#I didn't have it in mind when I drew this before but the comparison to Icarus *is* a familiar one!

[runawaycarouselhorse]

"Let me warn you, Icarus, to take the middle way, in case the moisture weighs down your wings, if you fly too low, or if you go too high, the sun scorches them. Travel between the extremes."

~

'.... when the boy began to delight in his daring flight, and abandoning his guide, drawn by desire for the heavens, soared higher. His nearness to the devouring sun softened the fragrant wax that held the wings: and the wax melted: he flailed with bare arms, but losing his oar-like wings, could not ride the air. Even as his mouth was crying his father’s name, it vanished into the dark blue sea, the Icarian Sea, called after him. The unhappy father, now no longer a father, shouted ‘Icarus, Icarus where are you? Which way should I be looking, to see you?’'

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU- pt 3

Warnings; yandere themes/behavior/actions, mix of platonic and romantic yanderes, monster AU, reader is the only human, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, Monster AU Grim has arrived and my heart already hurts for him, poor decision making, Selkie, Crow Fae, Minotaur, Drider, slight gore, an actual monster of this AU make a guest appearance,

~~~~~~~~

"(Y/n) (L/n)... The last Human in Twisted Wonderland."

Those words echoed in your mind as you followed the Crow. Supposedly there was a dorm on the campus that didn't have anyone in it and he intended that to be your home. You didn't trust any of these creatures because they all seemed to think you were some kind of exotic pet and not actually an equal. There was no way you would stay with any of these creatures and you found yourself looking for a chance to escape.

What you hadn't expected was how hard the Dragon man took your refusal to stay in his nest permanently. When he was guarding you, he had been full of energy and crackling with some kind of unknown power. When you said you wanted to be left alone and wanted to go home, the man practically looked like a kicked puppy who couldn't understand why his new play-mate didn't want to stay with him. In some ways, you felt guilty for saying no to the Dragon, but you also were afraid of how you would be treated by the man who had already claimed you as his own.

The Crow actually decided your request to go home was a reasonable one and brought you before the mirror that had been so prominent in the center of the coffin room. Despite your pleading and the Crow's requests, the mirror said there was nowhere in their world you could have come from so there was nowhere in their world you could return to. You tried arguing that your home was real and you needed to go back to it, but the mirror refused to speak to you again and simply stopped responding to you.

This lead to where you were now, feeling like a prisoner marching down death-row flanked by the two men who came with the Crow to retrieve you from the Dragon. Everyone you passed stopped and stared as you went by, their curiosity clear as they all tried to get a good look at you. Some even tried to reach out to you, but the two men flanking you shut it down quickly and chased the curious onlookers off. Despite how the Crow said he was taking you somewhere safe, you didn't trust him in the slightest.

When your opportunity to flee presented itself, you took it with both hands.

There was a forest that seemed to line the far side of the campus with many dark trees and shadowed trunks. Surely you could hide in there and find your own way home despite the fearful feeling in your gut that insisted you were stuck in the unusual world of fantasy you now found yourself in. As you drew nearer to what looked like an abandoned and ramshackled manor, you slowed your pace just enough to make a bit of distance from you and your guards before you darted into the forest.

Even as the branches whipped and slashed at you, you kept running blindly into the woods. Surely you could get some distance from the monsters that tried to keep you like a pet, and maybe then you could work on finding a way home. To your real home, wherever that was in comparison to where you were now.

~•§•~

"Damn it, Crowley!"

The black and white Selkie snapped, immediately trying to follow the frightened little Human into the forest. He knew what kind of creatures stalked those woods and a soft little Human like you was not going to survive long. The moment the branches began pulling at his pelt, he had to retreat back from the woods. His own self preservation was far too strong to allow his pelt to be damaged or removed from his shoulders, even to save a protected species like the little Human.

"What did I do? I have been nothing but kind and that Human keeps running away!"

"They're running because they are terrified, confused, and not even from our world! You should have just let us use the dark mirror to get to the dorm, not making us walk! Not to mention how unsafe and rundown the dorm you want them to stay in is..."

The Selkie gave another annoyed noise as he watched his minotaur companion barely even make it past the first tree before his horns caught on the foliage around him. They couldn't enter the forest after you because they would get just as lost as you currently were. The forest was not a warm and safe place to be for anyone given the rampant number of Direbeasts and other creatures in the untamed areas of the isle.

"We can't follow them like this- damn it! Rook, front and center, pup!"

There was a slight skittering sound before the lovely blond Drider easily cleared the wrought iron fencing nearby and came to a halt before the Selkie professor. Naturally, the Drider was curious about the Human and followed the entourage with a keen eye and even keener instincts. He knew the Human would run before the professors did, and despite how he wanted to give chase he remembered the horrified look the Human had given him when they saw him for the first time. Rook wanted to befriend and study the unusual prey that was his new little Human muse, not terrify them into fleeing from him.

"Yes, Roi du Selkie?"

"I know you were watching where the Human (Y/n) ran and you are better at navigating the forest than we are. Find them and bring them back unharmed."

"You wound me, Roi du Selkie! I would never harm the little Trickster Human! Now, I certainly wouldn't mind hunting them down for a bit of sport, but I wouldn't harm a hair upon their fragile little head."

"Yes, yes, I know your proclivity to The Hunt, but this is a fragile creature that we can't risk losing, especially when they are the last of their kind. Make sure you get to them before the beats of the forest do."

"As you command, Roi du Selkie."

~•§•~

No matter how far you ran, the forest only seemed to get darker. It had already been late in the evening when you fled, but the forest was a near abyssal dark. Not even the light of the moon could reach beneath the canopy of leaves. Every little sound made you jump and you could only imagine the creatures that lurked in these shadowed woods.

Perhaps fleeing into the woods away from a warm bed and meal was not the best idea you've had. Granted, the last time you fled resulted rather positively given the fact you fell asleep under a stone statue and woke up safe in a comfortable bed. The same bed you chose to give up because you didn't want to be someone's pet. Well, hindsight was always 20/20, after all.

You were so preoccupied with the forest around you that the second a gnarled root caught you foot, you went tumbling to the ground with an undignified yelp. The root you had fallen over was pitch black and seemed to actually be the opening of what looked like a den for whatever creatures called this land home. When you breathed a sigh of relief at not seeing any feral creature within the den, a sharp voice snapped you back to attention.

"Hey! Watch it!"

Crawling on their belly out of the den, you caught sight of shaggy gray fur and burning blue eyes. You got a good look at the little creature when it stood up, dusting the dirt off of itself and pouting in your direction. The little beast was fairly stout and almost fooled you into thinking it was some kind of cat before you noticed the extra limbs adorning the rounder body.

"What... Are you?"

"I'm the greatest mage to ever live, Grim! That's what I am! What are you? You don't look like the usual fancy-pants students that wander around the woods."

"I'm not... I'm just lost-"

You cut yourself off with a gasp as the little creature hopped up on your knees, staring at you closely with those bright blue eyes. They gave you a quick once-over and even a few sniffs for good measure before they nodded.

"Yup. I see. I can say with absolute certainty that I have no idea what you are!"

The odd words of the critter drew a short laugh from you. Your laugh was a mix of confusion and incredulousness, but in it held the hint of genuine humor. It seemed those in the supposed school knew exactly what you were, but this little creature didn't have the faintest idea. Something about this Grim helped put you at ease as they seemed much more rounded- quite literally given their chubby belly- and less aggressive than the others had been.

Where the others had made you feel like an exotic pet, this little creature made you feel like someone who could stand up for themselves and talk for themselves. As you took a good look at the creature, you noticed what seemed to be small blue flames along their ears and various scars riddling the soft fur. Though the creature was small, they had clearly been through a rough life as even the little wings on their back had been shredded to complete uselessness.

"I'm a Human."

"Yeah, I have no idea what that is, but it smells like you don't have even a bit of magic on ya! Don't worry, Hooman thing. I- the Great and Powerful Grim- will protect you as you make your way through the forest! There's all sorts of bad things in the woods that would hurt someone soft like you. In return, you can be my henchman! Every good mage needs a henchman. Nyehehe!"

Before you could respond to the odd creature Grim, the rustling of the bushes near you filled you with dread. You had no way to defend yourself or fight back against whatever threat came for you, let alone protect Grim. That dread only compounded when you saw the creature that emerged from the foliage.

Standing on all fours, it almost looked like some kind of bear that was missing half of it's face. Where fur and flesh should have been, a large gaping wound covered in flies and rotting from the bone of the skull was on clear display. The eyes of the beast were no more than glowing light blue pits that glowered hatefully in your direction. Even the black fur of the beast seemed to be dripping with some kind of rot as the foul stench of the creature assaulted your nostrils.

Nothing about this beast was natural and the twisted fangs that glinted in the maw of the beast only made icy fear grip you. Each fang had been broken by the neighboring tooth, all overgrown and twisted in the maw of the creature. Some teeth grew up and back into the gums, some teeth grew out jaggedly though the mouth of the creature, and some were empty sockets where a tooth once was.

The beast lowed and huffed, sounding like it was struggling for air as it breathed out a toe-curling reek in heavy pants. One paw fell after the other as you felt rooted to the ground, trapped in terror upon gazing such a disheveled and vile creature walking around. Beyond just the face of the creature, you could see exposed bone and further signs of decay clinging to the sides of the beast. Open wounds were covered in pustules filled with some kind of inky black blight on ragged and bloodless flesh.

"Th-that's way bigger than I thought it'd be..."

Grim's voice squeaked out and his torn ears dropped in obvious fear. The bravado he had moments prior was gone the exact same way your own had faded away. This was not some natural creature and you realized just how woefully prepared you were to face the creatures of the night.

The beast turned the one remaining eye it had towards the two of you and Grim tried to hide behind your legs, huddled down on your stomach. You were in more than just a dangerous position seeing as you were sitting on the dark earth beneath you after tripping over Grim's hiding-spot. Both you and your new companion were caught completely unawares by this wretched beast.

As it looked like the thing was about to lunge, a sudden rush of fire slammed into the beast, piercing into the side was an arrow that burned brightly with flames. The sudden attack was enough to disorient the beast as it howled a screeching wail of pain and lumbered back into the woods, deciding to find easier prey elsewhere. You wanted to cry in joy at seeing the creature retreat, finding yourself hugging the odd cat-thing Grim who joyously returned the affection as you both got to live another day.

"I see you are unharmed, my little Trickster, c'est magnifique!"

You looked over at the sound of the voice, only to realize that the voice came from above you instead. Hanging suspended on a thin strand of silk was the lovely giant Spider man. Two of his legs held the silk and the others hung down as if reaching down to you.

"Myeh! A giant spider! Run for your life, Hooman!"

Grim screamed as he hopped off of your stomach, trying to flee from the descending spider that had save you both from the monster bear. He didn't get far before a sudden strand of silk wrapped around him, pulling him back with ease.

"Non, there has been enough fleeing for one night. As beautiful as the forest is when it is dark like this, many dangers far worse than the Undying Ursus Minor live in these woods. It is time to return mon Trickster to the safety of their new home."

"Myeh? A safe home..? Hey, spider guy, that's my henchman! Where they go, I go too! They wouldn't leave me out here," Grim turned to look at you with surprisingly soulful eyes, as if willing you to agree, "right?"

You felt more than a little put on the spot, but you didn't see any harm in bringing this strange creature with you. They were more than a little proud but seemed so out of place among the dark forest you two found ourselves at the mercy of. That and the fact that you couldn't get the image of the many scars on their soft little body out of your mind. The world was unkind to Grim and maybe you could do something to change that for the better.

"Right."

The blond spider nodded with a patient smile, his body safely touching down on the ground next to you.

"Trés bien, I will bring your new friend with us. First, I worry I haven't been very polite with you, Trickster. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rook Hunt, hunting enthusiast and passionate admirer of all things beautiful. Honored to be in the presence of one so rare~"

After his short introduction, Rook was quick to free Grim from the webbing and picked the little creature up, setting the fluffy beast onto his spider half's back. As the spider man approached you next, you still felt wary of him but knew that at least he wasn't looking to harm you like the beasts of the forest.

Before you could accept the help of the smiling spider, he suddenly picked you up, pausing with a look of surprise. His hands were beneath your arms and held you from the ground with what seemed to be little effort, but he was a spider and so likely had more strength than a Human would.

"Oh? It seems my little Trickster is a Mademoiselle Trickster. Odd I didn't notice before. I am usually quite good at discerning the sex of my prey, as some species are only free to hunt if they are one sex and not the other, but this is still a welcome surprise. Roi du Règles will be most pleased to know this, him being a Unicorn and all."

"Wh-what the hell are you talking about? Were you hunting me?"

"Calm yourself, Trickster. I admit, you interest me in many ways, but non, I tracked you down at the behest of Roi du Selkie. The forests are no place for a soft Human such as yourself. I certainly would not mind a game of chase with you, but this is neither the place nor time."

He set you next to Grim on his back, grinning over his shoulder at you.

"Hold on, Mademoiselle Trickster, I do not intend to have you fall on our way back to campus."

You were quick to grab Grim, holding the soft critter with one arm and the other wrapping around Rook's warm torso. Once he was sure you were holding onto him securely, his many long legs began to move with a surprising speed, carrying you towards what you assumed to be the school you fled. Grim was content to snuggle into your body for warmth, seeming to actually relax in your hold now that he didn't have to constantly be looking over his shoulder for danger.

You weren't thrilled to be going back, but you also now knew what kind of dangers lurked around the campus and in the woods. Perhaps you would be better off in the protection- for whatever it was worth- of the monster men and their school. Even if it was temporary, it beat being the lunch to something bigger and meaner in the forest. At least you knew you weren't going to try running again.

[melodic-haze]

I WAS WAITING FOR THE ASKBOX TO BE OPENED AGAIN WOOHOO…

anyway. How about a belly bulge from a strap with Robin? Like, trying out different straps with Robin and the one is bigger then the bigger belly bulge on her stomach is!!!

-🐿️

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Robin x dom!fem!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader with a strap but that's probably evident HAHAHA, squirting

☆ — NOTES: I JUMPED ohhh 🐿 how I love your mind ik you sent this when I last opened my askbox I'm so sorry it took this long 💀💀💀💀💀

I went crazy insane before sitting down to write this bc HOLY FUCK

For the record I'd like to think that this was Robin's initial idea. She got way too curious and decided to just maaaybe suggest experimenting with sizes :3

And maybe she wants to see how it feels to be stuffed silly but shhh you don't need to know that (you probably already know LOL)

You start with a smaller size before buying new ones that are bigger than the last......but you just can't help but notice that whenever you both look around the site for another one, she always seems to linger at a particularly large one before you gently nudge her and snap her out of whatever train of thought she was in

So you end up buying that exact one in secret before surprising her, in which case?

The moment you revealed your 'mystery gift', you find that you've never seen Robin's eyes practically sparkle this much in such a peculiar way; it shined with a humorous mix of surprise, amusement and heated desire.

"Is this..?"

"I've noticed your eye on it more than once—for a multi-talented performer, you're not exactly discreet," you joked.

She smiles bashfully, "I suppose I've let my excitement show once or twice..."

"Really."

She laughs in that melodic tone you've easily grown to love, "Oh, hush, you!"

But then her eyes drift back to the new toy you've bought her.. and her hand idly strokes the false appendage, the size comparison between it and her hand being.. definitely something.

You hadn't even realised you were staring at her (and her movements) until you heard her clearing her throat, "Y-Yes? Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

She gives you a light smirk, the wings on her head lightly flapped as if it were tittering, "I was going to ask if you'd like to try it out on me but if you're preoccupied with something, then-- mmph! ..Mm..."

You had silenced her with a quick yet deep kiss, the dildo pressing down on both your stomachs and earning you an excited moan before you drew back, "Was that enough of an answer for you, angel?"

"Mhm..." Her hand went to feel the toy leaning on her stomach, as if a prelude for the real event, "More than satisfactory."

Oh god when you get down to it, it's like she's absolutely hypnotised. Robin's DEFINITELY a lot more, for the lack of a more eloquent term befitting for such a lovely lady 🥰, sluttier and you've found that out for a bit now, but you've never seen her like this—all that's happening right now is Robin blowing you and yet it's as if she's already so dumb and eager as she drools on your cock. Can't even fit it in her mouth, what's the chance that she'd fit in her cunt????

Turns out she's determined to have you (and your new toy) inside of her no matter what 🤷‍♀️ gotta respect the woman's perseverance 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

She winces when you try to put it in at first (with a LOT of questioning her beforehand about whether she's sure she can handle it, which she says she can but still) and you take your time with it, letting her adjust to the stretch little by bit. Something inside her wants you to just shove it all in but she 1) knows better and 2) doesn't want to worry you 🫶🫶🫶🫶

It takes a while but when you finally bottom out inside her she is WEAK AS HELLLLLLL❗️❗️ Her eyes are half-lidded, her breaths fast, drool gathering on the corner of her mouth.......oh she's already gone and you haven't even started moving yet

The moment you do though??? Ohhh boy oh boy oh BOYYYYYYY her wings are a DEFINITE tell on how she's feeling. With the way they're flapping and twitching as you piston her deeply, you can easily say she was enjoying it ☺️

And alsooo the moment you've all been waiting for :33333

You had been so distracted with your Halovian lover's reactions that you almost didn't notice the very noticeable bulge on her...

Oh. Oh.

"Robinnn..." You cooed with a clear smirk on your lips, "I'm sure you can manage to look down here, right? It'll be worth it."

You accentuate your point further by gently grazing your hand onto the evident bulge on her stomach disappearing and reappearing every time you plunged the strap inside her. She looks down at the feeling with unfocused eyes before they widen at the realisation...

And then you push.

The reaction you get is one you wish you recorded for preservation—she screams as her nails claw on the sheets underneath her, hips shaking up and pushing herself even further into your cock. The tip ends up hitting a particular spot and her eyes roll back as you feel some sort of pressure hitting onto your strap.

The moment you pull out, a jet of liquid squirts out and hits you and the strap both. It takes a while before her orgasm actually starts to recede.

...

And you need her to do that again, you resolve within yourself, as you use the wings on her hips as handlebars and pull her back on your dick without a warning.

You don't stop for a while, that much is clear

Yk what else is clear? That Robin's a SIIIIZE QUEEEEEN I love her 🥰🥰🥰 She's soooo stretched out and fucked out by the end of it and yk what the best part is???

She makes sure to show you just how much she appreciates her very big gift in any way you'd want ☺️☺️

She's gonna have so much fun the day after when she goes to work ahahahah no fr I'd say jokes but I'm really not. She'll think about what you've done and what you now have and she'll feel her pussy clench as she gets distracted by her own thoughts when she REALLY shouldn't be 😭

[arminsumi]

i’ve had this dumb idea in my head for weeks where you really wanna dye ur hair blonde so you ask gojo what toner he uses to get his hair so perfectly white & how many times a month he has to bleach his roots and he’s like 🤨 wtf do u mean? and then he shows you his eyes for the first time and you see his white eyelashes and ur like HUH?

if this request is dumb don’t worry abt writing it 😭

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒꒱

GOJO x gn.reader

A/N: I THOUGHT ABT THIS REQ ALL DAY and just gave in and wrote it at 1 am instead of sleeping lol😭❤️ tysm anon bb i love ur mind

Wc: >700

Content; cheesy-ish fluff

Warnings; some flirting, nickname sweetheart used, a little suggestive at the end

arminsumi's library

He was in his office, making it seem like he was dedicated to his hard work by shuffling around important-looking documents across his desk. He totally wasn't doing a crossword puzzle out of boredom. He totally wasn't ecstatic to see his favorite student stop by his office.

"Gojo!"

"Nuh-uh, address me properly, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes, not realizing that he could see right through that silken black fabric wrapped around his head. But because you were his favorite, he let your cute little eyeroll slide.

"Gojo-sensei." you corrected.

"Mmm?" he hummed as if to ask: what is it?

"So, I wanna dye my hair — and before I do, I wanna talk to you about it."

Awww, that flattered him so much. His heart lurched. "Oh? What color?"

"Blond — maybe platinum."

He imagined it for a moment, then replied. "Blond would look good on you, but I like your hair as it is..."

"Yeah yeah!" you waved dismissively at his compliment, not registering it as such. "so, what toner should I use?"

"Uhhh — I don't know?"

"Well what toner do you use? Your hair always looks pristinely white, seems like you know how to maintain the color right. Does it cost a lot? And, can bleaching make my hair fall out? Oh, do you use special shampoos too? And, how often do you have to bleach your roots?"

Through this flood of confusing questions that you dumped on him all at once, his face just said... what are you on about lol

"I don't dye my hair..."

"What...?"

He let out a little chuckle.

"Come here. Lemme show you something."

You confusedly drew closer to where he sat with his one leg crossed over the other. The noon light illuminated the drifting dust behind him, backlighting his fluffy mess of hair.

"Closer, closer — don't be shy now." he encouraged with a playful sultriness.

This was definitely the closest you had been to him. Excepting that one time he engulfed you in a welcome-back hug at the airport.

"Lift my blindfold up." he commanded simply.

"What?" You blushed. You blushed WILDLY.

He chuckled as if he was a cheeky high school boy playing a prank.

"Just lift it up."

So you slowly — very slowly — slipped a timid finger under his blindfold, your skin feeling ignited as it glided across the soft, warm skin of his cheekbones.

Taking his blindfold off felt like... well, it's an inappropriate comparison, but it felt like you were undressing him. He could feel your energy flowing more turbulently — ahem, in other words, he could feel you getting more nervous because of this situation that he threw you into.

It was laughable how dramatically everything stopped when you peeled up his blindfold.

Blue. No, an infinite blue. You felt like you fell into his irises. Oh... and also, you noticed... white lashes and white brow hairs. Huh.

"Woah... woah that's..."

"All natural, baby." he grinned like a jackass.

It was hard to form a coherent thought because of those eyes.

"I see... so... 'guess I'll just go ask someone else about toner and stuff." you said laughingly.

"Mhm."

You had a question on the tip of your tongue. One obvious and stupid, but you surprisingly hadn't asked it before.

"Can you see through your blindfold...?"

"Obviously. You didn't know that?" He chuckled.

You felt your cheeks sear with blush. The heat reached your jawline and ears. That was so embarrassing for some reason.

"I'm so sorry about the eyerolls."

"I'll let it slide, 'cause you're my favorite student." he winked.

Whatever mush was left of your brain completely evaporated when he winked at you. Your teacher just giggled like a cheeky teenager and lowered his blindfold again.

When you were about to leave his office for the store before closing time, you stopped at the door and looked back at him.

"So... wait a minute..."

"Hm?" he hummed.

"If you can see through your blindfold... then can you see through my — never mind!"

You stopped mid sentence and scampered away like a mouse. Gojo just roared with a hearty laugh and lightly blushed. He never did answer that question.

[glassrowboat]

How about "I promise I'll keep you safe, no matter what" with Dainsleif (if that's okay)?

Emerald Sea. Dainsleif.

Author's note: I'm not sorry. Also the amount of times I had to double check I didn't spell Dain's name wrong was...fun...

Word count: 2,100+

Red was everywhere.

It painted the sky in a sunset hue that had your head turning up to catch a glimpse of the coming dawn only to draw back in horror rather than delight, you could find it in a wet sock splayed across a broken stone, a coin purse spilling its contents, and an arm that hung from a windowsill Dainsleif barely caught as his eyes scanned the scene before him.

This was a play picturing the most beautiful tragedy you could ever imagine. Romeo and Juliet paled in comparison, for what could compare to the most beautiful rose that pricked at your skin and drew your very own blood for it to taste? To delight in your suffering as your hand draws back in misery.

A play of the Archons making.

A breeze brushed his cheek, whistled in his one good ear, and Dainsleif could have sworn that was Celestia itself clapping at the show they deigned to put on. He wanted to shout at them to stop, to cease using them, his people, as puppets on their makeshift stage, but the words ‘protect the people of Khaenri’ah at all costs’ stilled his tongue. Weighed it down until it was nothing but led. The taste of iron danced on his tongue.

Halfdan, who he had only briefly come across to bark orders at, was undoubtedly at the palace by now; a sword still held between his hands. That is, if they haven't already fallen still.

Loyal to the end, just like he was supposed to be, yet Dainsleif couldn't help but feel like the oath he had pledged, sworn himself to all those years ago, suddenly felt incomplete. Broken, like he hadn't taken a knee before King Irmin's watchful eyes and laid a hand to his chest in reverence.

For how could a royal guard keep his oath to a nation falling apart before him?

In the flames that burned his home, Dainsleif recounted exactly what he said that day, but somehow they fell flat compared to the ones he made to you.

On another much sweeter day where there was no ash in his nose but instead the scent of flowers. White and blue petals shaking as your hands trembled in what he could only have guessed, or perhaps hoped, was pure excitement for the years to come.

In white and lace you walked down the aisle.

His brother, Vedrfolnir, had jabbed at Dainsleif's back and told him not to mess this up, and it had only proved to stoke his nerves. Poking at them with a well placed finger rather than a cast iron stick kicking up embers still alight.

When you finally stood before him, Dainsleif swore he could hear his own mind sizzling away as he took you in. Even as you teased him. “I'm glad to see you're not wearing your uniform.” Whispered under your breath so only you, him, and the officiant could hear.

Not that the old man with a raised brow ready to get on with the whole ceremony had stopped him from saying back: “Will you ever let that go?”

“You shouldn't have worn your uniform on our first date.” You shrugged. “Though, you do look good in a suit.”

And no swan, no matter how pure its feathers, could compare to you.

Taking your hands then had been easier, easier than the swordsmanship he had practiced for years on end. Each movement had been ingrained into his skull, his brain, his very being, as he held a weapon that left him with callouses you had taken the time to kiss once upon a time. Holding you that day was like nature itself was guiding Dainsleif as he took another vow.

"I promise I'll keep you safe, I'll love you, no matter what.”

“Til death do us part,” you had sworn as golden rings slid on both your fingers, and your lips fell upon each other.

That day, he hadn't been the Twilight Sword, Captain of the guards, or even the little brother of a highly esteemed man, but himself. And now your husband, too.

Another sizzle as Dainsief's boot met the burning remains of a stall, and he was forced back into the present. A curse on his tongue as Dainsleif nearly tripped over the fabric that had once hung from the wooden beams of another piece of the shabby flea market he had spent hours in.

Vegetables he had once spent his afternoons picking out now strayed across the road. Some stepped on, some bruised, and one- only one- in decent condition.

With a groan, Dainsleif adjusted you on his back.

Even with his right ear still ringing from the blast, Dainsleif had been caught in when the first attack struck he could still pick up your groan. Quiet, barely there, but it was there nonetheless. The smallest noise was all he could cling onto, for hope had no place in war.

“Hold on a little longer.” He told you the same words he had told the knights by his side when the first nail dropped. And another. And another.

Not a single man had laid his weapon down as they all faced their end.

Dainsleif held back his plea, his need to ask you if you were alright as he trudged on. Your fingers twitching with every movement he made was enough to tell him you were still there. The shine of your ring reflected back his own face, scarred with something he couldn't take the time to stop and try to recognize.

A dark black against his blond hair and fair skin.

Another step.

Somewhere far off, he could just barely make out the creeping sun peeking in from the surface, shining through two wide open doors. For where there was shadow, there was light. His home had been cast over with darkness.

Rubbing at his eye, trying to clear the blood threatening to fall into it and block his vision, Dainsleif took another step. Another and another. Your weight shifted on his back all the while as he made his way towards one of the many things the gods of this world had gifted to humanity but denied Khaenri'ah.

The warmth of the fire that had licked at his cape, tried to devour it whole, was replaced by the warmth of the sky above as rays shone on an emerald sea.

Right then and there, Dainsleif dropped to the ground with a thud.

Everything turned black.

Judgment day had come and gone.

Grass tickled his legs as Dainsleif settled down, one leg tucked up to his chest and the other stretched out; the heel of his boot almost hitting a rock. By now, the plant life that had withered in the wake of Khaenri’ah's fall had grown anew. The brown, dead blades that turned to kindling for a flame before him had now come to match the lush green the rest of the world had to offer.

Besides the door, there was no trace of the tragedy that occurred. All of it had been forgotten with time. Yet he could still remember just where the line between emerald and enstatite had been, for it was right where he had collapsed.

You had followed with him as you both plummeted into the arms of another nation: Sumeru.

The Sumeru that had been spared from any tragedy. Not even the life of a stray bird had been claimed. When all those who lived in his own nation had been twisted into something grotesque. Monstrous. To the point they hide behind masks and growl at you to run the moment you get too close.

“Ljúfr.” Beloved. Dainsleif called as he looked down at the leaves of climbing ivy. Claiming, unabashedly, what it clung to. “My day, just like all the rest, has been long.”

Tiring to a fault for he's carrying the burden of memories that slip like sand from his grasp every passing day, but he still knows to tell you of his day just like always. To let you listen to him even if this time you weren't running around the kitchen with an apron on. There were no plates hitting an old (and slightly wobbly) table his father had made as a wedding gift or even the sound of his sheathed sword falling into the umbrella stand beside the front door.

You had always said “it's rude to just bring your weapon indoors and leave it about the place, Ást min,“ when he forgot and put it anywhere else.

My love. How he relished in that sobriquet when it was uttered in such a sweet cadence. Dainsleif could still hear it now in the ear that rang, rang, and rang with the screams of dead men.

Reaching forward, Dainsleif plucked one of the ivy leaves, letting his eyes trail over each vein. A life cut short in an instant, all from tugging on something so frail it snapped under his grasp. For a moment, the thought: is this how Celestia felt that day passed his mind, but just as quickly, Dainsleif pushed it aside with a sigh.

He'd need to cut the ivy back.

With a short knife already in his aching hand, for the curse had taken each and every one of his joints and lit them ablaze, Dainsleif's blade cut through the vines with ease. It took as little effort as stepping on a roach. With each cut, he spoke. Looked up at you and refrained from making a tasteless joke as you basked in the sun you both were still getting used to despite all the years that had passed since living in Khaenri'ah.

Even after all these years in the light, his eyes were still more accustomed to a life underground. To the darkness of the Abyss.

As his knife cut through the last vine, breaking it apart and leaving a sticky residue on his gloves Dainsleif will have to wash the next time they stop at a stream or, if they're lucky enough, a small inn that will take them in for tonight, her voice broke through his thoughts. Halting the endless trampling of muddied boots kicking up mess after mess in his head.

“We should leave soon.”

Dainsleif looked up to see gold shining down on him, a half-hearted smile stretching across her face as she held a hand out to him. Palm unturned, waiting for him to take it.

“We can always come back.”

Dainsleif's grip on the blade tightened, letting the shape of the hilt press into his hand. “Of course, we still have somewhere to be.”

Lumine watched silently as he pocketed the knife away, tucked it in the robes he wore, all without a word. This was nothing new to them, standing silently as the world passed them by with each step on their journey. The sky could change from day to night, all with only shared glances that told more than words ever could, but here? She found Dainsleif always talked freely.

“We should return in the near future.” Dainsleif's hand brushed off the dirt and dust from the stone before him, wiping it as clean as he could with only a well worn glove. “Lest I have more ivy to cut back.”

Just like his sword, waxing at the metal, cleaning it to perfection after every day of use (a habit formed from his time as a knight), he was tedious with what lay before him.

Who lays before him.

Lumine bites back her comment, wanting to remark how Dainseilf must have truly loved the woman buried under grass and dirt, six feet deep and marked with only a makeshift gravestone that had been replaced once, and only once, with something that had your name carved into its gray face.

There was no need to make a comment when she already knew what he would say: Just like his oath to serve, to protect his nation, he failed his promise to you too.

But the golden ring on his finger shined nonetheless.

“I brought flowers this time.” Lumine whispered, hesitant to break his moment of reverie as Dainsleif stared down at the marker. In his eyes, it was clear to see it was the most precious thing this world had to offer and the most precious thing the world had taken from him.

Pulling a single flower from her bag, Lumine held up an inteyvat. The very same white and blue petals he could still imagine next to lace.

There was no thank you uttered as Dainsleif plucked the flower from her hold, but there was no need to when it was said with how delicate he was as he placed it down before you. For while he would make no offerings to the gods, you were another story as he stood there in an emerald sea.

Soon, they would start off on their journey again. All it would take was another step.

[glorismorningstar]

THE LION CHRONICLES

Pairings: fatherfigure!Alastor x f!reader, Charlie x bodyguard!reader, Vaggie x reader, situationship!Carmilla Carmine x reader

Summary: The group is hesitant when a certain serpent-like threat returns to the Hotel for the third time to ask for redemption. Y/N begins to accept that Carmilla is the one she's with and grows more comfortable in the relationship.

Warnings: WLW, mentions of sex, aftercare, nostalgia, canon-typical violence, Alastor being Alastor, betrayal

A/N: damn this part sucks so bad in comparison to the others, but I have to keep it going, and the next few parts are gonna get so much saucier >:))

| PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 |

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“What was up with you last night, corazòn?” Carmilla purred from beside me, soft lips skimming over my shoulder with appreciative pecks. “You didn't want to come over, I got a little worried.”

“It's no big deal, I just had a lot on my mind.” I sighed softly, carding my fingers through her white and black strands of hair. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

“Not really,” I replied, guilty about keeping her in the dark. As much as our relationship was casual and mainly carnal, I did care about Carmilla, and I wanted to tell her everything about my sisters, my status and Lute, but I always ended up deciding against it. Alastor said it was better for my safety to keep it a secret. “Now's not the time to think about it. Tell me about your day.”

“Ugh, Vox canceled on me today again.” She groaned in frustration, which drew an eye roll from me. Nepotism ran rampant among the Overlords, that was how I'd met Carmilla and all the other Overlords. Months before Alastor's sabbatical, he had asked me to attend meetings with him enough times to get me used to going there. Gradually, he began to skip meetings more often, which resulted in me filling in for him for the last seven years. His one-sided homoerotic rivalry with that bonehead Vox, and incidentally the other Vees, had also been passed on to me. Well, not so much the rivalry itself as the general distaste and animosity for them.

“Again?” I huffed, shifting on my side to face her. I brushed my fingertips along her bare arm, tracing imaginary patterns on her skin.

The gesture made her relax, the annoyance with Vox melting away. “Yeah. But it's just as well, at least we got to make up for last night.”

“Mhm, you're right.” I chuckled, brushing her hair away from her neck to expose the fresh love bites littering her gray skin. The way they bloomed so easily on her pale complexion reminded me of-

No. Enough. I hadn't seen Lute in twenty-seven years, and she either thought me dead, a deserter or a traitor. Even if I could get a chance to see her again, the odds of her wanting me back were far too slim.

Get out of my head, I groan internally. You're in bed naked with another woman. Stop it.

“So, how are the girls?” I cleared my throat, shaking the previous thoughts out of my head.

“Actually, they've been asking about you.” She hummed. 

“They have?” Her daughters knew about our little affair, as they had seen me sneaking out multiple times before. Before becoming involved with Carmilla, I'd met Clara and Odette at the meetings, they'd accompany her just as I did Alastor. They seemed quite fond of me, and I found it adorable that Carmilla named them after ballet characters. I wanted to protect all three of them, it finally felt like having a family again, but seeing Lute again…

Ugh, what's the point? I'd never get back to Heaven again. I needed to care about the family I had to protect now, situationship or not.

“Yeah. They said they'll keep you if I will.” She chuckled, gazing at me with something beyond simple care in her eyes. Damn it.

“They really said that?” I laughed softly, endeared. 

“Yeah.” She said, nuzzling her nose into my neck. My hand buried itself in her hair, stroking through the silky white and black locks that flopped over her forehead. Carmilla was a single mother and extremely busy. Even if Clara and Odette weren't children, they needed to be maintained. It's not like they had money problems, but if either of them ever wanted to go on their own path, they'd need support in any way they could. The way they had so much faith in me made me feel responsible for them. 

I made up my mind. If Carmilla decided to ask me out on a proper date, I'd say yes.

“In fact, I've been thinking-” My ringtone cut her off, which made me curse under my breath and peer over my shoulder to see who was calling. Vaggie. Fuck. She hung up and a message appeared on the screen:

SOS, Pentious is back at the hotel

18:37

“Son of a bitch.” I mumbled, running a hand through the single tuft of golden mane atop my head. 

“What- what's going on?” She stuttered, sitting up on her elbows to gaze at me with a little nervousness in her gaze.

“Some buffoon who attacked this morning is back at the hotel. I have to deal with this,” I huffed and sat up, gathering my clothes from the insane spots they had ended up in. “I'll make this up to you, I promise.”

I pulled my purple striped jacket on and buttoned it up, then bent down to plant a long, passionate kiss on her lips, thumb rubbing her cheekbone with care. I smiled at her and pressed another kiss to her forehead, which drew another smile from her. “Bye, cielo.” 

“Bye, corazòn. Text me when you're safe.”

I nodded at her and ran a hand through my mane to fix it, then blew her another kiss and walked out the door, running down the stairs and towards the hotel as fast as possible.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

I reached the hotel and spotted a flash of gray and yellow walking inside, recognizing it as Pentious, which drew a low growl from my throat. My claws protracted with a small shink noise and I stalked after him without a sound, tail swaying side to side for balance as I prepared to pounce- “Change of plans, he's staying.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“He says he wants to try redemption.” Vaggie explained with a look of dismay.

“But he attacked us just this morning, how is that not a trick?” I gritted, ears perking up at  each of his hisses with great irritation. 

“It is, but the point here is to give people second chances,” she sighed, looking at Charlie as she showed him around the hotel. “Just keep your eyes open. Don't leave her side, especially not when he's around.”

“Alright.” I mumbled and followed after them, eyes already supervising his each and every move like a hawk. I let out a silent huff. I couldn't believe that I had to leave Carmilla alone after sex to put up with a nutbag and a golden retriever’s poor judgment.

“What are you booing about? Taco booty call got cut off?” Angel asked sleazily, elbowing me in the side with two arms.

“How many minorities can you offend in a single breath?” I replied with a roll of my eyes, crossing my arms as I followed after Charlie, not drawing my gaze from her and Pentious.

“If that pisses you off, you should watch the Olympics with me.”

I sighed in exasperation and trailed after them, ears twitching atop my head as I listened to their conversation, “-and this is the new wall after you broke the last one, heh, and- oh! This, this is-”

“Babe, you don’t have to show him every detail.”

“Sorry, I’m just so excited to have our first real guest!”

Right. A hissy man child who destroyed one of our walls and came back six hours later to request sanctuary. There’s no way this could end badly.

“What the hell am I then?” Angel asked, offended.

“A spider that lives here rent free.” I replied promptly, tail curling around my leg as I moved my gaze back to Pentious, as ordered.

“Well, you’re an important part of our family here, Angel, but you, um…”

“Constantly make us look bad, sexually harass the staff and have literally never once tried to improve?”

“Correct.” I affirmed, having nothing more to add to the list.

“What they mean is, it’s nice to have someone interested for once.” Charlie rephrased in a misguided attempt to soften Vaggie’s true words. “Over here, we have Nifty!”

“The bad boy is back!” The little lady exclaimed, crawling up Pentious’ upper body and clinging to his shoulders with a creepy whisper, “Never leave me again.”

“Don’t mind her, we’re about eighty percent sure she’s harmless.” I said, coming up behind him and standing over at Charlie’s side, giving him a death glare that ensured that Nifty was harmless, but I sure wasn’t.

“And over here, we have-”

Oh, boy, here we go.

There stood Alastor, with his questionable posture, his signature grin and his hands resting home on his lower back. I rolled my eyes fondly and watched the scene unfold with amusement, as Pentious had ripped his coat earlier today.

“-oh, uh, Alastor, our gracious facility manager! You’ve met our newest guest, Sir Pentious… heh, heh.” Charlie chuckled nervously as Pentious gave an awkward wave.

“Ah, yes, you’re the one that ruined my coat,” said Alastor, drawing another eye roll from me. And so it begins. “I definitely remember you now.”

They're cute when they're about to wet themselves. I cringed while Pentious swallowed thickly and Charlie's expression grew into a concerned one and she scrambled to salvage the situation. “Well, I guess this is a great time for your first lesson-”

She cleared her throat and I smirked, leaning against the railing of the stairs as I observed the princess mediating the two petty, petty men. “-how to apologize. The first step to becoming a better person is to admit when you are wrong. Why don't you give it a try?”

Charlie pushed Pentious forward and Alastor kept staring at him with his scary-ass smile, while the snake man smiled awkwardly and tried his best to apologize. “Yes, um… Mr., um, Radio Demon, sir, please forgive me for attacking you and ruining your very lovely coat… um, here…”

He pulled a chunk of red fabric from his pocket and handed it to Al, obviously thinking it was a good idea. I snickered under my breath and pretended to rub my jaw to cover it up, watching the scene with great amusement. “Oh-ho, not many people have been able to take even this much off me! It must have meant quite a lot to you.” 

After putting on a look of faux empathy, he set the fabric on fire, green flames wrapping the material in a tiny blaze as he held it between his red gloved fingertips. I pursed my lips tightly to keep any comments or laughter at bay while the other two stared at the flames with concern.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Now, with a new resident, I think it's important that we all get to know each other, so we are going to play a little game. Everyone, follow me,” Charlie began, then cleared her throat softly and sang, “My name is Charlie - clap, clap - I like to sing - clap, clap - and when we get to know each other, it's the greatest thing - clap, clap.”

She then pointed at me, who sat beside her, and I stumbled over my words, scrambling in my mind for any good ideas for the improv. “Uh, my name is Y/N - clap, clap - I like to draw - clap, clap - and when I'm in difficult endeavors I try not to use my claws - clap, clap.” I pointed at Pentious with an expectant look, still distrusting of him. 

“My name's Sir Pentious - clap, clap - I like to build - clap, clap - and despite my stupid Egg Bois, I think I'm very skilled - clap, clap.” The three of us looked at Angel, the one that was left to play the game. 

He boredly looked up from his phone and grumbled, “This is stupid.”

“This is not stupid - clap, clap - it's just the game - clap, clap - Y/N and Sir Pentious did it well, so now please try to do the same - clap, clap.” Charlie sang, hoping to keep this from falling apart. Angel was never particularly interested in redemption itself, maybe it was the free room and food, because, and I quote, crack is expensive.

“I'm too sober for this.” He complained, rubbing his face with one of his hands.

“Well, get used to it and learn how to play,” I began, which Vaggie finished with, “This is gonna be your whole day - clap, clap.”

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

This was hilarious.

I had to purse my lips to keep from laughing because this is the best thing I've ever seen since Alastor's commercial. Angel was wearing a trench coat and a hat and roleplaying a crack dealer, while Pentious was wearing white and eating a lollipop. Oh, if only I could get this on video.

“Oh, I'm a bad man on the streets who never got enough hugs. Now where's an innocent kid I can sell crack to?” Angel read. My God, the script was garbage, but it's so garbage that it's actually good. “Wow! Who wrote this?”

“It's great, right?” Of course it was Charlie. 

“I'm telling you, you're no Homer, but it's really funny.” I snickered, drawing my bottom lip between my teeth and rubbing my jaw to hide the chuckles escaping my mouth. My phone pinged in my pocket and I took it out, seeing the notification from Carmilla. Damn it, I forgot to text her.

Are you alright corazón?

22:37

Are you safe? 

22:37

Hey <3

22:37

Yeah, sorry I forgot to text you earlier

22:38

Everything's fine, it was just a false alarm

22:38

What happened?

22:38

I'll call you later and tell you all about it, okay?

22:38

I have a little thing to finish up right now

22:39

Okay, have fun

22:39

Bye amorcito <3

22:39 

Bye <3

22:40

“The only cool thing here is to say no to drugs,” Pentious recited with a proud smile. I still didn't trust him, but at least he seems to be trying. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to not have sexual intercourse before marriage!”

“Yes! Oh, bravo!” Charlie cheered. 

“Nah, no one in Heaven cares about that, anyway.” I said carelessly, which caused Alastor's radio filter to static for a brief moment. Damn it. 

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah, think about it. Adam's in charge and he's probably had sex with half womankind.” I replied, my heart and stomach deflating with relief at my last ditch salvation. I couldn't believe I was about to spill my biggest secret out of a dumb comment. 

“Yeah, she's got a point. The guy spent half the meeting talking about some girl he scored with.” Charlie complained, which drew a humorless chuckle from me.

While Charlie praised Pentious for his performance, I noticed Angel Dust walking up the stairs with a weird look on his face. He usually kept up this act of being horny all the time, now it's just… gone. A small confused frown settled on my lips before I walked to my room, excited to call Carmilla.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Loud crashing and arguing roused me from my sleep. I opened my eyes and yawned, ears twitching towards the sounds below. It's like one in the morning, what in Heaven's name is up with these people?

With a groggy whine, I got up from my plush mattress and waddled down the stairs, following Charlie and Vaggie to the library with half-lidded eyes. I pushed the door open and saw Angel glaring at Sir Pentious, which made me tense in alert and my tail stiffen. I had a bad feeling about this.

“What's going on?” Charlie yawned.

Angel, with a grip on Pentious’ arm and an angry expression, gritted out, “This little bitch is a traitor!”

His words made me frown and I glared at the snake as well, claws protracting out of instinct as I awaited any confirmation. I knew there was no way he could change his mind in the span of six hours, I should never have let this happen. “Preposterous! I would never betray you. You are my best friends!"

I moved out of the way when he hugged Charlie and Vaggie, a grumble of apprehension and distrust falling from my lips. “Uh-huh, then explain this.” Angel pulled a book aside and uncovered a camera. I recognized it as a VoxTek device from the vibrant blue static line on the side, to which I bared my fangs and a low growl rumbled from my throat.

“You dirty little liar.” I hissed and took a step forward while Pentious scrambled to the window and pleaded for evacuation. Vox answered the phone and I trotted forward, standing just behind Pentious in case he had to be stopped.

“I can't believe we thought you could handle even something this simple,” Vox patronized. I should have known. I did know. I should have stopped it while I had the chance, I knew I shouldn't have let him in. “Do us a favor, if they don't kill you, go ahead and do it yourself, you miserable failure!”

My ears drooped and my lips morphed into a frown. That was really over the line, even for a back-stabber. I saw how the tears beaded up in the corners of his eyes and he lost hope, which made my heart hurt a little. He walked over to us and lied down on the ground, “Just make it quick, I guess… not that I deserve it.”

“Gladly.” Vaggie said and approached him with her spear, which made me hold out a hand in front of her to stop her.

“No, don't.”

“Pentious?” Charlie approached the snake curled up on the ground and extended a hand to him with a kind smile.

♪ It starts with sorry

I saw how he blinked with confusion when she chose to spare him, and to help him, no less. I watched with a soft tilt of my head and a little smile as she helped him up and encouraged him.

♪ That's your foot in the door

One simple sorry

Charlie touched a hand to his chest, which made him look at her with a different look, almost one of surprise.

♪ The path to forgiveness is a twisting trail of hearts

But sorry is where it starts

Pentious shook his head and stepped aside, dejected and unconvinced. 

♪ Who could forgive a dirtbag like me?

I don't deserve your amnesty

♪ Can't we just kill him? 

Shoot him and spill his blood?

Angel and Vaggie piled on, backing him into a shelf with their respective weapons, the spear and the machine guns. I walked to stand in front of Sir Pentious to keep them from harming him and sing,

♪ That's an option you could choose

♪ Works for us

♪ But who hasn't been in his shoes? 

Charlie joined in with me at the next verse, once again extending her hand, and this time he took it, dancing along with her.

♪ It starts with sorry

♪ Sorry

♪ Dig down deeper and say one sincere sorry

♪ I'm so sorry

Pentious said dramatically but from the heart and dipped into our arms, which drew a smile from me and I pushed him back up to encourage him to keep going. Vaggie and Angel still looked skeptical, but to me it seemed honest.

♪ And your journey's under way

♪ It'll take time to cover your vast multitude of sins

But sorry is where it begins

It starts with sorry

Nifty walked in in a little pink nightgown, standing at the door with a pout. “I hated that song! Why are you so lame? Not a bad boy!” She gave him a little kick and stomped away and I laughed, patting him on the back and shaking my head fondly.

“Good first day,” Charlie sighed and walked out with Vaggie's arm around her waist, Angel following suit. “Let's get some rest.”

I chuckled softly and rested a hand on his shoulder, offering him a kind smile. “Welcome, new guy.”

He smiled back and nodded gratefully, then we walked along all together to our rooms. Before leaving the hallway, I heard Alastor's voice ringing out and Vox raging on the device, followed by Alastor's cackle. A smirk of satisfaction adorned my lips and my tail curled mischievously behind me as I walked away, satisfied with the Vees’ failure.

As long as they stayed away from my home, I'd be happy. 

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 23

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 23: the starting works

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I lowered my head so the sun didn't blind me through the brush. My nose flared as I drew in my prey's scent. They were completely unaware of my presence, unaware that their life was about to end. My claws punctured the soft earth and I leaned back on my haunches.

I sprang.

My bad leg pinched, causing me to land a hair before my prey. They jumped and zipped through the forest with a squeal. I gave chase on all fours until I was in my full dragon form. I weaved through the trees with ease as I ignored the small pains throughout my body. I wasn't fully recovered but that couldn't stop me.

My prey tripped and rolled several paces. I lunged and landed firmly on its head. I stepped back to look at the dead rabbit. It's energy faded from its body and snaked its way through my nose and into my head. I felt ready to keep running.

I laid down and sank my teeth into the soft, fuzzy flesh. The blood pooled in my mouth and oozed down the back of my throat. It wasn't nearly as good as a Demon's blood. It was thinner and had a bitter taste to it. It was like the comparison of eating bone broth to actual soup. It soothed the hunger pains but wasn't actually filling.

It had been a week after my incident. I would wake up in the middle of night craving the blood. I had dreams and nightmares about the killing, even messing with my memories from the ring fights. The nightmares were horribly gruesome and I couldn't believe that my mind was actually producing these images. I was eating limbs and sucking blood until their skin went pale. I was horrified at myself.

I mostly felt the cravings at night or early in the morning after my gruesome dreams. After the second day I was pulling out my hair and trying to suck on my own blood just to stop it. It actually hurt when I didn't have anything. It felt like my veins were being thinned and my muscles would tense until they were rock solid.

Fortunately, in my fit of furry, I had run into the forest and caught a bat between my fangs. Its blood instantly soothed the tense muscles and I felt like I could breathe again. So I made it a habit to go hunting in the mornings for small creatures like rabbits or squirrels. A single creature could suffice the hunger pains for the day until the following morning.

Husker knew what was happening. When I asked him about it, he told me that he didn't have this issue. It was something he knew Alastor had to deal with as well, hence his broadcasts and constant victims.

Another wonderful thing I get to share with him.

I asked Husker to keep my hunting a secret from Alastor. He was always making comments about my 'desires' and I wasn't about to let him know he was actually right. So Husker sat on the porch and waited for me to return every morning.

I swallowed the last of the rabbit and forced myself to feel satisfied, to no avail. I shifted into my Demon form and wiped my lips of the bitter blood. My eyes blinked back to their normal color.

****

Husker and I sat in the library with a radio on the desk. Outside was wet and cold. A rainstorm had come through from the sea and pelted the side of the house relentlessly. It knocked on the library windows, unable to get in. Husker was changing the radio stations every so often.

The broadcast about Demon-kind had aired only a few days ago. Everyone was in an uproar. Vox had used his broadcast to show them the physical difference between Slight magic, Full magic, and Demon magic. Alastor's had been more informative and gave more finite details.

Humans weren't happy. There were countless radio shows and other tv news where the reporters went back and forth about the topic. Some people were angry that they kept the truth hidden for hundreds of years, while others were angry that Demons were showing their true forms around and acting 'above them'. In my opinion, Demons always did that but people just assumed it was a personality trait.

We always kept the radio nearby to listen in. Some cities tried banning Demons and those with Full magic as a whole. Others formed groups to hunt them down but it didn't last very long. Overlords had enough manpower and magic to stop any hunting party, making others less willing to try that tactic again.

Even so, the death rate in this nation skyrocketed. From hunting parties to riots to territory battle to everything, people and Demons alike were getting killed.

This stirred up a lot of political issues too. On this part of the map, towns and cities operated much in the same way and all followed standard protocols for everything - something created long ago before the Great Collapse. Now, rules were being changed left and right without warning and proper justice wasn't so proper anymore.

According to Alastor everything was going as planned. The disruption and confusion left the Humans divided, meaning most of the Demon population was safe.

Most.

I didn't realize how many were dying, or how exactly, until I received a visit from the princess of Hell herself. She, Vaggie, Husker, and Alastor were chatting in the sitting room when I walked down the stairs. She greeted me with a hug and insisted I call her Charlie instead of princess. Fortunately, she was moving so fast that I didn't have to figure out how to return the hug. It still made me uncomfortable.

"Finally, someone who actually cares about Demon-kind," Vaggie remarked, casting a glare in Alastor's direction. He stood with his arms behind his back, like always, and his smile widened at her comment.

"Did something happen?" I asked. I was in my Human form as were Charlie and Vaggie.

"Hell is getting overrun with Demons," Charlie answered, "It was already overpopulated but now there's more and more Demons running back to escape Humans."

"The humans haven't rioted though. Sure some towns are doing it but nothing big," I said.

"It's been fairly decent from what we've heard on the radio," Husker added.

"Not in other places around the world," Vaggie said.

"Across the ocean Humans are coming together and hunting down anyone with Full magic." She looked so pained as she spoke. "Full magic Humans are being killed left and right, and Demons are running back to Hell and making it way overcrowded."

"What's uh...what's...what's your father doing?" I asked, unsure of how I was supposed to refer to him.

"He's locked in his room trying to figure out a way to handle it. Buildings are being built way high up to accommodate more people and some Overlords are straight up just killing anyone who walks in their territory."

"I don't see the problem," Alastor interjected, "Hell's Overlords surely sound like they're doing their part. I know Cannibal Town is doing well."

"That's not the point!" Charlie and I said at the same time, in different tones. Hers was more ecstatic and mine was a growl. Everyone looked between the two of us, just as shocked as we were. Niffty broke the silence as she chased a bug through the sitting room.

"What about the ring fights?" I looked to Husker. "Are those still active or are they killing the champions? They tend to be Full mages."

Husker shrugged. "I know as much as you since we threw out my phone." After my incident, Husker immediately threw his phone into the ocean. We weren't about to risk him getting to me again. Apparently, Vox was trying to use me to force Alastor not to broadcast until after Vox had done his. I discovered this was a petty rivalry.

I scratched the back of my neck. "They probably killed any children who showed signs of having Full magic. Or even the police went after some rings and just killed any and all of the fighters. That would be the easy way to go about it."

"There has to be something we can do. Demons and innocent Humans are being killed. All because of us." Charlie put both hands over her chest and looked down. Vaggie put a hand on her shoulder as comfort.

I was surprised to see the princess of Hell acting like this. I was expecting her to be just as bad, if not worse, than the likes of Alastor. Yet here she was worrying over the death of Demons and Humans. It was hard to believe she was heir to throne of Hell.

A thought came to mind. My thought. This could be the perfect opportunity to separate from Alastor, to put my plan into action. It was way earlier than I expected but I wasn't about to pass it up.

"What about...a safe haven? A sanctuary of sorts?" I offered. Everyone's eyes fell on me. Alastor pressed through my shields as his eyes narrowed. "You've already done something similar."

"You mean make another hotel?" she asked.

"More like a city. Take over a city and let the persecuted come to us. There's more space up here to expand."

"And fix the relationship between Humans and Demons since even Full mage Humans are being attacked," Vaggie said.

"Yeah...yeah that could work!" Charlie's eyes lit up and she seemed to radiate sunlight.

"Defending it would be a problem, though," Husker sipped on his alcohol. "It paints a big red target for Humans to team up against."

"That's true." Charlie started to pace.

"Fear is a great tool for controlling people's actions," Alastor said, placing a hand on my shoulder. My fingers fluttered as our energy shot through my body. I plucked his hand off my shoulder as Charlie spoke.

"That's not really what we're trying to do..."

"But it might be necessary at first," Vaggie moved her hand to Charlie's back, "as much as I don't want to agree with him." Alastor's smile widened.

"The Radio and Snake Demon aren't exactly something most people want to piss off," Husker added. My pride swelled a little.

"Would people even want to come if they knew he was involved? Would they be too scared?" I questioned, positioning myself so I could see Alastor fully in view.

"Maybe not if we really push that he won't kill anyone at the Safe Haven," Vaggie crossed her arms as she looked at him.

"I make no such promises," he laughed, "but those in the Safe Haven would be far from the top of my list."

"Where would even have it?" I asked, ignoring him, "What city would we use?"

"We could build it here," Niffty appeared behind me. She twiddled into the middle of the circle and looked up at Charlie. "We have a big ocean behind us and a big forest between here and the closest town. Easily defendable." She spoke so quickly but everyone had managed to catch it.

"She's got a point." Husker took another sip.

"We'd have to actually build it here, though. As opposed to finding a city or even one of the old abandoned ones to use instead. We'd have a framework."

"True, but it might not be nearly as defendable," Vaggie reasoned. "Are those buildings even safe? I've seen all over social media about them collapsing from how old they are. Our buildings would be knew and could stand for much longer."

I opened my mouth to counter it but Charlie beat me to it, "We'll have to work out the logistics later. I need to talk to my dad first."

She and Vaggie went to the cliff and teleported back to Hell, leaving a different scorch mark in the earth. I closed the back door and walked right into Alastor who had been standing behind me.

"What?" I demanded.

"You had a similar plan, already."

My eyes narrowed as I tried to keep my cover. He must've seen my memories when we touched earlier. "And what if I did?" I pushed past him and walked through the library.

His shadow slipped past my feet and he formed in front of me, hands resting on his cane and his body leaning forward. "You still seem to think you belong anywhere but my side."

"I'm not a tool to be used, Alastor." It felt strange using his name like that. "My lifespan just got hundreds of years added onto it. You really think I want to spend all that time with you?" My heart was racing at the confrontation.

"I think you'll find it rather hard to live without me."

I braced for something as I walked past him to the stairs. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

Without turning, he asked, "How are your cravings?"

I stopped in my tracks. His laugh made me grimace for stopping. Now he knew. Of course he would know. How long did I really think I could hide it?

"Those little animals aren't nearly as fulfilling, are they?" My ears twitched as I heard him walk up behind me. I turned to face him and he stretched a sharp claw towards my chin. "They just don't cut it. Wouldn't you agree?"

"No." I carefully pushed his hand away. "They work just fine."

He chuckled again and straightened up. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, darling. It's merely a diet."

"It's more than just that. And it is something to be ashamed of."

"What is the difference between a Human or Demon to a rabbit or squirrel?" he asked.

I fell silent. I didn't have an answer to her than that Humans and Demons were intelligent, that I had my own morals I was wrestling with already. Adding this just made things worse.

I was staring at the ground when he grabbed my chin and tilted it up towards him. The energy bounced between us again and I could tell he was getting a high from it. "You need only ask, darling, and I will provide you with what you need."

I jerked my head away, severing the contact. "I won't need it." I stormed up the stairs to my room.

"We shall see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Well well well, here ya go. I have nothing to say except I really liked writing that last part :P

[danthropologie]

Re the previous ask about blake holding camera = he knew

1. He has his camera in every race. I don’t know if Blake holding it meant anything.

2. He had his parents out in AD22. With SG being closer, his parents would have made it even if it was by flying private. His gf wasn’t there in AD22 either, so not making that comparison

3. Compare his pre-race interview (not even the media day one) during the parade. Complete change from the post race interview. Complete change in demeanour

Combining 2 & 3, if he knew earlier, the earliest could be right before the race. Then why would management do sth like that before the race? (Then again why does rbr do anything atp?) That man knew nothing concrete going into the weekend, just like he predicted nothing amiss before the summer break. That hell video wasn’t for nothing - no one can make me believe otherwise

Alternatively, he himself might have given rbr the ultimatum hoping to force their hand and when they didn’t get back, he finally realised he was done playing this game. He was finally disillusioned. ofc helping max was one part (i genuinely believe that played in his mind when he was asked for the FL) and sticking to mcl was another part, but at the end if the record breaking lap was what he could take away in what he believed was his last moment in the lap, he put his entire ricussy into getting it.

As much as I want to remain delulu, i think (with extreme sadness) this is it for him. Not because it’s over, but HOW it’s over. All because they decided to keep a bum like Checo. I’m ambivalent towards Yuki, but heck I am even angry on his behalf too. Genuinely gutted that rb did DR dirtier than mcl and that’s saying sth, considering all he had done for rbr and how CH and rbr paraded him around as their family member. Will never forgive them. Rbr’s downfall is gonna be something else altogether and you best believe that I will be there to witness and bask in it.

so what you're saying is that clip of helmut going over to daniel just before the race, he was actually inflicting psychological torture on him saying "you better fucking beat that guy or you're out of the sport. good luck! 😉"

no but seriously, i was with you right up until the end bit ���😭😭 even the idea of giving them some sort of 'red bull or nothing' ultimatum that sent him spiraling i could get on board with. but i don't agree that it's over.

the crazy thing to me is that for as far as it ended up spiraling out, to ME it really just feels like a complex series of misunderstandings and miscalculations (not including the media's part in it cause i think they WERE malicious in their handling of it).

the daniel of it all is the worst part to me because obviously by the end of the weekend he HAD been convinced that it may in fact be the end. i don't believe that that was ever actually the case, but between the confidence in the way the media was reporting it, the lack of clarity from red bull, the trauma and insecurities left from 2022 mclaren and maybe even rbr over this past summer break, and the mental and emotional toll the race itself actually took on him, he was clearly worn down and left in a very vulnerable state where he drew the only real conclusions anyone in his position COULD draw.

meanwhile you have vcarb who apparently didn't know a single fucking thing, so they COULDN'T say anything because there's nothing TO say.

and then you have red bull. now clearly they DO hold some responsibility for the whole thing. they knew what the narratives were going into the weekend, and it should have been easy for them to just clarify that all drivers are going to see out the season, 2025 decision to come later. BUT that being said, i truly do not think they had any clue whatsoever just how big this thing was gonna get. i think they miscalculated in thinking a) it wasn't going to be that big and b) daniel would be able to handle it. he's done it so many times before! why wouldn't he be able to do it again! but then obviously by the time daniel's having his little menty b in the middle of the media pen, it's too late, there's not really anything they can do.

like jenna @accio-ricciardo brought up this idea the other day that it's almost like...have you ever been in a situation where someone in your life accidentally made you cry because they didn't realize you were at the end of your rope emotionally and some tiny little thing they didn't think was even a big deal sets you off and sends you sobbing? it kind of feels like perhaps that was red bull/christian/whoever with daniel. they figured he's a trooper, he'll let it wash off his back like he always does, he can handle it, not realize that he very much COULD NOT handle it because all these different factors were boiling up into the perfect shitstorm to make him absolutely lose his mind.

and if this is the case—it really was just a bunch of misunderstandings and miscalculations compounding and multiplying on each other—i've said it once, i'll say it a million times, i DO think there's a way back and way for things to continue on as they were meant to before all this shit happened. it's just a matter of apologies and reassurances and making things right, and hopefully everyone can set aside their pride enough for that to happen.

[knackfandomarchive]

Hoshina Finds Skully

(Kaiju no. 8.

No KNACK this time, sorry! Gotta keep the scene focused.)

(I got the idea from @sonicasura 's post.)

It was just a day after his fight with Kaiju Number 8. Hoshina remembered that he managed to get a good lick of the kaiju's arm at least, and no doubt the limb was still lying around somewhere. Not enough to trouble the cleanup crew, really, but leaving it out would be unsightly, not to mention provide opportunities for pests to proliferate.

No, it would be easiest to go find it and dispose of it himself.

Only, as he neared the alleyway he remembered fighting in, he heard a rustling coming from the alley just before it. Curiously, he decided to investigate that one, first. Probably just a cat or something, but you never know anymore.

Well - It was certainly a something.

Trash had been strewn about: bottles, boxes, wrappers, scraps of clothing and food residue. And in the middle of a huge pile, stuck out a wagging limb with scales of an all-too-familiar coloration.

Good thing Hoshina happened to be in uniform~

He drew his blades immediately and prepared to lunge. "We meet again, huh? You're getting into more trouble than you were last time."

Number 8 stopped rummaging, and after a moment, sat upright, which clued Hoshina in to the fact that this wasn't the same kaiju at all. They were way smaller, first of all, under half the size of the original. Under half the size of Hoshina, too. They had a short tail and small scale-plates, and seemed plump in all the proper places to give the appearance of being a child. It was uncanny.

But, all the same, they were the spitting image of Number 8. Right down to the bony face plates and the look of recognition that crossed their features when they spotted him.

Though somehow, this one looked far more pleased to see him. And their horns were just little nubbins!

Several thoughts crossed Hoshina's mind.

The Yoju is approaching me now, crawling on its belly. It just - looks like some weird, scaly kid with a creepy-ass face! These things are picking up new tricks every day. Psychological warfare? Something's all wrong.

If I let it live, we'll have another 8 on our hands. Though at least 8 hasn't killed anyone yet, we can never be too sure. 8 seemed far too human, too, but that's gotta be some kind of trick.

-eee!

The Yoju had wrapped their arms around Hoshina's leg and stretched their neck out to rest their chin against his knee, facing straight up, their eyes looking into his.

Hoshina tightened his grip on his katanas, but didn't move. His eyes were wide and tense, inadvertently glaring down into the Yoju's, which somehow seemed big and soft by comparison.

The Yoju heaved a sigh, vocal tract rumbling against Hoshina's shin. It seemed to be a pleased sound. It was the only thing that sorta made sense.

Hoshina slowly lowered his weapons, and Okonogi's voice crackled anxiously over comms.

"Uh, vice-captain? Is everything alright? The Yoju's got you!"

Standing up and sheathing his katanas, Hoshina replied, "Hmm? Oh, yeah!"

He looked down at the kaiju still gripping his leg. They were rubbing their face against his leg and purring. Stooping, he reached under their arms and lifted them up with ease, setting them on his hip. They grabbed his arm for support.

"Let's take this one home and see what we can learn about its mummah~"

Okonogi said, "Um, okay!"

Though his next words were cruel, his tone was jovial. "Today's your lucky day, Brat! You get to live! For now."

[thatswhatsushesaid]

ok so i understand why it's appealing to read junlian (like i'm literally in that camp with all the respectable fans with impeccable tastes) but. but i think it's Important for the sake of fully Understanding their dynamic and representing it in the most accurate way to keep in mind - at all times - that it was always meant to be a (pseudo)parental relationship first and foremost.

JW is not the representation of a toxic jealous ex. he's the representation of a toxic parent who will traumatise you in the most horrific ways while saying (and genuinely believing in his own mind) that he's only doing it for your own good. he loves you because you remind him of all the good parts of himself. he can't stand seeing his own reflection in you. he won't ever let you go. it breaks his heart to have to break you, but what choice does he have? the outside world is cruel and it's his job to prepare you for suffering.

yeah i don't think the source material supports a read of jun wu's relationship with xie lian as an ex of any kind tbh, that's not the vibe i got at any point while reading the books. my shipping goggles aside, i hope i haven't conveyed that through my of my commentary, and if i have--oops! was it the comparison i drew between junlian and hannigram in my meme? i mean, even though by s3 the question of hannibal being explicitly in love with will graham is broached on screen by bedelia du maurier (to say nothing of their overtly intimate embrace before they tumble off the cliff together), s1 is where the comparison between the two dynamics really works for me. because imo hannibal's fascination with will at that point is at its most paternalistic, and will's rejection of him at the end of s1 when he finds out (or believes he's found out!) what hannibal did to abigail is analogous to xie lian's complete rejection of jun wu the moment he sees his reflection in the sword. end-of-s1 will is about as interested in hannibal romantically as he is in voluntarily eating abigail's ear: he isn't, he didn't ask for this, he's in hell, etc. similarly, xie lian's entire understanding of his relationship with jun wu, the rock and fundament of his time in the heavenly court, has just been irreparably destroyed. from his perspective, everything he thought he knew and understood to be true about their relationship was built on lies, and he's not wrong.

all that to say, while i do think that the text can support a romantic read of jun wu's feelings towards xie lian without ever explicitly confirming it as such, i for sure agree with you that that wasn't mxtx's intention when writing the dynamic. she's pretty clear, again and again when describing how xie lian sees jun wu, that his behaviour is seen and interpreted as parental and fatherly.

[phantom-of-the-501st]

A quick and short fanfic (for funsies!)

@saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings because I know you guys like to read this stuff when I actually post it

"No-one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away... The span of someone's life is only the core of their existence." - Terry Pratchett

Omega looked at Rex, puzzled, when he came back with a dish of what appeared to be white paint and the rest of the Batch seemed equally confused by the tray in the captain's hands. It wasn't what they had expected when he told them he would return in a short moment.

Without saying a word, Rex knelt down in the dirt, placed his right hand into the tray and pressed it to the wood in front of him. Omega stared at the print left behind as Rex peeled his hand back, stood, turned and held the dish out to her.

"Want to give it a go?" He asked, eyes soft. Omega hesitated. "It's okay. You can't do anything wrong. Just do as I did."

Cautiously, Omega placed her hand in the tray, glanced at the white spread across her palm and fingers, and then pressed her hand beside the print Rex had left. She pulled back. Her hand looked so much smaller in comparison. She glanced back at Rex and he gave her a gentle smile and nod, before presenting the tray to Hunter.

One by one the Batch made their mark on the wood, still unsure of what the captain had in mind. No-one said a word. Omega carefully looked over the marks once everything was done, slowly taking in what was before her.

Hunter had left his just underneath hers. Crosshair's slender fingers could be found on the opposite side. Tech's was as clean and precise as one would expect from the data expert, while Wrecker's much larger hand was slightly smudged and barely fit in the space. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"What are they for?" Omega asked quietly, closing her fist. The drying paint felt tacky under her fingers.

Rex glanced at her and then back at the wood in front of him. "Back when I first met Echo, I left a handprint just like it on his armour. It was in eel blood mind you, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, every time he got a new set of armour, or the paint had started to chip, he would find me, hand me the paint, and ask me to press a new one." A small chuckle. "We literally have the same hands. He could've done it himself. But no, each time he wanted me to do the honours. It became our little tradition."

Omega could feel the tears welling in her eyes again and pressed herself into Hunter's side for support.

Rex's voice cracked slightly. "I just felt like I needed to do it one last time."

Silently, they all looked at the decorated wood in front of them. The slightly chaotic collection of hands stained into the board almost seemed to glow under the light of the setting sun.

Fist still held closed, and pressing more into her brother's side, Omega slowly drew her eyes away from the marks to the scrawl in Aurebesh above the hands.

ECHO

Beloved brother, batchmate and friend

March on, Soldier

[faraway-sunshine]

Meet Whoever's In My Head #1: Haru

Derived from an old nickname my grandmother used to give me based on my middle name, Haru is my oldest friend besides Mari.

I typed a lot, so information on backstory and why I drew him like this is under the cut.

(Saturday 16th September, 2000, 8:26 PM)

Backstory

When I was little, I don't remember much, but I know I had meningitis. There was an outbreak at my kindergarten, and I got it really bad (this was before I moved to Faraway, by the way). Because of how dangerous it is and how fast it spreads, I was pretty much in isolation in the hospital. According to doctors, I had bad fevers and other symptoms that meant it was a miracle that I pulled through.

My only real memories were missing Mari, seeing crayoned pictures in my room being hung up, and a nurse who felt bad for me and read comic books out loud.

I guess one of the comic books had something about cloning, so I later invented this kind of story that I was actually a clone and my original copy had died of the sickness and that's why I couldn't remember, because it wasn't actually me who went through it. It fit with how I was, as my dad said, "not really the same after". It also fits with how the next time I saw my grandma, who was old and confused, she kept asking for "Haru" and denying I was her grandson.

Later on, I felt Haru's presence whenever I was lonely or screwed up or did something bad. When most prayed to God, I tried to talk with him to figure out what was wrong, what they screwed up when I was cloned, what I was doing that made my family look so worried and sad sometimes in comparison to how they saw Mari.

It got to the point where my memory would black out sometimes, and whenever I described the blackouts to Mari she said she could tell because I seemed almost a different person, seemingly brighter and more out-there and weirdly clingy with my parents (who I was very distant from after being sick) and not seeming to know my friends as well as I should. It scared me at first, but then I extended my prayers sometimes to wanting Haru to take control more, as he seemed to get the "good son" act that I never could.

Although I was sick when I was four, Haru part-grew, part-didn't with me. Like, his face and voice and stuff was still like me as a kid, but he got taller and his intellect mostly kept up. But some "babyish" habits that I abandoned after my sickness, like thumb sucking, persisted as when Haru was there Mom and Dad would find it endearing and wistful seeing me act like I did when I was "happier" (I don't know if I was actually happier, or just better at showing it with them). He also is more likely to see things very black-and-white and stand his ground on odd opinions, and his handwriting and drawing is a lot messier.

He hadn't fronted properly for a while in the time leading up to Mari, but I could feel him in the back and understand some of his thoughts and emotions and what he wanted and liked in comparison to myself. But after Mari died, and once Dad left and Mom was working all the time again, Haru was almost entirely silent. And I felt worse because I remembered the old baby story I told myself and felt I had "failed" at my "purpose" and should have just never been "created" (even as I knew that it can't have been real). Maybe I locked him away deep in my mind to protect him from all these big scary things that were already like that for me, I don't know.

He's slowly emerging back, carefully, as things settle and I figure out how to be a functional human again, but the collapse of the status quo leaves him wondering if he even has a place now in whatever ecosystem my mind is. And if he recognizes us as being at a hospital, doctor's office or similar location he usually darts right away and leaves me or whoever else picks up after wondering why we feel all stressed and scared and sad and alone.

Haru isn't a big fan of scary things or science fiction, unlike how I like comic books and cartoons. His favorite book is Paddington Bear, and every time he sees a train station he makes sure to look for any bears with name tags just in case.

Design

Haru's one of the only ones allowed color in my head. He exudes a sense of innocence, but at the same time, he's trapped in my early childhood in the way that he affects me. I drew him in pajamas both times because in a way, he never left the hospital properly.

The stuffed animal is a weird cat plush with a tail but no proper legs that was a baby toy of mine. It was thrown out at the hospital at some point.

Also, the red line represents the life support he was on. In that first dump, the red stand was some sort of solution. The red here is meant to stand out against the colder, softer color pallet I used for the rest of him. He gets a hospital bracelet too.

His pajamas are a bit too big for him, as hospital issue during a meningitis outbreak in his age group. He's also usually quite tired. That's the only trace of his sickness that he has, though, as I don't remember the rest.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Smeared Hearts

Credit to @rosellemoon for this oddly, insanely compelling idea about the fluffy, rainbow Storian. I couldn't help myself, so I took her ideas and ran with them.

Here is the link to the original post.

@heyo-428 @cetastars @harmonyverendez Read this, if you’re still interested in the fluffy pen story!

Note:

I did toy around with the order of Rise’s series of events a little, and included elements of Fall. So, be warned: the continuity is by no means perfect, the tone is intended to be more comedic (and sometimes more modern?) than usual, and I wrote this more for the concept than the plot at first. You could consider it a loose chronological series of vignettes, if that’s easier to understand because it isn’t quite a full story. It cuts from scene to scene. Or, rather, it is a story with a lot of scene breaks. Also, this was kind of an impulse fic, so I didn't start with a plan until a little later, but I did edit.

⸻

When Rafal agreed to be named a School Master of the renowned School for Good and Evil, he hadn't expected to become a pet owner, or something of that ilk.

When he initially saw it... it was fluffy and rainbow. Oh, the indignity of it all, of his life. What had he agreed to?

He groaned. The Storian wouldn’t have been his first choice of godlike pens, but he supposed a magical, fluffy pen was better than no magical pen at all.

The Storian drew a heart on Rafal's hand. It was about the size of a coin.

He grimaced.

Why couldn't the pen have chosen a more tasteful mark? A crown, or an ace of spades perhaps. Even an abstract scribble would have been fine, preferable even.

When the Storian drew his brother's heart, Rhian had laughed at its tickle, and the Storian had taken his response as a sign that it was welcome to snuggle up with Rhian every night, beside him in bed like a beloved pet.

Rafal slept alone.

⸻

Rafal had lost all faith in the Storian.

The irritating pen knocked things from tables. It beat Rafal's dish-breaking record within a week. And, it mussed up his hair, and shed all over his robes, slacks, and jackets. If any comparison could be drawn, it was most like a recalcitrant cat, an everlasting thorn in his side.

He couldn't face his students covered in feathery scraps of rainbow fur! The Nevers would ridicule him.

Invest in a lint brush, he noted to himself. That would settle it.

And shave that pen to boot. Not that he could. The little devil was fast, and would punish him for high treason.

Rhian wouldn't mind, he told himself. But, his brother loved that worthless thing. Of course he would mind. The Storian was practically Rhian's child. Rhian's baby talk drove Rafal up the wall. He was so mawkish and cuddly with it, as if it weren't already a combination dust magnet and feather duster that aggravated allergies.

No way would anyone ever see him petting the thing. It was an object, not even a living object, just unusually sentient. It was a patently false imitation of a real animal.

Rafal’s Stymphs were far superior to the pen, and they obeyed him and his commands as any good pets ought to do. Though, he considered the Stymphs more akin to his faithful soldiers, pledged to serve his eternal cause of Evil than well… pets, or whatever the pen was to Rhian.

⸻

Lately, Rhian was becoming obsessed with the Storian, and it worried Rafal.

At least he wouldn't have to worry about Rhian getting attached, only to catch it belly-up, and be forced to fly to the nearest pet store and cosmetic apothecary to replace it with a magic-surgery-modified duplicate before Rhian saw. Getting the last fish to look identical had been one hell of a sleepless night he’d spent in a race to preserve Rhian’s feelings. He’d stayed up to ensure the new pet was in place, and had to bury the old one at the crack of dawn while Rhian was still asleep.

But, with a pen, that couldn't happen. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, he knew the worst had happened far too many times. Rhian tended to kill things with too much love. It was absolutely sickening. He'd overfed goldfish in the past, almost the Wish Fish too, if Rafal hadn't put an immediate stop to it, and he had overwatered various hydrophilic plants from humid, tropical climates.

Rhian didn't have the best track record when it came to pets. Or self-preservation for that matter. He’d struck up conversations with strangers left and right.

A pen could be good for him. It had no expiration date. It didn't even have a mortal life, so no matter how incompetent Rhian was, he couldn't kill it. No responsibility aside from keeping it entertained, no risk of accidentally killing it, something to distract him from Rafal's own wrongdoings. The pen could prove useful in that regard. Yes, he could live with it, he decided.

Then again, maybe the right question to ask was whether it had feelings. Could he insult the pen? And what would happen if he did? He was sure Rhian would be none too pleased. But what about the Storian itself?

⸻

Rafal eyed the heart on the back of his hand. It was glaringly obvious and far too… sentimental. He had to do something about it. Scrubbing vigorously hadn't worked. He'd only succeeded in scrubbing the skin of his hand red, raw, and dry.

Rhian had haughtily told him he needed moisturizer.

Rafal snapped back that he knew. “Go bother someone else with your fussiness, Rhian!”

In the end, he'd bought black, supple, leather gloves, fitting of his look. They molded to his skin perfectly, and they didn't clash with his typical mode of dress.

Rhian accused him of being needlessly "edgy." Well, there was just no satisfying him, was there?

But, Rhian was a squeamish fussbudget, and his opinion held no weight here. So, Rafal wore the gloves. And soon, the years turned to decades, decades turned into a century, and the Woods kept living.

⸻

Rafal wore his gloves every day without fail—until he needed the additional dexterity that could only be afforded by flesh and bone fingers while drowning in the sea amid Night Crawlers.

He tore off the gloves, and in his haste, flashed the rainbow-inked heart at James, James who began to snicker at the thing like it was the most contemptible mark in the world.

"Thought you were Evil. Eh, Master?" James taunted.

"Shut up. It's-it's Rhian’s,” Rafal lied, stuttering through his embarrassment. No need to explain a fluffy pen of all things to James. He'd only think Rafal a dolt.

The heart was so cloyingly sweet, but it still made him feel vulnerable when it was seen, out in the open.

Astonishingly, James’ previously murderous expression softened and its matching intent evaporated. "Guess you wear your heart on your sleeve then. Like the Good do, or as close to Good as you can get, huh? Wouldn't mind saving me then, wouldja?"

Rafal gave the heart a sidelong glance. “Fine,” he muttered unaffected with marked disdain.

In the end, neither of them made it to the underwater prison of Monrovia, which contained the infamous Saders, but no matter. They were both out alive, albeit drenched.

⸻

Suspended aloft, ever an eye, the pen bore witness to a stalemate between the School Master brothers and the Pirate Captain.

The Pirate Captain loped forward. “So, you've got a pen that draws maudlin hearts?” he drawled.

"Yes,” Rafal said through gritted teeth. The leather of his gloves was cracked and split by this point, and creaked when he held a staunch grip. He’d formed fists, but he held himself back. The man didn't deserve a blow to the jaw, yet.

Off to the side, James winced, and drew a great step back to distance himself from his sorcerer friend.

Ferret-boy lolloped into the fray. “Yer magical pen does what?” he piped up, as if he'd been deaf to the Pirate Captain's question.

Him on the other hand—he had it coming for him. Rafal bristled, clenching and unclenching his fist instinctually. His dispassionate gaze morphed into a glare.

“It be drawing that craven, girlish thing on ya hand? Gotta be stark raving mad fer that to ’appen,” Ferret-boy quipped again.

Rhian stiffened, face heating.

Rafal defended, “It's not stupid, fussy, or effeminate. Even if it is, it's my only tie to Rhian at the moment, and I, for one, would prefer to keep it, along with my immortality, if you'll excuse me, pests.” He nodded at James, and turned to leave.

The Pirate Captain lunged for the pen without warning.

The Storian darted away, answering with a sugary jingle. Then, it coiled like a spring, launched, and jabbed the Pirate Captain viciously in the chest.

"Oof," the bested Pirate Captain breathed, clutching his torso.

A true pity that it hadn’t drawn blood, Rafal carped internally.

Self-satisfied, the pen twirled in the air, and flew back to the brothers. It curled up in Rhian's waiting hands like an overgrown, weaselly, color-dyed rodent, its noodly form like a piece of rope gone limp.

Rhian headed back to the School, safely cradling the pen.

Rafal stayed back on the dock to deal with the pirates, and give James a proper send-off.

⸻

Rhian had never taken an interest in women’s undergarments until now, but he was desperate.

He had already sifted through the Beautification classroom’s storage, and had come up with nothing. So, now, he was knee-deep in Dean Mayberry’s dresser drawers that he’d pulled out entirely, and he found himself rifling through her delicates at an alarming rate.

He soon chanced upon what he was searching for, and fished out a pair of airy, white gloves trimmed in lace that she’d worn to a recent soirée. He pressed his lips together grimly. They would have to do. Hopefully, Rafal would be distracted anyway. His new attire could divert Rafal’s attention.

He reasoned to himself that a smudge meant nothing, and hummed to himself nervously. It couldn’t be covering up duplicity. That would be Evil.

He wasn’t Evil.

He buttoned the gauzy, eggshell white gloves up high with their glossy, pearl buttons. Then, he went on his usual rounds over the School grounds, pretending nothing was wrong.

Rhian should have known his brother would first set his eyes on his hands. His glove-covered hands.

⸻

As Rafal flew overhead, approaching the School's clearing, he roughly tugged on his gloves again. Then, he saw something had gone wrong as he glanced down at Rhian from afar.

Rhian clearly had a new, downy, swan-feather outfit, a cloak of pure, shining spun-gold, and something else. Something new. He was wearing dainty, white gloves.

Rafal caught sight of another, unsubtle change through the tower window. He was horrified to find that Rhian had apparently commissioned a golden cage for the Storian while he was gone.

Seemingly, Rhian now tended to it even more regularly, as if he were sure it would grant him a favor, like a genie or a magical creature of that sort would, once caught and released for a wish in exchange for its freedom.

How childish could his brother get?

The moment Rafal's boots hit the windowsill, he peeled off his leather gloves, and noticed that for once, from just minimal friction, the interference of the glove’s coarse fibers, the seawater and his sweat, his heart had smeared.

His heart looked more scrawled than deftly inked. It was a messy blur of rainbow splotches on his pale skin. It didn’t look right, smeared like a stain, an iridescent oil spill, formless and hazy, like liquified beetle wings and mercury.

It was supposed to be as permanent a mark as one from a branding iron. It was a fixed tattoo! It couldn't just be wiped clean away!

Rafal blinked, rubbing at his eyes, trying to clear his tainted vision.

The smudge stubbornly remained.

Something had gone wrong while he was gone. Something sinister.

Rafal stepped into the tower chamber, legging it over the windowsill. He did not observe the cloaked, vampiric man fleeing the scene, memento mori etched on his skin.

Rafal reasoned these circumstances out to himself slowly: Rhian had probably figured that because Rafal never took off his gloves, except in the dark, at night, to sleep, that he'd never notice anything was amiss. But something was. Something grave enough to compel Rhian to cover it up, to erase his mistake.

Their bond had been besmirched by something. By someone. A stranger Rhian had opened his heart to. But was their bond broken?

The implications sank in. If it was broken, he could now be killed.

Rhian flung open the door, and greeted Rafal with cheer, yet he seemed wary.

Uncharacteristically, Rafal reached out to Rhian for a hug, and used the rare moment of closeness to yank Rhian's glove off.

The seams burst with the amount of force he applied and the pearl buttons popped off, catapulted in all directions, clattering to the floor, bouncing and rolling between the stone tiles into every last crack and crevice.

Rhian gasped and tried to shove his hand into a pocket.

Rafal trapped him by the wrist.

Beheld, as sure as day, was a bloodred V slashed in ink, like a scar of rouge in Rhian’s disfigured, melted, rainbow heart stamped around it.

Rhian's hand turned gelid, clammy, and slick in Rafal’s grip.

Someone had replaced him, Rafal concluded, without a word.

Rhian did not even try to offer excuses. It would be too humiliating to explain how he’d let Vulcan violate him during one of their dinners. He blushed at the candlelit memory.

Rafal dropped Rhian’s wrist. “Woe are we,” he sniped bitterly.

Rhian’s eyes welled with tears, but Rafal wouldn’t look at him.

Rafal couldn’t look at Rhian.

In fact, both brothers had fallen silent as the pen scratched away, swishing back and forth like a pendulum.

Rafal glared at the fluffy pen that shivered and flounced and puffed itself up like a fox's tail in the breeze. From across the room he could sense the pen's swift movements as it whisked through the air.

Wisps of shed fluff floated in the sunlight filtering through the silver curtains in spotlit shafts.

He felt the swoosh of the pen's fluff.

It twitched like it was winking at him, and slunk towards his legs like a cat. The pen twined itself around his legs in greeting. For several rounds, it wound itself around him.

He stood uncomprehendingly until his rage got the best of him. He extricated himself from the pen, and couldn’t bring himself to care about brushing the fluff from his slacks.

Rafal jumped out the window, to fly off, and figure things out for himself. The crisp air stroked his bare hands for once, and the sharp wind ripped away the excess fluff, battering his clothes and rippling cloak.

Now, he had to keep his heart in sight at all times, until he reversed this curse. No matter if anyone thought anything while his heart was exposed. They could all go to Hell for all he cared. He was doing this for Rhian.

And to save his own lost heart as well.

⸻

He flew away at full throttle, landed, and set off at a brisk pace, slamming into a boy with golden curls, grey eyes, and a cherub-like face. The exact sort of fellow Rhian would crush on!

“Who are you? Are you the V?” Rafal demanded.

The boy looked confused, and narrowed his eyes, fuming. “Name's Midas," he gruffed, putting up a front. “Who're you?” He stabbed a finger at Rafal's chest.

“Your worst fears,” threatened Rafal placidly.

Midas’ eyes widened.

Rafal shot back up the silver tower, and hurtled through the window, Midas in tow, grasped in his iron grip over the starchy fabric of the boy’s shirt. Coolly, he tossed aside a squirming Midas, who scudded across the room, aided by his sorcery, and left the boy for a moment, vowing to deal with him later.

He turned to Rhian, who stood agape, next.

⸻

Rafal marched deeper into the stone chamber, snatched Rhian's wrist, and dangled his limp hand in front of their faces. “What's this?” he said quietly, menacingly, pressing down on Rhian’s pulse.

He dragged Rhian up to the Storian, and released him.

Rhian stumbled forward, only managing to stay upright with Rafal’s firm hold on his shoulder.

“WHAT'S THIS?” Rafal shouted at the trembling pen, now thrusting his own outstretched, ink-stained hand at the pen.

The Storian, previously backed up against a bookcase, leapt into its cage, and rattled around. It cowered at the back of the cage, against the golden bars.

“This can't be what I think it is. I love him,” Rafal assured the pen feverishly. He sank to his knees in desperation, casting his gaze up at the pen.

Rhian dropped to the floor with him, and looked pleadingly at his pet.

Long and sinuous, the pen performed a twist in midair with a light jingle, as if considering the chastened School Masters before it, contemplating their tale. It moved with broad brushstrokes, white streaks of erasure, fine, gossamer threads spinning through the air, weaving around the brothers’ forearms.

The hearts vanished off their hands.

Rafal flinched, and shielded Rhian.

Rhian quivered, his heart throbbing against Rafal's own pounding rib cage. He gripped Rafal's upper arms, bracing himself behind his brother for the worst, for his precious pet to turn on him.

Yet the pen forgave.

It hovered over their hands, and drew new hearts, the same as it had done a century before.

⸻

Note:

I'd love to know your reactions and thoughts, or if anyone laughed. What specific parts got a rise out of anyone? Did I manage to shock anyone, with anything? I’d love to know what. Feel free to comment anything and ask any questions if there’s confusion.

I hope everything’s up to par. Did anything (specific or not) feel out of character? I didn’t check the books, and I sort of forgot what Hook’s, the Pirate Captain’s, and Midas’ dialogue sound like. If anyone catches any inaccuracies, feel free to let me know. Also, if there's anything else wrong grammatically, or in terms of clarity, please tell me.

[notnights]

rarepairing ragatha/caine?

i was thinking about it when i saw your twitter post and it really made me think and this was like the first thing to come in mind. (cause i swear i never seen any ragatha/caine stuff) ((i'll name it um... playdoll? uh sure i'll go with that))

What i am imaging is that caine would carry ragatha like this (stock photo for reference) and would be flying around and showing her all the beauty that the circus has in store and ragatha is like blushing and shit and um... yeah!

AND THEN THEY MAKE OUT 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

This was the idea I got and didn't read that last part whoops.

When I made their height comparisons for this I was like huh small silly man and taller redhead where have I seen this before. So drew this too.

@mackthegame08

[optiwashere]

Asheera and Shadowheart touching 35?

Thank you for sending this one in, anon! Always happy to see it.

---

Touching 35 (Kissing their bruises and scars)~ who doesn't love Act 3 emotional hurt/comfort?

First to the marks on her knuckles, the ones from a shield crushed against her hand in the heart of battle. Shadowheart's hands marked by the House of Grief, strong but not able to hold onto anything. Not tonight, not in the bluish light of twilight outside the city.

Sitting on hard earth, Shadowheart refused herself even the comfort of the pillows she always carried with her tent and supplies. Asheera said nothing. She simply sat next to her by the fire.

"Come here," Asheera whispered, pressing her lips to bruised knuckles. "It's over."

"Isn't it just?"

She couldn't bear to even be within the city walls. While the others relaxed in rooms in the Elfsong, they camped out on the outskirts of Rivington. Just like a few months beforehand on a mountain pass with the same tree boughs overhead. Just like old times, before Shadowheart had known her parents still lived.

"Please," Asheera begged. She didn't pull on Shadowheart, instead waited. Held her hand in both of hers. "Come here."

"To let them go like that, isn't it a victory for Shar? The greatest one of all?"

Asheera found the marks where the Fidelians' necrotic touches seared black marks on Shadowheart's arm that held the Spear of Night. Reaching for her own magic, laying on hands with another touch, Asheera pressed kisses to each of the marks winding up Shadowheart's arm.

She needed no reminders of them, not on her body. That was not for them to touch ever again.

"If we had another way, we would have done it," Asheera said, "and Shar gave only two options."

Shadowheart pushed herself closer, enveloping herself in Asheera's body. Physically so small in comparison. "And if I chose the wrong one?"

"Then—"

"Never mind it." Shadowheart closed her eyes and leaned her head back against Asheera's chest. She sighed. "I can't sit here and pretend I don't hold my heart in hand. Fragile and pathetic."

Asheera wrapped her arms around her instinctively. "And you think I'd call you that?"

"Not with words, no. A look. Perhaps not today, or even in a year's time. A decade or two." Shadowheart looked up at her, eyes wet with something that she blinked away rapidly. "You'll notice. Eventually."

She spoke so matter-of-factly. It was clear to Asheera that Shadowheart thought she hid the pain in her words well. As if this was how things should be and how the world was meant to be laid before her, and nothing and nobody could convince her otherwise.

As if all worth had been stripped away.

Asheera lifted Shadowheart and turned her so that they stared one another in the eyes. Legs wrapped around her waist, Shadowheart bringing herself closer automatically. Her arms slipped under Asheera's but she refused to look up.

"We don't have to talk about that, not tonight," Asheera said, leaning forward to press a kiss to Shadowheart's forehead. She rested her cheek there, wanting to be closer but unable. "You will be at peace. One day. And I will be there to watch with a smile."

"Of course you say that now."

"Ask me again tomorrow and next year then." Asheera drew back, glad to at least see Shadowheart meeting her gaze. "That decade or two will be more than that, much more than that. I've already seen enough to know you are strong. Stronger than you allow yourself to believe."

"Simple to say, isn't it? When you're not the one who had to make that choice," Shadowheart bit back, her face scrunching up in invisible pain as she did so. She shook her head.

"It's true."

"And I still shouldn't have said that."

"You say what you feel, I can't expect perfection from you."

"Oh no? I would imagine paladins know the noble, proper way to suffer. I'll seek perfection in my prayers, so that I can be the good little penitent one." Shadowheart chuckled humorlessly, closing her eyes. She groaned in disgust. "Why am I even speaking? Every word is another grave I dig myself."

Asheera meant to lean down to press a kiss to her lips, but Shadowheart shifted and Asheera instead met the scar on her cheek. The one running up to her nose.

Their hold on one another tightened. White hair drifted free of its usual braid, no more strain or struggle.

"I need you to know that I want to know your fears and worries," Asheera said, "and that I won't abandon you because you feel. You are worthy of sharing your pain with others, and I hope you'll let me carry some of that burden with you."

Shadowheart didn't answer, but she didn't move either. Together they sat like that as the fire before them died into embers. Hours passed as Asheera stroked her hair and waited for a response, no matter how long it would take.

When Shadowheart's breathing evened out into the comfort of sleep, face nestled in her chest, she knew it would be some time before she would hear an answer.

To wait was a simple task.

[manonamora-if]

The Roads I Maybe Should Have Taken

The TRNT Post Mortem

Oye oye! As was promised, so it is! The Post Mortem for The Roads Not Taken (which hopefully won't be as long as the actual game...)

Follow me into my journey of once again speed-running my way through a competition, and coming out scratched and bruised and still not learning my lessons!

First, some links:

if you haven't played the game yet, I recommend you do before reading this!

you can find its IFDB page here (if you want to leave a review?)

and the STF version source code here for the code curious!

shortened version of the PostMortem on IntFic

Then, a little Table of Content:

The Idea

The Story

The Implementation

The Reception

The Do-Over?

And finally, we start! (under the break because it will be long - LoL at me writing 1/5th of TRNT as a Post Mortem)

I should preface this Post Mortem with I entered the SpringThing on a whim. I had just come out of a conga line of competitions and game jams since last Summer (log of release/update), and had plans on finishing working on other projects instead of this one (which I probably should have... sorry The Rye in the Dark City for abandoning you...). But I obviously didn't do that because here was another new fresh game! And then another two of those just after... whooops...

The idea for TRNT just popped into my brain one day and would not leave me until I implemented it, no matter what (yes, I am still weak willed, I have not learned my lesson from The Thick Table Tavern, the one about not rushing a project and publishing it at a later date when it is truly ready). I did have that thought in the back of my mind that if I do do this, it would be very likely I would end up with a repeat of TTTT, as in: half-full drink with too much ice, and expired garnish falling from the very pretty fancy glass.

Also I did not start working on the entry until the SeedComp was in its voting round (so around the 4-5th of March?). I really wasn't kidding about the speed-running thing....

Another thing: I had never created a parser game before this point AND suck real time at playing them! This was also indicated in my Author's comment.

Nothing obviously stopped me anyway, because here we are...

1- The Idea

A few weeks before the opening of the SpringThing intent, the French IF community was streaming some older parser entries, including Aisle* and Pick-Up the Phone Booth and Die, two games where the player can only do one action before the game ends. I'd never really experienced this kind of game before (the closest being having a sudden death/continue the story choice). It packed a punch, it was funny, and also so very weird. It left me dissatisfied and super intrigued. I wanted to try and do that too someday. *Funnily, someone on the French IF discord thought DOL-OS had been inspired by Sam Barlow's work (it wasn't, but TRNT def was).

Not, I am not going to be hella pretentious and full of myself by putting TRNT on the same level as those games (because I don't think I did a good enough job to merit a comparison), but the one-action-only gameplay and multiple endings drew me in (I love abrupt endings, cf P-Rix). I've mainly written longer form of IF rather than short bites, and I thought it would be fun to try to constrict myself as much as possible, by having just one thing, one action, one outcome.

And also: parsers. I had only dabbled with the Choice-Based/Hyperlink format, so I thought it was time to try the last unexplored part of my IF journey: parsers. Since the SpringThing Festival is a nice place to experiment, I thought why not try to make one then! I could not have survived the anxiety of the IFComp reviews for that one...

Still, it was not going to be without a challenge. I had very little experience with parsers, and I honestly didn't think I could learn how to use a parser program in such short amount of time*, when I had a lot of other stuff at the same time. So I thought, why not make it in Twine**, at least I know this program inside-and-out(almost). There would not be a steep learning curve there... What could go wrong? *lol at me, having made an Adventuron game in a non supported language in about 2 weeks after that, without ever having tried the program beforehand. I could totes have managed!! **Also, when I got set with Twine, I realised how fun it would be to maybe put people's expectations upside down by doing something you're not supposed to with Twine... or parsers!

Well, it was going right at first...

2- The Story

I really wanted to recreate the same gameplay of Aisle with its only-one-action-and-it's-over, so I started listing possible actions and put them into a context where this choice of action would mean everything for the PC - because it is the only action you have. Which might not have been a good take? Aisle works because the setting is incredible mundane, and there are no stakes.

The context pretty quickly drew itself as the player will chose a profession/career path, and if they do/choose something wrong, then...😬too bad for them, they made their choice, deal with the consequences. While, in reality, we are not stuck in a life because of one choice, but with a myriad of them (and still we can change this trajectory), it's still a big pressure you get as a youth, having to choose where to go and what to do when you are done with highschool, and what path to take. It's a lot of responsibility that sometimes feels like it will affect/haunt the rest of your life. Do I still have some of that school/parental pressure from when I had to make that choice ingrained somewhere inside? probably...

But the more foolish idea was to let my brain continue to think more about that context and create a world and story further than the choice. Instead of going forward with the consequences and the hints of what could have happened or just let the choice being the centre piece, the brain just went backwards and created a society (some sort of futuristic one) and vaguely described beings (that are not humans), and the ritualistic culture of this society, etc... While it was fun to think about all of those, and maybe provided a fun setting and enticing story for the player to go through the game, there might have been a bit too much of it. I think, in hindsight, this may have devalued the choice itself (which became even more watered down when I continued on writing the first screens).

And so, the job choice soon became the player is going through some sort of ritual (v trope-y) to determine their place in society. If it has a vibe of The Giver, it shouldn't be too surprising, the book is on my shelf.

So we still have the one-choice-to-rule-them-all, but now there is a also backstory and setting... and I have to include it somewhoeeven if it means cramming it somewhere, anywhere.

Oh wait, I thought, I'll just make it like a prologue to build anticipation for the choice!

And so the brain went on zooming again to create the waiting room, and the agonising walk in the corridor, and the finding your way to the altar, before you cant finally make your choice..... only to end up with two(-ish) paragraphs for each endings. wow - what a good balanced game this is becoming...

Speaking of endings, I had originally listed over 50 actions, each planned to have a different ending.... only to end up with about 11, 7 of those were actually related to the final countdown choice. It made me sadder than when I cut onions :(

It wasn't just the player that needed to make...

At this point, we were two weeks away from the deadline. I had the backbone of the code (-ish), a good third of the writing wasn't complete (and this was mainly those 11 endings), and no one had tested the game yet. There was no way I could have included all 50 original options if I wanted to make the deadline. might have been good in hindsight to remove those choices, especially with the current command system.

So choices had to be made and a buttload of planned things had to be cut. I narrowly managed to finish the needed endings in time (which required re-writing some of those into a fake choice), at least.

At the end, I strayed quite a bit from the Aisle concept of a mini intro - one action - an ending puzzle-y feel (and making the player piece the story together from the endings), to arrive at... well... this anxiously geolian walk to one's doom (or dream). Making the story quite... well... linear.

And from going somewhat wrong, it went a little wrong-er...

3- The Implementation

Wanting to avoid the headache of learning a new program, I had settled on Twine pretty much from the start (SugarCube, because that's how I've been rolling for the past almost 2 years!).

The big problématiques of this project were:

Twine is not a parser program (duh)

SugarCube has its limitations still (and macros that don't always work the way you want to)

I had never written a parser game before and suck at playing them (thank you, French IF streams that helps me enjoy them without experiencing the frustration of not finding the right combo!)

I still suck at JavaScript/jQuery to do weird things with the page (and probably fix all those issues)

and well did I already say Twine is not a parser program?

So I tried to get to the basic of parsers (an input box and text revealing itself onto the page when a command is entered) and prayed for the best. Easy, right?

WRONG!

SugarCube has an input box, but can only autofocus* inside one specific place (so you can't lock it somewhere else but the passage itself, which means you need to add it to every screen...) and when the passage is first loaded (doesn't work if the input box is added later on). *I have also hurt some kitten by overusing autofocus, which was only compensated by offering the the SugarCube God some bug reports about it so those issues could be fixed for the next update (TBA). But you really are not supposed to use autofocus as much as I did... 😬

SugarCube has an input box, but you can only move to another passage after you press Enter. So you can't have some fancy input checks, and you stay on the same page... without some custom listener macro* that is (Bless you Maliface and your Listen Macro) - or I guess some JavaScript code, but who has time for that... I had included a button as an alternative to confirm the commands (which was how I had coded it for DOL-OS), but it would have made the parser experience much worse if using Enter would not have loaded a response (this was a criticism from DOL-OS, which now that I know how to fix, I really should do so...). *at least until the next Sugarcube update which will include a listener.

SugarCube has an input box, but doesn't have a bank of commands, or set object indicator (like with the parsers). While you can technically separate the inputed words with some JavaScript**, whether you do so or not will end with the same amount of spaghetti code at the end, with the different conditional statements for each actions on each screen to show the correct text bits (mine amounted to almost 600 lines of code for 7 screens... without included the printed text! -> see the source code). Now that I've messed around with Adventuron, I can see how easy it is to make a parser game (set up commands and rooms and interactive object), when you have a bank of built-in commands and not have to worry about how to add the new text on the screen. Twine really added a new layer of complexity to this.... Was there a better way of doing this? probably, but don't look at me to find it. *this was how the name chosenname command came to be, and how it only printed the chosen name on the following screens. That and the autofocus being messy...

SugarCube can add text bits to a page, but unlike parser programs, it won't automatically scroll down to the bottom of the page, or at least to the added element. Adding a scroll down to the bottom or scroll up to the page was not too hard (I had some leftover js code), but it was not the solution: the UI is mobile/tablet accessible (smaller screens), which means scrolling to the bottom would make those players having to manually scroll back up (and I am usually quite verbose in my writing). So very much EH.... NOT GREAT! After quite a lot of testing, broken pieces of code, way too much swearing, and re-doing the base of the UI, I did manage to find a solution.... a month into the review/voting period.

But even with those limitations, I pushed through. I knew it was possible to make it work, so I either tried to find work arounds (and gave up the scrolling, at least until the deadline), and pushed through, banging my head against my desk because of what was achievable...

LIKE BUILDING A WHOLE COMMANDS SYSTEM...

Wanting to make things easy for myself (and the players), I thought maybe removing all verbs would make it easier to go through the game, even when having to interact with objects or people around. Enter the bolded word* from the text as the input, press enter, and read the new text! *It was important for me to have some sort of "easy" mode where the interactive things were obvious to the player, coming from a scene where parsers are not the norm/favoured.

Simple right?

This idea... stopped working as soon as I introduced physical actions (sit, stand, jump, etc...), directional actions (the story might be linear but it still has multiple rooms), but most importantly as soon as I wrote flavour texts for one same object. Even if I could get away with removing X/LOOK/EXAMINE*, adding verbs at the end was a necessity (I didn't want to see all the already written variation go to waste...). *I did include look in the code, but mistakenly didn't think about its synonym <- shows the no-knowledge of parser, and not having a bank of commands built-in.

So verbs were added, and then some of its synonyms (but evidently not the most important ones 😬), and then some prepositions just in case, and noun synonyms with adjectives because of how it is described in the text, and then.... so on and so forth. And because of how SugarCube is set, I ended up with lines like this at the end:

<<if ["initiate", "look initiate", "look at initiate", "remember initiate", "initiates", "look initiates", "look at initiates", "remember initiates", "recall initiate", "recall initiates"].contains(_cmd)>>

(and this is not even a correct or complete command list, since it is missing EXAMINE and X)

Et rebelotte for all the interactive words on the page, as well as the added variations requiring another set other verbs. There's not really a verb/noun aliases list to help...

BUT WAIT

Because I always like to make it difficult for myself and not think of the amount of work my ideas/plan will require, I had to make some bits of text appear only once (even if some commands could be used more than once on that page) OR removing the player's ability to make a different action when they do a specific one AND have some bits of text only appear after a command has been used on that page. Pushing the player through extra invisible gates on top of the different rooms. I could have made it easier on myself to break scenes further than I had already done, but nooooooo

And I did this not just once. BUT THREE TIME! When the player is called to get in line, in the corridor, and just before the big doors.

I could have fed myself for a whole week with the spaghetti that came out of my code.

But Manon, I can hear the little devil on my shoulder say, Why all the whining and excuses? You could have stopped if it turned out to be a bad idea, especially if you couldn't implement it properly. Why not have made the story in something else than a parser?

Well...

because Time (wa)s running out and I wasn't going to let all this hard work go to waste by changing everything up at the last minute (it could have worked/been easier, that's true)

because it was still a fun puzzle to solve, even if frustrating most of the time,

because you learn more when you fail than when you win

I'm not a quitter :P (hiding my too many WIPs waiting for me....)

Even if I doubted myself with finishing the game on time, I still pushed myself to cross the finish line, since I knew I would not have finished the project otherwise. Thought it could have been fun to get the 12 angry men passing judgement on my Twine monstrosity making a mockery of parsers had I submitted it to the very serious ParserComp instead. /jk lovingly

So after some "extensive" testing (rushed in the last week, because I am a nightmare to people, sorry @groggydog and @lapinlunairegames for making you go through this, but also thank you for your help!!), I made it to the end!

Well... barely. Ended up with a few bug fixes update along the way.

4- The Reception

(it was like that in my heart)

Like TTTT, this was not explosion of praise and accolades. And I fully expected it. You can't make experiments omelettes without cracking a few programs/rules eggs. At least my omelette didn't have too many eggshells :P

Looking at the numbers, at the time of writing this posts, TRNT is currently sitting at 5 stars (4 ratings) on itch, and 3-1/2 stars on IFDB (2 ratings)*, with 4 reviews on the Forum (bellow the median/average this festival). None of the ratings game with reviews/comments. *When some of the reviews will be moved to the IFDB, I do expect this average to get lower. The itch one is nice (really happy 4 peeps loved it!), but most people only rate when they didn't like it or when they loved it.

As for the feedbacks gotten, they came from a few sources: the people who playtested TRNT, dms on Tumblr and the Forum, the Twine server, and the awaited reviews on the Forum.

Overall, the people who liked the game really enjoyed themselves, from the writing and the worldbuilding being intriguing, or how pretty the UI was. Even with the issues raised during the festival, quite a lot of people (who sent me comments) thought the experiment was either a success, something really cool, or impressive considering the limitations (of the festival and/or of the program). Even in the more critical comments, this experiment was seen as an interesting one to be commended (with a bit of a why did you bother... sprinkled in there). Someone told me TRNT reminded them of the Divergent series (and fair comparison, considering the whole ritual to put you in one job for the rest of your life).

The most surprising thing was that people who never played parser before (or didn't really liked them) found the game entertaining and fun to go through, managing to get to the end without too many issues; while the reviewers with more experience in the genre had a bit more restraints due to the command system I put in place.

Whether my giddiness about verbose writing was to the liking of the player or not, I was honestly happy comments about my grammar didn't make much of an appearance this time around (yay, progress!), and that I would get kudos for the vague story behind the experiment itself, and the structure of the story itself.

But this doesn't mean that it was all sunshine and rainbow here. TRNT had some obvious issues, which should have been squashed during the testing phase had this one been longer (yet again, me speed-running through comps when I should take my time... when will I learn...). There were two main ones: the commands and the UI.

The biggest issue came from the commands, being either unclear or confusing, especially when it came to the cardinal direction, the choice of synonym for the actions, or special actions like the name input. Even if you could go along the story with just a noun or press C until you reached the end, missing important verb commands did not help the game feel complete (EXAMINE/GET/the shortcuts). This is where having some Parser knowledge/experience would have come handy, he.... As for the cardinal directions, it was probably most confusing because I used them as synonyms for forward/back/left/right instead of N/S/W/E (that and it wasn't clear where you were able to go in the text either). Quite a few players were also getting stuck in the corridor (after you come to a stop, you hear some thing up front and your choices are to move to the side/jump or stand still). Special actions like the name input or the final choice were felt a bit off/broke immersion. Party due to the way SugarCube is, partly due to how I organised the game. Having a simple input where the player is asked for their name before the game start and have a say name command, might have worked better there. That and a better hinting system. Fix for those TBD.

Closely followed was the UI being annoying (which ;-; bc I pride myself on creating good UI, but it was fair critique), from the scrolling being an absolute ass, to the confusing bolding of the start of passages being the same as the interactive words (if you didn't change the colour in the settings), to the back/replay last choice command on the END screen not going to the right spot, or the responses of computing an inputted command not appearing/being confusing (in relation to the scrolling), some quirks with the UI being wonky for some screen sizes, etc... Thankfully, all those have been fixed.... but too late for the reviews already published. A quick revamp of the UI base + solving the scrolling issue + slight reformatting of the printed new text bits solved if not all of those issues. Still... too little too late... That's what you get for making a UI in a large screen and only checking different width but not different heights....

A SIDENOTE ON WHY PARSER AND NOT HYPERTEXT

Or me going a bit on a rant. Scroll down to pt 5- The Do-Over to resume coherent levelled conversation.

Still, making a parser a Twine was a CHOICETM, which didn't work for everybody. I don't know if it was because the game was put forth as a Twine game before being a parser, or because the story was maybe a bit too linear/not very interactive compared to other parsers, or because I set out to make a parser before thinking of a story and it showed for some, (or probably because the parser system was not very well implemented) but I did have a few commenters wondering if my choice of making it a parser was the correct one, as in why would you use parser when hyperlinks would have probably worked better?

Maybe a cop-out answer would be Why not. Why not try to break the rules and the codes of what is a Twine game or what is a parser? Why not push Twine to where it is probably not supposed to go (sorry, TME)? Why not blur the lines of the divides between the subgenres of IF? I wrote some part while having a bit of a fever, and my notes had Why not make parsers less puzzle-y/more linear choice-based like? and oh boi is it good to re-read yourself... Cause yiekes what a load of BS.

The other part of the answer is Because experimenting and doing weird thing is fun! Doing weird thing, writing bad code that should probably not work but it does, putting the program on a lifeline, making up stories that are nonsensical, etc... and breaking people's mind in the process with what could be done. Also it was just fun to find out whether it was just possible to do it at all. The rush of happiness when you the puzzle is solved is so incredibly gratifying. It was really fun to try something different (for me but also for what Twine can generally do), to solve a puzzle of mashing two things that don't/shouldn't go together, to find what makes them tick and make it all work, and to challenge myself to do something new (did I mention before it was my fist time making a parser?). AND, having fun creating! And the SpringThing has always been a beacon to promote experimentation with the genre and more out there stuff. So it's was kind of like the stars aligned or something :P

Also Because it was possible!That one is pretty self-explanatory...

Maybe a bit more presumptuous of me: Because experimenting keeps Interactive Fiction fresh and exciting! I'm not trying to set a trend or anything here (honestly, it's not too strange, TRNT's weirdness kind of follows my previous work with TTTT and its mixology element, or DOL-OS with it computer interphase), but isn't fun to see what else can be done in IF, or what new area can be explored now that funky stuff has been tried, or what else should probably not be done (hopefully this doesn't apply to TRNT lol, I think it should be fun to have more parser in Twine). Even if my entry was not really a novel idea even in the gameplay (exhibit A, exhibit B, exhibit C), I still think there should be more weird stuff out there, so I contribute to that where/when I can! It'd be sad if IF became same-y and stale... It'd be fun if someone did something like this because they played TRNT and thought it was neat :P

And Because it didn't fit with my original vision of the game. Even if the game changed quite a lot along the way, the parser element was something I would not compromise with, no matter how good or bad the final product was. Sorry TME for the kittens lost in the autofocus of the textboxes...

I did wonder for a while how many people opened the settings at all 🤔

5- The Do-Over?

Ha.

Haha.

Hahaha.

No.

Honestly... If I was going back to the start, I don't think I would change anything. Even if the length of the testing was more than minimal (still haven't learned my lesson), even if I rushed into the competition (again, not learned my lesson), even if I made errors along the way (well, maybe fixing the UI earlier instead) or let the story stray that much away from the original idea (honestly it was probably for the best that it ended not being too close to Aisle at the end, I might have gotten eviscerated in the reviews). It did what it was supposed to do, and checked all the boxes from what I wanted to try. At the end, to me, it was a complete (and stressful success).

Will there be some changes in the future?

Just a bit, at some point, TBD and TBA. Just to fix the commands a bit, maybe rearrange some passages, add a bit more variation/hidden codex entries, maybe even a new ending or two! But it wouldn't go further than that. TRNT was an experiment through and throuh.

==================== THE END ====================

Anyway, my weird hybrid beast of a parser in Twine and I are done rambling about my awesome show of tricks that may or may not have landed badly and with a broken skateboard. We will go collect our ribbons, now!

Make IF weird, Do word crimes, Have fun

I do wonder if me submitting the game in the Main Garden rather than at the Back Garden played into the expectations of the reviewers, since the BG is meant for more experimental IF. But in the same vein, there was the Kuolema running on a Google Form and people flocked to it so 🤷 It's probably the quality that made things the way it is whooooops :P