.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » STATUS: busy due to classes, but still accepting taglist requests for a phainon darkfic (please do not forget to read the rules before requesting)
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Heartwarming: Creating this artwork reminded me that Bailey isn't some old man who's in his mid-forties but is actually a thirty-something year old guy that aged twenty years after having to take care of an entire orphanage by himself.
Heavily HEAVILY inspired by both @reembraced and @sunny-the-baileyfucker's posts about Bailey's secret Tinder account. Y'alls works are amazing. I know Bailey is canonically a charming person and only PC can tell he's faking it I cannot take his Tinder account seriously and yet I also know I will fold first without hesitation as soon as I see it. I fear even I am not immune to the propaganda.
i saw the sneaky update some days ago lmaoo im not shocked. i would be a total neutral (not that i against it) if were able to work with bailey or theres another way to proceed the orphanage lore aside from raising rebelliousness (like how theres an option to let avery (which was also a villain) ascend or descend). its just too funny for me haha
but what sometimes makes me ick that people said that bailey is cheating which us not... bailey would never man... 🥀 with their lover (there was on qna ive read before so (sorry im just sensitive with wording))
the sketch is actualy for an's upcoming birthday, and where bailey is 44 and already in relationship with an :] id love to imagine bailey feeling cute and does this... aww my pretty masc i know youre that beautiful... *proud
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LOVING YOU IS RED – mixed berries with blood orange and cranberry tea in purple cup.
SYNOPSIS | easthies x brimmed hat!reader | loving you is red–like the knights moralis robes, a burden and responsibility easthies must carry. like wild red roses with thorns and the blood that flows through his veins–you stick to him so deep it's ingrained beneath his skin. you will go beyond, just to love him, because red suits him best.
NOTES | @d1strict99 tea party event! | bittersweet/angst | childhood friends to enemies to lovers to strangers | this is 20% dialogue and 80% me yapping on the narrative for the feels. a full fic for this one! i know nothing about easthies at all, i hate that man. also, what in the holy 3k words?
3,359 | WARNINGS | character death mentioned and some blood.
easthies proudly wears the symbol of the knights moralis, as if he was born to bear its weight.
it is the knights moralis' duty to maintain order and stability within the community of witches. they are the pillar of peace that keeps the balance of the world–magic for the sake of safety and happiness. they are the shoulders that carry the responsibility of the pact–strict, but unwavering in the face of the countless possibilities that magic can offer.
it is the knights moralis's duty to fight off any threat to the pact–the brimmed hats. vile, cruel witches who wish to transcend beyond the boundaries of which keeps them humane. witches whose blood gives birth to forbidden magic.
and yet, why does easthies find himself wavering under your gaze, beneath the starry brimmed hat that you wore. how scandalous it is for a pointed hat to rendezvous with a brimmed hat in an intimate time of the night. if anyone to bear witness to such a scene, easthies know he'd lose all the dignity he has as a witch. but for now, he savors the soft touches and the look in your eyes–utterly besotted, pathetically incapable of keeping his hand to himself as he runs a finger along your wrist. your heartbeat is hypnotizing–have you perhaps inked a magic so deep into your blood that even the feel of your heartbeat keeps him in a trance?
“what could possibly be troubling your mind at a time like this?”
even the sound of your voice sounds melodious.
easthies resist the urge to scoff at your absurd question. he knows you well enough that you're aware of the answer, you just want to hear him say it. regardless of what it is between the two of you may be called, some things are better left unsaid, he thinks.
easthies swallows down a groan when you shift closer to him. you rest your head on his shoulder, hat falling off from your head and onto the floor–god did he want to burn that thing to ashes. his hand flies to grip your hips. he breathes in deeply when you visibly shiver at the touch, something inside him feels good at how you seem to react to his touches. the same way you did when there was no need to hide under the cape of night. when he would take a hold of your hand in public and you would fidget with his fingers from the attention you're getting.
“i can hear the thoughts racing in your mind.”
the warmth of your breath when you speak against his skin was a new feeling, the proximity itself is new, yet he dares not move away from you. instead, he pulls you closer than he ever had before and shudder when your lips touch the skin on his neck.
everything about this is new.
easthies was so used to pushing you away after you left once upon a starry night–the lingering pain from the abandonment and betrayal still manages to make his heart ache. he was so used to forcing an angry frown on his face at every hints you left, fake and so contradictory to the elation coursing his veins.
easthies wanted to chase you every time he could sense your presence, wanted to hold you tight in his arms.
a darker, more desperate, part within his soul wants to bottle you up and never let you go.
you would probably love to hear such thoughts, although he would never tell you about it. god forbid he ever says such things and see the delighted smile on your face.
“easthies.”
the murmur of his name made his heart ache desperately, a need to make it permanent so strong he has the cloth of your robe in a fist, clutching you closer to him. it made his desire so apparent and it made you all the more delighted to see him in such a state. easthies, deputy captain and leader of the east knight moralis, holding a brimmed hat so close with such need.
what have you done to him?
“when will you be leaving?”
his voice is hushed against your hair, a hand weaving and brushing through the disheveled strands behind you.
“you want me to leave so soon?”
“i was asking you when, not for you to leave this instance.”
your giggle sounds precious in his ears.
“before sunrise, at least.” you lift your head from below his chin–he resists the urge to pull you back. “i wouldn't want to tarnish your reputation now, do i?”
but haven't you done just that? tainted him with your divine presence. at first, it felt like chasing a ghost, but now that he has you in his arms, it felt like his whole being is being possessed by unsolicited emotions–desires unbefitting of his status.
and yet, he dares not wash his hand of such taint. he embraces it the way he embraces you.
easthies wonders what it would be; to have you like this whenever you're near, without the fear of exploitation and objections from his peers. to touch you in broad daylight, unconcerned of where he does so. to feel your eyes on him, not from where you're hiding, but in plain sight, from within a crowd of people. to have you walk with him along the great hall with your hands intertwined, occasionally placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand– to not have to hide you under the cape of darkness just for a moment of peace. to feel your lips on his with such ferocity or gentleness. to have enough time to relish your affection. to say the words he longs to say without the fear of breaking this fragile thread that binds the two of you.
for a moment, he wonders what it would be like to have you as you were before you turned away from him in pursuit of your love for magic.
a love he can only be secondary.
ironic, that a knights moralis such as him, finds himself in second place against the very thing he swore to protect.
“stay here, please.”
pathetic, really, for easthies to beg you for such things that cannot be.
“you know i cannot.”
he does. and yet he hopes for you to need the same.
“you know what they'll do to me if they found me.”
he knows, god, does he know. he's done it to others so many times. it is with you that he could not imagine himself doing the same.
“they'll take away everything from me.”
they will take you away from him.
“i'll forget who i am.” your arms circle his waist in a tight embrace, almost as if you're comforting him instead, despite of your words. “i'll forget my love.”
of course, you'll forget your magic. you are not you without your love for magic.
“i'll forget my love, i’ll forget you, the man i hold dearest to me.”
easthies felt his pulse quicken.
“who am i without my memories of my love? without my heart?”
you weren't talking about magic.
you were talking about him, your love. the man you love.
“i'll risk everything for you.” your lips were against his ear now, voice laced with a kind of devotion that transcends worship. “i'll scour the world for a magic so powerful.” your lips press against the skin behind his ear and he shudders at the feeling.
“a magic that will bind us together, not even death can tear us apart.”
was it possible? to know that the two of you belong with each other, even after the first, second, or third life? will your souls recognize the other, over and over again, until the universe finally gives you what the two of you are desperate for?
“my love.” your love. that, he pathetically is. the love that transcends even fate.
“kiss me.”
easthies pulls away from you, a hand holding your cheek so gently, like the smallest force will break you to pieces. but he will stubbornly pick you up one by one, even if the sharp edges prick his fingers.
after all, red suits him so well.
“if i kiss you, it'll ruin everything.”
it'll ruin the last pieces of restraint. the last fragment of control over his emotions–over his desire. but it is exactly as he said. every part of him was ruined the moment you stepped out of his life, only to ruin him once more when you returned completely different but still the same witch he dreams of every night.
you nuzzle against his hand like a kitten, intoxicated eyes staring right at him.
“so you don't wish to ruin everything–to ruin me?”
“no.”
easthies finally smiles, enamored and completely at your mercy. you never needed to search for a magic to keep him to yourself. to seal his immutable doom, his lips brush against yours.
“i love you.”
you've ruined him for anyone else.
nothing could have prepared him for this.
all broken and ruined, his heart lay bare in your limp hands. your eyes were empty like the stone in your hand. blood trails from your mouth, the same sickening red that he wears with pride.
easthies hates the brimmed hats.
he hates their curiosity. they made magic that causes pain, grief, and loss. they do not concern themselves with the victims of their malpractice, going beyond the limit of what makes them human. he hates their ambitious tendencies. their love for magic borders on obsession, to the point they throw themselves into magic so deep it's inked on their skin, black liquid coursing through their veins. even you, a brimmed hat yourself, will fall victim to your foolishness. easthies hates the brimmed hats even more, when it's you.
you and your ambitious love for magic.
and it is the same thing that ruined you. it was unfair, easthies grits his teeth in anger. you weren't cruel like them, you weren't using violence in your pursuit for magic. what you wanted was knowledge beyond humanity, the power to do the impossible and transcend human boundaries.
all that's left is your mortal body, lying in the cold hard cobblestone in a pool of your own blood.
easthies hates the color red.
it reminded him of your lips, stained with his blood from when you bit the soft flesh of his lips regardless of his pain. it reminded him of the apple you had this morning before you left, promising to return when the sun goes and the moon shines above.
easthies hates how he can count the times you've broken your promises.
and now, your body lie ruined and broken in his arms. skin etched with dark inks of unfamiliar signs and sigils was all the evidence he needs to see. you have committed the most forbidden act in magic–you have stained your mortal skin with magical ink and you reap what you sow.
“you've always been a liar, haven't you?”
easthies wonder how you got yourself into this ending. where have you been before you're life came to an abrupt stop? did the brimmed hats do something to you? he wouldn't take away the possibility of another brimmed hat harming you–if that is the case, easthies swears he will haunt them down to the ends of this world. had they discovered that you've been meeting up with him in secret? did you stumble upon information privy only to a few brimmed hats and they had to get rid of you to keep the information from reaching him? was it the brimmed hats who stained your skin with ink against your consent?
the air is suffocating, he felt like drowning in his own tears.
when had he started crying?
the image of your face, scathed and bruised and in dire need of help, brought forgotten memories and pasts to the surface. would you, in your time of need, call out for his name? did you think about all the wasted time, all your regrets, all of what could be, if you had stayed with him and never left his side? if you had said yes when he had asked you to stay with him that night the two of you held each other so close, would you still be looking at him with so much love he wants to keep for himself?
all of these questions, ruined and left unanswered, all because you wanted eternity.
how pathetic.
even so, easthies wishes not for eternity, but your love. love that transcends human boundaries, that bind you together it defies fate.
easthies gives himself an hour or two with your cold body in his arms, wishing and begging and crying for some kind of miracle. you have given your life for magic, the same way he will give away his own to have you back.
somewhere from beneath your robes, a spell inked on your skin disappears.
easthies didn't know why, but the museum is crowded today. on all of the day a crowd can gather amongst the corridors of this building, it had to be the day his colleagues managed to convince him to come to this exhibit.
ah, he remembers now.
a new art exhibit was taking place here. something about a rookie artist and how their works capture emotions differently from others. apparently, portraying sorrow and love in the same piece was what gained them attention. so, instead of meditating in his own home on a supposedly relaxing day off, he's following behind a few colleagues from work with the most pensive look on his face. honestly, he's starting to regret accompanying them in the first place. there's only a certain amount of bickering from the twins that he can tolerate as of today. why did luluci think that taking etlan and ekoh to a museum was a good idea?
“oh, look.” luluci, the angel she is, distracts the bickering brothers and points at another painting on the wall. “it looks sweet, doesn't it?”
“not really.” etlan shrugs. “it's kind of boring.”
“kinda like the starry night, huh?” galga reads the description below the painting. “they called it ‘the night you ruined everything.’ what a title.”
“it looks wonderful, though! asides from the horrible names and title!”
utowin stares at the canvas on the wall with sparkly eyes, capturing the art with his own camera. the flicker of light against his eyes must've awaken easthies from his trance. he doesn't know how long he's been staring at the canvas in front of him mindlessly, nor why he did so from the beginning. an odd feeling of melancholy grips his heart when he looks back at the painting once more. it was odd, he's never been to this museum before nor does he find interest in art. tagging along with his colleagues was a spur of the moment decision made by piled up fatigue and restlessness from his work. yet, he finds the painting unbelievably familiar, like a deja vu he knows he's never been through.
it was a simple painting; a starry night, a tower, and a pair of lovers–he assumes.
they must be lovers. the way they held each other was not the same way friends hug one another. another ache in his heart thrums and he struggles to stand straight, finding it hard to blink the onslaught of tears brought upon by unfamiliar sadness. how strange, he's never been this emotional before, let alone for a painting.
he staggers when something, or rather someone, bumps into him.
“oh, sorry!”
jumping away from the person he had unknowingly collided with, he turns to apologize for his recklessness. but he found it hard to form sounds into words, when all he can feel is an indescribable longing and pain when your eyes meet;
disheveled hair, ruffled collar and the first two buttons of your shirt loose, a stroke of red paint on your cheek.
easthies catches his hand before he could wipe the red paint off of your skin.
what was he thinking?
“are you alright?” he manages to croak out, eyes seemingly unable to stop itself from roaming your figure–committing the way you stood in his memory, watching the movement of your shoulders with every breath you take. the bewildered look in your eyes that seemed to sparkle with joy at the sight of him.
where are all these thoughts coming from?
“i've never been better.” you let out a breathy laugh.
the sound of your voice somehow made everything around him brighter. the background starts to blur and he can see you crystal clear this way. something's pulling at his heartstrings, tugging him along to stand closer to you; have his presence linger around you for just a bit longer, listen to your voice and laughter when he's never even heard of you before (oh, he's heard it a thousand times), hold your hand in his and never let go. why does he feel so attached, when he's barely spent an hour with you? let alone half an hour?
a voice at the back of his head tries to convince him that he knows you more than he lets on. it keeps pulling him in, tugging at his heartstrings incessantly–like an invisible force that he can feel deep within his bones.
“are you enjoying the exhibit so far?” your smile, god, please keep smiling at him like that.
“yes, surprisingly so.” he swallows his nerves down with practiced ease. “have you been here before?”
you certainly look like you do.
“yes, i make art for this museum!”
“is this?” he turns to look at the painting–intentionally ignoring the weird looks his colleagues are giving him. after all, easthies was never one for small talks with strangers. “one of your works?”
there's a quiet kind of sorrow in your smile and he has half the mind to gently caress your cheeks to wipe it off your face.
“yes, i made it years ago.”
“and you've only ever gone public with it recently?”
easthies watched as you mull over the answer to his simple question, noting how painfully familiar your eyes were. like a dream he couldn't remember after waking up, a distant memory from the past that he can't quite recall. he doesn't know why, but each mole on your face he knows by heart, can tell by your eyes how you felt with one look.
you were a stranger, but he can feel the way his heart beats like it belongs to you. he doesn't know your name, but he knows his heart calls out for you, letter by letter.
“i was waiting for someone.”
you turned to him and suddenly, everything seemed to be in the right place at the right time. you're just an arm's length away from him and he wants to reach for you, hold you tightly, feel the way your skin feels against him. you were a stranger, but he misses you as you stood in front with a smile so hypnotizing.
you ruined him for everyone else, right from the beginning, from a place he doesn't quite recall. from a memory he doesn't remember owning.
“easthies!”
he can hear the calls of his colleagues as they move ahead of him. it was physically difficult to tear his gaze away from yours. you could probably tell, so with a reassuring smile you wave him a goodbye with words that he couldn't forget.
“i'll see you next time, sir easthies.”
oh, how his name sounds melodious in your voice.
“will i be able to find you here, whenever?”
there's a certain sparkle in your eyes, a telling sign that can hear the hope in his voice when he said that. god, how pathetic of him.
“the time will come, i'm sure of it.”
turning around and walking to a different direction, he watches you take a few steps, before looking at him once more. there's a playful smile on your face. just now, did he noticed the weird star themed hat on your head. it doesn't suit you at all, he thinks.
“we've always had enough time, easthies. i made sure of it.”
i lied this doesnt have any connections to the bleeding ward painting i just thought itd be a cool title i dont even speak english as a first language so i have no idea what bleeding ward actually means lmao
but this is essentially what happened to fenrir as a kid. they disobeyed bailey and snuck out of the orphanage, almost got abducted, which forced bailey to kill someone in front of them just to make sure they'd stay in one piece. you would think it'd make them more obedient to him in the future, and bailey thought so, too. instead, it hardened them even more and where their desire to burn the town started.
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This is the third time I'm redesigning/redoing my DoL PC but since I finally have a name I'm attached to maybe this one would finally stick.
The extra info under the cut is going to be very long. But if y'all are interested, you guys can shoot an ask! They're one of the most detailed OCs I've ever made and they're even more detailed than Evie now that I actually locked in the game rather than just playing for three days, getting bored, and then reading the wiki lmao
TW: Mentions of SH and taking one's own life below.
Note: some info are subjected to change for numerous reasons. This can include me restarting my save files, new updates, or playing DoL New World (which I haven't given a try yet). There's also going to be a category dedicated for things that, as far as I'm aware, are not in the game or I'm not aware are in New World.
Character Information
Pronouns are she/they because name one (1) yumeOC I have that doesn't.
Born a wolfperson. Their parents are unknown, and neither seem to be in the wolf pack. Perhaps they were loners and never belonged anywhere.
Bailey named them Fenrir. Is it creative??? Idk I doubt he's the creative type.
Extremely defiant and rebellious, even as a kid. Being a wolfperson does not help their case since it just makes them more aggressive. Has definitely bitten Bailey and the other kids before. Bailey was tempted to muzzle them as a kid because of it.
They go by she/they but you will never hear anyone aside from Bailey and Robin, and maybe a few kids in the orphanage, use they. They get misgendered a lot, especially in school.
A bit of a loner that growls at any stranger that approaches them. Their only friend is Robin, but even that friendship feels shaky. Being the only wolfperson in Rapechester™ definitely doesn't help.
Spiked collar was the first thing they bought with their very first allowance money. It just felt right to put on. Unfortunately, it earned them several scars around their neck because people, especially at night, would always try to pull them by their neck and make their collar tighter.
They're aware they resemble Bailey (black hair + red eyes). They doubt he's their biological father. They absolutely pray he isn't their bio father they would kill him and theirself faster if he was.
Sex skills are still abysmal lmao. You expect my asexual ass to build my asexual PC's sex skills in the sex simulator game??? Blasphemous.
Story
Even though Bailey makes sure to keep the younger kids in the orphanage safe until they become of age, they got exposed to the town's truth when they were younger. It was a miracle Bailey even managed to save her because she was almost gone. Their relationship with Bailey became shaky after that.
Swore to not succumb to the town's fuckery and selling themself as a commodity. Instead, they turned to the life of crime because stealing from their poor neighbor is better somehow. Eventually, they became skilled enough to do treasure hunting and got money by selling antiques to Winter.
Decent in school. Really loves history. Fucking hates math.
No they really fucking hate math. They thought they were skilled enough to steal drugs from the people selling them behind the school for the math comptetition. They were not. Bailey had to save their ass.
Got left extremely traumatized. They made sure to not pass out looking so visibly disturbed because Bailey both threatened and warned them about the asylum before, and they are not going there. Unfortunately, them disassociating whenever they get assaulted in the streets doesn't help.
They had to claw their way out of their trauma. They absolutely have not healed. They just let it out by attacking people instead. That's where they got their title as "the Feral" and "Bailey's brat". You see that wolf person walking down the street that looks like they're gonna give you rabies? Make sure you're with a group because if not pray they don't have rabies they WILL bite your neck if they get the opportunity.
It's also why their sex skills are low as hell. They absolutely refuse to become a commodity in town. If worse comes to worst and they have no choice, they obviously would do it (like quickly getting shark's teeth in the prison). But if possible, they'd rather beat someone up to get what they need.
Sticks to their strange morals. She attacks people in school if they try to assault her and it sends her to detention. But at the same time, she keeps quiet if her classmates also get attacked because she has no relationship with them. She actually did ignore Robin getting bullied at one point because she herself was too traumatized and stressed to deal with other people, and she didn't want Harper to be aware of her state.
A vengeful sadist. She started to beat people up and realized she's enjoying seeing them suffer the way they made her suffer. In fact, she wants to be worse than them. If she could, she would kill someone. But as of the moment, she's not ready to face those consequences. It's also when they realized why Bailey became the way he did and when they decided to break the cycle.
They have a lot of tattoos on their body because they tried to retrieve the Gilded Spear from the island when Jordan asked them to, passed out several times, and the islanders managed to completely cover their body with tattoos from head to toe. Hey at least they got all of the artifacts they could get for the museum.
NPC relationships
Originally this was a long list of every NPC that's important to them but it ended up being too long so I'm cutting it down to relevant NPCs but y'all can ask about their relationship with other NPCs :DD
Bailey
Has an extremely fucked up relationship with Bailey. Like, "No Children" type of fucked up relationship.
They were already aware of his true nature when they were younger. He had to tighten his leash around them to make sure they won't get away again while also not speaking out of turn. They probably got a slap here and there when they bit Bailey.
Tried to avoid rent one time by fighting Bailey, failed, ended up getting sold as pudding, started taking rent somewhat more seriously. Tried fighting him again when they got more physique, still lost, got sold to Eden, had to be nice to Eden just so they could come back. They started paying him properly now.
At the same time, since they became aware at such a young age, Bailey gave them a few heads up around town. Stuff like, don't let Harper take you to the asylum. The docks can actually provide good pay if you're willing to work for it. Don't drink anything Quinn gives you. But despite that, they're not an exemption to his rule. He still demands rent. In fact, he asks for more compared to the other orphans. He sent four of his strongest men to beat her up when she deleted his files when Mickey gave them that job, then sold her to Remy.
Bailey actually saved them when Kylar kidnapped them. They actually wanted to snitch on Jordan on how Bailey was treating the kids, but then they thought about what the two went through. For some strange reason, they defended him. Shit absolutely became different afterwards. (rbe!bailey,,, save me rbe!bailey,,,,)
Everyone, especially in the underworld, refers to them as "Bailey's Brat". If someone's going after them, it's always in a group. Make sure to have a lot of money on you so Bailey won't go after you. If you don't, make sure to not leave any marks. God help you if they bite your arms and leaves blood.
Their end goal is to destroy the town and then kill Bailey alongside themselves. But they want Bailey to panic for once. They don't want to be another Bailey sitting in his office meeting a new brat and realizing they're next. They want Bailey to realize that they're going to die first, and there's nothing he can do because he's moments away from death as well.
I also have this other idea where after destroying the town, they try to "kill" Bailey alongisde themselves. But the truth is he was never going to die. He was just going to watch as they die and he lives to see it. I dunno where that'll go afterwards though. Just a thought to show just how much Bailey and this town broke them.
Avery
Avery absolutely prizes them. At first, they thought Avery might be their ticket to get out of this hellhole and leave Bailey forever. Unfortunately, when he brought them to poker night one night, they realized, oh shit. He's no different from anyone else.
Avery also wants them to appear more "proper and feminine". have you seen this fucker's wardrobe for you if you move in with him fuck you mean all of his clothes for me are short and revealing fuck you i want my long skirts back >:[
Exclusively refers to them with feminine pronouns. Refer to this old artwork for reference.
Bailey doesn't usually care if people misgender them, but he WILL correct Avery because fuck Avery
I haven't completed Avery's quest yet so there's a lot of things I can't add for now but just know they absolutely will swap the stones and leave him to die. They always wanted to kill someone. Why not start with Avery? At least if they regret it, there's a plausible deniability because they didn't take his hand. Right?
Wren
Vrelnir if you can hear me Vrelnir please please please make Wren a LI I need him so much it doesn't matter if he's just a fling or whatever have you seen what this man says if you flirt with him I want him so bad and something tells me he wants me too
Gwylan
Gwylan is a very close friend and nothing more. They always help him with his weekly rituals, even when they started becoming a vessel of the forest. It's nice to know that there's another person in town that's not human like them.
Also the part where Gwylan asks you in the café about why you keep fighting despite everything and you can choose revenge and say you want to burn everything good soup I wish that helps with Bailey's respect so much.
Winter
Considers them, and perhaps Robin, his best students. He's very thankful for their contributions in the museum and for even building the archeological site in the lake, albeit it is somewhat concerning where they get these artifacts.
For some reason every time they ask him about the Hopeless Cycle painting they hate Winter for some reason. There's a voice in their head that's mumbling about "savescumming" and "stressing about getting different endings" or something.
Kylar
They became nice to Kylar one (1) time. Somehow, they found out he knows how to build a pepper spray lab. They scraped every money they had, started regularly stealing from the docks, and even avoiding Bailey's rent to pay for the lab. Unfortunately, that had the downside of Kylar kidnapping them, which led to Fenrir having to contact Bailey and even vouch for him when Jordan asked.
Gonna be honest with you chat every time Kylar kidnaps me my skulduggery skills are nowhere near S yet which means I have never been in his family mansion I just dismiss this fucker I hate him actually lmao
Self indulgent things
I remember there's an underground fighting ring in New World, but I haven't played New World yet so I'm not sure what's in there. However, Fenrir absolutely competes in there. It probably doesn't pay well, at least not compared to Alex's farm, but it's a place where they can let out steam. It also helps with combat fame.
They tried to join the Wolf Pack to see if maybe they'll fit in. They do not. It made them feel more alone. However, they did save the Black Dog after finding out it's related to the Black Wolf. They got caught by the pound, but fortunately, Bailey quickly saved them.
I actually want their flowers to be bluebonnets because they're also called lupinus. But since there's no bluebonnets in the game, maybe I'd go for white roses instead.
Obviously the way I play the game isn't reflective of how I see Fenrir as a character. So even if I'm making five digits in the factory with Alex's farm, I think Fenrir's main source of income is still by working in the docks during their free time, stealing from said docks in their other free time, finding some relics around town, and the underground fighting ring. It doesn't give a lot most of the time, but it's better than none.
Dawg I have 500k pounds in my current save, found every seed, completed every antique except for Avery's antiques, Elk Street, and the silver brooch, escaped prison, and almost finished Alex's farm.
What the fuck do you mean I was playing in an older version fuck my life bro
TW: Mentions of self harm and taking one's own life under the cut
The Bailey Expanded mod isn't enough I need to actually enter the game and kill him myself
I was listening to No Children again and idk man something about this song spoke to me and like the madman that I am I decided to draw this with Bailey and my PC (who I finally decided to properly name Fenrir I'll give them a proper intro post someday shh).
There was supposed to be a really long ramble here but I realized it would be better as a fic so instead let me yap about these two instead.
I know it's not possible in canon, but I really, really, want Fenrir and Bailey to have a fucked up relationship. I'm not just talking about the fact that they're already messed up in the game. I'm talking about the fact that if Fenrir does get the chance to kill Bailey, they'll take the both of them down. Perhaps as a final act of spite and a grand fuck you to him, they're going to kill him, but he's going to watch them kill theirself first and then panic and realize he can't do anything as he also dies. Because Fenrir wouldn't want to be another Bailey. They can promise all they want, they can make the orphanage as revolutionary as they want. But they know that if they kill him, it'll just be another hopeless cycle of resentment. They know eventually that they'll never be able to let go of their hatred and twisted love for Bailey, and that their own hatred for the town will get to them eventually. One day, there's going to be a brat that reminds them of themself. And they'll sit on Bailey's office chair, finally be in his position, and understand why he did what he did. And one day, they might also die from that child's hands.
But instead of doing that, they're going to break the cycle. Perhaps they'll try to save as much people as they want to first. Maybe they'll succeed, maybe they won't. But once everything is said and done, they would rather destroy and burn everything to the ground, anger Bailey once more, than live in the hell he built over again.
Alternate version + rambling shenanigans under the cut
Hi chat I'm back from the dead not to write a new fic but because I once again redesigned my DoL PC and once again drawing them with Bailey and after this I'm gonna go back to the grave and revive myself until I get inspired to post something again
This is also dedicated to the very lovely and very amazing @dokidokibailey for inspiring me to draw this and post again your Bailey mod is life changing and I recently reread your BaileyFics on AO3 and just aksjldfaslkdfjasd;flkjasdf thank you for blessing (cursing?????) the world with this amazing mod I cannot wait for your future expansions my favorite part is edging myself on getting the third Stockholm point because I don't know if I want to get it just yet or if I want to keep being an annoying little shit and ragebaiting him.
do not ask me why my redesigned pc and bailey have the same hair and eye color lets not address that elephant in the room rn
ANYWAY I'M GONNA RAMBLE ABOUT MY PC ONCE AGAIN
They are once again nameless because I really couldn't think of a good name rip
I always play on DoL+ but even if I don't I always try to run a Defiant PC that has a really high combat fame but has zero skills in sex and survives in Rapechester™ by beating people to death and pepper spraying everyone
BUT!!!! Something that always stuck to me is if Bailey wins the poker night, Bailey takes you somewhere and there's these two thugs you can threaten and call you Bailey's Girl/Boy (unfortunately my namless PC goes by they/them or she/her and nobody in this town aside from Bailey and Robin understands the concept of people using different pronouns). So something that got me thinking is what if there's a possibility of a new fame option but being Bailey related. OR OR OR somehow your fame being connected to Bailey. Like if you have a high combat fame people would start seeing you as "Bailey's brat" or "Bailey's attack guard dog". If you have a high sex fame you're like "Bailey's #1 merchandise" or something. And if you have Bailey related fame, NPCs treat you differently. Like for example, if you have a high combat fame+Bailey there's a bigger chance that you'll be harassed by larger groups of people as revenge for beating them up. If you have high prostitution fame+Bailey you'll get people soliciting you but they'll give you a lot of money (and maybe - Control and + Trauma as well because I can't imagine this can be good for your mental health lmao).
This post was gonna be longer but maybe I should just make a new intro post for my PC and ramble there lmao
Anyway Bailey fuckers need to play the Bailey Expansion Mod right now!!! You get to ragebait Bailey even more and piss him off if you have certain transformations
Oh and you get to fuck Bailey too ig that's not really that relevant compared to ragebaiting Bailey
You're so used to Corbeau dressed to the nines, with his velvety tenor to match, that it hardly fazes you anymore.
However, the moment you video-call him—immediately after winning your thousandth battle in the ZA Royale at 4:30 in the morning—you're met with a barely conscious Corbeau sprawled in bed.
His hair is practically a Murkrow's nest, with strands sticking up at odd angles. And without his usual scowl, his features look strangely soft.
Dare you say, almost unrecognizable.
"Mmhh… yes?" he answers, voice quiet and rough, thick with sleep.
At the sound of his voice, your heart begins to pound in your chest. Heat floods your face, burning hot and crimson, until you practically resemble a Magcargo.
"Uh—ah, I'll tell you later, Corbs," you blurt before hanging up IMMEDIATELY.
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Hey yall it's been a while. I'll make a proper "ITS SO NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN :DD" post one of these days. But I received a rather disgusting comment in one of my posts so I want to address it.
Do not ask me if I support incest in real life.
I am a fanfiction author. Extra emphasis on the word fiction. I am aware that my fictional interests are what people consider gross and concerning. I will not deny that, and I will not force people who don't like it to understand why I like it. I have no other reason other than the fact that I want to read fictional stories regarding that. If the intent is not to write a realistic depiction of an abusive dynamic, I will not criticize it as such. If the intent is to write a kinky fictional piece intended for people who are interested in reading that kind of material, I treat it as such.
Let me emphasize. I read and write fiction.
Do not ask me if I support non contact incest in real life or whatever. Ignoring the fact that I don't support incest in real life, I'm not even knowledgeable enough about "no contact" or whatever terms are used. And frankly, I'd rather not know even if it'll help me "understand things better." If you're finding attraction to children or your family members in real life, I genuinely mean it when I say seek help. Find a professional who'd be able to help you and not a random person on Tumblr who writes fanfiction for fun.
I don't know how to end this other than please learn to separate fiction from reality. Don't assume that someone's fictional interests, especially unconventional ones, always align with their real beliefs. And for the love of god fo not do not ask random strangers online shit like that.
Wanting to make fanfic of Pokémon with my usual style of writing is so funny actually because what do you mean I want to write a fic of you going to Corbeau and asking him to help you kill your husband so you can be free from said husband but then the two of you end up having an affair. My brother in Arceus. This is Pokémon. Literally the most child friendly franchise out there. How about we calm down.
