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cinnamorollcrybaby · 2 months ago

Text

Can’t live without your love inside me now

Tags: sextherapist!Nanami x fem!reader, nocurse!au, taboo romance, heavy topics such as sexual assault, dead dove due to the power imbalance and heavy conversation, is this considered angst? idk

Synopsis: In which Kento Nanami is a sex therapist, and his client is a young neglected wife with an emotionally absent husband. He teaches you what love is really all about.

An: Just another warning that this fic deals with heavy themes. It’s honestly been so therapeutic for me to write due to my own history. If it’s not for you, I have plenty of other Nanami fics that are more lighthearted. For the anons in my requests asking for more Nanami, this is for you.

Part one. | Part two.

“With those things in mind, I’m interested in what has brought you into my office today.”

“I’m not sure… Sex just doesn’t appeal to me much anymore.”

Being a sex therapist, Kento Nanami has heard it all. He’s seen this same presenting problem again and again. He’s counseled young and older men with erectile dysfunction. He’s counseled persons of the LGBTQ+ community come to terms with their sexuality and how that relates to sex. He’s counseled so many people who come from purity culture and struggle with sex. He’s counseled couples who can’t seem to get it right in the bedroom. He’s counseled sexual assault survivors.

Kento Nanami prides himself on upholding the ethics of counseling. He keeps the code of ethics proudly sat upon his shelf. His goal as a therapist was to give everyone a safe space to divulge their most vulnerable inner thoughts to him.

Sex was too often treated as a taboo, offensive subject, which is why Nanami got into sex therapy in the first place. He wanted to change the stigma around it. Sex was a basic need for the majority of individuals, and many times, people have poor experiences with sex since it’s not normalized and hardly talked about.

“Okay, so is it fair to say you don’t often feel like you’re in the mood for sex?” he asked as he looked towards his client. A pretty young lady sat across from him on his couch. His “office” was in his home, finding that people often didn’t want to talk about sex in what they considered to be a “public” space like a therapist’s office.

“Yeah, I mean… I just...” your voice trailed off. You already felt like this might be a mistake. Your arms crossed over your chest as it felt like you were naked in front of your incredibly handsome counselor.

His office was nice, serene almost. He had different seating options and all kinds of fidget items around his office. He also had a plethora of books on a shelf behind his desk.

It seems he enjoys spending his time reading up about the art of sex. You can’t help but feel your face warm from thinking about him reading those sorts of things in his free time.

The walls were painted a nice soft blue grey color, and the office smelled like fresh linen from the aroma diffuser in the corner of the room. Several different houseplants were also scattered about. They all looked healthy, assuring you that Nanami paid attention to detail. He was responsible and consistent.

“Take your time,” Nanami assured you as he sat back in his chair. “The first visit is always the hardest. Don’t feel pressured to get down to the bottom of why you’re lacking a sexual drive. These things take time and trial and error.”

That was… almost reassuring. You took a deep breath as your fingers absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair behind your ear. The familiar ministration worked to calm your mind.

“I’m young, and I’m recently married. I have no kids. I feel like I should be… I don’t know— at my sexual prime or something.”

“What gave you that idea?” Nanami probed as he continued observing your small nervous habits. He found his lips trying to curl into a smile, but he kept his face meticulously trained as a look of interest.

“Well, girls talk, you know? My girlfriends talk about their lack of a sex life stemming from other obligations or from a lack of a connection…” you explained as you briefly looked up at Nanami. Each time his hazel eyes met yours, you had to look away immediately.

When you found his information online, you didn’t think he’d be this handsome. You just saw all of his credentials, and you had heard good things about him on different websites centered around “rating” therapists.

Of course, you had done some digging on him. There was no way in hell you were going to go to some strange man’s house to talk about sex. That sounded ridiculous.

“Do you compare yourself to these so called ‘girlfriends’ often?” Nanami asked calmly. His voice was even and smooth, allowing you feel even more safe to open up.

“I mean, no. They’re just all I have in terms of what’s normal for sex.”

“Okay, so let me make sure I understand this right. You lack a sexual drive. You feel guilty that you lack sexual drive because you believe you don’t have a good enough reason to not want sex on a regular basis, and you think that you’re not normal. Does that cover it?”

You winced a bit as it was all laid out on the table for you. Your eyes squeezed shut, trying to hide from how pathetic you sounded. You sheepishly nod in response.

“Y/n, open your eyes for me,” his voice spoke gently, coaxing you to slowly flutter your eyes open to look into his. Once he had your gaze, he went on, “These are all normal feelings to have. I can blab on and on to you about how our society is blatantly misogynistic when it comes to sex, but I’ll spare you the details since I’m sure you’re painfully aware. We’re going to figure this out together, alright?”

You took a deep breath, letting his words wash over you as a security blanket. It was nice to have someone to just talk about these things freely to. You felt a glimmer of hope shine through.

“Okay,” you said with a small nod, feeling more confident now.

“So, you mentioned earlier that you're recently married. Tell me a little bit about that."

You try not to have a physical reaction when Nanami brings up your husband. It was a topic that felt too raw.. too close to home. You’re supposed to be a dutiful wife, right? So, why would you feel that way when talking about your husband?

“Oh, uh… well,” you stammer, looking away from Nanami as you suddenly came up blank on your own marriage. “We got married about a year ago. Some say we’re still in the honeymoon phase, but…”

Nanami perks up a little in his chair. Some therapists take notes or record their sessions. Nanami doesn’t believe in it. He thinks it takes away from the moment. He’d much rather be present with his client rather than jotting down notes.

“But..?” he urges you to go on.

“But… I guess it just doesn’t feel that way.”

“What is your idea of the honeymoon phase? What does that look like to you?” Nanami asks, clasping his hands together in his lap as he relaxes into his chair.

You take a moment to process his question. What does the honeymoon phase look like?

“For me, it looks like the movies where couples do things for each other without being asked. They’re attuned to each other’s emotions, and they make a conscious effort to be sensitive to their partner’s feelings.” Your eyes meet Nanami’s once again, and you let out a deep breath. No one told you that counseling would be this mentally strenuous.

“Okay, what about in your current life? Do you feel like that’s how it is now?”

You nearly laugh from the question. You mentioned that sort of love being in movies because you’ve never seen it in real life. You’re nearly convinced that it doesn’t happen in real life, and anyone who claims to have that type of love must be lying.

“No, I feel like we’re both focused on our own lives… We just happen to also be in a marriage together.”

“That doesn’t seem like an active partnership,” Nanami responds as he searches your face thoughtfully. He can feel his heart ache for you. This is by far his least favorite presenting problem to work with because he can’t just tell you that you need to leave your husband. All he can do is inspire you to seek the changes you need. “What are you focused on in your own life right now, y/n?”

You feel the tension set in your shoulders and neck as soon as you hear that question. Just thinking about what all you have to do is enough to stress you out. “For starters, I work full-time. It’s a standard corporate job from eight to five, but it can be a lot.”

“That’s not easy, y/n. Just because that is what’s considered to be standard, doesn’t mean it’s easy. I’m sure that’s a lot on your plate.” His voice was low and calm. His presence felt so warm in the room; you feel like you’re finally able to open up a little.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I also take care of the house and our pets.”

“The housework… is that all your responsibility?” Nanami asks as his eyebrows knit together slightly. He feels like he’s already scratching the surface of why you don’t have any sex drive.

“Yeah. If I want him to do anything, I have to delegate the work to him. My husband always says to just tell him whenever I want something done, and I should be grateful that he’s willing to help—“

Nanami couldn’t help himself. He doesn’t like to interrupt clients often, but the more you talk about tour husband, the more he’s having to hold himself back. “That’s the bare minimum.”

You’re slightly taken aback, and you look away from Nanami. A part of you knows that he’s right, but… you didn’t want to bad mouth your husband. A large boulder of guilt settled into your stomach.

“Tell me what you’re feeling right now,” Nanami’s voice returns to that gentle tone. “That probably wasn’t appropriate for me to say. I apologize.” He knows he shouldn’t have said that, and he knows he has to appropriately handle this if he wants you to feel comfortable enough to open up again.

“I guess I just… It feels wrong talking negative about my husband to another man. It just feels different when I’m ranting with my girl friends.” You straighten your posture and take a deep breath. It feels good getting that out in the open.

Nanami slowly nods his head. He can see why you view that act as troublesome. “So, you’re feeling tense because of our opposing sexes? Tell me. Does your husband know where you are right now?”

“Well, yeah… He was honestly the one who told me I needed help since I don’t feel any sort of sex drive.”

Nanami’s teeth subtly clench together, but he keeps a stoic expression as best as he can. The thought of your husband claiming that there’s something wrong with you absolutely repulses Nanami.

“How does that make you feel?”

Your fingers twitch a bit as you look down to the ground. You should be honest with Nanami if you really want the help that you came here for.

“I guess it makes me feel like I’m not good enough for him. Every time we have sex I try to cater to him, but it just feels like it’s never enough. If he had it his way, we’d probably have sex everyday, but I just don’t have that kind of time, energy, or desire.”

Nanami feels his chest tighten while he listens to you. This is why he hated working with this presenting problem. This man is ruining your confidence and self-esteem, and your low sex drive is either completely natural or it’s because of him.

If Nanami could show you what it was like to be truly loved, he would. Then, you’d probably open your eyes and see that your husband is the one who isn’t good enough for you.

He shakes those thoughts out of his head. He knows he’s bound to a code of ethics. He can’t pursue you romantically or sexually. It’d be morally wrong.

“That’s heavy.” He nods, allowing silence for reflection. He then speaks up again after a pregnant pause, “Let’s break down what you said sentence by sentence, okay? First, you have said that you feel guilty and not good enough in terms of sex.”

You slowly nod, still avoiding eye contact with Nanami. Why didn’t anyone tell you that this would be so emotionally exhausting.

“Do you put a lot of pressure on yourself to perform?”

That question alone opened up the floodgates. Tears bit into your eyes, and you covered your face with your hands. “All the time,” your voice cracked, betraying how deep this affected you.

“Oh dear,” Nanami says softly. He grabs a box of tissues, and he hands them to you. “Sex is meant to feel natural and progressive. It’s understandable that you don’t feel any drive if you’re constantly pressuring yourself.”

You nod as you take the tissues, dabbing your eyes gently.

“I just,” you let out a deep shaky breath, trying to calm your nervous system. “It’s easier to just do it and get it over with rather than to hear him ask multiple times.”

Nanami clenches his jaw. His hand gently finds your shoulder, and he makes you look up at him. “Listen to me. If you take nothing else away from this entire session, take this. Asking multiple times even though the answer was clearly a no is coercion. Whenever he asks multiple times, he’s hoping that you get tired of telling him no and just give in.”

Your eyes meet Nanami’s, and your eyebrows furrow a little. Coercion? No.. no, that can’t be right. He’s your husband. He’s just asking to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind. He wouldn’t coerce you into anything you didn’t want to do…

You slightly pull away from Nanami. “I don’t think that’s right… He wouldn’t do something like that. He’s not abusive.”

Nanami leans back. He chides himself internally for going in too deep too quickly. He’s grateful that you’re giving him grace right now. You definitely could’ve just left the session after he blatantly told you that your husband was a conniving piece of shit.

He takes a deep breath. “I apologize. I must have it wrong,” he says as he regains his posture. He knows he needs to make you understand. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh—? Uh, no.. no I’m okay, thanks.”

“Are you sure? It’s good tea.” Nanami leans in slightly, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Yeah, I’m sure… I don’t really think I can stomach it..” you respond, confused as to why he was suddenly wanting to make you tea.

“Tea is good for digestion. It might help your stomach. You really don’t want any? I can make it quickly with an electric kettle I bought the other day.”

You slouch back a little, a frown covering your lips. “I mean.. I guess tea would be okay.”

Nanami then gives you a knowing look, and the realization hits you. “Did you actually want the tea, or were you just going to accept the tea because I kept pestering you?”

Goddammit. This therapist is good.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @airandyeah

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #fanfic #jjk suggestive #jjk fic #jjk au #jjk nanami #nanami fic #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami #kento x y/n #kento x you #kento x reader #jjk angst

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hotchnerwrites · 1 month ago

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Heyy! Love your stories! Can you make one with Hotch inspired feom Usher's "Hey Daddy"? Preferably smut included, im leaving you the storyline, trusting your writing 💋

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: NSFW (18+), pwp, spanking, d0ggy style, afab reader

A/N: Hi anon! I know it's been long. I was gonna say it's loosely inspired by the song but tbh I got lost in the sauce and it's just a pwp. I understand that may not be what you asked for, so I apologise in advance. If you'd still like it purely inspired by the song, send me anothe request! happy to do that. Anyways, here you go, and i hope you enjoy :)

My requests are open. Send me stuff! Please read the rules before asking, and be advised there is a slight wait time right now. But I will post for sure. :)

PS: this is not proofread pl ignore grammar errors ugh </3

You knew what you were doing when you picked that skirt this morning—just the right length to be office-appropriate, but the way Aaron’s eyes had trailed over you during the morning briefing?

Oh, he noticed.

The subtle clench of his jaw. The way he didn’t trust himself to speak when you leaned across the table.

So when your phone buzzed with a single message—“Be home by 7. Don’t make me ask twice. — A.H.”—your stomach fluttered, anticipation thrumming under your skin all day.

So there you were, perched on the edge of the couch, legs curled under you, heart racing every time you thought you heard footsteps. Your gaze flitted between the clock— 6:59 pm— and the door. Hair down just the way he liked, lip gloss fresh, and that skirt? Still on… for now.

The front door clicked open at 7:01 pm. You pretended not to rush to your feet, but you were already standing by the time he stepped in, briefcase in one hand, jacket slung over his shoulder, and shirt sleeves rolled up in ways that should be criminalised.

Aaron paused in the doorway, gaze sweeping over you—lingering for a moment too long on that damn skirt— and you swear you heard the faintest groan under his breath.

“One minute late. I was concerned,” you teased, stepping closer, heart hammering.

He dropped the briefcase by the entryway, his response low and deliberate. “You’re lucky I didn’t pull you into an empty conference room the second you crossed your legs in that thing.”

“I had no idea I had such an effect on you,” you said coyly, not meeting his eyes.

Hotch closed the space between you with deliberate confidence. “You knew exactly what you were doing, honey,” he murmured, voice rich with heat. “You knew since the second you chose to wear the skirt this morning.”

You grazed your fingers against the inside of his wrist, feather-light. “It’s just a skirt, Aaron.”

“Oh no, honey. Don’t play dumb. That wasn’t just a skirt,” he whispered in your ear, “That was a direct challenge. I know it’s been a while, but did you really think you’d get away with that?”

Your breath hitched.

“Not really,” you grinned.

“For that,” Aaron continued, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, “you’re going to sit on the couch, hands in your lap, and wait for me to change. When I’m back..” His gaze dropped, slow and loaded. “We’re going to have a long conversation about office conduct and dress codes.”

You swallowed, cheeks flushing. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Sir— Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, lips brushing your temple, making your knees weak. Then he disappeared down the hall, leaving you breathless and buzzing.

You smoothed your skirt down with sweaty palms, sinking onto the couch, exactly as instructed.

The seconds dragged out like honey. You heard drawers opening and the soft shuffle of footsteps in the distance. You shifted nervously, thighs brushing together, all too aware of how empty the room felt without Aaron— and how charged the air felt because of him.

You glanced at the hallway, straining for a glimpse, but… nothing. Just silence.

Until— finally— he returned.

He’d changed. No suit. No tie. Just a fitted black T-shirt and grey sweats that hug his frame like they were tailored to him. That somehow made it worse. Or better. You weren’t sure. The only thing you knew was that your pulse was somewhere in your throat.

Aaron stood a few feet away, arms crossed. His eyes roamed over you slowly, like he was savouring the sight of you sitting right where he left you— obedient, flushed, hands resting together like a schoolgirl waiting for her reprimand.

He tilted his head. “Didn’t move an inch.”

“Didn’t dare,” you murmured, voice shaky.

His lips twitched. You might’ve mistaken it for a smile, but you knew better. It didn’t even reach his eyes. “Smart girl.”

He moved, then, stalking over to your direction— there was no better word for it, the way he moved was downright predatory. He sat beside you, close but still not touching. That restraint—that discipline— was more unbearable than anything else. His arm snaked behind your shoulders on the back of the couch, like he was in no rush, like he had all the time in the world.

“Sometimes I wonder why you pull these stunts, sweet girl,” he started, voice like velvet and smoke.

“What do you mean?” You managed. Nervousness pooled in your belly.

“If you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

At that, Aaron leaned in, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear. “You should know better. You distracted me all day today. That’s not done for a Unit Chief, is it?”

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t. He was moving down the column of your neck, and he was dangerously close to that spot behind your ear. The one that had you lolling your head back in bliss every time he nipped it with his teeth.

“I know how you cross your legs when you’re pretending not to be flustered. I know the way you bite your lip when you want me to look. You played with fire today, sweetheart.”

Your lips parted, a faint breath escaping. “Are you mad?”

He pulled away to look at you. “No,” he said quietly. “I’m impressed.”

Aaron moved his hand then, slow, deliberate, fingers brushing the edge of your skirt just above the knee. Not inappropriate. Just enough to remind you who’s in control.

“You have my attention now,” he murmured. “The question is— what are you going to do with it?”

You smiled, shy and bold all at once. “Whatever you tell me to.”

“Good answer.”

His hand moved upwards, past the hem of your skirt. “You always follow orders so well in the field,” he whispered, thumb skimming the inside of your thigh, “But here? In private?” His voice dipped lower, darker. “You like testing me.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. You enjoyed seeing how much you could get away with before he snapped. Before that thin veil of professionalism cracked and gave way to something rougher. Something earned.

“It’s time I teach you a lesson,” he continued. “One you’ll remember next time you decide to tease me at work.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Turn around and get on the couch,” he commanded, and you obeyed, heat flooding your cheeks as your palms met the backrest. You could feel the weight of his gaze behind you—Aaron didn’t move for a moment. He just stood there, watching.

Almost a minute ticked by before he moved again. He lifted your skirt slowly, baring the soft curve of your ass. His touch lingered, and you almost whimpered, before he leaned over you to whisper, “Count for me.”

The first spank was firm, more sting than pain, and it stole the breath from your lungs.

“One,” you gasped, gripping the back of the couch.

“You know what you did, don’t you?” Another crack against your skin, sharper this time. “Wearing that little skirt. Laughing at Morgan’s jokes. Not looking at me.”

“Two,” you whispered, thighs pressing together instinctively. Your body was already betraying you, damp heat pooling between your legs.

“You’re mine,” he growled, delivering the third spank, this one lower, right across the softest part of you.

“Three.”

His hand soothed the sting, gentle now, fingertips trailing over the burn. “You’re wet,” he said, voice low and pleased. “You like being punished.”

You nodded, pressing back against his hand shamelessly. “Yes, sir.”

The title made Aaron groan, fingers tightening on your hip. “That’s right. You’re going to behave now, aren’t you?”

You moaned as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your spine. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

He slid his hand between your legs then, and the teasing stopped. The leather of the couch was cool beneath your skin, a sharp contrast to the molten heat spreading low in your belly. Your knees dug into the cushions, skirt hiked up to your waist, panties still clinging damp between your thighs.

“I suggest you lean forward, sweet girl,” he said quietly. “Now.”

You obeyed instantly, arms stretching forward, back arching as you settled into place. Exposed. Ready.

You heard the soft rustle of Aaron tugging his drawstrings loose. Your breathing sped up.

“You wanted to be a brat today, so here’s what you’ve earned.” His hand came down again, bare this time. The sound echoed in the room—sharp, humiliating, delicious.

You jolted forward with a strangled gasp. “Four.”

Another. The burn blossomed bright, pulsing through your body like lightning.

“Five.”

He leaned in close, his rough calluses on his fingers dragging against your inner thigh like a warning. “Do you even know how badly I wanted to bend you over my desk today? In front of everyone?” he whispered, his voice low and cutting. “To show them all who you really belong to?”

You whimpered, hips rocking back against him, craving contact, craving him. “Aaron, please.”

“You tease me in public, but you act so obedient at home,” he continued. His other hand came up to wrap loosely around your throat, not tight, just there. A reminder. A leash.

The moan tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think to stop it, heart racing. Arousal was taking over every sense, and the need was blinding you. You needed more, and you needed it now.

He squeezed his fingers gently around your neck, enough to make you tilt your head. “Say it.”

“I belong to you,” you whispered, voice shaking.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“I belong to you.”

“That’s better.”

The next slap snapped across your ass with brutal, perfect precision that had your knees wobbling. The cry that escaped you was guttural, raw.

“Six.”

Aaron growled low behind you. “Look at you— trembling and soaked. You’re so good when you’re being ruined.”

He hooked his index finger in your panties and pulled them to the side, fingers slipping through your slick folds without hesitation. You gasped, thighs quivering as teased your clit, hips rocking involuntarily into his palm. You hadn’t known how bad you’d needed this.

“Beg for it.”

You swallowed your pride, shivering, desperate. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me, Aaron.”

You barely had time to register the swish of fabric before your world shattered.

He didn’t wait. Didn’t ease in. He gripped your hips and filled you in one deep, punishing thrust that had you crying out so loud it barely sounded human. You clawed at the couch, barely holding on as he fucked you—hard, relentless, every thrust a reminder of who you belonged to.

“Count.”

You could barely think. “S-seven…”

Another thrust. Deeper. Rougher.

“Eight.”

He reached around and circled your clit, rubbing tight, cruel little circles that made your eyes roll back.

“Nine—oh fuck,” you scream, pleasure arcing through every fibre your being. All you could do was hold on to the couch and take it.

“You gonna come on my cock like a good girl?”

“Yes—yes, please, I’m—”

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, body clenching, thighs shaking as you cried out, legs giving way beneath you. He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. Just fucked you through it, hips slamming into yours until he groaned deeply, and spilled inside you.

Silence followed. Just your ragged breathing mingling with his, and the soft creak of leather beneath you both.

Aaron stayed buried inside you for a moment, large hands stroking soothingly over your back. Then his voice—softer, still rough.

“Next time, maybe you’ll think twice before wearing that little skirt in front of the team.”

You smiled into the couch cushion, boneless and sated.

“No,” you whispered. “I hope I forget.”

Thanks for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

#criminal minds #hotchnerwritescm #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x you #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x you

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ratbastardz · 5 months ago

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BLOCKY 90s COMPUTER – NPT / ID PACK — ★

System names: The Error Codes, The Windows, The Personal Computer, The Hard Drive, The Glitches, The Cursor Collective, Screen Death, Core Dump, Fatal System Error, Hardware Reset, The Computer Collective, The Dialup System, The Internet, Collective Digitality

Names: Cirrus, Colossus, Sia, Athena, Raven, Ditz, Crash, Syntax, Static, Glitch, Error, Digital, Digi, Pixel, Exe, Megabyte, Terabyte, Gigabyte, Byte, PC, Com, Cube, Cubic, Cubix, Internet, Net, Data, Cyber, Google, Alexa, Siri, Linux, Mac, Apple, Cloud

Pronouns: they/them, it/its, zero/zeros, one/ones, 0101/1010s, voi/void, glitch/glitchs, error/errors, block/blocks, bluescreen/bluescreens, byte/bytes, tech/techs, windows/windows, 365/365s, PC/PCs, mouse/mouses, computer/computers, data/datas, tech/techs, tech/technical, internet/internet, net/nets, web/webs, disc/discs, .exe/.exes, exe/exes, 404/404s, ctrl/ctrl, shift/shifts, alt/alts, del/dels, caplock/caplocks, .com/.coms, .org/.orgs, .net/.nets, hack/hacks, HTML/HTMLs, JPEG/JPEGs, PNG/PNGs, ZIP/ZIPs, key/keys, hardware/hardwares, software/softwares, RAM/RAMs, 🌐/🌐s, 🔌/🔌s, 📀/📀s, 💽/💽s, 💾/💾s, 🖱️/🖱️s, ⌨️/⌨️s, 🖥️/🖥️s, 💿/💿s, 🖨️/🖨️s, 🔈/🔈s, 🔉/🔉s, 🔊/🔊s, 🔇/🔇s, 🖲️/🖲️s, 🛜/🛜s, 📁/📁s, 📂/📂s, 🗃️/🗃️s

Titles: The windows shutdown, The task manager, It who controls the cursor, It who cannot backup your information, It who has 1GB of brain space, It who runs games, It who whirrs when powered on, It who needs a cord, It who feeds on electricity and laughter, It who makes others smile, It who glitches, It who is disconnected, It who processes, The blue screen of death, It who is completely digital, It who has infinite functions, It who is limitless, The sentient computer

Labels: ancianaldern, computypen, robotthing, glitchlexic, techbodiment, aiwarix, cyberthing, bytegender, virtulonogia, techthing, Y10Kglitchic, technarian, phostechial, oldwebcitian, techrobai presentations, mechakeyboardic, keyboardsoundic, HTMLgender, hackgender, guy.exeic, genderprogram, gendercodex, errowebic, webot, webicoded, edgywebaesic, compuvior, compuvesil, computerredacted, computergender, computerkin, computergender², comphonum, codestelic, virtualexic, digitalexic, glitchsilly, 🌐💾emojic, virtualthing, webirus, webcorething, digiminalwebic, computergender³, webcoric, abstratechgender, techrobai, gendersoftware, gendervirtual, genderhacker, artificial intelligence, glitchgender, androidgender, youareanidiotvirusic

System roles: database, techie

Requested by: anon

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ayeforscotland · 1 month ago

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re: vibe coding. Anon for obvious reasons. I work as an IT consultant at one of the biggest banks in my part of the world and they, like all other banks, want so badly to roll out (locally hosted) GenAI tools. We already have HUGE issues with generated code of the good old deterministic kind. A while ago an important government agency got completely locked out of all of their internet banking tools because an error in generated code caused their list of allowed ip-adresses to be overwritten by an empty list when an unrelated change was made. My dumbass team was responsible for that. Carelessly rolling out copilot to these idiots will cause genuine societal collapse lmfao.

Love a good hell of our own creation

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psychopathseraphim · 9 months ago

Note

Hi :)

Can I suggest the mercs having a really bad day (maybe even crying) and their s/o comforting them.

The s/o can be female or gn :)

Sniper, Soldier and Engineer

Sniper, Soldier and Engineer seeking comfort

Hello, anon! Sorry if this is shitty— no proofread, and I’m writing this on a trainnnn…

Sniper

Not usually the type to express his emotions freely; worries that him venting could bother you… would probably keep whatever’s bothering him inside ‘til he bursts… or, well, ‘til he forgets about it

Today, however, was especially hard— trigger-finger kept messing him; aim was terribly messy; spies. All he needed was to let it out, and, frankly, he didn’t know how to

You just see your lover walk into his camper van, disheveled and obviously tense. He doesn’t say anything, just proceeds to sit down on the bed beside you with his hat off, looking towards the ground

When you ask him what’s up… 50/50 he’ll say nothing or he’ll explain in the smallest detail what went wrong about his day

You can read him pretty well, however, and every ‘discussion’ about his terrible day would end with him in your arms, or laying his head on your lap

You’d stroke his hair, telling him that he did a good job today, that everything was fine; he’d nuzzle his face into you and stay silent, enjoying the feeling of being pampered

“Yer too nice to me, roo…” he’d mutter, and you’d smile at him, continuing your ministrations— “well, that’s because you deserve it,” is what you always say; and it was nothing far from the truth

Eventually he’d fall asleep, but not before muttering an “I love ya, darl’…”

Soldier

Would probably be incredibly pent-up about the others not taking him seriously. Would come around to you and VERBALLY express himself

Due to his more-aggressive nature, Soldier would probably… feel things at higher extents; he’s easily angered and could easily cry

He would however suppress his desires to cry because ‘lashing out and being angry’ = masculine; ‘crying’ = feminine

If you do spot him crying, however, he would— no hesitation— wrap his arms around you and rack your frame while sobbing into your chest

When you ask him what’s wrong, he’d explain to you in incomprehensible English mixed with hysterical sobbing and a slight hyperventilation (ALL WHILE SCREAMING!)

Could possibly get mad at you… which will in the long run make him feel worse

“… AND NO ONE WAS FOLLOWING MY ORDERS TODAY!” He’d yell, gripping onto your sleeves even tighter

Just pet his head, reassure him that he’s not annoying, and he’ll be good to go

With enough reassurance and help, though, he’ll manage to calm down; instead falling asleep in fetal position and (possibly… possibly!) with his thumb in his mouth.

Engineer

Engie is a well-collected person… he knows how to handle his anger on his own; knows how to keep it to himself (not because he doesn’t want to burden other people, but he would prefer keeping quiet for this reason, but because he just doesn’t see any benefit in rambling)

If he feels himself getting stressed at something, he’ll turn to his work— he’ll program something to give him that boost of dopamine that he’s actually done something right!

If, however, his stresses come from his work— say, an error or malfunction he can’t crack the code of— then he doesn’t know what else to do; he can’t be useless, damn it; he can’t get things wrong!

Come into his workshop to check on him; if you see him with his head in his hands, approach him and massage his shoulders

Engineer would immediately melt into your touch; he’d let out a sigh of relief indicating his relaxation and lift up his goggles to look at you. With a dreamy, tired smile, he’d say: “hey there, pretty thing,”

You’d then try to pry him away from his workdesk… which, if he’s absolutely stressed, would work— take him to your shared room, cuddle with him, and he’ll be good to go

As for crying, Dell seems too collected for that; even if he wanted to, I believe he just can’t bring himself to— not a matter of his view on masculinity; he just can’t

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 sniper #tf2 soldier #tf2 engineer #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 soldier x reader #tf2 engineer x reader #team fortress 2 x reader

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forsaken-headcanons · 2 months ago

Note

in an AU where Chance is a robot...

[heavy credits go to https://pin.it/16oorotS4 THIS GUY for the inspiration I got to incorporate nuts and bolts into this gambler!]

[lots of these are based on how I play Forsaken]

-Over time, especially with older maps, Chance internally mapped out the whole layout of every map, and pointed out certain POIs. These include:

> The killer's relative spawn location, and the area farthest from it

> All known medkit spawns

> All possible generator locations

-He bleeds purple. Think of it like Thirium from DBH

-UNLIKE ME, he has immaculate aim. Unbarred from human error, as a machine, he is an absolute beast at aiming, coming outta nowhere from behind a wall to noscope the killer.

-[this is where I begin to take inspiration from the aformentioned user] Chance's glasses are literally part of his face. some visor shit. Taking it off is like taking off a TV's screen itself.

-on his torso is a literal coin slot. yes a coin slot. and that's how he's powered on, through the coin slot. like an arcade machine, one coin = one month of constant activity, if you don't count internal system repairs during sleep mode. Chance usually starts off with 12 every year, and has an internal alarm clock to remind him of when time is almost up.

-what remains of the cash in Elliot's wallet is literally the only thing keeping him alive.

-when he turns on, his glasses display a slot machine hitting 777s, or JACKPOT

-he has a full combat mode. like full on laser cannons for arms type of deal. but y'know the Spectre, THAT GUY probably somehow blocked off the directives concerning that full combat mode.

-he programmed a string of code so that when he successfully shoots someone, internal audio plays the jackpot sound effect (this is true for me, I have that set as my hitsound)

-he's VERY good pals with Builderman, being the only mechanic amongst them. asks for repairs and maintenance from him a lot, which led to them becoming close buddies.

-his creator is named Lady Luck. not much is known about her except for that she's one of the richest people in Robloxia, barring Admins. they are mother and son :)) [she's fucking dead by the way]

Might add more. Remember this signature

- 🌟

Ooooh, robot chance..... neat. Also, I'll try to remember you, 🌟 anon :)

Quick edit to add in the Pinterest img, posted by the original artist on there. Their @/s are labeled on the image and typed in the alternate text.

#forsaken #forsaken roblox #roblox forsaken #forsaken headcanons #🌟 anon #chance forsaken #Mod Two Time🗡

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snailsgoingdowntown · 5 months ago

Text

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister-in-Law!

Story Masterlist

Chapter 13

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Interact with this post to be on tag list. The DNI is on it so read that before anything.

UPDATED NOTE: I HAVE EDITED THIS STUPID THING HAHA. Also, I forgot how many people I tagged for this chapter originally and I deleted everything, including the tag list without realizing it... so I just sort of... tagged everyone. Again. Should I retag everyone in the remaining chapters as I edit them? Or no since technically speaking you guys already read the original chapter(s). Let me know in the comments/anon or however.

NOTE: I gave up on looking for computer error codes (I do not understand what they stand for in full detail, I’m just a silly little guy), so sorry if I used the wrong one.

WARNINGS: general yandere themes, obsessive and possessive themes/possible actions/behavior, themes of imprisonment (probably), blood, blood drinking (kinda? Not really, but JUST in case), blood, self-harm (biting thumb hard enough that it’s implies the wound reopened), violence (kicking Dion in the chest), thoughts of violence (thinking of kicking Dion’s face), vomit, panic attack, mention of suicide but Reader is NOT suicidal, one or two suggestive lines, kinda implied future violence (not towards Reader OR her family for plot reasons). Please tell me if I missed any.

Reader is NOT having a good time as usual. Pray for her.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND TOXIC.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH FANDOM RELATED THINGS (REBLOG/COMMENT ON FICS/ART, ETC.) DNI.

= = =

You ruined your own life.

That is the conclusion you come to when you wake up with an awful hangover, head throbbing, mouth dry, nausea kicking at your stomach as your mouth waters with acid. Your entire body aches, fatigue and dizziness making themselves right at home - the room swirls whenever you move.

When you dry heave, it feels like something is punching your lungs and gut, hot tears rolling down your cheeks from the pressure. Your stomach twists, becoming a knot, and you’re both cold and hot - covered in a cold sweat that’s worse than running in the heat.

You gag again. Your mouth opens wide just like a snake’s and yet nothing comes out - not until you gently squeeze your throat, adding just enough pressure that brings forth the bitter and sour vomit that burns your throat. But it doesn’t stop there, not until you’re grabbing your stomach, praying that this will end.

Why did I fucking drink so fucking much?

The answer is simple - you wanted a distraction before you could become a hysterical mess during the dinner last night. Still, regret is a thing, and oh boy, are you feeling it in full.

Retching, your lungs painfully take in air, upset stomach getting in the way as every breath feels sharp. Sweat dribbles down your temples and face, eyes wide as your body rejects everything from last night. Your entire body trembles violently, holding your stomach like it would decrease the pressure, the urge. Hands clammy, you almost start to think that having a panic attack would be better than this.

It still hurts when it finally ends.

“Urk! F-fuck…,” wiping away some of the vomit that clung to your chin, your body allows you to have a moment of recovery, muscles relaxing as you pant, lungs finally taking in the air that you desperately need. Heavy eyes struggle to stay open, a small dizzy spell falling over you. Your headache only worsens.

It feels like you’ve been through hell.

Tears stop rolling down your face as your breathing becomes steady. Everything still awfully aches, though. Your throat still burns, the sour taste of vomit doesn’t die on your tongue. It doesn’t go away even when you smack your lips and swallow.

Finally becoming aware of your surroundings, you notice a gentle pat against your back as someone also holds your hair back. So gentle and comforting, and automatically assuming it’s Hana, you accept the help without a word of complaint. Your eyes flutter close, grateful that the older woman is doing her best to comfort you in spite of yourself.

Well, that is until cold shivers run down your spine, as a oh so familiar low and sleepy voice speaks, only now noticing how large the hand that was patting your back was. Your eyes snap open immediately.

“Better?”

Freaking out was an understatement.

Violently scampering away, definitely not missing the touch of Dion Agriche, a terrified and horrified expression paints your face, heart running and beating fast enough it could win first place at a race. Nausea fills your entire being, but for a completely different reason now.

A worse reason.

Opening your mouth, words fail to leave your dry lips. You lick them, mind racing on what to say and do. In the end you spewed out nonsense that doesn’t even make sense to you.

“O-oh, u-um, Agriche, good - fuck - good day? Weather?”

The slight twitch of his dead tired eye that resembles blood doesn’t help your anxiety. Had you offended him? If so, how - because he witnessed an unsightly sight? One that he decided to stay for?

Quick pants and shaky legs, you search and search and search for any type of exit - failing to remember that the heavy double doors were literally right behind you. No, instead you eye the terrace behind him and consider jumping off.

Your legs almost beg you for it.

How quick can you run? Would he stop you? No, rather would he get the wrong impression and think you were trying to commit suicide?

What then? Hand you over to his mental father or mother to use as a damaged toy? Burn your face and stitch up wounds that they created?

“S-sorry, but -,” scooting away until your back hits something sturdy and hard, the only thing you’re capable of is stare at your arranged husband like a deer in headlights. Dion doesn’t crawl closer, still kneeling, an unreadable expression across his facial features. Like a predator staying still so as to not scare off their prey.

“I - I, um, didn’t mean to make a mess -” On the verge of crying from stress, you blink rapidly, unable to decide if you should look at him or close your eyes. Tears kept at bay, by reflex you bring your thumb up and -

CHOMP

It hurts more than usual, teeth tearing into injured flesh. It’s raw, desperate, a need to ground yourself. Your tongue swipes over the healing bite mark, crimson blood that resembles his eyes drawn as the metallic taste all but makes itself at home on your tastebuds. Hysterical, you cower, hoping, praying that Dion would look the other way and ignore you.

He does anything but.

He crawls, fucking crawls like a bug, like he wasn’t Dion Agriche, the man whose pride exceeds the skies - or so you heard, the spoilers hazy. He rests on his knees again once he reaches you, long fingers forcing your thumb out and proceed to wrap around your wrist right after. You hiccup as he stares at it, unable to tell what he’s thinking. Maybe it’s better if you don’t.

“That’s a horrible habit you have there,” he states like it’s the morning news before he, like the creep he is, takes the injured digit into his mouth.

You’re too flabbergasted to react.

Your brain fries, error code 43.

It doesn’t reboot until moments later when his disgusting and slimy tongue runs over the wound, his saliva unfortunately soothing it just the slightest bit.

The urge to puke returns.

You jerk your hand back and he lets you. You think your expression is one of disgust, but it’s hard to tell when Dion blinks oh so calmly. Like he didn’t just shove your thumb into his mouth like the pervert he is.

But fear overrides the disgust, helplessly watching as your horrible husband comes even closer. You feel trapped between the wall - doors, actually - and his towering, intimidating figure. Without a care in the world, he wordlessly places a hand on the door slightly above your head. It wasn’t romantic, it was a way to keep you trapped, you’re sure. He resembles more of a creature than a human the longer you look at him - those eyes, so bloody, so bright, are inhumane.

Because there’s a ‘light’ you can’t recognize, a ‘light’ that wasn’t in the manhwa. Here, he feels more sadistic - he’s only here to study you, to torture you and -

You flinch when he oh so gently grabs your right wrist again, inspecting your bloodied thumb. You become boneless as he licks it, all the while keeping eye contact with you.

The shivers that run down your back aren’t pleasurable.

“You should stop this,” he says as his head tilts, like he was curious about your reaction to everything. “You’re just making it worse.”

His genuine concern sounds like nothing but threats to you. Your flight-or-fight response kicks in when the hand planted against the wall - doors - goes to your cold and sweaty cheek. His fingers are cold.

As any sane person would, you kick him straight in the chest.

And somehow, someway, it hurts you more than him. It almost feels like a brick wall, wincing while he only fucking blinks. As if finally understanding the situation, he lets go and backs off, but stays in front of you. You’re on the verge of throwing up, of running past him to jump off the terrace, laughing as a fear response.

The only reason you don’t do any of it is because your body is boneless, barely able to breathe. Barely able to think.

Neither of you talk nor move, the distant sound of footsteps and chirping birds filling the silence. He’s treating you like a scared animal while you’re treating him like a predator. Two people unable to understand the actions of the other. Two people on the opposite sides of the spectrum, their definitions of ‘loving’ completely different.

Regardless, he still tries, and maybe if you were into the possessive and obsessive type, you would have praised him. Assuming you notice and realize he didn’t plan on hurting you and was in ‘love’ with you, of course.

That he tries his best to be a gentle giant.

“D-D-Dion.” You stutter after slightly recovering from the fright, the throbbing of your thumb forgotten in the background. You can’t feel anything, really, even the cold tiles you sit on.

“Wife.” His response does little to soothe your nerves - no, rather, they freeze at his voice.

“W-what… were you doing? I think-think I’m still half asleep, haha…” Nervously forcing out a small laugh, you truly hope that this is nothing more than a nightmare. You’d rather wake up to the sound of loud and annoying construction going on outside your apartment.

Ah, but, you weren’t in your old world, were you? The world that you foolishly abandoned -

“Soothing it.” It’s uncharacteristic of him - he should either be mocking or ignoring you. Not whatever… this is.

Your stomach drops the longer you look at him. Words feel like mush in your mouth as you force them out. The air you breathe in feels tainted.

“O-oh… um, you do realize you essentially drank my blood…?” It’s a miracle you’re holding a conversation without fainting. Still, the idea of jumping off the terrace doesn’t leave your head. It was a reckless plan, but there was a chance you wouldn’t die or break something, and at least would get a minute or two to yourself without him. If you weren’t caught by the guards immediately afterwards, that is.

“And?” His head tilts, observing your reactions, like you were a science project. Scarlet eyes leave your terrified face to travel to your right thumb. A very, very small part of you want to bite it again, to bite it harder out of spite. The thought leaves when he makes eye contact with you again.

You look away.

“That’s-that’s really unhygienic…” A whisper is all you can manage, eyes swirling as a dizzy spell falls over you again. How are you able to talk to this perverted brute?

Maybe you were only able to talk to instinctively smooth out the situation as much as you could. Or maybe your mouth was just running on its own, hoping this is what he wanted. Why else would he do such a thing? Aside from satisfying his sadistic and perverted urges.

All you want is to go home.

“So?” His head tilts, unkempt midnight hair falling into his scarlet eyes. There’s a very small expectation in his eyes - like he expected you to accept this ‘treatment’, to at least some degree.

“I-I mean, it’s rather-rather…disgusting, is it not?” Holding your right hand close to your chest, left one wrapped around your wrist, you hold your breath. You can’t think straight, unable to decide on staying or running away. To keep talking or go silent as a mouse.

He blinks before saying, “Not if it’s you.”

Error code 43.

Request for maintenance.

Maintenance needed to continue functions.

Ever so slightly, a grin tugs at his lips at your flabbergasted expression. Little do you know that your husband doesn’t like seeing you scared, but he enjoys making you speechless, mind blank. Now, if only he could do that to you in other ways…

No. This isn’t the time to think about such things, he chides himself. He shouldn’t have these urges, innocent or not - he should be on the battlefield, soaked in red as corpses lay about, scattered like autumn leaves. He sees the fear in your eyes and something ugly twists and turns - this isn’t like him.

A part of him wants to stab the pang of dim guilt, to get rid of these useless things. But when he sees you, all he wants to do is hold you. And it’s disgusting, but he chooses to accept it, far too late and gone to deny himself any longer.

It seems that you still haven’t realized you hold his leash.

“Is that so hard to believe?” He questions after a bit, once your mind is working again.

“H-huh? Wait - this - don’t play with me, please…,” you beg while shaking your head. Your breathing speeds up again, heavier than it was moments ago. Your feet firmly plant themselves flat on the floor.

You think about kicking his face this time, giving you some time to run before the shock wears off.

“I’m not,” carefully and slowly, he leans in closer, gently holding the back of your neck like it’s his favorite thing to do. He pulls you closer and closer until he’s able to whisper in your ear, hot breath hitting it. He whispers, almost possessively like he was confessing a grave yet delicious sin.

“I mean it, really. You should stop assuming I’ll eventually throw you away.”

If the circumstances were different, if this was a healthy marriage, if this was a loving marriage, it would have been romantic. But because you’re married into the Agriche family, because your husband is Dion Agriche, it sounds like he’s trapping you in a cage, throwing away the key.

And in a way, he is, not wanting to let his pretty, lovely wife to part ways with him.

Really, he’s not sure of how much longer he can keep himself in check - you drive him crazy and you don’t even know it. He wants nothing more than to keep you locked up in this room, your eyes reflecting his figure, your attention on him and him alone. His grip on your neck tightens the slightest bit - you’re practically in his arms.

You fit perfectly against him - and yet, his mere existence makes you bleed. Dion shudders when you weakly push him away, hands pressed against his chest. Reluctantly he backs away, fingers grazing against your tear stained cheek as he lets go of the back of your neck. You don’t make eye contact, instead focusing on your feet - the cold tile reminding you that you’re not dreaming.

He hums while you bite your lower lip. This room is a cage, one that you can’t break out of. No. This marriage was a cage, heavy shackles on your ankles - not to the Agriche family but to him.

An obsessive and possessive husband with a scared wife, who will one day, realize she has him tied around her pretty little finger. At the cost of her own loose leash in his hand, two people unable to escape the other.

It’s awful, it’s insane, but who could blame him?

You’re just too lovely, too addicting to pass and give up.

May God bless the poor soul who’s stupid enough to try.

“You’re starting to hurt my feelings by doing so, (Name).” = = =

@tiny-mimi @corpseri @queenofspades403 @pix-stuff @manitscold @darkumbreon92 @s-ajia @disappointment-san @louissatturi @cjafjatkstke @rainofcrime @danae-misfortune @kokomi2 @elvinapandra @labryel @rentaldarling @ishamyshaylaaa @semi-wife @rosedellamorte @puggyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

#dion agrece #deon agrece #dion agriche #dion agriche x reader #yandere dion agriche #yandere dion agrece #yandere deon agrece #yandere dion agriche x reader #twtptflob #yandere twtptflob #twtptflob x reader #yandere twtptflob x reader #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #the way to protect the female leads older brother x reader #male yandere #yandere #yandere x reader

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howlsofbloodhounds · 2 months ago

Note

I kinda had this idea of different levels of being glitched

Cross: the final overwrite gave him back all the memories of his past iterations. I imagine his code has a lot of extra data now. Some of it are repeating code unneeded, others are drastic changes and clash with other parts of his code. I think he has one main code and all the other codes from past iterations is just backed up data saved to his soul he can access it but it’s separate from who he is now if that makes sense. He wouldn’t want it fixed though they were all him at some point.

Dust: I remember in Dusttale canon he didn’t originally remember the player changed him so he would remember. Anyone looking at his code wouldn’t find much a couple extra lines of code and one line of code changed from No to Yes (remember timelines). I don’t see him wanting it to change cause on some level he doesn’t want to forget he doesn’t deserve to just forget after everything he’s done.

Geno: His code wasn’t changed but it is different. Parts are missing so his body made new code to replace the missing parts. Some parts are a little scrambled around but don’t affect much. He’s fine with how he is it’s not all that different from who he was really. Fatal: His code has been butchered it’s still there just not the same anymore. Parts have been cleaved out in thin strips. A lot of it is scrambled around the missing parts aren’t making new code so he’s stuck with empty pockets of code in his being. He would want to be fixed to be who he was again he didn’t ask for this.

Error: His code looked like it was put in the blender shredded to tiny pieces all mixed up with a couple big chunks standing out then they poured it into the shape of a skeleton. He can’t miss what he doesn’t remember he doesn’t really care about his messed up code he knows he’s an error it doesn’t change his goals. Blueberror/Blooper: His codes been scrambled all around less then Error bigger chunks remain and it’s not completely shredded. He wants to be who he was before not the thing he is now is that too much to ask for.

Killer: Anyone looking at his code would’ve disturbed. Huge chunks of his original code are missing leaving behind crumbs of who he once was. Someone shoved in new code regardless of the size and then used more code to stitch the edges to stay connected. Parts are scrambled around, missing, added, some parts are even burned which didn’t even think could happen. There’s also the data attached to him so much it starts to black out the sky when looking at his code as they overlap into pure darkness. There’s more oddity but it would require looking deeper. You know what they say you stare into the abyss and the abyss stares back. He knows you’re looking at him and he doesn’t enjoy it. It’s complicated feelings on the matter of fixing himself because that is his goal but parts of himself don’t want to be fixed it doesn’t feel like it would be them anymore.

I imagine that code and the soul are one in the same. The soul stores all of a persons code and date inside them. Changes to the soul changes the code and Vice verse. To mess with either is horrible thing to do someone. I imagine that all errors have their code scrambled and bits missing from their time in the anti-void although it differs in how long they’ve been there, mental strength, and personality.

~Musical Anon

Wonder how the different levels of code alterations would effect different individuals, from hardly anything noticeable to huge shifts in personality. Maybe even identity and sense of agency.

And i definitely agree that code and the SOUL are one in the same, and id even say that’s the canon interpretation for Undertale: Something New, given that whenever Killer’s SOUL changes into a different Stage—the example we’re shown is his SOUL changing into Stage 2–we also see his code changing from an unidentifiable mess to something like k1ll_sans.

On top of that, Killer states he’s interested in studying others’ SOULs because “each soul has its own unique code,” and I believe we’re shown further examples using Fell Sans and I believe Swap. So at some point, Killer realized the existence of codes, and their ties to people’s SOULs.

And realized that, at some point, his own was changed—although I doubt he realized this in the beginning at all, even if he likely knew about or at least believed in the existence of Players.

And I highly doubt finding out his code alternation changed anything for him in Stage 1 at all. It was still that body’s hands that accepted that Deal, picked up that knife and that bucket of water, and it was still those hands that snuffed out every life they latched onto.

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ltechofficial · 5 months ago

Note

Asking on anon like a coward but how does the hypno debugging... work? Is Polly getting trained with every new type of command the higher ups want to be available?

Are they hiring?

She's basically just constantly subjected the Penny's impulses and rabbitholes as a programmer. Penny is very talented and a very early dev on OSeditor so the higher ups leave her to her own devices. Especially cuz she hates being bossed around and will threaten to quit and undermine the company at the slightest wrong done to her. But she is very protective of her code and an elitist so if they leave her be she will innovate every quarter babe. Anyway Polly gets her brain scrambled and glitched out and brain breaking errored and then reverse engineered to mostly normal and back again and again. She is always a bit puppy mode

#non sexy infodump

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sanguinesky-if · 5 months ago

Text

[Dev Log] February 2025

Hello, I hope your winter days are going well!

This is the first dev log of 2025, which means the end of my January break and the resumption of:

▹ Patreon billing and monthly activity. ▹ Monthly dev logs.

Although I took things easier in January, I still worked on the story and have quite a bit to share about my progress.

What was done last month?

▹ Worked on the draft for Chapter 3 Pt. 2.

Since shifting the story format from a visual novel to IF, my draft has required some changes and updates. There are some scenes I'd like to include from the old version, but I hesitate due to the potential increase in workload [I discussed them on Patreon]. Even without those additions, Chapter 3 Pt. 2 is shaping up to be massive, and I already can tell it shouldn't be expected until late spring [assuming I decide against including those moments and scenes]. As usual, the most recent updates on my progress will be shared weekly on Patreon and monthly in the dev logs here on my blog.

▹ Refined stats and their distribution.

I began refining the stats distribution in December, but I also made some changes throughout January. Overall, the full list of changes includes: ▹ Refinement and redistribution of personal and hidden stats. ▹ Renaming the "Approval" stat to "Alignment" [this change will apply in the next update]. I'd like to thank this anon for the idea; I should have done it sooner. A few more words about the stats: Something about the personal stats feels… lacking. I can't quite pinpoint what it is, but I have a feeling I need to progress the story further to understand what's missing, so for now, I've decided to focus on Chapter 3 Pt. 2.

▹ Finished the shortcut to Chapter 3 Pt. 2.

I decided to take care of the shortcut feature in advance, and it took me some time to compile all the choices due to the variations readers can encounter in different scenes. While I may return to it later if I decide that some choices from Chapter 3 Pt. 1 should be included, I'm glad I finished adding all the essential parts.

▹ Improved some scenes and fixed numerous grammatical errors, as well as a few coding issues.

Here's a list of major changes: ▹ L's phone call scene [Chapter 2]: Added a reserved flirt option and made the non-romantic option available to everyone [these changes will apply in the next update].

▹ K's morning scene [Chapter 3]: The last assertive flirt option in K's scene no longer includes "I forgive you", so the reader is not forced to immediately let go of all the tension when choosing a flirt option. Small note: I have some reservations regarding the choices provided in K's scene after their apology, so I will likely post a poll on Patreon to gather feedback on this matter.

▹ Solo morning scene [Chapter 3]: Due to an oversight, the solo scene didn't include a variation where the reader decides not to talk to the MC's twin sister and immediately goes to sleep. This variation of the scene has now been added.

What will I be working on in February?

▹ Chapter 3 Pt. 2: translating the draft and outlining the files for coding.

In addition to that, the bonus content on Patreon that will be released this month will include:

▹ Morgan's NSFW Alphabet. ▹ K's NSFW Side Story POV [Interactive].

Author's note.

I'd like to extend my gratitude to everyone who took the time to send helpful error reports, asks, and kind messages! Your support and interest help me improve my story, which truly means a lot to me.

Thank you for reading to the end! Wishing you a wonderful week and days after that! ♥

#interactive fiction #sanguine sky #sanguine sky if #ss general #dev log

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