|🇵🇭|Gender: female|Born: 02/13/06| Hello you can call me Ella and I like movies, animes, mangas, comics, games, cats, and other things. I don't like incest, pedophilia, zoophilia and other uncomfortable things that I'm not fond of. Also I have ADHD.
I like to write fanfics for fun and I have a lot of fixation towards things I like! But updates will be hella slow due to a lot of reasons like my life, problems, and such, but I'll try my best to get back into writing if I have free time.
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[Dusk Valley: Saga]
They're all in the same universe and as for why the readers are only transported to games and why game characters are all yanderes is cuz why not?
[Cookie Run: Kingdom]
「Sweet Little Baker」
「Sweet Little Baker: Scenarios」
「Sweet Little Baker: Perspectives」
「Sweet Little Baker: AUs」
「Sweet Little Baker: Information」
「Sweet Little Baker: Drawings」
[Outlast]
「The Day an Angel Came」
「The Day an Angel Came: Scenarios」
「The Day an Angel Came: Perspectives」
「The Day an Angel Came: AUs」
[No, I'm Not a Human]
「One Starry Night」
「One Starry Night: Scenarios」
「One Starry Night: Perspectives」
「One Starry Night: AUs」
[Resident Evil]
Coming Soon...
[Dispatch]
Coming Soon...
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[Other Fanfics]
Just to remind you all that they're not related to the Dusk Valley: Saga!
Yay! I’m so excited that you’ll do it! Then can I request a scenario where Usami goes full yandere on fem s/o please, if it’s not too hard to write for him!
Ok so I got this idea from your squishing face post for the pengys like just the idea of embarrassing him :3 how about an s/o who would just pop in during a meeting and call ozzie some embarrassingly cute nicknames
You: hello my dearest cutest little pengy wengy what do you want for dinner? 😘🥰💋💖
Him: 🐧
His men: 🧍♂️🧍♂️🧍♂️🧍♂️🧍♂️
A/N: hehehe…if this isn’t some shit I’d try to pull asdfgh. Not always, but like a time or two. Just to hear him sigh in embarrassing disappointment lmao. Once again, sorry that some of these kinda follow a different scenario but the essential headcanon of them being embarrassed is there lmao
Reader Embarrassing The Penguins:
Arkhamverse Penguin:
- Oswald was bending his men’s ears so far back, they might as well have fallen off.
- Nightwing apparently ruined their trip to the docks to retrieve a shipment of weapons.
- Veins along Oswald’s neck and hands were popping.
- "Hey Ozzie wozzie! I was just wanting– oh! So sorry I didn't know you were having a meeting!
- Oz's face instantly went white as a sheet as all the blood and heat from his anger was drained.
- He looked over his shoulder, a slight shaky smile on his face. "Uhh yeah..its all right, love. I'll be with you in a minute, yeah?"
- You nodded beaming happily as you closed the door.
- Some hushed snickers could be heard from his men
- Only for them to be silenced by a slamming fist to the table.
- "I better not hear a peep out of any of you about that…or else you're all gonna be lunch to the Croc! Now…back to business."
Reevesverse/Farrell Penguin:
- I am not entirely sure why, but I can imagine this Oz likes beating you to the punch?
- He knows how you normally greet him, especially when you usually assume he’s alone.
- So as a countermeasure if he’s in a meeting or is talking to security, he beats you to the pet names.
- “Yes, sweetheart?” “What’s going on, sugar?”
- However, that doesn’t always stop you from throwing in a “pengy baby”, “my handsome penguin”, and of course a personal favorite; “daddy”.
- Oz may scratch the back of his neck nervously, but chuckle all the same.
- It can be somewhat embarrassing but he adores you too much for it to get to him.
- Nobody better ridicule you or himself when you do it, or there will be hell to pay.
- He also doesn’t care if his men get annoyed, they just better keep it to themselves.
Gotham Penguin:
- Okay, but no seriously…could you not?
- It’s hard enough as it is to appear intimidating and go by “The Penguin”.
- He knows you mean well, you don't really think twice about his reputation…
- You just see your sweet, endearing, and loving Oswald.
- Oswald would be having a meeting with his people at the long dining table. With Butch standing at his side.
- You come in cheerfully to see Oz, without even noticing he's in company.
- "Hey Ozzie!"
- Silence fills the room, a pin could be heard.
- Oswald tried to remedy it by patting your hand and telling you he won't be long…
- You nod and lean in to kiss his cheek before running off.
- He shoots daggers to Butch who continues to chortle under his breath.
BTAS Penguin:
- He’s stuck between lovestruckness and slight embarrassment.
- Oswald doesn’t want you to stop, but knows he probably needs you too.
- He does have somewhat of a reputation to uphold in the criminal underworld.
- Oswald adores that you are so comfortable and adore him enough to bless him with a pet name.
- He won't be harsh or short with you, even if he's griping to his henchmen.
- It will literally be night and day the way he interacts with you and his henchmen.
- "You fools! If your absolute incompetence continues to hinder my schemes, I will-!"
- "Oswald? Where are you my handsome pengy?"
- The slightest snicker comes from one of his men and Oswald is quick to silence them with a terrifying stare.
- If they mention this incident to anyone, they will be bird food.
TNBA Penguin:
- Not that he doesn’t appreciate the sentiments…
- He just can’t exactly reciprocate them at the moment when he’s trying to take charge.
- There are moments he won't mind, like if he's entertaining guests at the Lounge.
- Oz would lavish in the adoration you're giving him, and it shows a different side to him.
- He's likely to tell you beforehand if he's discussing things with more…dangerous individuals.
- It's more or less to protect you, but also to ensure you don't let any pet names slip up.
- Whenever it does happen, he still keeps his cool meanwhile he's trying to hide his blush and not stammer his words.
Telltale Penguin:
- Why? You know how embarrassing this is for him!
- “Hey Ozzie wozzie, I was just wondering-”
- “No..no..don’t say another word.”
- You honestly revel in his exasperated head shakes and exhausted sighs.
- He won't ever admit it, but he does actually like it deep down.
- He likes the fact you're comfortable enough around him to tease and mess with him.
- The fact that you love him so much and in such a way that warrants you to give him stupid cute nicknames.
- Sometimes he's agitated whenever you do it in front of his crew.
- But his crew knows better not to mention it ever again after an incident.
One Bad Day Penguin:
- Oh boy…
- God it’s a good thing you’re cute, it makes you get away with…well everything.
- He’s wiping his face and pinching the bridge of his nose.
- It’s not like he can stop you.
- Oz does find it incredibly adorable.
- He can't help that his face may flush just slightly.
- Kinda like Farrell Penguin, he's also likely to dish it back to you with cutesy pet names.
- The only people allowed to tease him or mess with him about it are Lili and Freida.
The Batman (2004) Penguin:
- Ozzie groans as a cringey chill went down his spine.
- Really? "Ozzie wozzy??"
- And in front of his criminal peers in jail?
- You do realize he's got a reputation to protect, right?
- He's gone toe to toe with Batman, Joker, Riddler, and even had a rag-tag team of villains of his own!
- Oh but that…that doesn't stop you from doing it…
- It gets to a point that he doesn't even debate you or show his disdain for nicknames at least in public.
- He just becomes defensive whenever people tease him about your nicknames for him.
- "What're you laughing at? You're just jealous!"
Batman Unlimited Penguin:
- This Oswald takes a minute to respond.
- He’s still getting used to the foundations of a relationship…
- He completely disregarded the usage of pet names and when and where they’re appropriate to use.
- It takes awhile for Oswald to get used to your nicknames…but they make him feel absolutely elated.
- He may be embarrassed if you do it in front of others...
- But only for a moment...because embarrassment is quickly replaced with adoration.
- If anyone mocks him or you for your endearments he's swift to silence them.
- He's gone far too long with affection, far too long he's yearned to be addressed lovingly.
- Oswald would be damned if he let some random henchperson or passerby get in the way of that.
Requesting Victor gideon x reader smut... I'm just imagining this man with his size picking me up with his hands and using me like a pocket pussy okay? I wanna go dumb on it
cw: size kink + free use + sprinkle of blood kink + WE GET PRAISED by lizard man + belly bulge + bit of blood kink + victor has hyperspermia, here, i said it
a/n: this is pure filth, apologies
since your arrival at Rhodes Hill Clinic, victor knew you were the perfect lamb.
sweet and docile, carrying out every order as instructed by the nurses and doctors – swallow the pills, lift your tongue, don’t wander past the safety zones, let them take your blood samples.
ah yes, your blood.
that evening, the doctor’s wide figure filled the lab almost entirely. victor swung the glass vial between his calloused digits, looking out for any unwanted blood clots in the ampule, but the very particular scent that got stirred, made him feel intoxicated. victor forced his slimy forked tongue into the vial and had a taste of the sweetest nectar in the entirety of his life.
the description put on the vial was reading your name.
it started as a sympathy, but eventually turned into an obsession – a need of having a taste and absolute control. to have you within the reach of his hand. under his desk, preferably. sitting by his side, waiting to be... useful.
victor’s preposterously huge frame was dwarfing your own as he kept you still over the room’s vanity. his stupidly big fingers dug into the flesh of your waist and hips while he kept fucking you back onto his monstrous cock. the doctor wouldn’t mind a few new bruises over here and there – to him, it was just another sign of your devotion.
to him.
each of his powerful thrust kept pushing away more air out of your lungs and at this point, you didn’t even try to conceal the lustful moans and whimpers that escaped your swollen lips.
good god, patients next door had to hate you at this point, making so much noise after curfew.
his soft stomach perfectly fit into the curve of your spine, thick and heavy cock stretching your gummy walls and filling you to the brim. the fat length buried between your parted thighs. his presence crowded not only the room but every inch of your existence – you could smell his musk, tense at the brush of his cold rings, hear and ingest the gravelly groans of pleasure coming from his throat.
pleasure that your sweet body gave him.
— such a good girl, allowing her doctor to use her like a stress toy. — he cooed over your head and you mindlessly yet enthusiastically nodded. tears of joy brimmed behind your lashes as your eyes rolled back into the skull when victor rubbed lazy circles over your needy clit.
— y-yes, doctor gideo-on! — a half hiccuped noise died out as the knot became tighter deep down between your mound and lower tummy.
the obscene wetness that coated your inner thighs and squelched each time his groin and balls met your soaked pussy was enough to turn you into an obedient mess just for him. you were gripping the edge of the vanity for support as victor used you as he pleased.
the furniture banged and scraped against the wall, his movements becoming more erratic and sloppier. you could feel his dick twitch inside of you.
it didn't take much more for you to drown in the climax of ecstasy, inhaling sharply and twitching in his powerful hold. white, blinding pleasure washed over you.
your fucked out expression painted in the mirror in front of him, a pretty picture victor could enjoy while taking you from behind. despite the initial sting of pain, as he’s not an ordinary man and so was everything about him, your young, lively and eager body adapted rather quickly for your own sake. fuck, if you weren’t so horny and wet for your weird doctor, he would tear you in half!
— that’s it. mmm, just -ah- take it. — victor punctuated each word with a firm thrust of his hips. with each stroke his angry, bulbous tip poked at your cervix, the outline of his cock and the vein running underneath it, poking through your tummy.
one of victor’s hands creeped its way over your throat. he held your chin high up and tilted, so he could look into your cock drunk face. such a sight to his sore eyes. his sweet girl, body bent to his will.
within a couple more particularly brutal, almost animalistic thrusts, victor’s climax exploded inside of you – his thick, greasy seed painting your insides and overfilling your much smaller body. as his twitching cock still sat snugged tightly within your warm cunt, you nuzzled into his palm that was still over your chin and smiled half-drunk.
— now, i still haven’t given you a reward, did i not? — his thumb brushing over your jaw, as you playfully nibbed on it. — would you like that, hm?
— y-yes, please, please, victor. j-just — you tensed within his hold, every nerve igniting all over again, when his other hand found your bare breasts under the thin nightgown and started toying with sensitive nipples. — wha-whatever you want!
he smirked in the darkness of the room, pleased with your obedience, his cock growing erect again and heavy with another incoming release.
The footage is grainy, filmed on a flimsy old camcorder, and his mother’s face is barely visible. Still, he watches it.
The gush of blood, doctors hovering, and the shrill of his mothers cries - there’s almost something sweet about the way she screams.
He sees the crown of his head being pushed out.
“It’s almost here!” The doctor shouts.
With one final push, his first wail fills the room. The camera zooms in for a closer look.
“What the—”
Murmurs of concern and disgust ripple through the room. On the screen, the newborn looks less like a baby and more like some shrieking little alien.
“My baby!”
But not to her.
Never to her.
“Give me my baby!”
The moment he is placed in her arms, she holds him close, smothering him with warmth of her skin. Franco hugs himself the same way, mirroring the embrace in the video.
The doctors voice their concerns but she’s not listening.
“My baby…” she whispers, kissing the crown of his disfigured head as his tiny hand curls around her finger, his sobs quieting at last. “My little bambino—”
The tape cuts to static.
A tear slips down Franco’s cheek as he rocks himself gently on the couch, letting the white noise pour into the silence of the room.
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ minors dni, fem!reader ( suggested band of the hawk!reader ), mentions of the eclipse, femto headcanons, blood and injury mention, suggested stockholm syndrome, we kissie the birb, all characters featured are aged 18+
𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ i’m sick today and i want him. badly. but i also want him to carry me around like an action figure in his hands lmao. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3
kissing femto is nothing like kissing griffith, and you’ve come to accept this.
he looms over you, a hulking, daunting demon, and not even if you could stand on your tippy toes, could you reach his lips. so, when he wants a kiss, he’ll have to pick you up or crouch to your level ( he prefers the former ). at first, it was by your chest plate, until he stripped you of your armor and defenses. and then, it was by the bloodied, white blouse of yours, until his claws shredded the fabric into nothing. now, his large and inky wings will envelop you, and sweep you off your feet into a dark, warm cocoon where only you and him exist in a close, abysmal caress. it gives you respite from the constant harassment of monsters’ jaws snapping, taunting you into remembering the slaughter of your crewmates.
you fit just perfectly in the cradle his wings create, and it allows his hands the freedom he craves to caress you. sharpened claws nip and tear at your delicate flesh, and there’s nothing that either you— nor he— can do about it. not that he would if he could. but the wounds are thin. blood still beads to the surface of some of them, and the others redden and leave your skin perpetually warmed and stinging.
unlike griffith, femto holds not an ounce of tenderness. he doesn’t feel concern or the need to be gentle, not even with a creature so much smaller and more delicate than he, so when he kisses you, he does it forcefully. crimson lips that crash against yours, hold them hostage in a hot and passionate lock. a powerful tongue, bigger and stronger than yours, batters its way through the seal of your lips, fills your cavern in an instant, and explores every inch of it. even rolling itself over your smaller, weaker tongue, leaving his taste everywhere it claims.
his blood-red eyes remain open for the duration of each and every kiss, staring down at his little, human companion, watching the way you react. though you used to attempt to recoil from his kisses, or cry, or beg breathlessly to be released, you no longer do those things. now, you cling to him. your head tilts and your mouth opens more willingly. soft, almost happy whines are transferred into his mouth.
he would kiss you forever if you didn’t need to breathe, but when you start to feel yourself slipping, your fragile little hands reach up to his chest, and push with all your might. though you could never push him away, he can feel every ounce of your human strength attempting, and more often than not he will break the kiss so you can breathe. allowing his lips to hover inches from yours as you sputter and pant. your lips are swollen, aching, and glossy with his saliva.
femto’s eyes are always harsh and unblinking, and when you peek up at him, chest heaving, eyelashes fanning, and lips parted, he takes the hint.
ALRIGHT, SO. THIS IS NSFW BUT I’M NOT GOING TO TAG IT AS SUCH BC IF I DO THEN IT DOESN’T SHOW UP SOMETIMES? IDK. CAN I USE THE WORD NSFW? IDK.
Warning for uh, pretty rough sex and abuse.
Also sorry if this sucks i’m trying to get into writing again askdhaskd
NSFW!
——————————
-You will be pretty much a little pet to him. And the only thing he always lets you wear is a simple collar, and nothing else. Not that you should really worry about since most of the time you are in the God Hand realm, wherever that is.
-Femto is going to fuck you even if there are other members of the God Hand watching you. Actually, that may work him up even more.
-And he is going to let other members fuck you too from time to time. Especially Slan.
-He really enjoys hurting you while having sex. Be it scratches or bites, he makes sure that you end up bleeding by the time you are done. And honestly your sanity is so far gone that you end up enjoying it.
-Most of the time he is silent during the act. He is also very inexpressive, only giving you a cold, unblinking stare while he fucks you into oblivion.
-The times where you feel more scared is when he softly runs his long, sharp claws over your skin. You are so used to him using you as his ragdoll that the few times he is being soft you will end up crying out of despair.
-Different parts of your body are often marked with dark-lipstick kisses.
-Even though your sense of time is already screwed, you could sweat that Femto fucks you almost every hour. You feel so sore and hurt that your only option that you have for it to finish quicker is trying to enjoy the pain.
-And if you show that you are actually feeling pain, oh boy. His glare would be 100 times more intense and he is going to fuck you even harder until your throat is sore from screaming.
-Sometimes, after he is done, you could swear you see a hint of the old Griffith on Femto’s stare, his eyes having a gentle, almost pitiful glow to them before they are back to normal. Or maybe it was just your imagination.
These are just scenarios of what it's like having relationships with them whether it'll be platonic or romantic, so you can think of these stories as canon or non canon if you like.
• His maid bathed him, quite often, actually. Franco was a bed-wetter, no surprise there, so in the late hours she’d run him a warm bath and wash him gently, all while soothing him with quiet reassurances.
• She slept beside him until he turned thirteen. After that, he was expected to be independent and sleep on his own, a bit of a struggle at first. To help, she offered bedtime stories to ease the transition.
• She was more than just a maid; she was also his teacher. She taught him everything from his mother tongue to how to tie his shoes, guiding him with patience and care.
• Whenever Franco fell sick or was bedridden, she was the one to tend to him. He’d demand her special soup, the kind she only made when he wasn’t feeling well. Even when he got fussy, she always gave in and cared for him anyway.
• Franco would fix his attitude whenever she told him to. He could whine and complain to the other maids and even his stepmothers, but she was the only one who could truly set him straight.
• He hugged her often, constantly, even. Franco was affectionate and gentle with her, caring for her as if she were his true mother.
• She indulged him, too. She cared for Franco deeply, and part of her pitied him for growing up without a real mother figure.
• Franco loved talking to her. He’d tell her everything about his day, every little detail, because she was the only one who would listen.
• Even when he grew older, he still spent as much time with her as he could.
• She cared for him as a mother would, and she loved him with that same quiet, enduring devotion.
• And Franco… he loved her too.
NSFW+
• He’s made sure to leave his soiled covered boxers at the top of the hamper so when she comes to do the laundry she can see how filthy he is. She just blushes and tries not to think about it. ‘He is a growing boy’
• He peaked into her sleeping quarters. Watching her through the crack in the door changing into her night gown, furiously stroking his cock. God, he loves seeing the curves that lie beneath that silly dress she always wears.
• She had some thoughts about Franco but quickly squashed them down. ‘How inappropriate’ she’d think.
• Franco teases her with the nickname ‘mommy’. She’d never tell him how much a kick she gets out of it though.
• He gets off to the scent of cleaning supplies and roses because that's what she smells like. Cheap rose soap his father gave them and cleaning supplies.
• He’s had dreams where they would bathe together, let him nurse from her tits, and let him eat her out till she saw stars, saying how proud she is of her baby boy. He'd wake up harder than a brick…
• She once found his secret magazine stash. They all had one thing in common. Maids. Busty maids, thick maids, older maids— She quickly puts it back and pretends she never saw it.
• When he hit puberty she was all he could think of.
• Franco lets her walk in on him fucking, hoping it would spark some jealousy in her. Sadly, she’d just apologize and leave. Franco couldn't even keep his erection after that and tell them to get out.
[A request from disc, little snippets of his maid and Franco idea. It’s not much but wanted me to share nonetheless ]
“Where are you?” you chirped playfully. You moved toward the dining room table, lifting the white sheet in one swift motion. Empty. “Hmm…” You tapped your finger against your chin, your eyes sweeping across the main quarters. The couch. The fireplace. The faint giggle behind the curtains—
You smiled. “Oh, where, oh where could my little bambino be?” A soft laugh bubbled from behind the draped fabric, two polished shoes peeking out from below. You tiptoed closer. “Could he be… behind this curtain?” With a dramatic flourish, you yanked it aside, revealing Franco, hands over his eyes, fighting back laughter.
“Yes, he is!” you laughed, tickling his small belly. His giggles filled the room, echoing like music as his little hands pushed at yours, trying to make you stop. Eventually, you relented. He caught his breath, cheeks flushed, before wrapping his arms around your neck.
You kissed the top of his tousled hair and hugged him close.
“Now that playtime’s over,” you teased gently, “how about we get ready for lunch? We’re having your favorite, arancini!”
At once, Franco released you, grabbing your arm and tugging with all his strength toward the kitchen.
You laughed as he led you along, determined and full of energy.
You froze at the sight before you: a man sprawled lifeless on the floor, a pool of blood forming on the marble tile.
Salvatore’s voice cut through your shock. “Tend to my boy,” he barked.
Your hands trembled as you obeyed.
“Did you see? Did you?” Franco’s grin was wide, manic almost, as you dabbed at his bruised cheek. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer. You just nodded, afraid your voice would shake.
“It was so easy!” he said, brushing your hands aside. He mimed holding the gun, his fingers forming a barrel. “I just picked up the lupara, aimed at the sad sack—” his eyes flicked up to yours, finger pointing straight at your chest—“and bang! Down he went!”
He laughed, slapping his knee like it was a game. You twisted your apron nervously in your hands.
“You should’ve been there,” he grinned. “We could’ve gotten you in the photo—”
You cut him off by dabbing peroxide on his lip, the sting silencing him. “Please,” you murmured softly. “Let me finish tending to your wounds. Then… then why don’t I make your favorite dish? Hm? How does that sound?”
He brightened immediately, his grin returning. Franco leaned forward and hugged you, his head resting against your chest.
“I’d like that,” he said quietly.
You hesitated before returning the embrace.
“Franco?”
You stared wide-eyed at the man above you. His grip tightened around your wrist, his eyes glassy and unfocused. His breath smelled of whiskey.
“You’re so gorgeous, momma,” he whispered, voice slurred, almost tender. His lips pressed against your chest, leaving wet trails along your skin. You shivered at the contact. “Prettiest mama…” he breathed again, his face hovering close to yours. You turned your head away, but he followed, pouting like a child denied a toy.
You tried to stay strong, this was the boy you had raised after all! No blood bound to you, but love had. And still. He kissed your neck, your collarbone, the lace edge of your bra, his touch clumsy and hungry.
“So pretty, mama… the best… mama…”
His voice slurred again, then stopped. His body went still. Within seconds, soft snores replaced his breathless murmurs. His grip slackened. You pushed him off gently, clutching your chest as you stared down at him. Your stomach churned. You couldn’t believe he’d—
You shook your head, refusing to finish the thought. You covered him with a blanket and let him sleep in your bed, retreating to the couch for the night.
After that, you avoided him as much as you could.
You and Salvatore stood frozen as the scene unfolded: Franco and Angelia tangled together in bed, sheets twisted, clothes strewn across the floor.
“Oh my god…” you whispered, a hand covering your mouth.
Franco’s eyes went wide, shame and panic flooding his face as you locked gazes. He scrambled to move Angelia aside, to speak, but no words came before Salvatore lunged.
The room exploded into chaos. Shouts, blows, blood. Franco’s pleas turned to cries as his father’s fists fell again and again. You tried to stop him, to pull him back before he killed him, but Salvatore was beyond reason. He dragged his son by the collar into the hall, yelling for his men to bring the car around.
You stood in the doorway, frozen.
Franco’s face was unrecognizable, bloodied and broken. Yet through the crimson and tears, his eyes, those same pleading, boyish eyes, found yours. Your chest ached. You wanted to run to him, to cradle him, to tend to his wounds like before. But the memories of what he’d done, to you, to Angelia, kept you still.
He reached for you, blood dripping from his hand.
You didn’t move.
Salvatore’s men dragged him away, his voice breaking as he called your name. You covered your mouth, sobbing quietly as the van doors slammed shut. The engine started. The tires screeched. And as the car disappeared down the long drive, a single tear slipped free, rolling down your cheek and falling to the floor.
"No!" Trager just about yelled as he gripped your wrist, "For gods sake- what did I tell you?? We don't EAT the balls!"
He was quick to take the testes from you as the victim below screamed his lungs out; Trager wondered if you could even hear him over the man's yelling and screeching.
But your slow blinks and your undying grin were just an indicator that yes, you heard him, and yes, you're amused.
"...Squishy."
And that's all you had to say. He had to put you in the corner to wait. No more ball stealing!
Jeremy —
"...Jer?"
"Yeah?"
Richard's brows were raised as he witnessed the mayhem that occurred behind the two men as they feasted on sandwiches and coffee; you were chasing a man around with a golf club, the undying smile on your face all the more menacing as the man screamed for help. The man was familiar, a CEO from a company Jeremy had talked negatively about for weeks, now.
A shame nobody else was here. Not even the workers gave a shit. Good. When somebody's paid enough...
"You, uh...gonna do something, or..."
"No." Jeremy resumed eating his sandwich, a hint of mayonnaise sticking to his lip as he, totally unbothered, changed the subject. "Anyway, about this new project the old man proposed..."
And that was that. This was doing Jer a favour, if anything. Jeremy didn't question the arm you gnawed on when you finally sat down with the two men.
Eddie —
"Oh my god, darling!"
Eddie was mortified. Truly, simply, insanely mortified as he watched the sewing machine chew at your flesh, yet your expression was stuck in its usual strange, happy appearance. Eddie was quick to drop the sewing supplies, his hand ripping the sewing machine's plug from the outlet.
"Are you okay?!"
And yet you merely pulled the thread out of your skin, dangling it in front of you. "How quaint. You make skin covers with this, you said?"
He was too terrified to respond. That was the last time you used a sewing machine.
Soon after that occurrence, you were denied sewing needles after you swallowed a few.
He loved you, but...you've caused a few panic attacks.
Chris —
Walrider was the main threat; Chris' goal was simple, eradicate it and protect everybody else.
But Walrider was nothing compared to you. Chris really didn't know how to feel, or...well, react to you. He felt no urge to harm you, his claws remaining stagnant whenever you were around. Like you controlled his every action, ceased his violent tendencies at the root.
You followed him like a puppy, eating the remains of his victims like it was just a normal Tuesday.
Yeesh. Little pig indeed.
He cringed as he heard bones crunch from the force of your teeth, your face coated in red.
"...Hm."
And that's all that he said said. [Well...grunted.]
Walrider —
Walrider knows you. You're kin, this much he feels; your flesh hums with kindred energy and your eyes are more of a void than actual passages to the lack of a soul.
Murkoff is yours to destroy. Hell, here's a Murkoff security guard, go nuts.
Marta —
Marta was no stranger to standing in the darkness, her eyes the only thing visible about her alongside her weapon of mass destruction, but it became obvious just how creepy she was after she wasn't the one staring.
You appeared shortly after Val's betrayal, your face always full of glee as you raked corpses off of your lawn. When was it your lawn, exactly? Didn't...Didn't Joe live there...?
She became unnerved when she realized how silent you were; one minute you'd be waving slowly, the next you're behind her breathing down her neck.
Whatever Knoth or Val worshipped, she knew that deep down, you were something much worse.
"Here...you go," you interrupted her train of thought as you rammed a crucifix in front of her.
She didn't know what to think. Does she accept it, or does she let her weapon maim you?
She doesn't want to know the outcome of the latter, with the way you've ripped up Heretics...
Val —
"Oooh, my beloved, you look so good like this," the lustful blonde moaned as they ran their hands down your body; nude, bloodied and smothered with mud, Val's attempt of claiming the unclaimable. Mud all over your nipple-less chest, your genital-less groin...a creature unlike them, yet kinned. "Yesss...satiate your hunger," they purred as you ripped at a heart, your eyes fully black with eagerness.
Val didn't quite fear you. A breath of fresh air, compared to the cowards of the New Ezekiel believers. The Heretics were a loyal bunch, going so far as to kill for their mother's new eldritch lover.
You licked your fingers free before your neck cracked a delightful 180 degrees, your eyes clearly catching something in the distance.
"There," you rasped before your body got onto all fours, slithering away alongside the dark cavern ahead.
Val nearly orgasmed at the sight, the ecstasy they felt warming their veins at the sight of your form leaving to kill something off.
And they knew you'd come back...to spread the word of your existence once again.
Leland Coyle —
"Fuckin' freak."
Yet that didn't stop Leland from tossing the body of a Reagent to you, the body near death as the last thing they could do was claw at your face.
Your...oddly pristine features. Your flesh didn't stretch, didn't even break, even as your mouth opened wide and you took their offending fingers and hand into your mouth...and ripped it clean off, the hand fading deep within your gullet.
Leland ignored it the best he could, lighting a new cigarette.
He had an odd relationship with you, one he couldn't describe. Pet and owner? No, you owned him, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Friends? No, Leland doesn't do friendship with non-human creatures.
...Then again, he wasn't one to like definitions.
Mother Gooseberry —
"I don't like the looks of that fuckin' thing, Phyllis."
Gooseberry simply rolled her eyes at the cynical words of her father; he was always like this, and with her being his daughter, she had to learn how to drown him out.
Even if he was...partially right about the way you were looking at them from the entrance of the fairgrounds, your eyes wide and your smile undying.
"Now now, doctor daddy! We don't speak that way about our beloved children who wish to have fun with us."
Yet she was quick to leave into the Root Canal, eager to greet you officially once you made it to the Root Canal.
Oh, she knew you'd make it. Call it mother's intuition.
Franco Barbi —
Tooth, tooth, click. Tooth, tooth, click.
No matter how many times he shot at you, you'd either dodge or absorb the burnt calcium no problem. Which is why you were his glorified target, used when he wasn't confident in his shots that day.
He smirked as a bit entered your forehead, your flesh eating it whole no problem. Lupara lingered against his thigh as he pulled a cigar from between his lips, "You're pretty good at this thing, sugar," he flicked the end of the fat cigar with a snicker, "Now hold fuckin' still, I wanna test something else."
There goes your finger...oh, wait, it grew back. The benefits of being a creature of otherworldly fashion, he supposed.
Kress Twins —
"Filthy, that's what it is."
"Yes, yes, my dear sister, I know. Just wait until our little beast cleans it up..."
"A shame is what this is," Arora scoffed from her position on Otto's back, the woman clearly displeased as you continued your licking of their lab's floor, "Murkoff should know better than to dirty their associates' rooms like this!"
Otto just chuckled at his sister's ranting, the chainsaw in his free hand humming with use. "Indeed. But for now, we must adapt. Such is politics."
She sighed as she watched your tongue finish up the rest of the blood pools on the flooring, "It must be so."
Easterman —
"I know what to do with you, my little lamb."
Easterman's back was to you as he watched several monitors on the wall, all of which displaying videos of your monstrosities; ripping the heads off of other reagents, stabbing other reagents, even doing so much as to use a reagent's fingers to pick your teeth.
Yet it didn't disgust him. No, this was a revelation. His eyes had been opened. Your form was quiet as you sat before him, oddly silent.
"You can't work with the other lambs, that's too much of a risk," he clicked his tongue slightly, "but lambs who work away from the slaughter...well, they prevent a slaughter."
He finally looked to you with a pleased smile, like this was a normal Tuesday. It was.
"And it is a father's duty to love all of his lambs, even if one craves the blood and life of another. So...you are to participate in trials alone. However..."
He leaned forward. "I need to make you happy somehow. I cannot control you, I have no urge to. I wish to keep my head intact."
His teeth pulled at his lip for a moment as he scanned you, his words quiet, "You will, however, be given access to cadavers. The lambs who fell victim to the wolves."
I love the characters but I wish people write more about them especially the underrated ones!
I have a habit of rewriting and removing things I'm not proud of. I know I should leave them all be as they are but I couldn't resist myself.
Reader is a star alien cuz why not? This is inspired by stardust cookie and the summer hikaru died.
『Summary』
Being alone in the vast emptiness of space for far too long makes you desperate to find any life forms to form relationship with and fill the void of your lonely existence until you find earth and live among humans with a body of your own.
For years, you learn new things and meet people like them, even forging relationships with them, and you grow so attached to them that you will go to great lengths to protect them, even if it means going back to do it over and over again in order to give them the happy ending they deserve.
But the people you swear to protect slowly become aware of what's going on and realize why you're like this and why you're so protective toward them, especially as they receive visions and nightmares about you suffering and dying repeatedly in their minds.
They want nothing more than to grasp you and never let you go, for you are their little star in their bleak, dying world.
Summary: Giorgi isn't aware of it, but all the death around him isn't random. The predator is lurking just under his nose.
WARNINGS: Mentions and themes of death, violence, gore, blood, cannibalism (a human like entity eating a human), obsession, etc, etc.
Extra: Wireface will be referred to as Giorgi since that's my headcanon name for him! Reader and Giorgi's relationship are kind of a one sided yandere thing so if ur uncomfortable with that kinda stuff pls don't read this! Reader is quite manipulative in this sigh....
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"You've got it bad now, so terrible. Too good for me in your bubble? If only you knew what they're saying....just a game, it's me you're playing! I guess it makes no sense for all who never felt the way that I do! And now you're done, but oh, you're calling! I don't, I won't stop! I'm falling!"
You roamed the Earth, ripping apart whatever flesh you could get your hands on, whether it be a sick dog or a poor human who couldn't quite get to shelter in time.
Feeling the squirming of something alive in your teeth always seemed to fill the void in your life. You didn't think there was anything more to it than this.
But then you were let into that hermit's house and you saw him. The foreigner in the closet. You were put in the same room as him and you understood his "gibberish" mumblings.
He was speaking Georgian. You had learned quite a few languages since you dug your way up from beneath the surface to be able to mimic humans...yet you had never thought you'd use a language other than Russian.
One night, you had responded to one of his mumblings. You didn't quite know why you did it, but you certainly couldn't regret it now.
Giorgi's attitude seemed to completely switch the moment he heard you speak his native tongue. His eyes widened and seemed to sparkle as he stared at you. He spoke rapid fire Georgian. A word vomit really...
But you understood and you responded to all of his questions, pleas and thank yous.
Since then, it's almost been like he glued himself to your hip. It was never with bad intentions, he was just desperate for somebody to understand him. Somebody to know his story.
It's not like you minded, you found yourself more infatuated with him every day.
He'd speak of his home, his family, his friends. He'd show you the few small items he had in his bag, one of which being a scrapbook. It seemed like he treasured that book. You didn't quite understand why it made him so excited, but you felt yourself wanting to.
He was so bright, so full of....life. It made you sickeningly envious of how much he acted like the sun before it burned people. Why couldn't you be like that? Why did you have to feel so empty?
But of course, you'd never harm him. You couldn't even bear the thought of killing off the one sense of normalcy in your...existence. You weren't exactly alive.
But, that only meant you wanted to be near him all the time...but you couldn't. Not with his attention being taken by those wretched things that shared a home with him.
Disgusting. How dare they take advantage of the language barrier? How dare they refuse to try and understand? How dare they try to dim the beautiful light he has? How dare they exist next to him?
These were the same kinds of people that sewed his mouth shut so cruelly. They wouldn't go unpunished, you figured.
You wouldn't hurt Giorgi, no, you could never...but the others are fair game, right? After all, it was for his own good. Let him depend on you and you alone, you can provide everything he'd ever need or want!
You'd watch as his attention got taken away by the homeowner in the middle of one of your conversations, your dirty fingernails digging into your arms and your teeth grinding together.
God knew you wanted to kill that man, but how? Every time he was out of his locked room he'd always have that shotgun...and you couldn't leave Giorgi alone! Not when he's already been growing dependent on you.
After all, you were the only one who could translate...you would lie most of the time. Say someone said something that would hurt him, have him run back to you.
You'd always sit and watch, silent but calculating. You'd watch as he attempted to speak to the others in the house to no avail...good. He didn't need to understand them, he only needed to understand you.
You'd listen to the others chatter, sometimes you'd hear one of the bitchier ones complaining about Giorgi. About his supposed incompetence. His uselessness at a time like this. He wasn't incompetent not useless, of course, you knew that well...but that still didn't stop you from clenching your jaw tighter.
It certainly didn't stop you from leaving the storage closet at night to find whoever said that and punish them.
This was for Giorgi's good, you whispered to yourself before you entered whatever room that person was in...you couldn't quite remember, not that you cared enough to.
You saw him, a fat man who seemed to be biting at his own knuckles. Maybe he didn't really mean that comment, maybe he was just frustrated after trying to talk to Giorgi, but that didn't stop you.
That didn't stop you from squeezing the life out of him by the throat, watching as he uselessly thrashed and hit you. It did nothing, of course, your unwavering grip wouldn't loosen no matter how many times he hit your arm. You made it an agonizingly slow death.
Even as you watched his body slump onto the ground, you weren't done. No, he didn't deserve a clean body. You bent down to claw his chest open, pulling his no longer beating heart out of his chest, staring at it in your hand.
This was the heart of somebody rotten, somebody who deserved what came to them. You ground it to paste in your hand and threw it back onto the floor, you wouldn't put such filth in your mouth. No, instead you simply yanked his lungs out of his chest and began to devour that.
You ate and ate and ate until you forgot the hunger that was always present in the back of your mind. You smiled and stood up to clean your little mess...you couldn't have Giorgi see such a horrid sight!
You quietly put what was left of the fat angry man in trash bags and washed the blood off your hands and mouth. You figured Giorgi wouldn't exactly appreciate what you did, after all, every time a shot rang out he'd flinch as if he was the one being shot. It only fueled your anger more whenever that happened.
You kept killing those you deemed unworthy of Giorgi's grace. You didn't mind of course, it was food for you...but he seemed to be getting nervous.
He would make little comments whenever the homeowner told them about the new death last night. He'd mumble under his breath about how he prayed he wouldn't be next, how he didn't want to die, how scared he was.
You didn't get it, why should he be scared? You weren't targeting him and it's not like he cared about anyone who died! Or perhaps he was picking up the pattern of almost anyone who spoke to him dying.
Regardless, if it meant he clung to you further, it was worth it.
The two of you sat together in the cramped storage closet, though it's not like you minded. It was an excuse to sit right next to him and feel his warmth hit your cool skin.
"Rg'h orpv hlnvlmv'h wbrmt vevib mrtsg..." (It's like someone's dying every night...) He mumbled as he leaned his head on yours casually. You had to admit, you did enjoy it whenever he touched you, even if it was a brief brush of the hand.
You nodded, putting your arm around his shoulders to pull him a little closer. Surely he wouldn't mind the proximity, right? It's not like he had anyone else who's willing to be this close to him.
However, you also noticed how his breath quickened slightly. You looked up to see tears prickle at his eyes as he brought his knees closer to his chest. Was he...crying?
Though before you could ask, he completely broke down. Clinging to you as he sobbed into your shirt. You could hardly understand anything he said, but you caught fragments. How he wanted to go home, how he was so scared of dying, scared of it being painful, how he missed his dear friend so much...
You widened your eyes as his fingers dug into your back, as if trying to keep you in place. You slowly wrapped both of your arms around him and brought him to your chest, rocking him back and forth subtly. You weren't great with comforting words, after all, what was comforting to you would probably horrify him...
But that didn't matter. If killing people got him to be this close to you, this vulnerable...then you thought you should be even more ruthless...perhaps even make a show out of it!
You craved this closeness from him and God knows you'd do anything for it. Even the things that were incomprehensibly cruel to the human mind. Perhaps all of humanity deserved it for doing this to him, for putting him in this awful situation.
Or maybe you didn't care about blame anymore. Maybe you just craved his tears on your shoulder and his warm voice talking to you. Maybe you just wanted to rip him open and crawl inside of him. That way, you'd truly be one.
First time writing anything yandere pls don't laugh and throw tomatoes at me....PLS!!!!
Okay I'll admit it I do have a BIT of a fun time writing visitor characters...idk it's just really enjoyable for me to write something mimicking humanity
I have three other fics cooking up in my drafts so expect those three to come out soon...
Anyways, thank you to my partner for help with the title since I'm shit at stuff like that and credits to dollywons for the divider!
Okay About postal can I request how each of postal dude 1 - 4 fall in love with their delusion? It'll be so much more delicious If this is like a hereditary thing they can see other delusions too cuz like father and son , postal 2 and 4 while they are fighting postal 2 dude was talking about how his illusionary step mom was missing him so much but postal 4 was like no he was playing around with his girlfriend trying so hard playing with him or maybe a platonic yandere postal 4 trying to help his illusion step mom escape his deadbeat of a father
Uhhh... I'm going to attempt to write this the best I can as I'm not entirely sure if I understood this right? I know Dude 1 and 2 the most, 3 and 4 I'm a little foggy about. Did Female Darling as that was mentioned in ask. I lost motivation by Dude 4 so I'm so sorry....
Yandere! POSTAL Dudes with Hallucination! Darling
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Delusions/Hallucinations, Possessive behavior, Violence, Blood, Murder, Religious hallucinations (Dude 1), Anything you'd expect from the Postal games, Infidelity (Maybe???), Swearing, Dubious relationships/companionships.
POSTAL 1 Dude
You are the angel in this town full of sinners.
Dude 1 definitely has the highest chance of just hallucinating an obsession.
After all, the dude is easily the most delusional through his game.
He doesn't talk much, most of his thoughts are in his head.
In his head are delusions of grandeur, seeing himself as the purification Paradise needs.
He sees everyone else as corrupted, possessed, they have demons he needs to remove.
So... imagine if Dude 1 finds someone in Paradise he deems... pure?
You're an angel to him... The perfect soul that could be tainted by this world.
However... Such a person doesn't exist.
Of course... His perfect person could only be conjured by his own mind.
It's his idea of perfection, after all...
People already think Dude 1 is insane enough as is, a guy pushed too far in his line of work to the point of snapping.
So him rambling about some made up woman isn't a surprise.
He keeps saying your name, looking through Paradise frantically.
Except every time he does find you... You run.
You must just be scared.
He can't blame you, Paradise is infested.
The demons that thrive here could harm you... So of course you'd hide.
But there's no need to hide from him.
He's meant to be your savior... Everything he does is for you.
He kills to prevent the infection, he kills to protect you.
You're his perfect angel... The one meant to soothe his deranged mind and heart.
You were sent to him from the Heavens... and he promises to do you well by purifying this place.
Surely you will love him when you see him covered in their blood?
Surely he will prove himself when you see the gore he created in this corrupted city?
Dude 1 is upset that he can never touch you properly.
Then again, to him you are a holy angel.
Perhaps it makes sense that he can't touch you...
Are you worried he'll sully you too?
Then... maybe he needs to prove himself more?
He needs to cleanse the heretics more... He needs to worship you and show you that he is the chosen one.
That's why you came to him... right?
Dude 1 would chase you to the ends of the Earth, but it's not like he's getting any closer.
Eventually Dude 1 will be stopped in his crusade, the man crumpled on the sidewalk covered in blood and tears.
He's failed you... He couldn't bring himself to finish his task... He just wanted to earn the adoration of his precious little angel.
Dude 1 gets dragged off to the asylum like at the end of POSTAL 1.
While he's locked away in his cell, a straight jacket bounding him as he shakes in the dark room.
You greet him.
He looks up at you, as though surprised to see you.
You're so close... his precious angel...
You must be his angel... How else could you have greeted him in the prison he deserves.
He's repenting... He's sorry... He was just doing it all in your name...
Then you touch his face.
He freezes, as though not fully believing what's going on.
Yet he leans into the touch... He even accepts the kiss you give him...
You finally love him, don't you?
This... This alone... it makes him wonder if he would do what he did all over again just to feel this again.
Meanwhile all the guards see is Dude 1 muttering the name of someone who doesn't exist... He's leaning into nothing, kissing at nothing...
It only convinces them of one thing...
They should never let this man walk free if he's this far gone.
POSTAL 2 Dude
Alright, there's two ways I can write Dude 2.
The first way is continuing off from Dude 1.
Dude 2 is aware his father was insane... and an asshole.
The guy was never in his life and kept rambling about some woman.
It got so bad that his father ran off on his actual mother to pursue his delusions.
Dude 2 isn't a saint himself, but he didn't think he was that insane to the point of hallucinations.
Turns out he's wrong.
The hereditary thing doesn't entirely make sense to me.
But if it was... Sure, maybe Dude 2 sees his "stepmom" if he was a platonic yandere.
Or maybe he also sees a woman he falls in love with.
For now, I will save talking about the hereditary idea for the end of all the Dudes.
Either way, you're something he can't fully understand.
Dude 2 is stuck in a marriage with a woman he doesn't even like in a cramped little trailer.
He's in a dark place, a fragile mental state.
Then you start showing up.
Everyone in Paradise is violent and insane.
Even in the day Dude 2 is around.
Yet he's stayed here since he can't be bothered to move anywhere else.
Yet despite all the violence, you manage to stick out to him.
Mostly because you don't seem as violent as everyone else.
You become a way for Dude 2 to escape his mundane life.
Even if you aren't real... but he refuses to believe that.
Of course you're real! You're real to him!
You just... tend to hide a lot....
You're someone he keeps meeting when his wife gives him errands.
Whenever he leaves the trailer, Dude 2 is already anticipating you to greet him.
You're his little secret... can't have his monster of a wife find out about you, yeah?
He doesn't see his fascination with you as cheating.
He and his wife hate each other, he doubts she minds if he's found another woman to talk to.
He manages to find you everywhere.
The store, the post office, the streets in general... He finds himself getting pretty excited when he sees you.
You don't judge him for what he does... which is a plus to him.
After all, not many women stick around a violent psychopath like him.
Yet you do... You're always around him... You never judge him.
But he's a bit upset he has to chase you around.
You never let him touch you, you're always just out of reach.
It's annoying... but he'll play.
As you can guess... He looks insane when talking to you.
Because he is.
To many others in Paradise... He's talking to himself.
He's just laughing and flirting with the air....
He says the most crude things too, making everyone in the area just... confused?
Not like they care too much though, when does anyone in this town?
Everyone's too busy getting into conflicts.
It does not register in this man's mind how weird it is that you show up everywhere... or that no one knows what he's talking about.
Like, remember when he gets kidnapped by the rednecks in the game?
Isn't it a little weird to find you there?
Not to him though... even when he has the suit on.
If anything... He may just start flirting with you when he has it on.
Which, since you're an illusion in his head... you probably just go along with it.
Would Dude 2 realize you're in his head...? Not sure.
But even if he did, he definitely loves you more than his wife.
You're a much better woman in his opinion... Even if he supposedly conjured you.
Yet before he ever found out... He definitely killed over you.
People keep telling him you're not real... They tell him he's crazy....
He's not!
Well... that's a lie, he is. He's crazy and crazy in love.
Imagine Dude 2 trying to kidnap his obsession before he realizes they're in his head?
You keep running away so he's running through Paradise trying to find you.
He's calling your name, trying to convince you to come closer.
Like dogs? Wanna pet Champ?
Come on... You were both being flirty moments ago... Why run now?
Are you worried about being involved with a married man?
Don't worry... If he has to he can get rid of her.
He'll clean the trailer for you!
He just wants to make you a happy woman and he a happy man!
He loves chase but... this is a bit upsetting, sweetheart.
Truthfully, who knows how long it will be before he just does his wife in and sticks with you?
Delusion or not... He knows he'll be much happier with you...
Who cares what the populace thinks? Town's a shitshow.
POSTAL 3 Dude
Since POSTAL 3 is an alternate continuation of POSTAL 2... This is the same Dude as before.
Except he got rid of his wife and is now looking for work in a town called Catharsis.
He honestly doesn't change much from Dude 2.
Since... y'know... 2 -> 4 is meant to be the same Dude?
But I feel this time he's somewhat aware you technically aren't real... just doesn't care.
You're still going to be his girlfriend and future wife.
I'm not entirely sure how to write Dudes 2 -> 4 differently from each other as they're the same Dude.
But... plot changes, so....
You end up being Dude 3's comfort as he explores this new town.
He's looking for jobs, hoping to get paid... he's homeless and only has you and Champ.
But to most? He just has Champ.
It seems like a lonely life to most... a broke man drifting from job to job, doing menial tasks and barely even getting paid.
It's not lonely for him though.
When he sleeps at night, he has you in his bed.
Hell, he could sleep in the grass for all he cares... As long as he has you and Champ.
He loves kissing you... holding you close... he often has dreams of your touch.
He wishes he could go further... He wishes he could love you in more intense and intimate ways to forget about the fact he's a drifter now.
But... that wouldn't be very pleasant for anyone to see....
Dude 3 is Dude 2 accepting his delusions.
He knows you're not real... yet he also knows he loves you all the same.
He doesn't mind falling into this lovesickness he's developing.
It's a great distraction... a distraction made even better with the tequila in this place.
He accepts it might be insane to love you... but he's quite happy about it.
He tells people he needs a job to support him, his dog, and his girlfriend.
Although when they ask about you, he usually has to make some excuse as to why they can't see you.
Meanwhile, for him, you're standing right there... clinging to his arm with love in your eyes....
To him, it's great that no one else can see you.
Sure, he's insane, but now he knows no one else can have you.
No sharing needed.
He still tends to be violent when anyone else points out he's crazy for loving a delusion... but at this point he's already quite used to being violent.
He doesn't view his delusion as an angel like his father... but part of him definitely considers it.
You're like his guardian... the one keeping him afloat throughout his crumbling life.
He doesn't care who dies, even in this town... He already kinda blew up Paradise.
He knows you still love him even if he's bloody... you still love him even if he's crazy....
You're occasionally brought up when he's getting an interview about what he did in Catharsis.
He mentions he left his wife... yet fell for another.
When asked if they can meet and interview you too... He's immediately defensive.
He says you hate people... That you don't like the press.
In reality he's defending his insanity, he's worried if they think he's crazy... They'll take you away.
You've supported him through everything... through New Mexico... through jail... everything.
He even hopes to elope with you, to get married in secret....
No one else understands your love like you do. (Because he's CRAZY.)
To many, you're some anonymous lover, or even some delusion...
But to him... Maybe you really are a guardian angel...
He hopes you'll never leave him... You're not demonic like his wife in his eyes... You'll be even better than her.
POSTAL 4 Dude
Honestly, this is similar to Dude 3.
Dude 4 is just Dude 2 after POSTAL 2... so he's also quite aware of the obsession he has in his head.
Although... I want to play around with the idea that maybe he forgets you aren't real at times... or just doesn't want to believe it for this one.
He lost his trailer... but he still has Champ and you.
Paradise is gone... yet Edensin is here to greet him.
Surely he can find his trailer and get some money here, right?
After all... He wants to support you, his lovely little girlfriend.
If you'd stop running... Yeesh... it's like the second he lost his trailer you want to go explore Edensin.
I feel like a way this could work is as Dude 4 looks for jobs, he also keeps trying to look for you.
Now you're being a little tease to him... and he has to hunt you down, huh?
You and your silly little games....
He probably occasionally calls your name because YOU respond to him.
But everyone else? They still don't know this mysterious girlfriend.
I feel like this would influence the mall scene a lot with the sister to his wife?
He'd probably actually turn down her... proposition.
When she asks why, he just says his "girlfriend" is here right now.
Yet, again... nowhere in sight.
So they may just think he's... more crazy than she thought.
Even if they did continue with the proposition... Dude 4 ends up profusely apologizing to the air.
Is this why you keep trying to leave him? You think he's a cheater?
C'mon, baby... He didn't mean it!
He loves you so much more.
It's a shame he can never lock you in his trailer... He wishes you didn't have to follow him through all this chaos sometimes.
Yet you really do make it worth it.
He ends up chasing you around the entirety of the game.
Which, honestly... The end of POSTAL 4 is what truly adds to this little idea.
Y'know the point... The point where Dude 4 meets his father? Which... I can't research this right now but... The Boss is POSTAL 1 Dude, right?
Either way, they're related.
So when Dude 4 ends up meeting his father... and low and behold, his father also has a woman playing "hard to get" with him.
Honestly, I'm just going to continue this idea in the section below... because I have some thoughts on this idea.
So here's some ideas to... explain your existence.
First of all, POSTAL 1 Dude will be referred to as Dude Sr.
POSTAL 2 -> 4 Dude will be Dude Jr.
Alright... first there's the heritage idea which I'm not entirely the biggest fan of.
All Dudes just have a hallucination of their ideal woman.
Which would lead to Dude Sr talking about how Dude Jr's stepmother misses him a ton.
Meanwhile Dude Jr doesn't really care, he's too focused on looking for his "girlfriend".
He does notice his father is quite obsessive though... guess that's where his ideas came from.
Here's the theory I came up with to make this make more sense.
You're a supernatural entity.
Recall Other Dude from POSTAL Braindamage? A demon who taunts both Dude Sr and Jr supposedly?
You're similar to that.
Except... I like to imagine you are quite literally a guardian angel... or a succubus-like demon pretending to be a guardian.
This way... There was only ever one of you.
You just linger around the Dudes due to the chaos they bring.
Be it because you're trying to guide them to a better path or use them is up to you.
It does... make them meeting up awkward though.
But maybe you just hide yourself, letting them talk.
You didn't anticipate this... bloodline to be so obsessive about you.
Yet you know what they're capable of... and to a powerful being like you, their fates are in your hands.
So... it's up to you what happens after Jr most likely kills Sr...
Do you guide him to a better path once he gets his trailer back...
Or do you continue to use him as your little plaything?
Overall, this whole hallucination idea can be a bit complicated to write, so I apologize if I butchered it near the end.
It was probably best to just stop at POSTAL 1 -> 2... But either way, I think it was fun to explore.
If you did enjoy this, let me know as I don't mind covering more POSTAL things!
Hello is it ok to write a scenario about reagent reader who's neurodivergent and always carrying a stuffed toy for comfort, their parents love them very much but they don't understand them so they called for Murkoff thinking they can help reader, not realizing the true nature of that company.
Reader is confuse and scared why they're taken to a scary place, but they're friendly to the other reagents who feel bad for them and decide to protect them.
Reader is friendly to Dr. Easterman and friendly to the Prime Assets even the Kress Twins, not judging their appearances just wondering if they're ok cuz it looks painful, not realizing they're dangerous people and the reagents quickly drag the reader away before they can do something bad to them.
Reader likes drawing pictures about everyone they knew and shows it to them, including Dr. Easterman and the Prime Assets and wants to know if they like it. What would they think of reader? Do they hate them? Mock them? Call them slurs? Manipulate them? Snatch their favorite comfort toy away just to hurt them? Or not?
If they're mean to them, reader will feel bad thinking it's their fault for being different, I said this out of experience. The 1950s aren't too kind to neurodivergent people so I don't think reader will be getting special needs from Murkoff.
Also keep up the good work!
Easterman never really cared much for their appearance. They were sent here for a simple case, after all. He strikes as someone who looks for something more extravagant and worthwhile, something the reader doesn’t quite have. What he does notice, however, are the drawings they give him. He isn’t particularly amused, but he doesn’t throw them away either. Instead, he keeps them tucked into their file, almost absentmindedly.
Most of their “assets” seem confused by the calm, ordinary way they carry themselves.
Mother Gooseberry takes the drawings differently, though. To her, they’re a sign of trust of mutual friendship. She treats the reader almost as if they were her own child. Their child-like quirks are just enough to bring out her doting nature, and she quickly folds them into her good graces.
Mr. Futterman, on the other hand, has a few choice words. Their behavior leaves him baffled.
“I have a stuffed toy too!”
“I’m not a toy, you shmuck!”
Franco, of course, thinks they’re weird. But oddly enough, they indulge in activities he can understand. Curling up with a stuffed toy doesn’t look too different from how he curls up to his own favorite toy. the corpse in his office. Theirs is fluffier and cuddlier, sure, but the sentiment feels strangely similar.
There’s almost a connection there. Almost. Franco still treats them like a big bully would, and half the time they don’t even realize they’re being bullied.
Then there’s Coyle. Different isn’t everyone’s cup of Joe, and for him, they fall right into the same category as Franco, something distasteful. He’s cruel in a way that’s harder to ignore. He’ll snatch their toy, stomp on their drawings, even smack them for talking back, even when no offense was meant.
He likes the act of bullying, of breaking them down. He degrades, belittles, assaults, and beats them, and it always seems to end the same way once they apologize. Their apologies mark the point where he finally stops, though they never quite understand why. To them, it just feels like that’s the moment when he’s done having his way.
The Kress twins don’t mind a little dog trailing after them, marveling at their appearance. In fact, they enjoy it. No one usually takes an interest in them, at least not in their actual appearance, so having someone eager enough to draw them is a novelty they quietly indulge.
Arora, in her own way, lets them peek into her little experiments, almost as if sharing secrets with a curious child. Otto, by contrast, takes the role of informant, leaning into his taste for politics and teaching them about the broader currents moving through the asylum. For the twins, it’s less about amusement and more about acceptance. The strange little shadow at their heels seems to see them as they are, and that’s a rare thing indeed.
