Hi! This is a sideblog focused on the game Degrees of Lewdity. As such, please be aware that there will be explicit posts. Reader discretion is advised.
I won't be solely writing Alpha/Beta/Omega AUs for DOL, but I do write a lot of it! Expect to see it here. Such writing will be tagged: #dol omegaverse
My writing can primarily be found on Archive of Our Own here. Unfortunately, I have chosen to lock my works to registered users only due to AI bot scraping. I apologize to all the lovely guests who have read and left kudos on my work, and I hope people will stop feeding generative AI the hard work of writers who write for the joy of fandom and community.
sometimes i wonder how kylar gets you into their manor with their 2/7 physique. I know the Q&A mentions that they ask for help, but i like to imagine they're stubborn and won't let anyone touch your unconscious body.
anyways drag that twink faster kylar the crowd's cheering you on.
It was small, delicate, weaving through the thicket so quietly it barely disturbed the leaves under its hooves. He'd at first thought it was some trick of the light, some apparition in the night conjured by his tired mind. It wouldn't be the first time the forest mocked him with things that weren't there.
But this was real.
And Eden watched from the bushes with his calloused hands around his rifle.
Watched this odd, precious thing glow faintly against the dark and the wild of the forest with little care for dangers like him. There's something about it that sets him on fire.
It's beautiful.
It's perfect.
It doesn't belong here. And he wants it.
He wants to cut it open and find that it is not, in fact, anything more than just a deer -- that it will cut open like any other deer, that it will bleed like any other deer. He wants to taste its meat and scoff at all the ways it lacks. He wants to see it splayed on his table and watch it rot and spoil and gather flies and maggots because nothing perfect has a place on this ugly, filthy, angry earth and so naturally he must be its merciful executioner.
But he doesn't shoot.
His finger loses feeling on the trigger when he sees the fawn is looking back at him with those big, gentle eyes. It doesn't move, doesn't act the cowering prey.
Even when Eden moves closer, even as he stands just a few steps from the animal, it doesn't flee. The fawn simply watches him in return with a stillness that makes Eden struggle to breathe. He needs to shoot. His mind is screaming at him to murder and desecrate this unearthly thing.
And then, the fawn sniffs curiously at the tip of his rifle. It moves closer to rub its head against the barrel almost intimately, and from this distance, Eden can see just how luminous its coat is, completely unblemished by the same forest that tears at his flesh every day. It's perfect. It isn't fair. It needs to die.
A wolf howls in the distance. A brief distraction. And when Eden turns his head back, the fawn is gone.
Eden feels the ground disappear beneath him, the world around him melting and darkening, and he can't breathe, he can't, he's already scrambling around the forest, desperate to find that perfect creature that so cruelly seduced his vilest intentions, only to flee from the sound of something wild and distant and certainly incapable of a far more violent death than him.
He needs to find it again. He needs to taste it. To make it imperfect.
...
Eden returns to the cabin empty-handed that night.
It feels that way every night since then, and many nights do pass. A kill is just a kill. Every animal is just a meal. And the hunt is just a habit.
Maybe it was a trick of the light after all.
.
.
.
Eden's boots crunch against leaves and twigs, his heavy steps the very death knells of these woods.
There's a track - branches snapped in half, grass flattened from a weight, the sound of something unsure and unfamiliar with the forest yet moving through it still.
He'd already caught a rabbit, but he's hoping for venison to keep in stock. These impressions in the dirt aren't deer, though. It becomes clearer as he follows them. There is a person in his woods, one stupid enough to come barefoot and aimless, judging by the tracks.
Townies never learn their lesson.
He sees it then, in the small clearing not too far from the cabin, a small figure hunched over and walking unhurriedly deeper into the forest. He readies his rifle.
And that light -- that arrogant, mocking thing -- blinds him for a moment as it drapes over the figure.
A white fawn.
His white fawn.
As perfect and unblemished and obscene as the first time he saw it.
Right there, in front of him, many years later, in the exact same place he lost it.
And much like the first time, Eden feels his chest burst and tear and bleed as if he was trapped in his own body and now clawed his way out of it anew -- ribs splintering, skin peeling, and blood spilling in his desperate crawl towards the creature that should've been on his plate and in his arms the moment it met his gaze.
It didn't matter that the fawn was now a boy.
It didn't matter that its hair was blonde now, its eyes blue, and its skin flushed pink. It didn't matter that he kicked and screamed when Eden dragged him into the cabin and onto his dining table. It mattered even less that Eden had to break him in for days, or that the boy tried to run away once, or cry and scream for help and tell Eden he hates him between the bars of his little cage.
All of it doesn't matter.
He finally has his little fawn. His perfect, pretty little thing to marr and violate and disgrace. He beat that shining white coat black and blue with his own hands, shackled its hands and feet so it couldn't walk out of his life so gracefully a third time.
But Eden was wrong.
Augustin was perfect. No matter what Eden does to him. He's perfect. There was nothing Eden could do to change that.
And perhaps this is what Eden wanted all along. To own and belong to something so holy and precious and feel less of a ghost haunting these woods, becoming a man saved. Augustin is the apology from a god he never believed in but wanted more than anything to be smiled down upon. He deserves this. It is his by right. Proof that he is here, that he can be loved by someone perfect after all. He is exonerated.
And now all of it matters.
Because Augustin screams so beautifully for Eden. Because he wears the shackle marks and the collar and the bruises like the traces of a lover's kiss. Because Augustin still cries and protests, but it's honest and sweet and comes with the promise of "I love you"s in bed.
So Eden closes his eyes.
And when they open, he's back in the forest clearing. The white fawn gives him a loving look, the forest bearing witness to their sacred hunt. Eden sheds a tear, smiling.
Reiyu's Bailey Expansion Update - ALPHA[0.3.0] - The Over the Lake and Under the Desk Update
GitGud Repository
Wiki - Incredibly thorough, full of spoilers, and hard to navigate but it has everything you need to enjoy the Mod.
Having issues? Come join us in the DoL Modding Discord for help!
ALPHA means the mod is incomplete and I need your help squashing bugs! I seriously can't find them without you guys! Also, please look forward to more content!
