overcome by paranoia over each choice he made. 

Every step he took could spell his demise because the universe was quite literally against him. 

His clock continued to tick and when they found Vash the Stampede tied up in the desert, he felt a shiver go down his spine. Oh no, its going to happen again. And he couldn’t escape his fate.

He was very careful.

Ever so careful.

Each step along the way, he made with precision. 

By the time they got to July City, Roberto could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. He had never gotten that far before. And then--

“I was just unlucky,” He tried to speak through the blood in his teeth. Yeah, right. He had to be the most unlucky man in the universe because everything was out to get him and he knew it all before setting foot on this path.

Meryl cried, just as she always did whenever he died. But he couldn’t leave her with nothing. “Take it.” He handed her the gun. She was derringer Meryl; the universe knew this. So he had to set the record straight before leaving this timeline. 

“Follow your heart,” he smiled. “Meryl Stryfe.” 

It felt good to say her name again. Maybe in the next timeline, he won’t distance himself from her. Maybe she’ll like that.

He closed his eyes, knowing he’d open them again very soon.

See you soon, Meryl.

[thatfangirlofsb]

A/N: Third part of Your highness. I hope you like it, difficult things are coming (if there isn't any difficulty... I think it's not my fanfic hahahaha).

T/W: Grishaverse spoilers. Smut (I don't know whether to consider it light or not, so I leave it to your choice).

Your highness (III)

If his hands weren't handcuffed to the bed, he would have tucked that rebellious black lock that fell over her forehead behind her ear. But Zoya had been wise enough to keep a spare set of handcuffs in her room, even though it was the first time they'd ended up doing it there.

That had always been a forbidden place, mainly thanks to the squallers grisha who could spy on what was happening miles away simply by summoning. But that night he hadn't thought of her for that. Nikolai's intention was to keep her away from getting sick, because he knew Zoya didn't care about it, and to relax. Then it turned into another wild night of their bodies colliding. Of course he loved it, the sex between the two of them was something magnificent, although those moments of pure closeness had been the first thing he was looking for with the appareance in her room.

Zoya was still asleep, surely undisturbed by those thoughts that tormented the king at that hour, and resting against his chest, breathing softly. They were on the bed, the last place where they had done it and the only one where the squaller let him finish. If her intention that night was to punish him with those actions for entering her room without permission... she had succeeded, but he also loved it.

There was still a slight trace of water on her torso, which she used to clean off the mess that the blonde had left on him with his cum. He wanted to pass his tongue along that route, but it was impossible with both hands handcuffed. Then his gaze fell on her belly, and a stupid idea popped up. What would have happened if she was the pregnant one and not Alina? What if she was her betrothed and not the sun summoner? Zoya was also a powerful grisha, and a great choice for a political marriage with someone from the Second Army, but…was it just that to him?

He had lived everything with her; the bad times, the good times, happiness, sadness, special situations, everyday situations, the best tea, sex without love... would the latter be true? Nikolai, certainly not as much as Zoya, had an experience in bed that, looking back on it now, made him see differences from before the grisha.

Previously, he had a large number of lovers and sometimes even at once, but with Zoya that number had been reduced to only her.

Before he would have left after a few touches and loving words, but with her he wished to never leave her side.

In the past, he hadn't noticed faces so much, but with her he kept every expression she made locked in his memory.

Before, he dedicated himself to always do the same thing. But with the squaller, he paid close attention to how her body answered to know what he would need to repeat or something new he would have to do.

"What are you thinking about?" Zoya's sleepy voice stole his thoughts, and he looked at her with a smile. "And don't tell me 'nothing'."

She knew him too well, and that made him feel strange. There were very few people, even sometimes he considered her the only one, who knew so much about the real Nikolai.

"I wasn't going to say that."

He stared at her, as if he could hold her tight without worrying about the handcuffs. He loved those moments when she, still asleep, didn't remember to put on her armor and her inside came out. She still was Zoya Nazyalensky, the hard and cold general, but her words and tone seemed more sincere and liberating; as if a great weight was being lifted off of her.

"Nikolai..."

Her eyes were half open, still dancing between the fine line that separated her from sleeping and waking. That image was lovely, and he would have had it painted on a small replication so he could look at it before he went to sleep if it weren't for the murderous glare she would have given him when she found out.

"Yes Zoya?" Damn chains. He wanted so badly to caress that face while telling her all the positive qualities she had, even if the blue-eyed girl said otherwise.

"What time is it?"

He bit his lower lip, trying not to laugh. His vast imagination thought she was going to say something romantic or even about the great sex they had, but he didn't expect her to ask the time.

"I think I recently heard the eighth stroke."

The squaller's back jerked upright and her eyes widened, letting the king see a glimpse of that beautiful blue.

"Get up, now."

Confused, he watched as Zoya almost jumped out of bed, and would have laughed at her actions if he hadn't seen her naked body emerge from between the sheets. That stroke of desire appeared again.

"Zoya...there's no rush." But the squaller seemed to think otherwise, running to the closet and pulling out some items of clothing to start dressing quickly. When she finished, she ran to remove the handcuffs without kissing him; disrupting their daily routine. Nikolai was still stretching, sitting on the bed. And Zoya seemed to see it, because she showed him a killer look before running off to the tub area and coming back with his soaked clothes to throw them at him. "Hey, that hurt." With another of her glances, it was enough for him to shut up for a few seconds. "It's soaked, how do you want me to...?

The grisha was already in front of a small dressing table, combing her hair, with a disgusted face when she saw that it was a nest. And Nikolai, not getting an answer, got up and dressed without caring how the fabrics attached to his body.

It was a very bad idea to get into the bathtub dressed and also, when he took off his clothes, to leave them so close to the tub that the splashes caused by their movements fell on it. When he finished, he carefully approached her from behind and placed his hands on her shoulders. It seemed that with that simple touch the grisha relaxed, because she put the comb down on the small wooden plank and looked at him through the mirror.

Nikolai took the opportunity to grab the brush and begin to comb her hair gently. Zoya closed her eyes, but with her slightly raised hands she began to summon a flow of air that gradually dried the blond's clothes. He smiled and, trying to do his best, ended up imitating the grip on her hair that she made with that blue bow that he loved.

"Thank you." She opened her eyes and stood up, leaving the boudoir free for him to get ready as well. "Genya is coming soon to bring me the new ointment. You will say that we came here early to check some things. Understood? And if she asks, leave everything to me"

"Understood."

And there was no more kisses, no touches, no more sighs. They only dedicated themselves to prepare what would be a table with many papers, pretending that they had been working.

The time came and someone knocked on the door. Zoya walked over to it, while Nikolai sat in one of the chairs that had been placed, and opened it.

"I hope this one works, Genya." The person in front of her eyes wasn't the redhead, but the half shu. And to her right, there was the one with orange hair. "Alina?"

"I already told Genya. I think..." She looked, slightly surprised, over the shoulder of the squaller. "Are we all here? Great, so we can start the meeting."

Zoya stepped away, rolling her eyes for a few seconds, and when the two passed, she closed the door from the inside. She had nothing to worry about, now she just had to act.

"A busy night?"

If she had been drinking something, she would have spit it out in surprise. What was she referring to? Saints, other than... him and me. She tried to appear calm and, sitting down on her chair, looked up at her.

"What are you taking about?"

"About the ripped curtains and the water all over the bathroom floor?" Genya laughed slightly, seeing how Zoya couldn't hide her expression of surprise when she turned her head towards the place she pointed. "Who was the lucky one?"

"Well..." Quick, tell her about someone who isn't blonde and has a sense of danger; something as the complete opposite of Nikolai. "A mediocre man." Genya wiggled her eyebrows slightly, urging her on as Nikolai looked up from the papers and everyone took a seat at the table. "Good with words." The king looked at her doubtfully, not knowing how to react to that. "Acceptable in bed."

"It doesn't look like it Zoya, see the mess." And that's when Nikolai knew his life was hanging by a thread. It was clear to him that he shouldn't speak, the squaller told him not to; but he, even so, decided to open his mouth that hours before had dedicated to test the body of the blue-eyed woman inch by inch.

"That he was mediocre has nothing to do with me being one too."

And he knew that was true. The least Zoya was in bed was 'mediocre'. But he decided to tease her a little more. Nikolai still remembered how she had stopped his orgasms so many times, causing him to spill over her with such outpout that he almost fell from exhaustion.

"Then tell us, Zoya." He rested one of his elbows on the table and placed his chin on his palm, looking at her as if she was the most interesting thing in the room; and she was.

"Yesterday it seemed that you hated each other and... and now you get along so well that you even talk about your hookups?"

Alina's face turned to Genya, asking her for some kind of explanation. She only raised her shoulders slightly and spoke for a bit.

"Happens often." Her indifferent gaze passed to Zoya, beginning to look at her with a somewhat strange smile. "You have the bow do it wrong and you don't wear mascara."

"I had to help the boy escape through the window." Zoya said, trying to be indifferent to the tailor's heavy eye and her own forgetfulness when she got nervous. How could she have been so stupid to forget about the damn curtains and the bathroom? "I haven't slept much Genya, so stop with your questions and let's get back to what interests us. The little gift that Alina brought us." When everyone was seated, Zoya's hands rummaged through a stack of papers, and with a big smile, she pulled out what she needed. "Here is all the preparation for the near-wedding with the princess of Shu Han. We can change a few things and use it to arrive on time in a week."

"One week?" Genya asked completely surprised. "A wedding can't..."

"If you want, we can wait to fix the dress because she doesn't fit in anymore." The squaller looked very serious at everyone. That wasn't a joke, Ravka's stability was at stake. "And when they're born I want only you to see them, Genya. If they turns out like their father... make them shu as possible."

"I'm only half shu."

"And give them Nikolai's eyes." Zoya sighed, somewhere between angry and sad. She didn't know what she had gotten herself into, but it was very difficult to be a friend and a general at the same time. "We want a real baby, not go from an Oretsev bastard to a shu."

"It's not..."

"Alina." She lifted her gaze from the papers to the summoner. She had no longer seriousness or fury, but compassion. It was clear that all of them were going to suffer, each one in a different way, with this situation. But the most one was going to be Alina, she had the engine of all growing into her. "Now we have to forget about reality and think of the worst. If they look like Mal... we already know what happens here when you consider a heir a bastard. Now that's the biggest of our problems, so pray to yourself to make that baby look like you." She got up and gave Genya the papers she had held in her hands earlier. "This is all about the wedding, you're the best fit for the position."

She started to walk, but the redhead's arms around her made her stop. Why was she hugging her?

"Triumvirate embrace."

Genya's whisper made her smile. Alina quickly joined in, and then Nikolai's voice sounded.

"May I?"

Zoya rolled her eyes, but the other two girls nodded their heads. Soon the king joined in, adding his arms to the mess of limbs already between the three of them.

"We'll get through this." Genya said.

"Yeah." Nikolai and Alina agreed at the same time, with a more cheerful tone than necessary.

"I have my doubts." Zoya's voice made everyone but her laugh. "It is not funn... who stepped on my foot?

—————

You can read first part HERE.

You can read second part HERE.

[ace-angel-judas]

Synesthesia

→ pairing: Ash Island (Yoon Jinyoung) x Baby

→ genre: Blind!au, Idol au

→ contains: Fluff, so much fluff, Ash being a protective bean, main character as synesthesia, soft eventual smut  

→ synopsis: Everything had a color, Baby had learnt that while she was younger after becoming blind. Yet during her usual route home, she bumps into a boy whose color changes constantly.

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE - PART FOUR - PART FIVE

Warm, it felt warm and safe. Baby couldn’t help snuggle further into her comforter, shifting closer to the warm body beside her. Was this a gamble? Yeah. But something about the streaming colours of this boy made her happy and it was something she hadn’t been in a long time.

Jinyoung himself couldn’t help but snuggle closer as well, looking at Baby’s squished face against the pillow. It smelt like roses in this room, which was a faint scent he got from her whenever he saw her but now that it surrounded him, it was relaxing.

He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her squished cheek, startling her for a moment before she smiled. Neither of them cared for the time, snuggling closer until a blaring sound made Baby scrunch her noise in disgust and Jinyoung was forced to roll over, grabbing his phone.

“Hello?”

Baby snuggled closer to her pillow, she could only just make out the sound on the other end of the phone. They sounded red, strong and mixed in with the rainbow around them both.

“Uh, shi- I mean, yeah, I’ll head to my studio now..,”

She heard the beep of the phone ending followed by a deep exhale. It was the obvious sound of frustration and annoyance, something Baby could sense, the green colour swirling in stronger with the rainbow.

“I got called to my studio,” Jinyoung explained.

“Oh okay,” Baby shrugged softly, cuddling the blanket as she sat up, “At least it’s just across the road,”

“Yeah..,” Jinyoung mumbled, “Do.. Do you want to come with me?”

Tilting her head, Baby slowly nodded before a smile cracked onto her face. Jinyoung couldn’t help but adore the way her cheeks squished up, nose scrunching like a bunny. She pulled herself from the comfort of her bed, pulling her shirt off. 

Jinyoung turned quickly, eyes wide with shock as she simply stripped in front of him. 

“Uh,” He cleared his throat, “Do you need me to leave the room?” 

“Oh..,” Baby tilted her head slightly, “I forget other people can see sometimes but I really don’t mind,” 

“I’ll just look at the wall,” 

Baby got dressed with ease, Jinyoung smiling at her choice of a bright yellow dress with a pink cardigan over the top. Looks didn’t really matter to this girl, especially in a society that seemed to thrive on beauty. 

“You ready?” He asked softly. 

“I just need my cane,” Baby explained, walking over to a closer and opening it. 

Three white sticks were inside, she reached up and felt each one before she grabbed one out. It had a red band around the middle of it and a small ball at the end. Jinyoung watched as she pulled on a pair of comfortable shoes before reaching out and softly touching his arm. 

“You know your way around pretty well,” Jinyoung pointed out. 

“Well, everything stays the same,” Baby explained, “You can’t really change much or else I wouldn’t know where everything is, my shoes go in the same place, my canes, my clothes, everything,” 

Jinyoung couldn’t help but smile. 

–

Walking into the building was a normal thing for JInyoung but sneaking a girl in? Something about it made him nervous. It wasn’t like he hadn’t bought a girl over before but something about this was different. 

Punching in the code to his studio, Jinyoung held the door open and Baby softly touched the sides of the door frame and felt her way inside. The cane tapped against a small table before she stopped, unsure of where to walk next. 

Jinyoung dashed into action, softly locking their fingers together and guiding her over to a chair next to the studio desk. Part of him felt embarrassed, but Baby simply smiled and guided herself into the seat. Her knees instantly curled up her chest, folding up the cane in her hands. 

But the embarrassment didn’t stop there, the door to the studio opening suddenly and a person poking their head inside. Eyes wide, JInyoung turned and looked at the person who had interrupted. 

His labelmate and friend, Minkyum, tilted his head curiously before Jinyoung waved his hand, gesturing for the other to leave. 

“Is someone there?”

Minkyum tilted his head in confusion, looking at Jinyoung. The rapper was glaring at him, clearly annoyed.

“What do you mean?” Minkyum asked, “I’m standing right here-“

“She’s blind!”

Jinyoung shoved him out of the studio, slamming the door and quickly locking the door. Baby giggled slightly at the sound of the lock, brows furrowing together.

“Are you embarrassed about me?” She asked softly.

“No!” Jinyoung cleared his throat, “No, They can just be idiots sometimes,”

Baby smiled, “I had no idea I lived next to a recording studio, I wasn’t really worried about anything like that,”

Sitting beside her, Jinyoung let out a nervous breath. He could already feel his phone vibrating, no doubt with text messages from the group chat for the company.

“When did you move to Seoul?” He asked, “I mean, you’ve got Busan dialect,”

“Oh, when I was eighteen,” Baby tilted her head, “I’d never been to Seoul and I wanted a little bit of a change,”

“Do you like it here?” Jinyoung asked, staring at her for an answer.

“I like it, it feels different from Busan,” Baby smiled softly, resting her chin on her knees, “And there’s interesting people here too,”

Cheeks red, Jinyoung turned to the computer and quickly typed in his password. Baby listened, hearing the clack of the keyboard as he typed. She softly touched the desk, feeling over the wood slowly. Her fingers skimmed over the edge of it, feeling the point before her fingers reached a cold metal.

“What is this?” Baby asked.

“It’s a sound board, it makes different sounds,” Jinyoung explained, “Kind of like a drum kit,”

“Oh,” She nodded slowly.

“Do you listen to music?” He asked.

“No really, I need to rely on sound to get around,” Baby explained with a soft hum, “I like reading, I sometimes listen to audiobooks, my cousin used to read to me while I lived in Busan,”

Jinyoung perked up, “Your cousin?”

“His name is Minhyeong,” Baby nodded, “He’s.. okay, I also lived with my aunt,”

“What about your parents?” Jinyoung asked curiously.

“Thats a story for another time,” She dismissed the topic, “How did you become a musician?”

“I.. I was on a rap show,” Jinyoung giggled slightly as he spoke, “It was called High School Rapper, I signed with this company after that,” 

Baby giggled softly, nose scrunching and Jinyoung had to adore the way little dimples appeared on her cheeks. He was now noticing the dusting of light freckles that sprinkled across her cheeks and nose. 

“You’re really pretty..,” Jinyoung whispered without a thought. 

“Am I?” Baby responded with a slight teasing tone, “I think you sound beautiful, it’s the most unique sound I’ve ever felt,”

[terris-mayweather]

Echo VN update #5;

(I’m in tears and crying because I wrote this entire thing and was getting ready to post it, just looking over and seeing if I had any additional thoughts, but my cat jumped on my desktop, turning off the computer, and I lost everything I said and now it seems like wayyyy too much work to repost it. I want to die. I had written so much! T_T OTL)

Wow... it has been a while... Honestly thought I did another of these, but I guess I got swept away in the story. ANYWAY (this one is going to be all spoilers, and a close approximation of what I said previously that was lost to the cyber planescape of the internet, so apologies if it isn’t as deep as I usually wanted it);

I finished Carl’s route! And wow, what a journey THAT was. First, the nightmare dimension was so interesting and strange! It was like a weird, older reflection of Echo! But not like that much older? I suspect it was an echo (hah!) of the town in the 1900s somewhere. Probably post John hanging... Oof. I’m curious why Echo has this dimension/mirrored reality though. I keep getting more and more questions.

Second, I thought it was a very cool aspect that due to being descendants of James Hendricks and John Begay, Carl and Jenna actually got possessed (kinda’)! However the fact it actually happened is horrible and I hate it entirely. John was particularly stabby though. In fact I actually “lost” my first playthrough and chose to grab Jenna instead of pushing her (I was TERRIFIED pushing her would cause her to stab herself). I get so freaking sad when my authentic choices lead to my demise, because then I’m like: ‘Welp! Guess I’m doomed to fail or die in a situation like this!’ *sigh* anyway!

Third, this hysteria/entity thing itself. I don’t think it’s a hysteria at all and is absolutely supernatural in some way, but I am very curious about the expansion of this, and I want to know what happened in the mines, and why this place has a mirrored reality that you can just snap out of! How does this work?! I also wonder if it worsens the negative traits of all the residents here!

Fourth, I actually started Leo’s route now! I’m like 5 hours into it, Thursday, I think. And WOW. This wolf, while wonderful, is absolutely concerning. I’m worried what we’re going to discover about him as the days go by and worsen! =( To quote a fantastic creator: “His fur is red because of all the red flags!” My man’s got some serious issues hinted at, and I’m anxious since he does seem like a good person at the end of things... But things only get worse as we saw from Carl’s route and I’m morbidly curious how this will translate with Leo. But also, WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH CARL NOW THAT WE’RE NOT WITH HIM?!  Like the birthday party didn’t even happen this time! At least, not in the same way AT ALL!!! Like Carl got freaking lost! But at least we found out he was okay... enough... We know what else happens and I’m curious of the results when we’re not there!! Also oh my god, FLYNN warning us about Leo? And not being a complete asshole about it for all of three seconds as if he was serious? Like my dude... what is up with Leo? I’m fearing the worst at this point, which sucks because it feels like he and Chase could have a caring and legitimate relationship! I gotta’ say, the character writing in this is fucking legendary. But besides that it is super fun. I’ve also enjoyed meeting Mr. Raccoon man himself, Kudzu! He seems like one those dudes that keep themselves locked in a steel cage to keep other people from getting in, and I’m curious what his story is all about. I’m liking him though, since he seems like one of the only other positive influences around Leo besides Chase and maybe Leo’s family? We haven’t gotten much on that end... Either way, I like mystery raccoon!

Fifth, and also all other assorted thoughts! So one thing I noticed quite substantially is that it feels like the other characters are around a lot more with Leo’s route! I really am enjoying that and the little character moments we’re getting. Like the soccer game with Chase, Kudzu, Tj, and Leo, was so fun and genuinely enjoyable to read through! Those moments of happiness really give me much needed life since it offers insights into what COULD be, if all of these people weren’t so fucked up. OH and then also Clint and Duke. These guys are pretty interesting to the story itself! Meeting Duke was a trip since apparently there’s an otter apparition haunting Leo, which wouldn’t be too surprising except then we find out Duke is also seeing this probable Chase ghost thing! Now THAT is super interesting. Shows there’s some intention behind all of this shit. It’s especially interesting considering this is the same Duke that was sober and pointing at us back in Carl’s route! And that ended with his fucking face being blown off! And Clint is absolutely the worst, but it seems like Leo might be actively trying to hurt and make him feel worse, which makes me wonder a lot more about Leo! But I think that concludes the majority of my thoughts for now! There is so many things falling into places, but yet more questions coming up too!!! Echo truly is a delight and I can’t wait to get into the nitty gritty of everyone! 

[cuntystories]

CHAP (1) 𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 ❦︎

The night was dark and stormy, the clouds threatening to pour any moment, as Elvis walked home by the sideway with his gray-pink-purple orbs glittering from the soft street glow overhead. His brown, bowl-cut locks were gently swaying in the harsh wind when a cute sneeze escaped him, possibly from the cold.

Elvis was enjoying the gorgeous city scenery infront of him and not worrying about a single thing in the world. Being zoned out, he suddenly remembered this morning, having heard about his home's path being blocked out. he wasn't sure what to do as his phone was already dead, so checking the map for another nearby route was crossed off the list. He knew that the only possibility for him right now, was to pass through an unfamiliar alleyway, familiar for it's criminal activity. The thought of going through there had already made him anxieous. However, with the night getting colder, his body shivering and his stomach rumbling. His soft and plump lips slowly turning blue from the cold. His cheeks and button nose being already flushed scarlet. It seemed as if he had no other choice but to hurry.

As he was speed-walking through the dark alleyway, almost running. He stumbled over his own small and petite feet as he was almost scared to death. The scene infront of him was horrifying and traumatizing— before him was a strong and muscular man who was giving a stranger the beating of his life. His veiny hands were bloodied and his knuckles were red and bruised. Luckily Elvis caught himself on the sideway railing, but the fall made him squeak.

The violent man infront of him froze in place. He slowly turned around and looked at Elvis with a cold and empty gaze. He started walking towards Elvis as his harsh footsteps echoed through the alleyway. Elvis froze in his spot, being too afraid to move before his instincts kicked in and he turned his heel around, running to the opposite side with no intention of stopping. Within seconds the man started chasing him, but as the man's figure was almost twice as big as Elvis's he caught up with him in no time, almost immediately catching him, tackling him to the ground.

The stranger used his bodyweight to pin Elvis to the ground, hovering above him. His warm breath tickling Elvis's neck, as the sudden warmth on Elvis's neck made him softly moan, he wasn't even sure if it was from arousal or fear. The position made Elvis finally see the man's face a little better. His eyes were a sharp blue color that stared him down. Almost like a predator hunting it's next meal. It was hard to tell much else with a black mask covering half of his face, but he could make out his sharp jawline, one you could peel apples with.

The man hovering above Elvis licked his lips, "How much did you see, kitten?" His cheeks flushed bright red when he heard the petname, being too embarrassed to even answer. "Didn't your parents teach you some manners? It's very rude to ignore someone...I know some more violent ways to get you talking, if you'd prefer that," the man said in a threatening tone. Elvis squirmed beneath him in a failed attempt to escape. "I-I I didn't see anything! I-I won't tell anyone, I promise!"

The response made him scoff. "Well..I can't really trust you now, can I," he questioned in a mocking smile. Elvis was really suprised that he was even alive at this point right now. He thought that seeing the man's brutality, he would suffer the same fate as the stranger from before, who was now long gone. "P-p-p-please spare me! I do not have any power that might get you arrested," he stuttered afraid. "Of course you don't, why else would you be walking here at night," the man answered," I'll spare you just this once, just 'cause you're cute, but don't let this get to you. I'll keep my eyes on you." With that he pulled himself off of Elvis, leaving him behind.

[rosemaze-reveries]

I wanted to explore Mike feeling crushed under a sense of doom at the manor ... and then kiss him (head in hands)

“home again” 🤹

pairing. the acrobat x you pronouns. unspecified genre. hurt/comfort notes. reader is shorter than mike synopsis. love at the end of the world 🌹

He was not just an old colleague.

That thought plagued your mind all throughout dinner. He occupied a very intimate place in your heart, in fact, but the manner in which he presented himself to you would fool anyone into thinking otherwise. 

Mike refused to even acknowledge you. No words. No smile. His eyes didn’t sparkle like they used to, and his hair had lost its golden lustre. He wore a long, brown coat of respectable material, but even fine fabric like that looked dreary when pitted against your glamorous memories of him.

Months of grief and dogged investigation had caused his cheeks to sink in, and the first sprigs of a moustache had appeared above his lip. You were struck by his disheveled appearance. If you stared for too long, you feared your emotions might get the better of you. But you still couldn’t look away—a part of you desperately wanted to search for signs that he was the same Mike Morton you once knew.

The remainder of the dinner was silent and severely uncomfortable. But you were determined to get something out of him. So you cornered him after everyone had dismissed themselves, which everyone did very quickly, and had you been a second later Mike would have already locked himself in his room.

“Mike, look at me. Please.” Your pleas were not much of a threat to him, but he obliged you nonetheless. “What happened to you?”

The Hullabaloo incident would have been the obvious answer to your question, but something in your gut suspected there was more. Something to do with the manor. You knew you were the last of the group to arrive here, and the rest of them had apparently been living here for weeks. Something must have happened to have such a harrowing effect on the psyche.

But Mike never answered a single one of your questions. Instead, he kept looking for an escape route. He fingered the doorknob leading into his room, twisting it, letting it go, twisting it again. His eyes still refused to meet yours.

“Can I come in with you?” you asked, gesturing towards the doorknob. That finally got a verbal response out of him.

“...Yeah.”

The first thing Mike did, after the door shut and locked you both inside, was unexpectedly forward of him. His arms snaked around your waist and pulled you into his chest. For a moment, he stood there with his chin resting on top of your head, before letting out a deep sigh, and then taking a few steps backwards. With his arms secured around you, you had no choice but to stumble along with him.

“Mike,” you murmured against him. “Mike, I’m confused—”

“Stay here for the night,” he said, and that’s all it took for a medley of relief and yearning to wash over you. That one request was evidence that Mike hadn’t discarded you from his heart, and that was all the reassurance you needed.

“I will, always for you, but I need you to explain...”

“I’m exhausted. And I missed you. But I wish you weren’t here.”

“What?”

Mike lowered his lips to your neck, peppering kisses over your skin just like he used to. You shuddered against his touch, battling your desire to simply melt into his arms with your need to hear him elaborate. You wove your hands behind the back of his neck, locking him closer to you. It quickly became apparent that you were going to lose that battle with yourself. His touch, his scent, his voice - all of it was intoxicating.

Mike whispered out your name, once then twice, and then he finally answered you:

“...I just don’t think we’re ever getting out of this place.”

[acdeaky]

out of the blue (3am calls)

warning: mentions of nightmares, implications of PTSD, fluff

note: this is (technically) my other submission for @celestialbarnes’ 4k writing challenge! i chose the prompt ‘bed’ and dialogue 9 ‘“was it the nightmares again?” “no” “you suck at lying”’ congrats again, rachel! and enjoy 🤍

read my other submission here!

word count: 1.9k

“...sorry that i can’t come to the phone right now, but- james?” you picked up, hearing the shaking breaths of bucky’s down the line as he tries to self soothe himself.

“hey,” he sighed down the receiver; you could imagine his metal hand running through his shortened locks, too. “did i wake you?”

“no, no, i’m always awake at...three-fourteen in the morning.” you replied, a teasing tone to your voice as you rubbed your sleep-ridden eyes.

“i just needed to hear your voice,” to ground me, he wanted to say, “i’m sorry, it was selfish.”

“i don’t mind, i wanna talk to you.” you smiled, knowing in a minute or so you’d be leaving the confines of your apartment to walk across the hall to bucky’s.

the other side of the phone stayed quiet for a moment, the only thing being heard was the static of the line. you didn’t want to say anything, knowing bucky usually needed a minute or two to collect this thoughts before he asked you to come over.

his excuse was that he felt like a burden; your response was always the opposite. ever since you had met him, something you always reminded him was that you were there for him, knowing what he had been through. although he was hesitant, the majority of the time you were by his side in the early hours of the morning.

“can you come over? just for a little while?” bucky’s voice was small, quiet, as always when he asked those four words. both of you knew that you’d be there much longer than ‘a little while’, but you didn’t mind when you forever replied,

“of course.”

it wasn’t long before you pulled a hoodie over your head, slipping on some socks before making your way to your front door. you grabbed your keys and opened your door, turning and twisting the lock as quickly as you could.

the hallway seemed darker than usual that night, the chill of the wooden floorboards seeping through your socks and hitting the pads of your feet as you crossed over to bucky’s apartment door. you knocked, waiting for the answer which came only a second or two later.

“i’m sorry.” was the first and only words he spoke as the door swung open.

“it’s okay.” you replied as bucky stood to the side, allowing you to step through the door before he closed it behind you.

the bareness of his apartment always worried you; it felt as if there was little progress happening, but it was. slowly but surely, and bucky knew this, he was just waiting for the right moment to ask you to go shopping with him. help pick out a new sofa, one you found comfortable. maybe even a coffee table, or a dining table so you had a proper place to sit while you ate your various take-outs every week.

it wasn’t like you didn’t see each other enough for him to ask, but he was hesitant; worried you’d say no, that he’d miss judged your friendship, your relationship even, that you were only a source of comfort on nights like this and not a friend who helped make a house a home.

even after that time you’d been with him whilst buying new bed sheets. his mind kept telling him right place, right time, that you didn’t actually want to do that with him, but you’d felt obliged to when running into each other in the store.

he was wrong, of course. your friendship meant the world to the both of you and you adored bucky, but he needed time and so did you. so, your friendship was just that: friends who saw each other the majority of the time, who found any free moment to spend together and who slept next to each other on nights like these...

bucky locked the door behind you before grabbing himself a quick drink, watching your figure as you stepped into the side of the living room and hovered over the blanket and pillow on the floor.

like usual, you said nothing, only following the same route into his bedroom while bucky left his now empty glass in the sink. just as he turned the corner, you were pulling the covers back, pulling off your hoodie and sliding under the sheets.

he watched for a minute, waiting for you to find a comfortable spot with the sheets pulled tightly around your body.

his mattress was cold, still hard, yet comfortable, from when he first bought it. the sheets were soft, too, your choice - of course - colours which you had said complemented his eyes; it was more difficult hiding the blush on his face than you hiding the price tag. he bought them anyway, knowing that you wanted the best for him and hoping that you’d put them to use some time.

and use them you had. there had been many nights since that day which you had spent in his bed, curled up against him as you feel asleep and bucky attempted to. you were the only reason the sheets got washed often; other than you and him on nights like these, nobody else used them.

it wasn’t long before he moved from his place by the door, following your early actions and joining you under the covers. ever the gentleman, bucky stayed on his side while you stayed on yours, him on his back with you on your side facing him.

it took for you to move closer to him, pressing your body into his for either of you to begin feeling any comfort.

the warmth of bucky’s body was a pleasant contrast to the mattress, both of you slowly warming up the longer you were huddled together. truly, you hadn’t meant to lay like this, but after climbing under the sheets next to him for the first time, bucky pulled you into his side and wrapped his arms around you. as if on instinct, your head laid on his bare chest, a hand resting in the middle of his torso as you shifted onto your side.

there were some delicate whispers from the two of you before you drifted to sleep. your kind words soothed bucky’s mind as he allowed himself to relax and settle back into the pillows; a luxury he rarely let himself have. his allowed you to feel them reverberate in his chest, his low hums acting as a settler for your thoughts.

both of you were asleep moments later.

-

“was it the nightmares again?” you asked the following night, your back against the headboard of your bed, the bright moonlight shining through the thin curtains you’d forgotten to pull across the window earlier.

“no”

“you suck at lying.” a light giggle came from you, followed by bucky’s unpleased sigh. you were right; he knew it and so did you, but you wanted him to admit it.

“i really don’t.” you scoffed lightly at those words, knowing that he didn’t even believe his own words.

“james barnes, how have you not yet learned that you cannot lie to me? i know you.” like always, there was a teasing tone to your voice, trying your best to cheer him up over the phone, especially when you could just tell that the nightmares were bad tonight.

for a moment, the other side of the phone feel silent, except for some light rustling of covers. you knew he was laid on the floor, blanket on top of and under him. regardless of how many times the two of you had tried, bucky could never find comfort inbetween his sheets unless you were there by his side.

“buck? you still there?” you hadn’t meant for your voice to go so quiet, but you really didn’t want to stop talking to him; you never wanted to stop talking to him.

“yeh, yeh i’m still here-” his sentence was almost cut off by three rough knocks at your door, making you body stiffen.

“hold that thought, buck.” you replied, moving slowly off of your bed and towards your slightly open bedroom door.

“doll, its okay,” he spoke softly, noticing the slight quiver to your voice. “its only me”

“could you not have told me that?” you laughed, speeding up to open the door as to not let him stand in the hallway for much longer.

“hey.” he smiled as the door opened, dropping his phone from his ear before ending the call.

“hey.” you mirrored his smile, doing the same while moving to the side to allow him in. as you shut and locked the door, bucky went through his usual routine every time he stepped into your apartment this late at night. his keys were dropped into the bowl on top of the cabinet by your front door, then he grabbed a drink fro your kitchen that was adjacent to your entryway, and then he met you in the doorway of your bedroom, your arms open and waiting for him.

he gladly accepted the contact, always relying on you to ground him when it felt like he’d been floating for too long. and tonight he had been.

both of you used the minimal light from the moon to figure out your way to your bed, his right hand never letting go of yours until he finally had to. the covers were pulled back from where you had left them moments ago, the sheets now cold.

the two of you laid in your bed moment later, bucky being the first to be settled on his back as you began to be pressed against his side, your head on his chest. along with the curtains, earlier you had left a small window open, allowing the noise of brooklyn at night to seep through to your room. neither of you would be falling asleep anytime soon.

“i love you, buck.” your whispered confession making its way to bucky just before he closed his eyes.

“love you, too.” he replied, not allowing the true meaning of his words to be heard.

“no, bucky,” you sat up, leaning your weight onto your right elbow as your left hand reached out for his cheek. “i love you, okay? i love you.”

there was no words for him. he truly hadn’t expected the weight of your confession and it has shocked him beyond words. all he could think to say was,

“i love you, too, doll.” his shy smile made an appearance, reminding you of the first time you saw each other. with that, you leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss onto his lips, the corner of his mouth and on his cheek.

bucky’s smile never faltered, only growing wider the longer you planted kisses upon his skin.

after leaving a lingering one on his jaw, you moved back to face him, resting your forehead onto his. “goodnight, baby.” you whispered, pressing one last kiss on to his lips.

“goodnight, doll.” bucky repeated your actions, leaving the both of you in a fit of smiles.

and, just like earlier, you laid on your side, your head resting above bucky’s heart with his vibranium arm around your shoulders. the two of you were asleep a few moments later, the steady beat of his heart bringing about a peace which you always felt around him.

-

taglist (for people who i think might enjoy this): @forever-rogue @buvky @buckys-darling @barnessupremacy @wallflowerbarnes @bvckysmoon @gryffindorwriter @lokiscollar @propertyofpoeandbucky @buckys-bug @aerynwrites

bucky taglist: @marvel-rhapsody @bloomingbucky

[cinnamonest]

Y’all are too nice to me I swear… here I am being horny and nasty on main and I’m getting encouraged, damn. But for real  ( ´ ω ` ) thank you so much!!

I’m gaining more confidence to post more smutty stuff and the kind of dark shit I like, so I might go back and make more nasty Childe content later on too… After Albedo, I got Razor and Zhongli coming up, and a few ones I just worked on for fun. But yeah, just in case it wasn’t clear for anyone who followed me, I’m going to be writing almost entirely dark content and some really nasty stuff, so just be aware of that, and don’t consume my writing if that’s something that may be harmful to you.

Albedo is so pretty… and such good dark content material… He treats you like a science experiment but has the audacity to make it hot smh

I haven’t seen a whole lot of him outside the cutscenes, so potentially ooc (as if yandere content isn’t already ooc, lmao)

Albedo - Yandere Profile

tw: general yandere content, obsessive behavior, stalking

tw (below cut): smut, noncon (seriously, you’ve been warned)

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Very much aware. In the beginning, it frustrates him. He’s never been particularly attached to anyone, outside of his former instructor. He’s always enjoyed being out on his own, spending extended amounts of time by himself – the desire to be around someone is a foreign feeling for him. He immediately notices how bizarre the emotion is for him, how it changes his behaviors. His self awareness combined with perceptiveness makes him able to acutely recognize not only how unusual this emotion is for him, but also how the extent of his feelings, the types of desires they ignite in him, is unusual even for “normal” people who aren’t social recluses.

He’s frustrated by his own actions, feels embarrassed at how attached he is to you, how easily you make him flustered and trip over his words. As he is a very aware yandere, he’s definitely afraid of rejection to some degree. He has no idea how to navigate feelings and interactions with other people, he’s never really had the desire to form a particularly strong bond with anyone before. As such, he’ll come across as very awkward, and he will interact with you less than most yanderes – he knows he’s just going to embarrass himself if he talks to you, right? He’ll just mess up and say something strange, so instead, he opts to watch you from the shadows, go to places where you are, but keep a distance from you, just being able to watch you makes him feel fluttery and overwhelmed. 

He will definitely be one to collect things from you. He collects plenty of things for the sake of science, this is no different. Or so he tries to tell himself, but he can’t delude himself even if he tries. He knows its weird, he knows its wrong, but the overwhelming urge to have things of yours is too great to resist. He’ll start off with more innocent things, but it will gradually progress to not-so-innocent… items of yours.

It may not be obvious, but he’s actually a fairly sensitive person, at least regarding you. He places a lot of value in what you think of him, and wants to ensure you’ll respond positively to him. He views it like a science – there should be some formula by which he can put in the correct actions, and produce a specific result. Unfortunately, unlike real science, there’s not much room for trial and error – he feels he only has once chance.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

It will take some time, as he’s got to get over his own nerves first. He’s torn between the fear of you hating him for such a thing, it would be the end of the world for him, but also the desire to pull you away from the world, to keep you hidden from others, to have you all to himself, to be the only person that gets to look at you. If you start showing positive signs, reacting positively to his gifts, expressing interest in conversation with him and going out of your way to see him, he’ll start to get more confident, think that he can afford to do something that might sour your opinion of him, hoping it will merely be temporary.

He’ll probably start to do so several times and back out. He’ll set out at night, make it all the way to your room and stand over your sleeping form, and he’ll start to worry, wonder if someone saw him, see holes in his plans, he gets too nervous and bolts. He’ll persuade you into being alone with him, and although its the chance he’s looking for, again, he’ll get nervous, worry about being caught, run through all the what-ifs, and miss the chance. Honestly, when he does finally take you, it will probably be not planned, but in the heat of the moment, a rash decision from desperation. Something like you coming to visit him to tell him you’re leaving the area, came to say goodbye, and he’ll panic, ultimately grabbing you by the arm as you try to leave and dragging you back inside, silently, but forcefully.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

Moderately difficult. Your best bet is to take advantage of his tendency to be absent minded when he’s absorbed in his work. He gets very lost in his thoughts, to a point where he’ll completely zone out and be oblivious to the world around him. On the downside, this means you won’t have much time to cover distance, he’ll be close behind the moment he realizes you’re gone.

The route he’ll probably take is actually one where you won’t need to be too restrained, because you’ll be taking… a little research trip. Out to the most freezing, desolate areas of the mountains. He’s convinced the knights he needs to stay there for his research, but in reality, he’s internally panicking, as he tries to figure out how to make this work – after all, you two can’t stay here forever. You’d be foolish to run out of the little cabin he’s bought, out into the perilous freezing cold and jagged, high slopes. At first, he thinks there’s no way you’d try it, so he’s content letting you have free reign to walk around as you please. If he has to leave for whatever reason, he’ll probably lock you into a single room, but he won’t chain you up, as again, he's really trying to avoid making you hate him.

If you prove to be determined to leave, he’ll be hurt, but mostly concerned for you. He’s actually not one to get too mad over an escape attempt – he’ll blame himself, or theorize it’s just a natural response your brain triggered. Against his first choice, he’ll end up having to get more strict with your restraints. If you get too whiny, though… you might trigger one of his more frustrated moments.

“I didn’t want to have to do this… I’m sorry. I can’t risk anything bad happening to you. Tell me if it’s too tight… I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t blame you. I know you’re probably panicking over all this, but you’ll get adjusted to it, I promise. Just… just give it some time… it’s not so bad, living with me, I promise.”

“Don’t be like that. You’re only tied up because you tried to leave. You should understand why you have to be kept like this… If you don’t want to be restrained, you shouldn’t have run out, trying to get yourself killed.”

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

For all his academic intelligence, he’s not highly skilled with people and socialization. He’s not too good at being able to tell when he’s being lied to, and he definitely won’t pick up on subtle manipulation. It’ll be pretty easy to wrap him around your finger, he’ll do what he can to make you happy.

Once he finds out you’ve lied to him, though, he’ll get pretty upset. He likely won’t trust you again, and will require proof of anything you say, or set out to find out if you’re telling him the truth or not.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He’ll try to accommodate you, giving you things you ask for, but he has limits. He’s too paranoid to let you have any contact with the outside world. You do have him wrapped around your finger to an extent, though. Whatever he’s doing at the moment, he’ll drop it in a heartbeat if you want to spend time with him in any way, even if its just you asking for food or to take a walk. He’ll be willing to take you for very short trips outside, no further than a few yards from the lodging, if only because he knows sunlight is vital to your health.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

The basics will be there – don’t try to leave, don’t be difficult with him, try to cooperate, be obedient. However, he’s also particularly overprotective of anything that can hurt you – even yourself. Under no circumstances can you handle anything that can hurt you – that means no cooking, no knives, no lifting anything heavy, no going outside without him. If you’re determined to cook something, he’ll have to stand right behind you, and watch while you do it. If you get so much as a little cut or burn, he’ll take over, insisting you go sit down after he tends to your “wounds.”

At the very beginning, he’ll be hesitant to punish you too much, as part of his plan to get you to like him. However, he can be a little easily frustrated, and your safety and well-being comes first, even if it means he has to make you upset. He will have to restrain you, take away what little privileges you had. If you try to bolt while you’re outside, no more going outside. If you try something foolish like attacking him with a knife when he gives you cooking privileges, you will lose said privileges. Really, the worst part of it all is the humiliation, being treated like a dumb, incapable baby that can’t do anything for yourself. He insists on doing everything for you, even down to bathing you and dressing you, even feeding you if you can’t convince him to take restraints off your hands. He’ll talk down to you in that way, too, talking to you as if you were a child.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

It’s a situation he’s not prepared to handle, and he’s unsure of what to do. It strikes fear in him that you might have someone else interested, so he has to get rid of them as quickly as possible. He’s not opposed to killing, if it comes down to that, but initially, he’ll try to work behind the scenes – expose something that will ruin their reputation, get them accused of a crime. This would also be one of the possible aforementioned situations that might cause him to kidnap you a bit earlier than he normally would, as well. If he can’t get rid of them easily, he’ll just take you away from them.

He will absolutely try to make you hate them, try to ruin your image of them, and he’s rather good at falsifying evidence for his claims of their behavior. With his alchemic skills, that sort of thing is easily possible.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

He gets more frustrated than anything, when you’re being difficult. This is mostly just him sighing quite a bit, speaking a bit harshly, even pouting and sulking a bit if you’ve offended him. But true anger in him is not pretty, and almost never happens. It’s a buildup, a slow rise that has a boiling point. If he reaches that point, he can definitely get mad enough to hurt you, it’s actually kind of terrifying in how sharp of a contrast it is to how he normally is. It’s a side of him that’s very difficult to draw out. He’s not one to yell or shout, no, his anger is a suffocating silence, he slams down whatever he’s holding as he stomps over to you, grabbing you by the arms hard enough to bruise, and dragging you by the hair to whatever he has planned.

With mild frustration outbursts, he will feel justified, but if it reaches that intense anger, he’ll usually give at least a little apology, tell you he didn’t mean to go that far. He hates to think of you fearing him, but ultimately, if that’s what’s necessary to keep you safe, then he can live with it.

Do they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

It’s an odd mix. On one hand, he sees you as utterly fascinating, the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, more than any landscape or art he’s seen or made, an invaluable treasure to be kept on a high pedestal. Simultaneously, however, he will treat you like a child, thinks you can’t do anything for yourself. It’s a bizarre duality, but one he is consistent on. You’re precious, so very precious, and he’s undeserving of you, but at the same time, you need him to be safe and sound.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Of the genshin boys, he’s one of the most determined. He’s not good with people, and he doesn’t really have anyone particularly close to him left anymore. He tends to keep people at a distance. You sort of fill an space inside him that he never knew was empty, a void he wasn’t aware he had until it was consumed by thoughts of you. He doesn’t need anyone or anything else, so long as he has you with him, but he really, really wants it to be true that you love him. He doesn’t need you to even love him as much as he loves you – he doesn’t even know if that’s possible – but he just wants to know that, even if only in the slightest, his feelings are returned. He’s so distant from everyone else, but you wormed your way into his heart, even if you didn’t intend to, with your smiles and softness and kindness towards him. For the first time, he feels weak around someone, but in a way, it’s a good feeling. He wants to be able to be vulnerable, be weak, and not have anything to fear by doing so.

He’s lucid, though, so he doesn’t expect you to love him immediately. As he’s not good with words or displays of affection, he’ll get you all sorts of gifts. Rare items that you wonder how the hell he obtained them, beautifully crafted little trinkets from all his searching and time traveling, more clothes than you could ever wear. You’ll start to feel a little guilty, it’s so much, and you’re certain he doesn’t have that much money. He’ll blow it off, say it’s no big deal, but if you insist, he’ll have to start finding new ways to convey his affection. In captivity, he won’t stop trying, but he’ll understand why you might be angry. In that case, he will utilize what he’s learned from research in books he’s read. He knows that eventually, with him being the only one you have, the only company, the only one to talk to, the only source of touch, you’ll eventually have to cave. You’ll become attached to him, bond with him, whether you like it or not. He knows how powerful the affect of touch can be, and will make sure to hold you in his arms, keep you on his lap, make you crave the only source of human touch you can get. Dependency, he thinks, is the gateway to you loving him.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Drawings. So many of them. Much like his drawings he uses in notes, he’s found he tends to start scribbling a familiar face when his mind drifts off. He’s memorized every little detail of your face, every curve on your body. If you’re ever snooping around, you’ll eventually uncover a book of sketches he has solely dedicated to drawings of you. Drawings of you laughing, smiling, sleeping, drawings that you’re certain were of real events you were at, that you didn’t remember him being at. Every bit in perfect detail. If you confront him about it, he’ll be horrifically embarrassed, insisting they’re no good, or, if you’re upset, trying to reassure you it was all from his mind and totally not him lurking in the shadows as he watches you.

Also, if you want to make him happy, get him on one of his spiels about his work, his interests, anything that he can catch onto and go on and on about. He’ll catch himself rambling and apologize for being “annoying,” but if you reassure him, and express interest, that will make him feel particularly appreciated. It would be a primary way to get on his good side and manipulate him, or lull him into false security to make your escape, if that’s what you’re looking to do. But be warned, it will only work once, and he’ll be far too hurt to let himself indulge in sharing these things with you again.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Publicly, definitely highly reserved. He’s easily flustered, and thinks of sex in a very scientific way, for the purpose of procreation. For fun? He knows it’s enjoyable, but can’t separate it from his very analytic, scientific way of viewing things. It’s a formula, you touch this here and pull that there, and the result is supposed to be orgasmic bliss. He just isn’t very familiar with pleasure – he doesn’t drag out masturbation, even, as that would be a waste of time. He gets it over with quickly, taking short breaks during his work. He is a fairly high drive, though, and gets the urge fairly frequently, about once or twice a day.

He’ll be hornier with your presence, having to leave more frequently to get off to the little things you do, quickly getting himself off while recalling the mental image of you holding a pen in your mouth, the little moan when you stretch, the way your clothes fit to your frame.

Prior to abduction, he’s not particularly touchy at all, in fact, he’s very jumpy if you touch him. Once he’s gotten you alone with him for the foreseeable future, isolated, dependent, he’ll gain more confidence, be willing to give into his cravings to touch you, hold you, eventually progressing to groping you, moving his hands up and down your body, under your clothes, slowly peeling them off.

He’s initially a bit ashamed of his urges towards you, feels guilty every time he gets off to you, but will likewise gain more confidence once you're his.

A guy can only fight off the urge for so long before he cracks, before he can’t continue to care about the consequences. For him, that point is when he knows he finally has you all to himself – his worries fade, and while the guilt is still there, it’s far outweighed by desire.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He does care, but as stated previously, it’s hard to fight the urge for so long. It will be torture, but for the first few days, he wants you to “adjust” to your new “home,” and not add to your panic. After that, though, he’ll try to assess your reactions. If you’re extremely resistant, he’ll give you more “adjustment” time. He can’t really hold off forever, though, and eventually, maybe a few weeks in, comes to the conclusion that if he just does what he wants, so long as he’s gentle and reminds you he loves you, it will help you get past the mental barrier in your mind. He’s convinced there’s simply a psychological issue, and that sometimes, people need a push. It’s like having a friend who can’t swim – sometimes, you just have to throw them into the water, help them get over that mental hurdle, and they’ll be grateful in the end. That’s what he tells himself to justify it, anyway. He has enough… anatomical prerequisite knowledge to know what’s good and what’s bad, and will take your body’s positive reactions as a sign of what you really want. Is definitely the kind to use that against you, holding up his fingers to your face after you cum on them, as if to prove a point.

“See? I told you, you just have to let go and give in to what you want… if you didn’t, my fingers wouldn’t be dripping like this, now would they?”

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

He wants to experiment on you. This manifests as him being something of a service top without really intending to be, even if you’re not exactly happy about it. He likes to watch your reactions, watch the way your body moves, test the pleasure you get from different things, discover what it is that you like, even if you weren’t aware of it. In particular, he’s fascinated by the fact that girls have so many types of orgasms. He’ll want to try them all, watch and see which ones are more intense than others, which ones make you convulse, makes your toes curl, your eyes roll back. Which erogenous zones make your breath hitch, make you twitch and whimper. Probably the type to be determined that he can make you cum just from something like sucking on your nipples, and he won’t stop until he achieves it. He’ll also want to try everything. At least anything that he thinks has some potential to appeal to him, mentally. He’s a busy man and hasn’t really taken the time to explore his own sexuality, and has virtually zero experience.

Edging, overstimulation, forced orgasms

Experimentation also means testing limits and thresholds. He’ll bring you up to the edge, learn to watch for the slightest of signs that you’re close, listen to your breath, watch your face, wait until you’re just so close and then draw back, stopping just short of letting you catch that high. Then he’ll let you drift back down, and bring you back up again. No amount of begging will make him show you any mercy, you’ll only cum when he’s decided he’s observed enough. He wants to push the limit, see just how close to the edge of orgasm you can get without spilling over, just how much it takes to drive you insane. He’ll also want to see how far you can go after it as well. Orgasm won’t be the end of his ministrations, no, he wants to see how much stimulation you can take. You won’t be able to get away from his tongue, he’ll grab you by the hips and slam you back down, continuing to lap at you even if you’re so sensitive it’s painful. Watching you cum will just make him rut into you harder, bruising and abusing your insides to a point that they’re so sore you can feel it long after it’s over. At first, he might feel a little guilty, and may very well after it’s over, but in the heat of the moment, he can’t fight the insatiable urge to listen to you squeal, feel you convulse, watch the tears from overwhelming pleasure run down your face.

He’ll make it his personal mission to see how many orgasms the female body is capable of within a given amount of time - per day, per hour, how quickly you can have them in succession. For scientific purposes, of course. Anatomy and human biology isn’t really his main field of focus, but he likes to expand his research horizons.

“Just one more… cum one more time for me, then we’ll be done. Come on… I know you can, just one more.”

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He’s actually good with children, usually. He has a calming effect on kids. He isn’t sure how he feels, though. To some degree, he fears his capabilities to parent, thinks he would be too cold to be a good father. But he also likes the idea of a protege, an heir to his title, one he can teach everything he knows. If he does end up having one, this fucking nerd man will read every book on pregnancy, birthing, and parenting that he can get his hands on.

Also, he’ll absolutely be one to track your cycles, even better than you can. He’s researched enough to know exactly when you’re most or least likely to get pregnant, and you can’t help but notice how much more he seems to cum in you when you’re at your most fertile. Nor can he deny how satisfying it is to watch his cum slowly drip out of you, watching you twitch with aftershock and slowly drift off in exhaustion.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Unfortunately for you, since overstimulation and edging are already normal and everyday for you, he’ll have to amp it up a bit if he’s trying to make you regret something. He might get rougher, abusing more pleasure spots on your body, keeping his hands, mouth, and cock occupied all at once with driving you over the edge until it’s painful. But if you’re exceptionally misbehaved, you might not ever get a release to his edging, instead left to suffer from being so close, tied up so you can’t finish yourself off.

In moments when he’s really, truly angry, the peak of it, and that blends with arousal, he’ll really, really throatfuck you. Grabbing the back of your head and shoving his cock down as deep as he can, holding you there as you gag and choke, feeling your throat convulse around him, desperately trying to pull back for air. The movements are harsh and brutal, pulling harshly on your hair, moving at a pace so fast you barely have a second to breathe. Thankfully, when it gets like that, he won’t last long, emptying out into your throat, holding your jaw shut and demanding you swallow. If any spills off on your chin, he’ll gather it up on his fingers, hold it to your face, and command you to open your mouth, suck it off, and swallow again. That’s at the peak of his anger, though, and you’ll have to substantially piss him off to reach that point. He’ll apologize later, holding you close, but his guilt doesn’t change the fact that it’s one of the most intense orgasms that he’ll have, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes think of doing it again, even without provocation. He’s restrained enough not to, but the thought is there… and deep down, he’ll entertain the idea.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

The curves of your body, no matter how defined or faint they are, no matter the general shape of your body, to him it’s the most beautiful thing. He’ll definitely want to draw you, even if you’re not too keen on posing. He’ll run his hands up and down your body, squeezing every little bit of flesh he can, moving his palms over every little curve, every inch of your skin.