Back From The Dead…?

How tall is Crowe (I'm drawing him rn now/with other characters and I can't remember how tall he is I haven't played the VN in a minute but I don't think it mentioned his height on there)

Here's an ID card that I shared last year with some info about him! Crowe is 177 cm/ 5'10 tall!

GANJI GUPTA HEADCANONS.

( batter ) aka GANJI GUPTA.

TW: MY H/C’s 😨 , this layout is giving cheese , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

Who is Ganji Gupta? And how do you know him? As a friend, a loved one, or as a nobody?

*manor au where they are trapped inside.

꒰wc꒱ 641

GANJI GUPTA, also known as the manor's one and only Batter, acts as a lone wolf. He most likely won’t start conversations and will keep his answers short. Though, it’s just another barrier he puts up out of the need for protection. He doesn’t know who he can confide in here and, in his eyes, everyone seems to be another untrustworthy person out for their wants and needs. That’s all that they are sized down to at the beginning.

GANJI GUPTA struggles with being alone, at least, less than most others. He has experience with the feeling, but everyone caves eventually. He, on the other hand, can withstand it for quite some time.

GANJI GUPTA who, after quite some time, starts to warm up a bit more to the manor inhabitants. Realizing that it’s better not to hold any grudges if you’re going to be stuck here for all eternity.

GANJI GUPTA enjoys the company of others most when they play cricket with him. It doesn’t even matter if they’re good or not, he finds the act endearing and appreciates it more than anyone could imagine.

GANJI GUPTA would need a partner who takes things slow with him. Someone who understands that he (sometimes) has his moments, and will give him the time and space to sort through them. That might mean leaving your side for a while or hitting some cricket balls as far as he possibly can, imagining that all his anger flies away with it.

               ↳ However, there are moments where neither of these things can help him and he needs you instead. Help him to breathe again, and talk him through it instead. Distract his mind from thinking about why he was so upset in the first place. Just, don’t treat him like a child.

GANJI GUPTA who can’t help but feel jealous as you laugh and joke around with the others. There’s a part of him that sometimes wishes he too could enjoy the company of the rest but is too shy to say it. Although, if you happen to pick up on it, grab his hand and pull him into the conversation. He’ll find the flow, eventually.

GANJI GUPTA also hates the pit of spitefulness that pools in the bottom of his stomach when he notices someone else flirting with you. He goes red in the face with his arms crossed and looks furious. The Batter can’t seem to grasp how other people aren’t yet aware of your relationship and is quick to wrap an arm around your waist and come up with some lossy excuse to pull you away elsewhere.

↳ You can't help but whine a bit as the Batter pulls you away. You had a friendly conversation going on with the “Prisoner”, what’s the matter? As you continue your complaining, it dawns on Ganji that, you hadn’t realized he’d been trying to court you the entire time.

GANJI GUPTA will always use his last cricket ball to benefit you in a match. Whether it’s to save you from your third chair or to help prolong your kite, he never hesitates to use it for your sake. He’s gotten some rather harsh comments on it before, but he just ignores them and carries on with his day.

GANJI GUPTA deals with frequent night terrors that wake the both of you up. He’s quick to apologize, brushing it off as if it were nothing. Unfortunately, the tears in his eyes give him away. You don’t ask what they were about, and you probably shouldn’t for now. All he wants is to fall asleep in your embrace with the reminder that you’re here. That you are alive.

note: you thought I was gonna post that painter fic? erm whattttt? why would you ever think that???? that’s so weird what….

fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

He Who Has The Power

A 'What-If' for The Economic Difference Between The Miner and Mine Owner's Daughter

Rated Explicit | Warning: period typical sexism, past noncon mentioned, depression, power imbalance

Golden Cave ruined your family utterly.

All because of greed, the families of those dead miners caused such an uproar that politicians are using it to their advantage. Did your father truly cut corners just so he could find the supposed gold in the Golden Cave? The villagers reportedly did warn him both the dangers in the cave, but they also took the work opportunity too… God, this is such a mess! How could this happen!?

When you woke up, the doctor of the mining site said Norton was carrying your unconscious body to the infirmary before the explosion happened. Since that accident, you have been asleep… 

For a year. So much happened in a year, so much time missing.

There were no dreams, no sensation of being asleep for so long! Doctor Dyer even said they started fearing the worst. It is not like that was your concern; it was your father and the miners.

The news given to you is beyond heartbreaking… In a year you have lost everything your father ever owned or built himself, including your home.

When you learned more about the events… The explosion, the suicide pact made by your father, and ordered the workers to follow—There was a research article on the gas that caused the hallucination.

How were the hallucinations they saw so realistic to them that your father would… Why the suicide pact?! Did they truly believe the promises of in the sentences of madness?! A question you know the answer to as the detonation of the charges buried the cave with everyone inside, all those men who worked themselves so often to death to make ends meet— Scarcely.

Perhaps this karma…  As now you are left with utterly nothing.

The mining company went bankrupt to pay the families off… Everything your father owned was sold off by your mother’s side of the family, they did not want to take from their pockets the money needed to pay off your father’s debts.

The life you knew is gone, your mother's family had turned away from you to keep their livelihood secure (though they pay for your medical upkeep), and the families of those miners demanded your blood. It is a nightmare scenario that leaves you helpless.

It hurt that their last words to you were to either find a rich husband or sell yourself at some brothel. They abandoned you, just like they did with your father after your mother died.

Suddenly, you have fallen from the top to now sinking into the bottom.

It was too much for you. The sense of isolation, loneliness, and helplessness quickly takes root in your heart. Your friend, the doctor whose name is William Dyer, visits you from time to time—Visiting as often as he can with his wife when you are transferred to a mental ward.

Your dark thoughts had led you to a dark option as you grieved; staying in a coma felt like a better option.

Yet, you find yourself digging more into it despite the advice of Doctor Dyer given your fragile mental state.

The Golden Cave accident, how could it have gotten so… The more reports say the mine was unfit to be worked in, they say the gas within the cave has a hallucination effect, the canary that was sent in died but your father covered it up.

Everything was your father’s fault, and the sins of the father fall upon his only child.

Doctor Dyer took you in when you were discharged from the hospital. You have nothing but some clothes that do not fit you, and Dyer apologizes that he could not get anything that belonged to you during the year of your coma. You do not mind wearing a man’s overalls and work shirt; you were simply grateful to have a friend in this cold world. You swore to repay his and his wife’s kindness; you will not take this for granted.

The road is not easy, or rather it is especially not easy for a woman to find work, and you are unmarried as well. 

Your name does not help as it brings out different types of reactions—The worst is the one when you were able to fetch a job as a maid for some new money tycoon.

It took a few months, Doctor Dyer told you that there is light at the end of this darkness and you are close to reaching it. The wife says luck is on your side, she gives serious advice though when you tell her about being a housekeeping service. They are popular among the new money as many of their staff are young and agreeable looking. You realize what she means when one of the older women who in is charge tells you a pretty face goes a long way rather than skill (there is a different skill they suggested you to work on).

The old woman says there was a client who specifically asked for you, and you know this going to be risky as your name is well-known. The papers were at least in your favor, but some people will gladly take out their outrage on you.

In a snap of a finger, when the chosen servants entered the mansion, a castle truthfully, to greet their new master; your luck quickly ran out the moment you laid eyes upon the person you will be working for...

Norton Campbell.

Father was never a religious man, he was a firm believer in man taking his fate into his own hands.

Thus it made it strange why he and other miners took their lives in the Golden Cave, the doctor says they were… All of them… Were so firm about following your father deep into the cave to sacrifice themselves. You are never going to get answers, no matter how deep you try to search for them, it is like every answer is buried in Golden Cave, Lakeside Village.

You had to stop at some point, you needed to focus on living and surviving every day with your last name.

With your current job, you are busy every moment of the day; Master Campbell has you working like a dog. Heh, guess it makes sense given the moment he laid eyes on you— The humorous laugh he let out when he had stood in front of you after inspecting the other house staff, he plucked you out of the lined-up team to speak with you in private. Contract modification, he made you his personal maid.

Working for Master Campbell is hell, a twisted penance, he hangs over your head not only being the one who saved your life but the one who was bullied by your father and his lackeys. He told you to get used to sore hands and knees.

The company says the employer can do whatever they wish as long as it is in the contract, signed, and the money in commission to the company and the employee given is the appropriate amount.

Oh, you signed the new contract. It felt like you pricked your finger and signed it in blood. You need the money, you need the housing, and you know this is the only place you are going to get work— Steady work.

Today you timed that Master Campbell is stressed, he usually is this time of year…

After all, it is the anniversary of the Golden Cave incident.

He keeps to himself, staying in his study for most of the day, quiet too. You stand in front of the study dutifully guarding it from any of the staff who may need to ‘bother’ him, you are an extension of him so you may speak for him today.

It is almost a rough day for you, it always has and always will be. Your father's death, the miners’ death, and there is no amount of money that will bring back the lives lost that day. There was a big scandal, the accident was talked about for days, and it suddenly went quiet until you woke up a year later.

You… Still wished you never woke up.

“(Last Name),” You nearly jump at the sound of Norton's voice coming from behind you, the study door is open, “I need you.” Low, his chin resting on your shoulder as he whispers those words in your ear.

You can't help the shiver up your spine, nor stop him from pulling you into the study.

The door closes silently but the lock if it echoes like a deathbell.

In the end, he won. 

“Master Campbell!”

He won, a victory long deserved and he is basking in the light of it.

“Please, Master Campbell!”

Here you are the prize, laid out on his desk, your arms pinned down and eyes gloss with tears and shameful desire. Your uniform is a mess now, the apron tossed to the floor, the top ripped open at the top exposing your chemise— Which he tore open to touch your breasts—, the skirt lifted and old fashion open drawers he has you wear— Only you— Giving him free excess to your cunt.

You are glowing in the afternoon sun peeking from the partially open curtains, you are trembling as you are recovering from the first orgasm he drives you to. He licks his fingers as you are trying to gather your senses, something he doesn't allow as he pulls out his hard cock from his trousers.

A couple of unworthy souls, the burnt scars on the left side of his face and body, and now he has it all. Including you.

It is laughable, he has laughed about so many nights alone in his study with a glass of bourbon, he won it all!

Norton fucking Campbell has made it to the top!

From the bowels of the earth to the highest point of the sky, this bastard has risen above them all! The price is well worth it to have that thieving boss’ daughter right here. Yes, that mine owner's daughter serves that runt Norton Campbell like a whore! Cleaning wherever the chores take you before night falls you here on his bed.

Finally, the sight before him has made the years of torment almost worth it…

You cry out his name, his first name, as he thrusts hard and deep into your quim; he groans with a grin on his face as once more your velveteen blissful walls squeeze around him. Oh, he knows how deep he is, so deep there is a bump at your lower stomach as his cock kisses your cervix, it makes him feral as he can touch it and know you feel it too.

The first time you touch the bump, you nearly fainted from shock, instead you fainted from how many times you cummed that night. Norton is insatiable when it comes to you.

A wolf with his jaws around the perfect sacrificial lamb, he will devour you each time.

“So fucking tight,” Chuckling as he pins your arms above your head with one hand and another groping roughly your breast. “Such a perfect cunt, and it's all mine.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, tears at the corner of your eyes, your body is screaming for him to move. It is cruel how your body welcomes him like a lover, your mind only accepts this as a transaction between employer and employee.

Even if it is inappropriate, you need to survive.

“Yes, Master Campbell…” Knowing he wants to hear you agree, “You are… So much…”

“Pft, you are still terrible at bedroom talk,” It puts one of your legs on his shoulder, “Not like it matters as I am going to fuck you until all you can say barely is my name.” A promise he always makes good on, staff already has heard half of the sexual encounters between the two of you.

Norton is not a mess you do not recall in the Golden Cave, he learned and had fun with others just to ruin you for anyone. You are his toy, his prize, his one and only; so long as he has his status and power, you will remain here.

Forever, he made the perfect gilded cage. You should be thankful you wormed your way into his heart.

The creaking protests of the desk, the slapping of skin, your body falling apart and he is rebuilding each time, and he is pulling you down into the abyss with each kiss on your lips.

“You're mine,” Possessive, “That's it, go on singing little canary, give me your all.” Demanding.

Norton's hands are all over your body, his teeth too as he marks your skin. Greedy.

He is going to pull you into the darkness, he will be your shining false hope like the Fool's Gold he would find during his secret digs. You will breathe him in, become lost in the caverns of his desire, and come to accept it as love.

I am Mustafa Halas, the owner of the GoFound Me campaign. Please help my family, my children, my wife and my mother to continue living after their displacement. Your small donation will make a big difference in their lives. Please visit my page and share the link 😭😢😥 Freedom for Palestine Freedom for Gaza https://gofund.me/e021fb55

Unfortunately I'm in no financial position to donate..:( I hope sharing this will at least spread more attention.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help my family and children to continue living., organized by mustafa eiada

My name is Mustafa eiada hilles, I am 44 years old, a Palestinian living… mustafa eiada needs your support for Help my family and children t

!! SPOILERS for Mr. Scarletella !!

im sorry but ive had this meme in my head for so long between these two i had to create it

Identity V Comic Market 104 (C104)

~Today's event~

Have you all arrived yet? Please stay hydrated and be mindful of your surroundings, and enter in order!

The venue is South Exhibition Hall 3-4, No. 2631. We're waiting for you to come and have some fun together♡

Left

Naib : Did the stream started already?

Emma : Is that Aesop taking off his mask? It's crowded there-

Annie : Shall I tell him that the stream is starting? UwU

Right

Annie : Shall I tell him that the stream is starting? UwU

Alice : Ah, it seems that he just realized that the stream is started

Fiona : Aesop's response, very cute wwwww (Japanese laugh)

TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1: ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ cw: mature content, dark content, kidnapping, age gap, manhandling | words: 3.9k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu

Your lips are muttering numbers.

It is hard to count the cash in your hands while they are covered with worn-out gloves. Slowly but surely, you total up all the notes, smiling to yourself that you have surpassed a personal goal for tonight. You stuff the cash notes into your small baby blue pouch, zipping it up before you focus on your route again.

The pavement is covered with a sheer layer of snow, which is piling up as more snowflakes are pouring from the cold night sky. Your boots clack onto the cement. Tap, tap, tap—they go.

You just finished your shift for the night, which is considerably later than usual. You are an escort in a local bar that is quite infamous in the town. You entertain guests—usually lonely old men who seek faux comfort from a pair of gentle hands of a young woman. Sometimes you make a small performance in the local bar like tap-dancing or singing. Sometimes you are just sitting with a customer, listening to their problems, swallowing their drunken confessions.

But nothing sexual has ever happened to you. Sure, you do get invitations to sleep with your customers, but you always refuse it—it is just a personal choice, really. And you do not like to kiss and make out with a drunkard anyway. The furthest that has ever happened was when a middle-aged man slept on your lap after dunking three bottles of beer into his system and you had to let him suckle on your hand. Old people do have the wildest fetishes, sometimes.

Besides, the other senior escorts advised you to not get too sexual with the customers either—so you can keep selling the idea of how unapproachable you are. So, they can keep coming and coming, just to see you and to indulge in their fantasy of having a chance to dip into your pants.

You are not opposed to the idea of sex—the feeling of being desired has long been brewing in you. But you are already fine with the attention these customers give you, no matter how perverted and dark the true nature of their intentions.

Attention feels nice.

But too much attention makes one feel like killing themselves.

You walk at a slow pace. The snow is piling up, covering the pavement and the road with a thin blanket of white particles on the earth's surface. The wind feels drier as ever, colder. But it is not so strong that it blocks your sight. It is dark. The sky is covered with a veil of navy blue, with dots of faint sparkles scattered over it. The road lacks any sight of humans, though it is not even late. But the emptiness is purely because of how dull it is for a small town—well, what is to be expected from a suburban area?

You are too used to loneliness. It is the back of your hand. You are accustomed to such environments—where your personal space is never barged, never wanted. Which is why, you are too aware of the asynchronous slow footsteps behind you.

You glance at the reflection of the windows on each car you pass by. It is hard to see properly, but there is indeed a dark figure—taller, bigger—five feet away from your back.

Must be going in the same direction...

That's what you want to think.

You keep walking and keep your calm. Panic will only get you to nowhere. Best to not provoke anyone—especially in this suburban area. The bus stop is just fifty metres ahead. The road lights are flickering. You are almost there. Your blue heels clack on the pavement as you fasten your steps.

However,

Your body is swooped back harshly and you are about to scream before a strong arm wraps around your body and a big hand covers your mouth with a weird-smelling white cloth. Your scream is muffled beneath the napkin as you struggle against the man.

But his hold on you is obviously stronger.

“Shut your mouth.” He says as he drags you to the other side of the road, forcing your feet to follow his wide strides. You harden your legs, to make it harder for him to drag you but the substance you have been inhaling makes your vision worse. The orange lights are spiralling, the sky is falling, and the stars are crumbling.

“Mmmh!” You groan one last time as loud as you can as your head is dizzying away into a maze of incoherent thoughts. You grip your kidnapper's arm tightly as your eyes are threatening to close. And once your consciousness gives up on staying with you, you only feel your weak body being tossed onto a rough surface.

The last thing you see is a sight of tall pale man, with his hair as white as the snow falling from the night winter sky.

— ♡

“What?! So soon?”

“Quit screaming in my ear, you dipshit.” Nikolai sighs as he leans back to his car seat. He taps the ashes of his cigarette out of the window before placing it between his lips again. He glances at the young woman who is unconscious right beside him—you.

"Dude, I gave that work last night and you got the girl... not even 24 hours later!”

Nikolai snorts. “Well, what can I say? I'm too good at this.” He says before he huffs the smoke from his cigarette. “Besides, this girl lives in a small town. It's not hard to figure out where she is and what she does.” Nikolai adds before he throws the cigarette out.

“Alright, no need for cockiness. But you hafta keep the girl with you for a while.”

Nikolai's jaw hangs. “What? Why? I got the girl. Why can't we just give her to those loan sharks and move on? I need money.” He protests. He hears his friend sigh loudly and Nikolai could practically see the rolling eyes of annoyance.

“I'm not saying that you'd keep her for a long fucking while. I need to consult with the loansharks again so we can arrange a meeting to give the girl to them and get our payment.”

“You’re so horrible at managing, I swear to God,” Nikolai grunts. His friend laughs and it irks Nikolai for some reason—he knows a mockery when he hears one. “Stop laughing, Viktor Pavlovsky. I'll kick your ass for forcing me to take care of a child.”

“Oh, heavens, my brother Kolyushka! She's not even a child! Just make sure she doesn't die!”

“I am not a babysitter, Viktor...”

“Alright, bye, lovely! I'm gonna do my part to satisfy our clients too, m'kay?”

Nikolai does not even get a chance to curse out Viktor before the man ends the call. Irritated, he tosses the phone to the cup holder in front of him. Nikolai glances at his side—you are still sleeping, or passed out, so quietly, so peacefully.

He seizes your jaw roughly, shaking your head—but you remain asleep, limp. Nikolai sighs. The substance must be too strong for you and he does admit that he did press the napkin too hard on your mouth and nose. Well, it's better to have you unconscious instead. Who knows if you dare enough to put up a fight? He does not mind killing you if you are being such a big problem, but you are the starshine of this whole ordeal.

Yesterday, Nikolai received word from Viktor about a new job. He had to kidnap a girl, needed as a hostage for a group of dangerous loan sharks. Apparently, your father is too deep in debt with those loansharks and he is having a very hard time paying back. The man keeps evading and running away, dragging you along with him.

Nikolai already knows some stuff about you. You are working in a bar as an escort, which explains your current clothes right now—a baby blue dress, white stockings, blue heels and a white cardigan. You do look adorable—Nikolai knows that many men in the bar you worked at would really love to have you on their bed.

Hells, if you are not a target, perhaps Nikolai would flirt with you as well.

But now you are asleep soundly in his car and he has to keep you with him because he is just too good at his job.

Nikolai sighs again before he leans towards you, taking the seatbelt to buckle you up. Then he yanks one of the ribbons on your hair, causing your head to tilt as well. He uses the ribbon to tie your wrists together, as tight as possible that the ribbon practically digs into your skin.

“Now, how do I 'take care' of this girl...” He murmurs as he holds the steering wheel, beginning to drive off the place. Nikolai is thinking hard. Should he get you to his humble apartment? Should he just drop you at Viktor's place? Should he ditch you somewhere he only knows and he will come and take you shall his clients finally need you?

But since this is a kidnapping, he should not let you be in the public's eyes. Especially your father. The whole point of kidnapping you is to keep you as a hostage, not a guest.

Nikolai is about to turn his car in the direction going to Viktor's place, but he remembers that Viktor lives with his girlfriend. He knows how possessive can Viktor's girlfriend be—Nikolai has heard enough stories from Viktor about how his girlfriend hit other people just because of her own jealousy.

And the last thing Nikolai wants is to have you tainted with bruises or dirt. You must remain flawless for the loansharks once they retrieve you in the future. He aims to get the most money out of this job—he is already desperate for them.

Reluctantly, Nikolai drives his way to his apartment complex—a worn-out building containing house units. It is an old building that constantly gets renovations and repairments just to keep it functioning for people to live. It is basically for the lower class to live.

He parks his car by the building and gets out. He gets to your side and unbuckles your seatbelt. Nikolai sighs, scratching his neck as he contemplates how to get you inside without raising suspicion. He knows that there are security cameras planted in the corridor for each floor. He doubts the owner of the building pays that much attention though since Nikolai had gone back home with a bloody shirt before and nothing was reported.

But at least he needs to be careful.

Nikolai takes off his jacket and drapes it over your body—or to be exact, your tied wrists. He then gently carries your body in his arms, kicking the car door close. He brings you inside the building and gets to his designated floor by the stairs—the elevator is barely functioning well anyway.

Nikolai gets to the sixth floor and walks to his unit quickly. He realizes he needs to get his keys from his pocket. Grunting in dissatisfaction, Nikolai lets down your legs, so you are leaning against his body instead. That way, he could hold your limp body while opening the door with one hand.

He wraps his arm around your body, pressing your body closer to him while he unlocks the door to his unit. Once he gets it, Nikolai practically drags you easily into the house, slamming the door close before unlocking it. He drags your limp body before tossing you onto the old couch.

“Fucking wake up already... Why do I need to babysit this girl?” He sighs loudly before he gets to you, taking off your heels and taking away his jacket from your body. He stares at your unconscious figure for a moment—leering his darkened gaze over your curves.

Nikolai swallows nervously—something stirs in his chest but he decides to ignore it. He proceeds to carry you again to his unkempt bed and once again tosses you onto the uncomfortable mattress. He takes a rope beneath the bed and ties your legs together before making a tight knot to the footboard railing, just so you cannot escape easily once you wake up.

“Alright, now what?” He asks himself as he looks at you again—tied and asleep, on his bed. He does not want to stay close to you, let alone sleep in the same space. Knowing he has little to no choice, Nikolai pathetically walks out—there is no door to his bedroom and he actually does not know where the fuck it is because it has always been that way since he lived here.

So he settles himself on the sagging couch. Nikolai places his arm over his eyes, shutting them close. The clock is ticking, approaching the deadest of the night. And after the trouble he went through today, Nikolai succumbs to his exhaustion—sleep.

But it is hard to fall asleep in this horrible condition he has to live with.

Nikolai stares at the ceiling—the dried paint is peeling off. The ceiling fan is creaking whenever it finishes a circle. Some unknown wires are hanging from the lamp. The fabric of the cushion beneath him is no longer soft and aromatic. He is basically lying on a piece of future garbage.

Despite the miserable fate that has fallen upon him, Nikolai feels quite nostalgic about it. Somehow, this poor condition reminds him of his childhood—or the oldest memories of his past. He was lucky to have a taste of luxury and comfort when he reached the age of twenty—but it was not for long.

After the incident in that prison, he decided to disappear—his mind wandered into a whole tangled mess of confusion and lost. His best friend was just killed. He was supposed to feel liberated, happy, relieved—but instead, he found himself cornered into the dark, again.

You wanted to kill him, didn't you?

Yes, I did.

Err... I didn't...

No... I did.

Remembering that piece of the past feels as if God mocks him.

When he was finally so far away from the scene of the crime—after two years, he almost threw up when the truth was dispensed right in front of his eyes. The sight of his friend being alive and well standing right in front of him after he lamented over that friend's horrible death and his horrible freedom.

You tried to kill me. I'd like to return the favour.

Lovely.

Nikolai should have expected that the Fyodor Dostoyevsky would not be direct when it comes to tormenting.

He did not expect that a whole squadron would besiege him, in an attempt to arrest him. Nikolai knew he could have run away but perhaps the shock of seeing Fyodor got into his head. He felt like he was not real—as if he was watching his body living by itself, without his own mind controlling himself.

For a long while he felt unreal—and he snapped out of it during his second day in prison.

And that was when he realized—he was too doomed.

For six years, he spent his days in prison with whack-ass jackasses. It was fun. Prisoners feared him somehow. But when he almost entered his seventh year in prison, he was released from prison—no parole, no bail. It was weird—as if something, someone, had interfered with the laws in order to get them to be on his side.

Nikolai still does not know who and how, but once again, he became a free man.

Except, he was bombarded with countless misfortunes.

His house, his documents, his treasures, money, relationships, people—everything.

He was arrested with his overcoat, and he got out with it. That is the only thing he still keeps—the only piece of himself that stays since years and years ago.

Nikolai was already on the verge of giving his life up, but he kept going anyway—another determination was brewing and is still going. He wants to find Dostoyevsky and return the favour to him—after all, that man caused Nikolai to get arrested and lose everything.

After all I did for your plans...

Bit by bit, Nikolai is attempting to climb again—he committed paid crimes. He admires those who are in the light of justice, but he is more intrigued with those who are lurking in the shadow of evil—so that is the path he decided to walk on. He knows his way to find people who want to commit injustice but do not have the balls to do so. The pay is always good—he manages to get a humble house for himself and a car within three months. But money is not always static. The money he gets from his crimes is always shared with Viktor, bills, rent and himself.

He needs to be strategic with finance. One wrong move, Fyodor could get him into the deepest hell of poverty. He is already saving money for his trip to St. Petersburg—the first place he wants to go as he believes Fyodor might be there. Nikolai's passport is also seized and Viktor has confirmed to him that he is blacklisted from even applying for one.

But Nikolai believes he can still go through with this vengeance. After this kidnapping is done and you are finally taken by the loansharks, he will get to other jobs and the cycle will repeat, until he can get to St. Petersburg comfortably.

And once he sees Fyodor again, no amount of guilt shall cage his heart—he hopes.

— ♡

Nikolai squirms and groans hoarsely. The couch is hella uncomfortable and it feels like his back was stomped by a crowd of people. He gets up and stretches, yawning while he is at it. He looks at the clock—it is already ten in the morning. He takes out his phone, checking whether there is a new message from Viktor regarding the job. There is one—Viktor just said he will come to Nikolai's place and figure things out together. Somehow he also mentioned that he was excited to meet the kidnapped girl.

And it concerns Nikolai. He does not want Viktor to have his hands on you. Viktor is trustworthy... but only that much. He is not a nice guy to be around—but well, when Nikolai thinks again, he is not a good person to be around too.

Nikolai replies shortly to the message before he gets to his bedroom. He is nervous for some reason but he swallows it as he approaches the room. He enters.

“Oh, shit!”

Nikolai flinches when he sees you are already awake and sitting up straight on the bed, hugging your knees together. Your baby blue appearance made you look like a ghost in this dull house—like a white flower in the middle of an abandoned building.

“Hello...”

What?

Nikolai blinks confusedly. Why are you not thrashing around and struggling and spouting curses at him? He was pretty sure that you saw him when he kidnapped you last night. He frowns—is this a trick? Well, if that is the case, Nikolai is the wrong person you are trying to trick for sure.

“Do you realize the situation you are in right now?” Nikolai interrogates you as he approaches you, grabbing your tied wrists. You flinch at his roughness and yet you are not backing away. Your wrists already have a thin line of bruise due to the tight ribbon. One wrong twist and it makes you wince in pain.

“I asked you a question, girl.”

“M-My name is—”

“I already know your name.”

“Oh...”

Nikolai sighs. “Hey, if you're trying to play nice just to get on my good side, drop it. I know how to detect a liar, alright? Drop it.” He says harshly as he points his finger at you, nudging your head hard. You turn away, using your hands to shield yourself from his assaulting finger on your head.

“I-I didn't mean it...” You say slowly.

“Hey, hey, don't look away,” Nikolai says before he grabs your jaw, turning your head to face him roughly. “You're in my house now, so we have to establish some rules until you get out of here.”

“O-Oh, I'm not staying...?” You ask, almost like a whisper. Nikolai raises his eyebrow—this girl is weird. He shakes your head roughly again.

“Of course you're not staying. Who the fuck you think you are?”

“I-I thought—”

“Well, clearly you don't think smart enough.” He shoves your head away before he stands straight. You whine, rubbing your jaw with the back of your hands—it is hard to move when your ankles and wrists are being tied like this.

“Is it... because of my father?”

“Smart girl! So you can think after all!” Nikolai claps his hands with his mocking voice echoing in the room. “Why, yes, that's exactly why. I think you can catch what's up with your dad already, right? If you want to blame anyone, blame him. I'm just a courier.”

“I don't think this... will work to get to my father though...”

Nikolai shrugs his shoulder. “Okay? And I don't care. You'll be given to the loansharks very soon and that's it for me.” He says. He looks at you, noticing the strange stare you are giving him. Nikolai narrows his eyes, baffled by the calmness you are projecting—he wants to think that you are just trying to be brave, but this silence, this obedience, this calmness... They throw him off.

“Can I go to the toilet?” You suddenly ask.

“What a good girl, huh? Asking permission to go shit.”

“D-Don't say nasty things like that.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are to police my tone, huh?” Nikolai grunts before he unties the rope around your ankles. Then he grabs one of your ankles, gripping it hard. “Don't think of kicking or attacking me. You're not that strong, girlie.” He says. You nod slowly before your eyes waver to your legs, to him and then your tied wrists.

You bring your tied wrists towards him, quietly asking him to untie them. Nikolai looks at you and then your wrists. He internally sighs before he unties the ribbon that is binding you. You wince when you are finally free. Your hands have a ring of darker shade and it stings when you rub it—your hands feel numb and your joints are straining as you try to move your arms.

Before you could even make a stretch to warm up your body, Nikolai yanks your arm, pulling you out of the bed. His grip is strong and hard and he easily drags you out of the bedroom and to the small bathroom located just by the kitchen.

He pushes the door open and then shoves you into the bathroom—small and just enough for one person to occupy it comfortably. Nikolai knows you won't escape easily—his unit is on the sixth floor and even if you could make your body small enough to slip out from the window in the bathroom, you would not know your way out.

“Make it quick.” He says before he pulls the door to close it. However, your hand holds it right before the door connects to the frame. Nikolai turns to you, seeing your adorable eyes staring back at him between the gap.

“T-Thank you for... letting me sleep on your bed... It was the most comfortable sleep I've ever had.”

And you close the door yourself, locking it.

Nikolai is stunned.

Did you just thank him? For letting you sleep on his bed?

He leans right beside the bathroom door, gazing at the worn-out ceiling. Nikolai pinches the bridge of his nose, pursing his lips. He knows something is wrong with this girl he just kidnapped.

He feels like something is going to happen to him too. Nikolai huffs and gets his phone quickly, messaging Viktor so he will come and figure out what to do with you. Especially when you just said that 'this' would not work with your father—whatever that means.

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Relationship HCs with the Puppeteer 🪡 written before his release >< if canon debunks these, lets just pretend ♡

Matthias knows a handful of ballroom dances. In his early teen years, he was expected to dance at galas or debutante parties with potential marriage candidates. But he found social events stressful which ruptured any love he might've had for dancing back then. Even so, he still knows his whisks from his chasses.

He'd be willing to try it again for you, albeit reluctantly. He'll say that his fingers are better dancers than he is — he can work his puppets to perform a couple of folk dances — but he thinks he has no sense of body rhythm.

Honestly, he's not as bad as he thinks. You might even be the reason he starts to enjoy it again. He likes taking your hand in private, spotlighted under empty street lamps, or on the theatre stage after the audience clears out.

He's not used to being touched. He's still figuring out how he feels about it. He craves your touch when you're not there; he feels too overstimulated when you are. Feeling so desired (and having it be mutual) is something totally new to him -- it's a confusing thing to process.

He wouldn't voice his discomfort, even if he desperately needed space. He's afraid of disappointing you. You're the first person who's ever showed so much interest in him, and he's frantic not to let that go.

His fingers are often covered in splinters/cuts from working with wooden marionettes. He doesn't remember the last time his hands were completely blemish-free — nor does he really know how to take care of them. He starts wearing gloves 24/7 to hide them from you.

You'd have to reassure him that he doesn't have to "perform" around you. He is very gentle, but thinks too much of your comfort before anything else.

When he first sheds his gloves, he'll start a habit of clasping his hands, as if still uncomfortable with exposing them fully. It also takes time for him to work up to holding your hand again. Instead, he hooks a few fingers around yours, loosely, easy to pull back again.