#darkwood night trader

[foxgirl87]

I hate all of them

[eclipsinggod]

I wasn't really interested in the game up until I met Wolfman (yes, I'm down bad).

The man made me interested enough to continue playing, and honestly? Good. It has really grown onto me (pun not intended).

It's a fun survival horror. Trial and error games aren't my strongest suit, but it's nice. It's like... a more tame version of Funger.

The soundtrack is really good, too.

[red-tea-lover]

🍄🍁 Night Trader from Darkwood🍁🍄

Ну, тут мне сказать нечего. Я могу часами рассказывать почему этот персонаж хорош и потратить часы жизни для написания фанфика лишь бы чел выжил. И да стимборды вернулись) Наполнение классическое и сосмыслом типа. Ключи, грибочки и ночь или в целом тёмная зелень ибо вайб игры или предметы у персонажа, ну а остальное баланса ради.

Well, I have nothing to say here. I can spend hours telling why this character is good and spend hours of my life writing a fanfic just so the guy survives. And yes, stimboards are back) The content is classic, like keys, mushrooms and night or dark green in general because of the game's vibe or the character's items, and the rest is for balance.

🍄|✏️|🌕

🍂|🩶|🌼

🌾|🕯|🗝

[monochromaticwriting]

A little Darkwood fic, for a personal fic length challenge!

The Bugperson walked through the forest. It was dark and silent that day. They hadn't seen the Stranger nor the Trader for the day, and that made them worried. The two had grown to be the closest thing of Friends to them, and they wouldn't want anything happening to them. So, onwards they walked. Most creatures in the woods left them alone, not wanting to challenge the one being who can out scream a banshee.

Well, as the woods came alive with the sounds of gunshots and those little beasts. What did the Trader call them...? Dogs! That's right. They shook their head, lifting the hood to their shirt, and putting their hat back on. The straw hat itched against their head, and the shirt felt wrong on their thorax, but that didn't matter right then. Their own comfort came second. They needed to secure more wood for the nest.

The Bugperson walked in the direction of the guns and dogs. Dead creatures meant more things to trade for wood. They came across the scene. The Stranger was fighting a pack of dogs, and it looked like it were having trouble with the numbers in this pack. The Bugperson knew they had to step in. Running forth, they raised their own gun, shooting off some of the infected canines. Luckily, the large pack decided not to waste energy on the two, darting back off into the shadows of the woods.

With a nod, the Bugperson looked over at the Stranger. They notice it had some bites, some very nasty looking bites. Reaching into their bag, they toss the Stranger some bandages, and stayed watchful as it bandaged itself. If it looted the dog corpses for meat, the Bugperson wouldn't judge. The Stranger was an outsider. They knew it needed meat. How did they know it needed meat? Its mandibles were like the villagers. The ones who lived off the poor sow in the barn. They didn't know why the villagers continued to harm the poor creature, instead of eating the plentiful wood around them. But, they weren't accepted by the villagers, so to each their own. Well, it wasn't accepted by the, except one. They could hear his broken violin in the silo. Something about the noise was.... Nostalgic. Like they knew that sound somewhere else, but couldn't place it. The Bugperson had a soft spot for the boy in the mask, who carried that broken violin.

They turned back to the Stranger. The sun was going down, and they knew it needed to get back to its hold. Staying by its side, the pair quietly go through the meadow, back towards the shelter of the Stranger. The meat on it smelt so good, though not as tantalizing as the wood it carries. As they got to the Stranger's shelter, the Trader was already inside, waiting for them. Well, waiting for it. He spoke primarily to it, though it never truly answered much. They certainly never hear its voice. Not that the Bugperson could speak back, even if they wanted to.

Getting the Stranger safely back to the shelter, they turned to go back to their wandering, but a deep voice startled them.

"It's dangerous out there. Please. Stay here till the morning." Came the deep, muffled voice of the Trader. They turned back to the duo. The Stranger was already cooking and eating some of the meat, and some strange mushrooms, over the oven. How could they reject that offer? It saved them some ammo of fighting off hoards of aggressive creatures.

They stepped inside, and moved the dresser in front of the door. Their many eyes looked around, taking in as much as they could. It wasn't often they were invited inside a shelter. They became aware of the itch on the top of their head. Quickly, they took off their strawhat, letting their antenna out from under it. As they relaxed in the shelter, in the unnatural quiet of the night, a soft snore could be heard. They turned towards the noise, and looked at the scene in front of them.

The Stranger had its head on the shoulder of the Trader, resting its poor tired body for once. Something about the scene was very.... Familiar to them. Like they had.... Been in this situation before. Flying high over the strange forest, resting their head on the shoulder of one of the researchers they were assigned to work with. No matter how hard they tried, nothing more came up.

It didn't matter now. They were where they were now, no point in focusing on a possible past. The Trader looked up at The Bugperson, a silent question on his masked face. All they could do is nod, and took over a full guarding position in the shelter. They came to a silent pact that night. They would both do what they could to help the Stranger. Both had grown attached to it, though they were sure in different ways. But this Stranger was their friend now. It needed them, as they needed it. And though the Bugperson and Trader didn't care much for each other, they bonded for their love over the Stranger, sleeping the night away for once.

[whaleofatjme1920]

In the Tent, Under His Arms (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: literally just smut, knotted dick, breeding kink kinda?, possessive, I feel like EJ is his own warning, dubcon, rough, degrading(?), slight praise, if you are a minor DNI]

[AN: this thing is 8K words so have fun. Ngl, I had a lot of inspiration from the Wolf Man from Darkwood, so like,,,,,, that's gonna show up here as influence srry. ily <3]

To say you are nervous as you traverse the woods was an understatement. You could hardly breathe as you quietly stepped through the darkness that curtained the forest around you. Small little mushrooms and pieces of paper dotted your way as you continued to shine your flashlight at the deer path before you. Branches seemed to spring out from tree trunks in the blink of an eye scratched at your clothes as you pushed yourself forward. Every little sound that didn’t emit from you set you on edge.

How the hell did you even get here? You woke up on the floor of a rundown house. Cold tile had been your mattress as you slowly found your bearings. A quick glance around the darkened room showed a barren room, its walls littered with papers worried about a tall man in the woods. The only warnings were to watch out for him, fear him and not get caught by him lest you be taken. But you were still confused, scared and unsure.

Instead, you found yourself doing the only thing you could really think of. Securing your safety. This went on for a week without a hitch (save for the odd faces that peered into the windows every now and then) until one fateful morning where you were greeted by the only sentient living being that wished to talk to you since… Well… Since before you ended up here.

You had taken up refuge in a closet for the night and after stretching, headed to the kitchen to make something when you were rudely greeted to a… man?

Leaning against your counter drinking some coffee he’s already brewed.

You were about to rush back to your closet and pick up your blade when the man lowly chuckled.

A deep silence fell between the two of you as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. From the silence came low, rumbling, almost animalistic breathing.

It was then that you finally got a clear view of who was leaning in your kitchen. You grounded yourself in the doorway, not budging as the man slowly sipped from the coffee mug. You took notice of what he was wearing as he did so - a big, dark blue hoodie, and on top of that, a big, brown jacket. He had worn blue jeans. Steel toe boots.

The most unsettling parts of it all?

He had ashy, grey skin. From his profile, you could see shark-like teeth, grinning at you like a wolf.

“It’s really rude to stare, sweetheart,” the grey skinned man interrupted before taking another languid sip. “Have some coffee. I went outta my way to get it for you,” he finished before you could even begin to register what he was saying.

You awkwardly looked off to the side as words failed to build in your mouth. However, your mind continued to race with thoughts.

The grey skinned man verbally rolled his eyes with a huff before placing his mug down. Then, he quickly turned himself around and opened up one of the cabinets, fished for a mug, settled on a slightly chipped white one, inspected it, then placed it on the counter beside his. His clawed hand reached for the pot of coffee and grasped it before pouring the pleasantly warm and aromatic liquid into the slight chipped mug.

“Here,” he hummed as he held out the mug to the still frozen in place you. “Before it gets cold.”

You felt immediate disgust but hit it from your face as you cautiously stepped forward.

Sighing deeply, he closed the space between the two of you by taking confident steps forward.

On instinct, you held your hands out and took the mug.

He smiled in approval before leaning back on the counter to drink from his mug. “Sorry about the lack of sugar and creamer,” he said in passing as he watched you take a slow, shy sip. “You’ve seen the state of things out there, haven’t you? Can’t find shit even if I tried.”

Upon deeming the drink not poisonous and not harmful to your wellbeing, you felt more at ease and took more confident sips. “Who are you?” You asked, effectively breaking the semi-comfortable silence.

“A medic in some circles, a trader in others,” he began, flashing his rows of pearly white sharp teeth. “Call me Jack.” His gaze then lowered, eyes still obscured by his hood. “And what about you, sweetheart? How did you find yourself in this wicked place?”

You shifted uncomfortably before leaning in the doorway and taking another sip from the mug. “I don’t know,” you muttered. “I woke up here,” you gestured to the cold, checkered tile the two of you were currently standing on, “and got to work,” you finished. Your eyes remained trained on the floor. You remembered the first few days you were here - how awkward and strange they were. The feelings of confusion and anger. Stumbling around in the dark.

Jack nodded thoughtfully at your words before he finished his mug in one big gulp. He then smirked at you, the corners of his lip tilting upwards before he began stalking towards you.

Instinctively, you backed up, ready to defend yourself.

Jack chuckled under his breath. He smelled of wet soil and pine. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said as he stopped just an arm’s distance in front of you. He looked down at you, his eyes still observed by the darkness as you struggled to see what he looked like. His clawed hand suddenly reached out, and you flinched. He grinned, and took his lifted hand to hold your chin before slowly tilting your gaze upwards to meet his in full. “Let me get a good look at those pretty eyes,” he murmured.

And that when you saw his, or rather, the lack of. Just empty caverns. Dark, soulless, but they looked at you with such hunger.

Jack watched your pretty eyes flutter, mostly in nervousness before he leaned down. His sockets bore into you. His other hand left his coat pocket to your face, clawed came closer and closer to your eyes making you scrunch your nose. “Find me in the burnt clearing. I’ll be waiting for you.” His index finger came up to the bridge of your nose and slid down it. He chuckled at your confused expression before he tapped your nose.

When you reopened your eyes, he was gone.

You spent a few days wondering if you should go or if it was a trap. There was really no one to ask and the faces that peered into your window didn’t seem to give an answer one way or another. Your gut, however, kept telling you it was a bad idea.

That was what you were sticking with: it’s a bad idea, you shouldn’t go.

So, why were you stumbling through the woods near sundown looking for him? It was stupid, you thought, that you could be walking into your death. You quickly slashed through the brambles until you made your way to a small clearing. A light shined in the short distance when it wasn’t obscured by rapidly growing branches. A quick glance down at your map showed that this was the eyeless man’s camp.

Your fingers tightened around your blade as you left the heavy foliage to inspect the camp. There was a sizable tent followed by various crates strewn about. In the center was a fire pit and across from it was a worn down green couch. How did that even get in here?

You carefully came closer to the roaring fire with timid steps while trying to calm down your breathing. A quick glance around and there was nothing but silence to accompany you as the sun sunk further and further down the horizon. You let your guard drop for just a moment before prickling back to attention. A presence behind you made you swivel, lurch and raise your blade faster than what you were capable of.

“Took you long enough. You do know that it’s rude to keep people waiting, don’t you?” Jack states with a small frown before bursting into a fit of laughter at the sound of your still drumming heart. “What has you so nervous?” He questions, eyeing you like you are nothing but a piece of meat.

“This is your camp?” You say, more out of observation than waiting for affirmation.

“It is,” Jack hums. “Good to see you made it. I’ve seen some proxies barely make it here by the skin of their teeth,” he continues as he sits down by the fire.

“What?” You ask as you quirk up an eyebrow.

Jack picks up his back to rest between his knees and rummage through it before beckoning you over to sit next to him.

You cautiously sit next to him on another crate. You avert your attention from him back to the fire.

“Proxies are servants of this tall guy,” Jack explains after ensuring you took your seat. “They run these woods essentially, but they never come to my neck in fear of the things that exist past what is safe,” he grins slightly, still rummaging in the bag. “Out here, it’s just me and the things who lurk.”

“The things that lurk?” You whisper in a questioning tone.

Jack nods again and pulls out a little journal. He begins to thumb through it as he continues to explain to you. “Things known as the Rake, the notdeer, the proxies that succumb to their sickness early, y’know, the things that kill.” He finally finds what he’s looking for.

You turn your attention to the journal and see he’s amassed a collection of polaroid photographs of the things that lurk.

“See? These are some proxies,” he hands the book to you and points at the pictures. “And here is one of the things that lurk.” His clawed finger shows you what used to be a proxy, their body torn to shreds, organs hanging everywhere, and in the center, what you can describe as a monster hungrily devouring their flesh. “I have a lot of good shit out here, and most of them never make it past this guy.”

You shiver slightly and Jack furrows his brows for just a moment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for a moment before briefly taking the book from you. “Anyways, very few people make it out of the woods unless you’re a proxy or me. We used to make it out a lot easier but there was this one guy, ugly fucker,” he hisses. “That left the woods after burning down the trees to the main road - one of our crossing points. The trees grew back so fast after the tall guy’s wrath and now we’re all stuck here as a result. That ugly fucker? He disa-fucking-peared.” Jack growls deeply as he says it, clearly not happy with the memory.

“I’m… Sorry,” you apologize awkwardly.

Jack shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, yeah?” He hums. “Anyways, flip a few pages and you’ll see the ugly fucker’s hovel before he left.” He pointed to the picture of a house similar to the one you were staying in.

Small world?

You studied the man who stood in the picture. He wasn’t that ugly in your opinion.

Jack then shows you other photos, places, effigies, proxies and one of a brilliant mansion. Apparently, you need to stay away from that place at all costs. There’s also pictures of him and other people, some of them you recognize from your time on earth? Is that right? Are you still on earth?

Jack explains a bit more to you. Mostly about this place. It’s like a pocket. Somehow, you were taken and brought here for a reason. Jack suspects it’s because the tall man, also known as the Slender Man, wants to make you a proxy.

“You’ll lose your humanity that way,” he tsks. “And that’s why I called you here. Not for pictures and conversation,” the warmth that was in his tone over reminiscing over things and learning about others is gone.

You notice it almost instantly. You watch as his posture changes and so too do his facial features. You know he means business now.

“I know you’re looking for a way out,” he begins. “I can help you with that.” Jack notices your eyes light up for the first time in well… It’s the first time he’d seen you look so hopeful.

“What’s the catch?” You ask as you slowly lean away from him.

Before Jack could say anything, a shriek was heard off in the distance. Jack’s face twinkled with excitement for a second before he nodded his head over to his tent.

It caught you off guard and sent your heart racing before yet another shriek emitted from the dark forest around the two of you.

“It’s dark,” Jack says as his gaze goes back over to his tent again. “Stay here for the night. Those things out there don’t really fuck with me,” he muses. When you don't answer, he stands up. “Unless you wanna try your luck out there, sweetheart. By all means…” He trails off as he slowly begins walking over to his tent.

You swallow your pride and stand up much too fast and catch pace with him.

Jack lets out an amused chuckle as he opens the flaps to the tend and allows you entrance.

You were immediately shrouded in the scent of petrichor and wild flowers. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell near as rough as you had originally expected. You felt a tad awkward standing in his tent as he zipped it up.

“You can sit down,” he says as he ensures the flaps were shut properly.

You nod more to yourself than anyone else and take a few more steps inside. It was tall enough that you could stand without brushing your head on the roof. On the floor interspersed with grass were carpets. It looked like a nest was in the near middle? Tons of blankets and two twin sized mattresses laid side by side were on the ground.

You glance around and see a small little desk, some writing supplies, just normal home stuff. Why was Jack living out here? There were tons of vacant houses.

Instead, you brush the thought off and settle on sitting timidly at the end of one of the blanket covered mattresses.

“Good choice,” Jack says as he procures from his pocket a box of matches. Then, he reaches over on the little desk for a kerosene lamp. After lighting it, the dimness of the tent became something actually visible. He checks his watch as he slowly makes his way to the other mattress.

“What time is it?” You ask as you struggle to get comfortable on the mattress.

“Surprisingly? Nearing midnight,” he answers. Jack stretches slightly before plopping down entirely. “Get some sleep, yeah? Tomorrow morning, we’ll set out to do what I ask,” Jack subtly demands. He props his elbows up on his knees and watches from the corner of his gaze as you shift awkwardly.

You felt strange laying down on the mattress, but did so anyway. It doesn’t seem Jack cared very much that your shoes were still on. You move your body slightly to find comfort on the mattress while Jack continues to eye you from the corner of his vision.

He takes note of your form, how delicious you look. How he can take you right now.

But he saw your eyelids grow heavy. Within moments, you were on the verge of passing out.

Jack relents softly. He knows she wants your full attention while he ruts into you making you cry out to gods that don’t want to hear you. He sees you begin to fade in and out of consciousness. Luckily for him, he does have some business to attend to, and those creatures didn’t ever get too close to his camp.

They wouldn’t touch you, not with his scent bathed all over you.

One of the last things you heard before Jack left to attend to other matters was a compliment. You barely heard it, and it would have shocked you right awake if your body wasn’t on the verge of shutting down.

“You look so pretty right now, Sweetheart. Beautiful, even.”

It wasn’t until 3am that Jack finally returned. You were fast asleep when he finally resented the tent, but he could smell you all the way from where his important matters laid. His nose guided him back to you. And funnily enough, it brought him back to you about a week ago as well.

Jack hadn’t smelled a fertile woman in a very long time. Well, since this whole mess came upon the Slender Man’s woods, really. He spied on you the first few days you were here. You weren’t as ready for him then, must’ve just been leading up to it. When he popped into your kitchen, it was because you were getting so close to your peak. The smell was overwhelming, sweet, and tender. Intoxicating. Like fresh peaches and the tangiest of strawberry pie. Lucky for him? You came to him at your peak.

Jack ressecure the flaps of the tend before his vision that saw all too well in the darkness his beauty that rests on the mattress he knew you’d choose. Your face and other gestures were gently lit up by the almost extinguished kerosene lamp’s flame. It drove him wild to see you breathe so peacefully.

Your chest rose every so slightly and he could have sworn he caught the outline of your nipples if it wasn’t for that stupiud bra you had on instead.

Jack licked his lips as he quietly drew himself closer to you. He couldn’t stop himself from crawling on top, quietly and slowly, so as to not wake you. One of his knees gently pried apart your legs, and then he took in your scent. You smelled of something not from the woods. You smelled of fresh vanilla and dark roast coffee. Of strawberry pound cake. Of good things.

Jack leans down and takes in your scent near the base of your neck, inhales deeply, then buries his nose in your hair. You smell divine, possibly even better than… Well, it’s best not to say. His hand picks itself up off the mattress to gently and gingerly brush near your hairline. Sily. Pretty. He then places it on your stomach and lightly presses, trailing his claws along your abdomen to your side. You are so soft. So delicate.

The moment his clawed fingertips touch your side and begin trailing down, you wake up.

Your eyes fly open and you almost let out a scream at seeing how this strange man is looming over you. Your mouth opens, but his hand quickly leaves your side to smother you. You breathe heavily against his palm, your eyes wide and with fear. You struggle against him.

“Shhh, he hushes as his hand presses a little firmer on your mouth. “Calm down.” His voice was low as his knee dug further into the mattress, just below the place he wanted most.

You continue to struggle against him, fighting against his planted hand while his other hand presses down on your hips.

“You promise not to scream?” Jack deadpans in a low tone with an edge that cuts you to your core. He sees tears welling in your eyes, and he knows you’re telling the truth. Slowly, he peels his hand back, watching as you keep true to your word.

You take in deep breaths to help self regulate. “What the fuck?” You seethe. Your arms, which have been pawing wildly at his chest, relax only slightly when his clawed hands catch your wrist in a vice grip.

“Easy,” he murmurs, only loosening his grip when he’s sure you won’t fight him any further. His head dips so his empty caverns can peer right through yours in the dim light.

One look and you know what he wants. Horor and something else - something wanton - pass across your face, making Jack laugh.

“I said I wasn’t gonna hurt you,” he hums, his clawed index finger trailing your cheek.

Before you can say anything else, Jack’s hand leaves your hips and grabs your face. With a wicked grin, he licks his teeth, then leans down and licks your face.

You contort to digits as he does so. He smells of iron.

“Why are you doing this?” You growl as his tongue leaves your cheek to your chin, slowly making his way to your neck. “I can leave if that’s-”

“No,” Jack growls. “You won’t leave,” he states before gently nipping at the soft flesh on your neck. “You smell so good,” he murmurs before taking another languid lick at your neck.”I’m going to make you mine,” With that, he entirely retracted his form from yours to look down at you.

Of course, you fight him. Your thighs grip around his upper leg that still rests between your knees and you almost maange to flip the two of you over. But he was much bigger and much stronger than you could manage. With a deep laugh, he grips your wrists tighter above your head and squeezes to let you know who is in charge. With his free hand, he reaches into his back pocket and gets the zip ties.

How the fuck did he get zip ties?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you hiss as he dangles them in front of your eyes.

“I just can’t trust you right now,” Jack tsks in the tone of a pouting child. The black zip ties feel awful against your wrists (they also feel good) - and he’d secured them so tightly. He playfully watches you attempt to break free from them, and when it proves futile, he laughs. Jack then allows his hands to take free roam of your body while you begin to protest him less and less. “I know you don’t have any spare clothes,” he hums thoughtfully before his fingers waltz down to the hem of your shirt. “Luckily, I have some left over. You won’t be needing any of this,” he cackles as his sharp claws make waste of the fabric.

You feel yourself growing weaker and weaker under his grasp but still curse at him more than what you deem possible. Jack seemed to eat up your insults. “You’re fucking sick,” you spit as he eyes your bra hungrily. “A sick fucking pervert.”

“You stayed the night, Sweetheart,” Jack grins wickedly. “I’m only taking claim of what’s now mine,” he says before delicately tracing the cups of your bra. He likes the design. Dark blue with light colored polka dots. An interesting choice. Without wasting any more time, his claws cut through the fabric too - no use in unclasping while your hands are bound. “How beautiful,” he giggles. “How lovely. I could hardly tell when you were using those bags you call clothes,” he teases, making your knees clamp around his knee once more, making Jack break again and laugh.

You bite your tongue and try to avert your gaze from him, not wanting him to see that you’re flushed due to the intimacy and that your body and you yourself are growing keen to the situation you have found yourself in. “This is…”

“C’mon,” Jack breathes out as his fingers trail up your smooth flesh to your breasts. “You must’ve known something was up. A man doesn’t just ask a woman to stay the night. He’s got one thing on his mind if she isn’t family or a friend: he wants to fuck her.”

The harshness and pure lust that dripped from his tongue made your face heat up in response. Your gaze darts and bounces around before you finally settle on his hands that are now fondling your chest.

Jack’s hands travel to your pants. He takes in your scent again. You are intoxicating, so intoxicating.

“You’re gonna have to work for it,” you manage to hiss out, legs still clamped around his knee.

Jack’s expression falls. “You’re not in charge, I am.” And with that, he rips through your pants, leaving you naked before him.

You shiver slightly in response to the cool air, and of course, Jack has to see that and make note of it as well.

“Awh,” he coos as his nose gets closer and closer to your heat. “Are you cold? Do you want me to warm you up?” He murmurs in a sickening lust filled tone.

“You bastard-” you’re barely able to breathe out before you’re cut off by Jack dragging the flat of his long, black tongue from the bottom to the top, taking great joy in the arousal that was already present.

“What a naughty, naughty girl,” he teases before dragging his tongue again. “Already soaking,” he compliments. His thumb, careful of the sharpened claw, travels to your clit and begins to slowly massage it. He feels your legs shift. Jack hums as he does to, hsi tongue only playing with your lips. He was going to make you suffer before he stuffs you completely.

His teeth nip you every now and then, just to remind you who was really in charge as his tongue and lips press kisses to your lower lips. He doesn’t dare dip into your heat despite wanting to taste you in full.

You write in his grasp, trying to hold back any and all sounds of pleasure. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he’s doing to you.

It’s a shame really, he could make you see stars if only you’d let him.

He must have gone near half an hour with his head between your legs, still fully dressed. He was a man of great patience, and he’d been edging you for much longer and harder than he should have. He could see frustration dotting your face when he finally came back up to look at you.

You look a little more flushed than he remembers. It’s probably all the heat rushing to your face. He notices your hands are quite restless too, that and being tied up couldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world.

“You look upset, why?” He asks before sucking on your clit. When you struggle to say anything, his teeth graze you ever so slightly. “Use your words, please,” he hums much like an authority figure would.

“Tongue fuck me,” you mumble in embarrassment, eyes darting anywhere but at Jack who is still nestled securely between your legs. You watch as Jack’s ears perk up.

“Say that again,” he prompts, his fingers taking over his tongue on your clit.

“Please,” you say softly “Tongue fuck me and please untie me.”

A sly grin crosses onto Jack’s face alongside yet another chuckle. He momentarily leaves your legs and crawls back up to be face to face with you. His index finger reaches up and his claw slashes through the zip ties.

You freely move your wrists, getting used to your newfound freedom.

“It’s only because you asked nicely,” Jack coos as his sockets bore into your eyes. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, pleasantly surprised that you don’t fight him like before. He then crawls back down your body to rest in between your legs, his clawed fingers parting your lower lips slightly before he dives his tongue in. He takes great joy in how you write beneath him as your thighs press harder against the side of his head.

He buries his tongue inside of you and curls it in places no human could ever reach. He has you seeing stars.

You buck your hips quite a few times and Jack’s hand reluctantly leaves your thighs to push your hips back down. As he tongue fucks you closer and closer to release, you become a little harder to control. He enjoys it though.

Jack hums absentmindedly as he does so, relishing in your taste. You are soaking wet and so, so close. All he has to do is push you off the edge.

He slithers his tongue out of you before rubbing your clit with his thumb, allowing you to take your mind off your pussy and to the assault your clit before your mind goes white hot in pleasure. Jack’s tongue darts so fast into your pussy that you almost yelp in response as he thrusts it back in and out, still humming like it was no big deal.

Your back arches and that’s all Jack needs to know to see you’re just about to cum. A few more rough flicks of his tongue and you’re creaming onto his face. Your hands grip the nest’s bedsheets and various blankets as he continues to carefully tongue fuck you through your orgasm. He grins as he laps up your sweetness, teasing you under his breath about the effect he has on you.

But he’s not done with you, not by a long shot.

You look up hazily while panting deeply as Jack’s tongue slowly leaves your pussy. The flat of his tongue slowly swipes up from bottom to top which makes you giggle, and he smiles against your skin. From there, he begins working on undoing his belt.

“Here,” you murmur softly, his ears once again perking up to catch your words.

“Hm? He hums in response as he cocks his head to the side, watching as you slowly sit up and stretch before your hands gently press onto his chest. You push off his dark brown coat and then trail down to his belt.

Your hands are soft and gentle as you work on freeing him, and within moments, you are tossing his belt to the side and unzipping him. You can see the tent in Jack’s pants, and you can already feel how delicious he’s going to feel inside of you.

Jack nods for you to lay back down when you shake your head ‘no.’ Interesting. Instead, your hands unzip him and you reach for his cock. Your eyes pop as you touch it - he was hot, much hotter than any man you’d previously been with.

“Come on, don’t keep me waiting,” Jack teases.

You roll your eyes playfully before finally fishing him from his pants, guiding him out with anticipation. You look up at him the entire time you do so, lust clouding your vision and burning through your soul as you do so, almost unaware of the monster you hold in your hands. When you finally look down, you feel heat rise to your face once more.

Jack smirks in response and tangles his fingers near your scalp, brushing you ever so slightly. He guides your lips down to meet the giant. He was big. No denying it. Had to be near nine inches, thich, veiny, with a girthy know he couldn’t wait to stuff inside of you.

You didn’t fight against him. Instead, you eagerly awaited him for your mouth.

Your lips are soft as they press the lightest of kisses to his tip. And just like that, you’re dragging the length of your tongue up and down his cock and listening to him growl in anticipation. When you know you’ve got him where you want him, you take him in your mouth.

Jack’s claws keep steady in your hair as you bob your head. Your lips couldn’t reach his know, and to be completely fair, he wasn’t expecting you to be able to take all of him orally, but he loves what you can do. Your tongue swirls around his tip and shaft every time you come back up, and when Jack was acting up? You graze your teeth against him.

Before he knows it, you are looking up at him with the sweetest gaze, giving him your permission for him to use you. Jack passes you a look of affection before his other hand reaches up to caress your cheek, moaning out deeply as your tongue swirls on his tip, trying to coax his cum out.

Without any particular warning, he pushes your head down and brings you back up before working into face fucking you.

Your face goes dark as he uses you, making breathing damn near impossible. He begins muttering in some language you don’t know - they sound like praises - but he’s coming closer and closer to his edge.

In a mix of English and whatever language he was mumbling in, you can feel his praises get filthier and filthier. Though, Jack doesn’t want to finish in your mouth. Not this time.

“Back down, I’m going to fuck you,” he murmurs deeply while looking at you with lust and… something you can’t quite name. It wasn’t animalistic, that’s for sure.

Jack expects for you to lay back and spread your legs for him but instead, he watches as you maneuver on all fours. Your face is burying into the blankets and your ass is just shy of his waist level despite you pushing up towards him.

You glance back at him and roll your eyes playfully before swaying your hips, attempting to entice him further.

Jack sees the slickness of your cunt and without any hesitation, takes your waist into his clawed hands and begins rubbing his cock with your slick. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs as he continues to rub his cock with your juices. “I’m going to destroy you.” And then he slips into that language you just can’t understand. “I’m going to knot you and you won’t be able to look at another man without begging for me to fill you up,” he says as his fingers lightly part your lips that were so tightly pressed together as he lines up with you.

Before he does so, he begins to shrug off his hoodie.

“Stop teasing me,” you say in a teasing tone, making Jack pause from taking off the rest of his clothes.

Jack verbally rolls his eyes before taking his hand out from under his hoodie before gripping your waist again. Without any warning, Jack shoves himself into your roughly, hilting himself to his knot before resting there and taking off the hoodie.

Your eyes roll up slightly as he thrust inside of you. The thickness he had wasn’t anything you were used to, and he stretched you open with absolutely no lead up and it made you see stars again.

“I can feel your wet cunt,” he says in passing as he throws his hoodie up and over his head. “Squeeze around me while you wait for me to fuck you,” he chuckles with a devilish grin. He feels your body’s eagerness for him to fuck you, and like such a good girl, you squeeze his cock making him breathe out with a smile. He feels you pulsing, he feels you growing hundred with the need the longer he stays dormant inside of you.

He sighs in ecstasy as he begins to slowly move himself out of you. When it was just the tip, he roughly slid back in, still refusing to knot. His ears twitch at the sound of you gasping for air as he really begins to fuck you. “And here you were calling me a pervert,” he muses as he begins to thrust into you with deep, long strokes, adoring the sounds that pour from your mouth. “But you like fucking me huh? You like it, you goddamn slut. You like being fucked by something that is no longer human,” he continues in that same dead language, nails digging into your soft flesh. “You’re gonna milk my cock and then you’re gonna do it again in the morning.”

Your eyebrows furrow, mouth slightly open, hair bouncing slightly with every thrust. Your face is so heated in response. This is something you know you shouldn’t be doing, but fuck was it good at keeping you around and interested.

As one of his clawed hands undug itself from your flesh to slide down your hip and caress your abdomen, his claws trace your skin and press into your clit once more. He thumbs you and leans over you as he does so, his other hand propping next to your head as he engulfs you with his size. He’s pounding into you now, still refusing to know. His tongue lazily swipes at your shoulder as his hips thrust into you at a damn near inhuman speed and strength, making you mumble incoherencies.

Your moans are music to his ears.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you feel like you can’t anymore, and I’m gonna fuck you until I’m the only man you’ll ever fucking think about,” he roughly sneers into your ears as he continues to pound his hips against you. “I’m going to fuck you until you tell me to stop, and even then? I might not stop.” He breathes deeply into your ear, his tongue tracing the shell as you pathetically move in tandem with him, his fingers digging into your clit and swirling.

He’s trying to get you to cum again.

You are trembling beneath him as his hips shatter you. You can feel his knot greet your lips, but still refuse to enter as Jack growls deeply into your ear. Your legs clamp together as his hand roughly fingers your pearl.

He’s so intoxicating, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Cum on my cock,” he hisses harshly, still fucking you to orgasm.

And just like that, he got his wish.

You squeeze shut your beautiful eyes before tightening your thighs together. An immediate waterfall gushes from between your legs, filling the air with something sweet and slightly bitter.

Jack laughs as he pulls out from your pussy, watching as the liquids continue to gush out. “What a cutie,” he teases as he lovingly licks your cheek. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I knot you,” he grins, nodding for you to lay back on the side of the twin mattresses that was not turned into an ocean.

On hellied legs, you slowly wobble and hum as his finger traces your slit before falling back to the side of the mattresses that isn’t soaked. Your eyes meet his gaze and you slowly spread your legs as he looms over you. You catalog everything about him. In your eyes, he looks so animalistic, and so human all at the same time.

Without his jacket or his hoodie, you’re able to see the scars that decorate his body. He’s so dark, and the cuts and jagged lines that dash across his form are so light in contrast. He’s still lacking eyes - so how is it that he looks at you with such love?

That stupid smirk is looking at you again and you’re tearing your gaze off it to see the head of his cock weeping with precum.

Jack whistles down at you, his hand resting on your knee. “You knew this was coming, Sweetheart,” he hums as he leans forward, hands placing themselves on both sides of you. His grin grew as he saw your face heat up once more.

Jack feels your legs shift followed by a slight weight on his lower waist, He makes a noise of approval as your ankles lock before he glances down to where your bodies are soon going to be connected again. “Let me know if I hurt you at any point,” he whispers softly in your ear as his slightly pointed tip prods at your entrance.

You find yourself almost taken aback by his sudden kindness - he was so domineering but so soft? Your trail of thought is almost entirely derailed as he pushes his cock in and past your puffy, swollen lips as you listen to him hiss at the new angle.

It’s intimate - neither of you can deny that.

Jack watches your expressions from the corner of his gaze as he slowly begins to pump in and out of you, working you to that breakneck pace once more. He watches as your eyebrows furrow as he picks up the pace, fucking you in your entirety. He feels your legs tighten around his waist and watches as your eyebrows furrow once more and knit together in pleasure.

You begin to pant as he does so, walls pulsing deliciously around him as his hips meet yours in thick, meaty thrusts. You feel his cock slide deeper and deeper with every thrust, pushing you to new limits.

Your moans are, once again, music to his ears as he fucks you senseless. Your hands wantonly claw at his back and brush against his sensitive flesh. Swears and curses escape your lips every now and then and that makes him blush.

“You are taking me so, so well,” he harshly compliments through pants as he lowers himself onto his forearms, his hips continuously snapping forward. “It’s almost as if your cunt was made for me. I wonder if you can take my knot as well?” He mumbles as his knot kisses your bruised lips once again. “I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna make you take it.”

“Fuck!” Jack swore under his breath as your walls vice gripped him. “You’re gonna take my knot and you’re gonna like it,” he mumbles into your neck as he kisses and nips at it. He hisses again when you rake your nails across and down his back. His ears fall back in pleasure and close to his scalp as you moan louder. The sound of your pussy gobbling him up has him weak at the knees.

“You’re getting close again, aren’t you?” He questions as he nips at your neck, threatening to bite in the longer you hesitate in answering.

You’re admittedly pretty tongue tied at the moment. “I-!” You’re cut off but his hips slapping forward making you choke and gasp for air. “I am-,” you breathe out through your moans.

“Perfect,” Jack chuckles as he slowly inches his way out. He watches your face carefully as he pulls out, his gaze trained on yours as his forearms push up so he can see you better.

Confusion etches itself on your face. “What?”

“I just wanna see your face,” he answers as his tip rubs against your entrance. He licks your cheek playfully once more before slowly, and deliciously dragging his cock back in, his knot just barely meeting your lips. “This might hurt,” he murmurs gently as he picks his hips back up once more before thrusting back in, much more forcefully, his thick, large knot finally breaching your pussy.

Your eyes widen as his girthy knot pushes inside of you, your legs instinctively tightening around his hips. Your hand leaves his back to grip onto his bicep. Luckily for you, Jack doesn’t mind. You wince as he wiggles in the rest of his knot into your pussy as it swallows him whole, the entirety of his knot being buried inside of you, making it hard for you to breathe. You feel so full and stuffed!

Jack is a little surprised by how strong your grip is! He’s almost completely smitten with it when he finally looks down to see tears welling in your eyes. He can tell it’s a mixture of both paini, from being stressed immensely, and pleasure in a way only pain could bring. It’s ecstasy. Jack leans down gently and begins to kiss your tears away, careful to not pull where the two of you are connected all the while restraining himself to what he doesn’t believe is bearable.

“You feel so divine,” he murmurs livingly before licking away another tear. “Just relax, let me do the work,” he continues. He feels your lips on his and he smiles, taking that as the green light to rock into you. Unfortunately, he would not be able to completely destroy you like he did prior to knotting you simply because of the knot.

Now, Jack takes the time to be intimate. He lovingly relishes in the feeling of kissing you as he slowly and tantalizingly grinds his hips against you and lightly thrusts after every roll. It was a little difficult due to the connection, but it felt sweet. His hand went back between your legs to work your pearl as he continued to sweetly roll and thrust into you, thoroughly enjoying how your hips are shyly coming up to meet him.

“Come on,” he whispers softly through his kiss as he begins to thrust a little rougher. “Just a little more, cum on my cock again,” he urges as he breaks the kiss, licking your cheek. He’s swiping and thumbing your clit in ways that have you writhing beneath him.

Your legs tighten around his waist, urging him to press deeper inside of you.

Not one to deny a lady from what she wants, Jack backs up as far as his hips will let him and pounds back into you. He repeats the motion, making sure to roll every time he does so.

Your hands grasp at his back once more as he fucks you with reckless abandon, his name being the only thing to spill from your lips as he does so. You can’t believe he’s overloading you again, and your heart picks up in response. You kiss him once more, feeling his chapped, rough lips against your soft ones before he leaves and nips down the side of your face and back to your neck. He lightly bites down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough for you to know he’s got a claim on you.

You look up at him as he mumbles in that same dead language against your skin. He’s so lost in you that it’s almost adorable. Your hand gently asks for his attention, and he gives it to you. You give him a look of nothing but lust and possibly love, and Jack’s lips are on yours again, thickly, warmly, with something deeper and much more passionate than anything you would have expected he was capable of. When he breaks away, panting, against your face, he makes you cry out in pleasure.

“I’m going to fill you,” Jack sneers through his panting, hips still thickly pounding into you. “I’m going to fill you for as long as I’m inside of you,” he mutters as his thrusts frow sloppy. Jack covers you entirely with his body as he roughly pants into your ear, so, so close to spilling.

Your walls begin to flutter around him, urging him to spill as he growls into you. You feel like you’re creaming rings around his dick, urging, no, begging him to bottom out inside of you. Your nails are leaving dark, jagged marks into the flesh of his back as he does so.

With a few more powerful thrusts, Jack finds himself going over the edge, his hips back as far as his knot will allow him before he buries himself deep, the tip pressing against your cervix as he releases himself inside of you. Hot, thick, sticky ropes of cum begin to flood into your needy cunt as lightly rocks himself inside of you, gritting his teeth as you tremble beneath him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He continually growls out like a prayer as your fluttering walls coax more cum from him.

Your eyes roll upwards as the heat floods your cunt, making you squeeze your eyes shut and burying your face into his chest. You’re squeezing tightly around him, vice gripping him as he continues to relish in the feeling of your body holding him so tightly. You can barely think straight as his cock weeps more cum, threatening, and succeeding in filling you to your brim.

“Gods, you’re milking me,” he murmurs as he finally stops pumping you full of cum. “This… This is gonna take a while,” he says darkly in your ear.

“What?”

Jack nods down to where the two of you are still connected. “Gonna be a while.” He sighs, secures your legs to his waist, and then flips you over so you are resting on top of his chest. “Get comfortable.”

“How long..?”

“A while,” Jack awkwardly coughs. “It’s just uh, a knot thing, I guess?” He attempts to explain as you shift your hips deliciously, making him huff and his cock spurt more ropes of cum. He looks away in slight embarrassment. “You can sleep, if you want? Like I said, this is gonna be a while,” he finishes as his hand fishes around for a blanket as his other hand travels down your lower waist to finally cup your ass. He squeezes gently once he finally throws the blanket over the two of you.

“Or,” you say as you plant your hands firmly on his chest, gradually bringing yourself back up. “We can go again.”

Jack laughs. “And you called me a pervert.”

You lightly slap him and grind your hips slowly against him. “Shut up.”

[sideshowyelling]

Spoilers for Darkwood ahead if you care.

I would like to very briefly go off about Trader from Darkwood, and how fucking perfectly he is written and implemented into the game. The forest in Darkwood is nothing but a horrific, nightmarish place where everyone hates you and everything sucks. If someone isn't trying to kill you, they're very likely trying to scam you, or asking you to do crazy dangerous things that will just send you deeper into the horrible nightmare forest.

And of course you can't forget the night time attacks on your base and the absolute perfect tension the game builds up but having to just stand there and wait in the dark to see if you're going to be attacked. The anxiety all of this creates is damn near palpable, and it builds up until that music crescendos as dawn finally approaches...

And then the morning theme begins to play, and you're greeted by Trader, and the relief he brings is some of the strongest I have ever felt while playing a video game.

Trader is everything good left in the world of Darkwood, he is one of the few genuinely friendly faces in the world, and is eager to help you when he can. Seeing him makes getting through the horrible nights worth it, and building up reputation with him is particularly satisfying for some reason.

As you progress deeper into the forest, he follows, and warns you that you're treading into dangerous territory, telling you that there is no way out, and that you're better off sticking with him in the safer parts of the wood. He's... not wrong, but at the same time he's not giving you the whole truth. He's got a key just like the one you're looking for. He's had it the whole time, and likely knows it's exactly what you're after, but he keeps it to himself and urges you to stay. He's lying to you, but it comes from good intentions because he knows just how dangerous it is beyond the door, and he doesn't want to see one of the few people he could call a friend die.

You persist though, obtain a key for yourself though, and Trader makes one last ditch effort to try and keep you from going on. He all but begs you to stay. The one shining light in this dark forest is asking you to give up, stay with him, come back to the medow and just exists in this wretched place. It would be a terrible place to live, but Trader knows it's better than what waits ahead beyond that door.

And when you make your way through the door to the swamp, despite how much Trader had begged you to stay and how he clearly wanted nothing to do with whatever was waiting for you on the other side, he tries to follow you. He tries, and he dies for his efforts. The one light that would shine every morning in the form of Trader greeting you after a hard night's battle is snuffed out there in the swamp. The Three are just a hollow mocking of what Trader was, even going so far as to sell you things from Trader's bag that they took off his corpse (either finding him there, or more likely killing him themselves) and after that everything is just bleak.

The Trader may have been a liar, but he was the best friend you could have ever hoped for in a game like Darkwood.

[angrybatart]

One big Darkwood fanart dump. I was trying to fill the page with nothing but Darkwood stuff, but I see I missed a corner. I'll fill it later.

(Close-ups for a better look.)

The Wedding was one of the creepiest parts of the game (next to the corpse with the radio stuck in it during the Prologue). I knew about it, but didn't know how exactly it was all going to go down and am surprised I didn't get any nightmares or night terrors from it. Lol Favorite part so far, with my favorite variation of the Chompers. I loved how she still twirled/danced while trying to chew you to bits.

The Bride's dress was half-assed. I don't know how to do dresses...

Had to draw the Banshee again. They and the Chompers are my favorite enemies, though I never look forward to them breaking into the hideouts at night. I've yet to survive an invasion by them...

When I realized that Banshees have bird feet, this is what popped into my head.

Here she comes!

Seconds Til Disaster

Yours truly is dumb, and thought it would be a GREAT IDEA to smack the random body laying on the bridge leading to the Old Woods. So my first encounter with a Chomper went as well as you'd expect it to.

The Trader, trying to learn how to make a heart with his hands. Because everybody loves him! (I hope...)

And, finally, a random quick Banshee Baby sketch. I hate these things...

Also, I had to start over in this game because I'm dumb and had sold ALL of the shotgun shells I found because I didn't think I needed them. But then I got to the Old Woods and realized the handgun isn't as useful when you had a Red Chomper and a Huge Dog coming after you at the same time. Because I'm dumb...

[metalgearkong]

Darkwood - Review (Switch)

12/8/19

Developed by Acid Wizard Studio, released August 2017

Darkwood looked exactly like the kind of game I love: dark and disturbing. This game advertises itself not only to be unforgiving, but also struts the fact that it contains no jump-scares. Darkwood seemed to be a promising game, and after buying and downloading it, I have a lot of thoughts about it. I want to say right away I didn’t quite finish the game. This game certainly isn’t shy about saying how challenging it is, and I agree, mainly in its opening and final hours. What sold me the most about this game was its top-down perspective, and I saw a quick video online of the light bending through the trees as the character walked through a thick patch of woods. It looked like a unique enough game, and if it could fill me with dread without any jump-scares, I was all in. Darkwood was developed by a Polish company, Acid Wizard Studio, which I believe is their first commercial game to date.

You may be able to see around you due to the game’s perspective, but can only see objects, items, and characters if they fall into you beam of light. This means things can still surprise you, and you need to look around just as you would in a normal 3rd person action game. It also means monsters can still sneak up on you because if there’s something in the way of your flashlight beam, or they approach from the side, you won’t see it until they’re right in front of you. This is the closest the game comes to having jump-scares, but its more of a emergent gaming moment because none of that is necessarily designed, and is a byproduct of the AI. We play as some guy who is stuck in a portion of the woods where all routes have been overgrown, rendering them impassible. The main objective of the game is for the protagonist to find a man who has stolen a key from you, leading to the only way out of the woods.

The gameplay cycle of Darkwood is to scavenge for supplies during the day, and defend yourself in a hideout at night. The environments are mostly open world, and each time you start a new game, the map is somewhat randomized. I found this out with my numerous attempts to start the game over again when I feel like I learned more about the mechanics, and wanted to start off on a better foot. Darkwood is definitely what I’d call a “survival” style game, where the action and adventuring takes a backseat to the meticulous collection of items and crafting. The protagonist can only run briefly as your stamina meter runs out quickly. It also refills quickly, but it means you have to take measured sprints with frequent breaks. This comes into play especially when being chased by a mad dog or monster. It also affects how quickly you can get back to your hideout as the sun sets and night takes over. Nighttime is far more dangerous than the day time, and it reminds me of the difference between the fog world and Otherworld of the Silent Hill games.

The mechanics have a high learning curve, which lead to a lot of frustration at the beginning of the game. Learning through trial and error what items are important and which are junk is just part of the process. You then have to learn how to best make your hideout as safe as possible, as it becomes your safe bunker while the night takes over. In real world time, the sun is up for about 20 minutes, while night is only about 5 minutes. It also reminds me of Dying Light, where the nighttime is the most dangerous, and even though its shorter than the day time, it can feel much longer due to the tension and focus you need to survive. The more days that go on, the more the threats slowly get greater and greater. I recommend buying a watch as soon as possible because being able to tell the exact in-game time is crucial for planning your day (and knowing how much longer nighttime lasts each night).

One of the most important things you can do is collect gasoline and wood. Keeping the lights on means keeping the generator gassed up, and you need wood in order to barricade windows. However, nearly everything is important in some way. For example, scrap metal can be crafted into bear traps and other defenses. Bottles and rags can be combined with gas or alcohol to make Molotov cocktails. There’s a use for almost everything, which makes the day time so important to find as many things as possible. During the day is the time to complete quests as well. One of my favorite parts about the game are the sentient visitors you’ll get to interact with. Eventually a mutated trader visits you in your hideout each morning, and he becomes your best friend quickly. When the trader visits, you get unlimited in-game time to trade and build new items. This is a godsend in a game like this where time is your biggest resource. Once you’re ready, and you leave the hideout, normal time resumes.

The art on these characters is dark and disturbing. Not a single NPC is a normal person, and few of them are any better than ambiguously malicious. I loved encountering new NPCs to talk to just to see the art that brings them to life, and learn about their personality. Occasionally you will find an opportunity to help one character or another, which can affect how things proceed in the future. For example, if you go against the Wolfman he will no longer serve as a vendor, but the Musician may have an advantage worth the sacrifice. None of this is explicitly told to you and I loved inching my way forward, wary of everything I did and how it might affect me. When you survive each night you earn an amount of “reputation.” Reputation is your currency in this post-apocalypse, and it’s what you use to trade with. Selling items to a vendor earns you reputation, while buying things costs reputation. It’s important to be extremely frugal, you gain reputation from surviving a night in your hideout. If you die during the night, no new reputation for you the next day.

Sound design is crucial for any horror game to establish the oppressive atmosphere and dread. Darkwood, while not graphically impressive as a top-down Unity game, knocks it out of the park with its audio. This is doubly true for the nighttime segments. I loved dragging both lamps in the hideout to the room I’ve hunkered down in, and just listening to the noises around me. It also helps in identifying monsters or threats in the environments even if they don’t cross your beam of light. Eventually monsters and savages will outright break into your hideout, and you need to defend yourself with any means possible. Building nail boards and shovels make for decent melee weapons in the beginning, but both tools have a long wind up animation, and don’t deliver much damage. Furthermore every item degrades when used, so nothing lasts forever. Eventually you will gain enough reputation to start purchasing gun parts and ammunition. I can’t tell you how good it feels to finally build something like a pistol, and have one or two extra mags of ammunition. 

This is truly a grim game with an overbearing sense of dread and hopelessness, and if you enjoy that kind of atmosphere, Darkwood will satisfy that curiosity. This is also one of the more difficult games I’ve ever played, mainly in its early hours experimental phase, where I restarted the game at least 5 times until I felt like I got the hang of the mechanics. This front end frustration nearly turned me off from the game altogether, but I kept trying, and eventually made it to nearly the end of the story. I enjoyed Darkwood the most in its middle portions, when you get into a rhythm of scavenging, crafting, defending, and accomplishing missions. I rage-quit when I was maybe a few quests from the end of the game, when the ammo I had saved up for so long, instantly was all gone when I cam across a shed full of monsters and had to use waste every single bullet I had labored so hard for. It can feel like a set back quite a bit if you make one or two mistakes, and that frustration kept me from being inspired to push through till the very end. But, I do see myself coming back to this game in the future, and conquering the dark nightmare armed with the new knowledge I have on how to succeed.

8/10

[the-ravens-requiem]

The Beginning

The alchemist's shop seemed to have manifested itself out of the gloomy air that surrounded Darkwood late one autumn night.

The sun rose over the trees, the morning fog lifted -- and there the cottage sat, surrounded by a garden and a tall iron fence. The building itself was situated on a flat piece of land near the lake, where weeds and brambles had grown in the past. On a wooden sign in front of the cottage, there was a picture of a black bird with a red ribbon in its mouth. 

The name of the shop was painted neatly underneath: The Raven's Requiem.

The townsfolk were afraid to approach the warm-looking cottage, citing old superstitions. The location of the shop was in sight of a road, and although the placement of it was only frequented by foot traffic like local fishermen and hunters -- surely someone would have seen the place being built over the summer?

The bravest of the townsfolk craned their necks as they found reasons to walk by the shop, curious eyes hungry for a single glance of their new neighbor -- but never daring to cross the threshold between the shop  and the road. Some swore they had seen a dark figure move amid the orange glow in the windows --  yet others claimed they'd been haunted by an image of a cloaked figure hunched over the plants that lined the sides of the building. Whatever the case, none could say or prove that they had actually seen the shopkeeper for sure.

And so a wealthier resident of Darkwood hired an outsider to look inside the shop. She was to report back to him with whatever she found, and tell him all she could find out about the shop’s owner. The wealthy man was just a simple trader, and he found the sell-sword in a small tavern by chance when on his usual travels. He hired her on the spot for a small amount of gold. She promised that she would complete the job before the week was out.

As she stood in front of the simple cottage with the painted sign out front, Amelia felt like laughing. If she had not personally seen the fear on the trader's face when he told her of the so-called 'strange' shop, she would have thought the job was a complete joke. 

He claimed that the townsfolk sensed an evil presence of some sort when near to the place, but she felt no such thing. He had told her that they were afraid to fish or hunt near the building, afraid that there was some sort of poisonous miasma -- superstition, no doubt.

It was just a simple cottage; The roof built with wide eaves, and in the style that was common in the northern areas of The Middle Kingdom. To look upon this place and assume that there was evil here was downright silly -- madness even. There was no haunting here -- no ghosts, strange creatures, or ancient magics.  

Amelia had made up her mind already, even without having stepped a single foot inside. The townsfolk were simply mistaken, and there was no way that the shop had sprang up out of the weeds and grass overnight. The cobbled stone and wooden framework looked worn, as if the building had been there for decades. The glass in the windows and the small greenhouse in the back seemed cloudy with age.

It had to have been some kind of mistake. Amelia tried to piece together what could have happened for the townsfolk to get so hysterical. 

The explanation could be that the owner simply had restored the building recently, cutting away overgrown grass and ivy and settled in to open up their shop. Maybe it was the new sign which alerted folks, and thus had created this widespread notion of a whole house appearing overnight.

The mercenary examined the area around the cottage, noting that it seemed to be a lesser-traversed road. There were no deep wagon-ruts carved into the roads, and the grass and stones seemed to be relatively undisturbed. 

Amelia was no detective, but  this she was sure of: A whole shop -- a whole house and garden, even -- could not just appear overnight. And even if one could, why would such a power be wasted on a little town such as Darkwood?

To Amelia, this sort of fanciful thing was simply not possible. In her short life and in all her travels around The Known World, she had never heard or seen anything like it. Therefore, it simply could not be true. Fixing her leather armor for the last time and double-checking her scabbard, Amelia confidently strode past the sign along the road and trekked up the worn path. 

The cottage loomed, nestled between the sky-reaching conifers. It reminded Amelia of a painting -- the kind a noble might commission, for it was almost too fanciful and wistful of nature to be real. It was a quaint little place for sure -- and well kept, too. The fallen leaves and nettles were raked into neat piles on the far side of the house, and the garden seemed fragrant with late-blooming flowers and cold-weather plants.

It was clear that someone lived inside, simply because the grounds were kept nicely. The grass and bushes were clear-cut, and the path seemed to improve the farther up she went -- as if someone had recently fixed it up for easier travel. The windows were aglow with light, too. 

A bell above the door jingled cheerfully as she entered the shop -- the door itself heavy and carved with intricate symbols Amelia did not recognize. She thought that they were likely decorative, if nothing else. The interior of the shop was mostly wooden -- the floors, the counter-tops, the shelves. Baskets of dried herbs and bottles of elixirs, tonics, and potions lined every inch of space in the large central room. 

Doors leading beyond -- possibly to the shopkeeper's personal home -- were situated to the north and east. The eastern door looked like it lead outside, having a short hallway between it and the shop proper. To the west lie what appeared to be a sitting room with shelves of books that did not appear to be for sale -- and what laid beyond, she could not see.

Amelia called out a polite greeting, glancing every which way to see if she could spot the shopkeeper. After a few beats of silence, she stepped further into the shop. The pleasant smell of freshly dug dirt and perfumed herbs filled her senses as she began to walk around, noting the way the wood groaned and creaked with age beneath her feet.

A bottle caught her eye, far into the shop on a shelf. It was a sort of reddish color, and looked viscous. The bottle seemed to be made of a clear sort of glass, though she could not read the label from where she was. Amelia walked over to it, stepping carefully so as to not disturb any of the various baskets and bottles on the many shelves and tables that filled the space. 

As she approached, she realized she could see into the sitting room more properly. The bottle forgotten, curiosity got the best of her. She moved closer. At this angle, it looked more like a small library, with pots of flowers and herbs and other assorted plants decorating the room. The chairs looked comfortable and well-worn, made of fabric and dark lacquered wood. 

The prolonged silence of the shop began to make her feel like she was intruding, and an acute sense of dread began to overcome Amelia. What if the shopkeeper was out? What if she had accidentally broken into the shop because they had forgotten to lock the door? She may be a mercenary, but she was no thief. 

A  sudden break in the solemn silence startled her, and with a gasp Amelia spun around to see what she assumed to be the shopkeeper standing directly behind her. 

It was a decidedly peculiar and rare sight to see someone in a full plague doctor ensemble, as the guise was often seen as frightening to common folk. Of course, it often heralded many deaths to illnesses, but there hadn't been such a widespread case of sickness in years. As it was, it did indeed catch the mercenary off guard, and so she was giddy with nervousness at the sight of them. Especially so, because she wasn’t certain how such a heavily costumed person was able to sneak up on her.

"...You are the shopkeep, I presume?" She offered politely, setting an embarrassed smile onto her face. "I saw the sign along the road. I...Have to admit, I was a bit curious. You don't see many alchemy shops outside of the cities." The mercenary realized her hand was on the hilt of her sword, and she quickly removed it for fear of coming across as aggressive.

The figure seemed to draw slightly nearer then, making a motion not unlike nodding with its black beaked mask. "Yes," A muffled but pleasant voice drifted from behind the stitched leather, "I suppose they are a fair bit more rare in the countryside. I thought it clever to open one here for that very reason -- though I must say it hasn't been quite as fruitful of an endeavor as I originally assumed. I must confess, you are my first visitor."

Amelia nodded, slightly more relaxed now that she knew there was a rather well-spoken person hidden beneath the heavy layers of garb. She noted that the quality of the doctor’s voice was surprisingly youthful, if perhaps a bit smokey in quality. "I hope business picks up for you, then. It's quite a lovely place you have here, it would be a shame if it never saw much prosperity."

"Thank you, that's quite kind." The plague doctor replied, "Besides curiosity, is there anything in particular you were looking to cure? I have many things here for sale."

Amelia's face warmed slightly. She hated to lie, though she really was curious despite it being her job to come here. "Oh, no. Well --" She floundered for a moment, "A-actually, do you have anything I can use to keep Rot away from wounds suffered in battle?" 

She wasn't normally one to use poultices or tonics, far favoring field dressings and bandages -- but she would be lying if she said she didn't feel compelled to buy something. After all, Amelia felt a bit sad that she had been the first customer the shop had seen. The easy money from the trader who hired her would be more than enough to offset the cost, anyhow.

"Wounds suffered in battle?" The doctor questioned in a conversational way as they turned to presumably seek for what she asked for. "May I ask what line of work it is that you do?" The unabashed curiosity in their voice compelled Amelia to answer truthfully. 

"I'm a mercenary." She muttered, watching as the doctor stopped in front of a set of shelves. "Quite an unsavory job, all things said and done. But I've always liked to travel, and I like helping people." 

"Is that so?" The doctor hummed thoughtfully, drawing a gloved hand over a few vials and jars. Amelia watched the slightly eerie way the doctor moved, almost too smooth and precise. She supposed that they were just extremely comfortable with the layout of their own shop, which made sense. Or perhaps it was an elf under all those layers. She couldn’t be sure which.

"Yes." She answered, and still more spilled forth in an attempt to get the doctor talking. " I - I guess...I've always been this way. I wanted to see the world ever since I was a little girl. When I was young I trained to be a guard, but I realized I didn't want to be stuck in the same city or town on duty. So I became a sell-sword instead." 

The doctor was quietly listening, taking various jars and bottles from the shelves and looking at their labels briefly before putting them gently back. The silence between them practically compelled her to continue talking, though she was not usually uncomfortable with such quietness. 

"...I personally only take honorable jobs, mind you. Escorting caravans and whatnot. It's good money, too..." Still more silence, save for the sound of her feet shuffling nervously, and the waxy fabric of the doctor's ensemble every time they moved. It almost seemed like they were waiting for her to finish her thoughts. She worried she was being rude by leaving the quiet between them. "...I might start my own mercenary company one day. I've been wanting to for a while. To make sure I only have good folks in it -- not that the company I work for has bad folks!"

The doctor's head turned, the sun's glow from the window catching on the red glass that covered the eyes of the mask. "That seems to be quite the lofty goal for such a young woman. I think the world could always use more kind-hearted people with initiative, like yourself."

Amelia couldn't help but smile at that, though she wasn't sure if it was due to the flattery or because the doctor had finally broke the silence. "Thank you, ser. I agree."

The doctor pulled a small jar carved from wood from off of the shelf. "I suppose you'd want something easy to apply, with no prior preparation to be had. On the field, things can be chaotic and messy, correct?" Amelia nodded in response as she stepped closer to them. "...Staving off Rot and stopping the spillage of blood is of the utmost concern. This should do nicely, I think." A gloved hand placed the jar into hers. 

"...What is it?" The mercenary asked.

"Oh! My apologies. It's a paste, which only requires water to be activated. Apply it thickly to a wound like one would butter a piece of toast, and it will keep the Rot away while also soothing the pain. You can then wrap the wound with bandages, and it will harden into a plaster to stop the bleeding over time. When it begins to crust and peel, you may scrape it off."

"Thank you. It sounds like exactly what I needed." Amelia took the jar in one hand and shuffled around her belt for her coin pouch with the other, "Now, how much do I owe you?"

The doctor held up their gloved hands in a surrendering motion. "Oh, please. It's free, madame. In honor of you being my first customer. Hopefully a kind gesture such as this will bless the shop with prosperity in the future." 

Amelia laughed, pulling a gold piece from her pouch. "I insist. That's no way to run a business, ser. If word catches 'round that you give out your wares for free, what will you do then?" She grabbed one of the doctor's gloved hands and pressed the coin into the leather palm. "Even so, if you insist on it being a gesture of goodwill so that the Gods will favor you, think of this as a gift -- for the pleasant conversation."

The doctor seemed to regard her for a moment before closing their fingers around the coin. "You are too kind." They hum thoughtfully. 

Amelia made her way toward the door, bade the doctor farewell, and shortly thereafter stepped out into the evening air of autumn. When she closed the door behind her, she sighed heavily. She'd have to give a full report to the trader tomorrow when they met again at the tavern. She could only hope that maybe the shop would start to see more customers after she gave the all-clear. The doctor seemed to be a nice person -- or whatever they were. With such a kind demeanor, Amelia could only wish the best for them.

She smiled once more, shaking her head. Small towns like Darkwood were home to many superstitious people, but she supposed that was good for business. She’d been called to many jobs such as this one -- an odd noise from the woods, skittering from a nearby cave. Her swordcraft thrived off of folks like the trader, of small towns like Darkwood.

The odd visage of the doctor and the look of the cottage had been enough to scare them into hiring her to have a look-see. But it had been a simple task for good coin, and she'd have been a fool to turn it down.

She glanced back up at the shop.

...If the paste worked, Amelia would likely be back again to purchase more from the doctor. 

masterlist | ko-fi

[maripr]

Finished darkwood.

It was fun! I managed to see both endings.

I admit chapter 2 was, for me, way less fun than chapter 1, just because traveling around the map felt like a drag, with the swamp water everywhere. Since the difficulty also raised considerably, I opted to not caring about even barricading my hideout, seeing as if strong enemies could bash everything in and undo all my hard work.

And I even managed to survive a couple of times this way, including the night after burning the tree! By the end, I had a ton of reputation with the trader dudes.

All in all, I enjoyed the game. It scratched an itch and I liked the characters and I need an AU where they all survive an nobody is an ass.

[naawisi]

This is super spoilery for Darkwood, so stop reading here if you don’t want something spoiled for you.

I survived my first night in the Swamp on my new playthrough and was greeted by the Three in the morning, of course.  Then I moved to where the Trader’s body is found and realised...

If what I think is happening here it better not be. *giving the Three the stink eye so bad right now*

[bltchthemorbs-blog]

Munday questions: 8 & 4

4: What’s the one thing you especially love about roleplaying your muse?

I haven’t been roleplaying Anika for long, but I have been working on her for a whiiiile and writing stuff for her alone.  But as far as what I want out of roleplaying her, I want some really nice horror and to play around with killing her a few times. :D  My most successful RP character before this was lively, and really good at escaping and not dying, so I’m looking for something quite different and new.

8: The mun’s favorite fictional character.

Oh god, how do I choose?  From DBD, Min, Jake, and Claudette tend to be my favourite survivors, while Micheal, Huntress, and Doctor are my favourite killers.

Otherwise, I really like...

David from Afraid of MonstersNight Trader, The Three, and Mushroom Granny from DarkwoodSkully from Killing FloorAngela Orosco & Heather Mason from Silent HillRei & Reika from Fatal Frame 3

I tend to favour monsters/supernatural beings/mutated or cursed people from everything I like... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

[shardclan]

The door of The Sundial opened gently and closed again with a quiet click.

Even that very conscientious, un-patronlike entrance did not ready Cloudwhyte for the sight of Arcanus seating himself  at the bar. Arcanus had regular personal time away from the queen of course, and he had been known to have a glass of celebratory wine on the appropriate occasions, but never a seat at the bar.

His face was screwed up in a sort of frustrated concentration, and lines were visible under his eyes.

"There are private booths," Cloudwhyte offered.

Arcanus shook his head. "If I wanted to be alone and think I would not have come here."

Cloudwhyte hummed impassively, but his eyes darted to his wife at the other end of the bar. She shrugged and nodded her head toward the barrels.

Before he could ask, Carnelian gave a gravelly laugh. "A refill for me and whatever the man likes on my tab."

Arcanus kept a straight face as Carnelian emerged from the darker end of the bar. Or at least, he thought it was darker. Instead Carnelian seemed to bring the shadows with him. He was like Enyi; one of those who had fallen into disrepair after the exodus from the old clan. The loss of his daughter Ismene had killed something in him. He went on long enough to see Opal punished, and ever since he had been digging himself a little grave at the bottom of a bottle every day.

The Sundial Brewery's completion had improved things for him if anything. They only gave him beer, and he was more than happy to sip the night away. Certainly he got drunk, but he never seemed to reach that threshold of having had too much. Penitence reported that Carnelian could drink the whole night without saying much of anything that wasn't a polite request for more beer. Which was frankly a greater cause for concern than him being rowdy.

Arcanus noted that in spite of the many signs of complete physical neglect, not the least of which was an impressive beer gut, Carnelian's eyes were just as dagger sharp as they had ever been.

"Can you afford to be that generous?" Arcanus asked.

"My pockets are deeper than you know," Carnelian assured him.

"Then I'll accept. Thank you. I'll take something light to start, Cloudwhyte. Whatever you recommend."

Cloudwhyte nodded and moved busily among his brews. He gave Carnelian the usual: Darkwoods Stout housed in barrels made from the black pines Carnelian was native to. For Arcanus, who he suspected might be a lightweight in spite of his mass, Cloudwhyte gave him Summerland Ale, bright and sun-colored with a hint of daffodils.

For a while, the two drank quietly. Even drunk, Carnelian wasn't the type to pry about anything that wasn't a case. And Arcanus wasn't exactly given to sharing.

The tension of the unlikely match up slipped away, until there was only the sound of Alchemilla cleaning the glasses. Merlot and Cassis came in with their usual high cheer, but when they saw the two men nursing their beers, they went about setting up for the evening quietly.

It was Ashes who brought the noise. He came in the sort of messy rush he always seemed to be in. Hair braided so hastily that loose strands poked out everywhere, clothes disheveled from running in them when they were clearly not made to be run in. Sweaty and out of breath, and above all: Loud.

"Are you okay," he fretted. "I heard you excused yourself after a briefing with the queen earlier!"

Arcanus winced. "I did. I'm alright."

"Really? That's not like you. And you're in a bar!"

"Ashes," Arcanus said patiently. "I know where I am. The debriefing was... It was bad. I'm sure the news will reach you and the other Tribunes soon enough. I just want to not think about it for a few hours."

That seemed enough for Ashes to re-contextualize the situation. His voice dropped to a whisper. "That bad?"

"That bad."

Ashes' curiosity was piqued, but it was clear he dreaded the actual delivery of the news. "I'm...glad you're alright then. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Arcanus gave a weak but sincere smile and nodded, and Ashes excused himself.

Carnelian chuckled. "He's not shy about worrying after you."

Arcanus frowned. "It didn't used to be that way. I think I scared him when we were reunited. I was terrified that I might've let my brother die for someone I was only barely sure was my charge at the time. I didn't keep my calm very well."

Carnelian shrugged. "He lost Willow, you nearly lost your charge and him. Nothing wrong with losing your calm after that."

"Were you there," Arcanus asked with a hint of nervousness. "Did you see her?"

"I was there for Ismene. I didn't care about the rest." He drained his beer. "But I saw Ashes' eyes when he was watching the pyre they both burned in. I'd always thought of him as a kid. He still kind of is, given that display he just made. But he's a different man than he used to be."

"So are you."

Carnelian side-eyed him, and held his pint out for a refill. When he was safely staring down at fresh foam, he immediately changed the subject. "What did the Umbra Wolf see today?"

Arcanus drained his own beer, but didn't immediately request a refill. He didn't want to think about it, true. He definitely didn't want to tell Ashes about it. But maybe the beer was working because suddenly nothing sounded better than getting it off his chest.

"Cannibals," he said bluntly.

"The Catoptria?" Arcanus raised a brow and Carnelian laughed darkly. "I'm drunk, not dead. I know who they are."

"They started stealing children."

The beer stopped on the way to Carnelian's mouth. "What?"

"All kinds. Bestealcian and the Gyre showed up with a bunch of them. Half dozen implings, few longneck kids, fledgling harpy...and a snapper." He held out the pint as Carnelian had, and was more than happy to half-drain the refilled glass before continuing. "All underweight, malnourished. Fed on gristle and bone meal and ground up things that could just barely be called food. But the snapper... I guess she figured if she was in a human shape they wouldn't eat her. They wanted the dragon. Something they could eat for days."

"...How is she?"

"They tried to force the shift. She turned out to be a witch. Powerful one. Lightning with an earth-touch. Survived a lightning strike. But too young to control her power and damaged herself. She's in critical condition. Haematica's doing her best,  but says it will be months before she can safely shift." He drained the other half of the glass. "She's so underweight and malnourished that her bones would definitely bow and probably break in a dozen places if she tried to take the full snapper shape. It's too dense for the condition her body is in."

"Gods..." Alchemilla whispered.

Carnelian turned to Merlot and Cassis, who were looking a bit sickly on stage. "Care to lighten the mood a little?"

They nodded, and after a brief chat, Merlot sat and tended to the instruments leaving Cassis to sing by himself.

Recommended Listening: Strangers

Arcanus folded his arms on the bar, and let the music gently alter his mood. It wasn’t Merlot changing anything with the emotional overwrite ability she had access to, it was just a well chosen piece. Something just on the edge of his emotional frequency, carrying it to a better place without being jarring.

Carnelian glanced over at him and smiled. “Can’t beat having a skydancer when it comes to reading the mood.”

Arcanus gave another weak smile and signaled to Cloudwhyte. “You have any of that Starmoss Mead you used to make?”

“Yeah, but fair warning it's going to taste different. Shifting Expanse star moss, not Starfall Isle. Easier to import, but the climate's different."

"I'll take it anyway."

The glass pint was scooped up my Alchemilla and replaced with a heavy wooden one. Some traditions never died.

The two drank quietly. Other patrons came in, but shied away from being anywhere near them. So they got to take their time and go undisturbed inside a shared force field of complicated thoughts.

"The girl," Carnelian finally said. "The snapper. Her family been found?"

Arcanus shook his head. "Gyre's had no luck turning them up, and that could mean a lot of things. Until she's up and can say one way or another, we're assuming she's an orphan."

"What about the serthis? What's the Queen doing about them?"

"She approved Bestealcian's presence on the rescue mission because she's not afraid to be considered an enemy of those miserable cannibals."

"That's it? She's not going to exterminate them?"

Arcanus eyed Carnelian curiously. He wasn't so inebriated he didn't notice that his drinking companion was becoming disgruntled. "You think they should be exterminated?"

Carnelian's jaw dropped. "Yes? What kind of question is that? Do they have to snatch one of our kids before we decide that's appropriate? It’s fine if they’re cannibals, let them devour each other, who gives a shit; but they’re stealing and eating kids."

"...You're going to crack your glass."

"Don't change the subject!"

"I'm not." Arcanus reached over, watchfully, and tapped Carnelian's whitened knuckles until he loosened his grip. "But I'm trying to have a good time here and you chopping your fingers up isn't something I want to deal with."

He went back to his own drink, and thought through the buzz about how best to put it. "The queen's not like you were. She can't just wander around whatever territory she likes making sure evil gets stamped out."

"She made this girl her problem."

"No, the Smoke Gyre made the girl his problem. He specifically came to Telos to request the Umbra Wolf’s help. Bestealcian made all the beast children hers, because it’s her job as the queen’s agent to do as Telos would do, and Telos wouldn’t leave anyone behind.

“If the clans in the Shifting Expanse and the Ashfall Waste want to hunt the Catoptria, I'm sure Telos will lend them her aid, but this isn't a problem she's going to go out of her way to address. It's a full territory away, and she only encountered this because we’re trying to ensure Trader’s Walk is safe. She can no more call a hunt on them than she could call for the extermination of wartoads because Azricai was nearly eaten by one."

Carnelian grimaced. "Gods, that did nearly happen... Look, I get it. Bureaucracy. It just feels like what needs to happen is right out in the open and we're just not doing it because of red tape. We have people who live outside the tape who could handle this."

"Person," Arcanus corrected. "The Umbra Wolf is very much inside the realm of bureaucratic responsibility. The Smoke Gyre not so much but he is only one dragon, and he generally works alone. He's good for many things, but killing an entire clan of serthis? That's not a one dragon job."

"What about Lutia?"

Now Arcanus grimaced. "She's outside the bounds, but every time she acts, the consequence will fall on the queen for not controlling her. I’m sure she’d happily kill them all, but the collateral that would certainly follow is hard to define." He glanced over and saw Carnelian’s furrowed brow. “How far are we supposed to go, Carnelian?”

“Far enough.”

“Gods, you sound like Penitence.”

Carnelian curled  a lip. “Don’t compare me to him, he’s got ice so far up his ass it hails when he spits.”

Arcanus snorted in spite of himself, but didn’t let his thoughts get pulled off course. “But your words are his kind. Why not make all the world’s problems our own? Ashfall and the Catoptria are two borders away, but we’re right on the edge of the Tangled Wood, and I’m sure you know intimately what evil things go on in the deepest parts of that territory. Should it be Telos’ job to burn the place down? Find all the rats in all their hovels and bring them to judgement? No. She does what she can. She deals with what’s directly in her path.”

“...I see.”

Carnelian didn't press the matter beyond that, but he fidgeted with the rest of his beer instead of drinking it.

When he finally left, he hadn't finished it.

[kraestburns]

So, while I love - /absolutely love/ Darkwood, there's one aspect of it that I really don't enjoy. There's a lose state, a point in the game where you can actually lose.

Things kill you, you lose resources, if you survive the night you gain reputation with the morning trader and gain none if you don't. At a certain point, if things don't go your way, you run out of resources and have no way of getting any more as you've cleared the map of things you can collect. At that point, there is no moving forward. You can't heal, you can't defend yourself, you can't attack, you can't repair window and door barricades, you can't gain reputation, you can't buy anything.

The loading screen tells you to respect the forest, be patient, and focus. This is great advice, but it goes only so far if luck turns its back on you.

[monochromaticwriting]

Hey Mono here! This is my Writing blog! All my fics/wips and such will be posted here from now on! So just some forewarnings! I am 26, so there will be smut up here! If you see something you don't like (ship, kink, etc) exercise that block or filter button!

Everything will be tagged with kink, ship, and source! Unless under specific circumstances. I will also try to tag any Triggers, but I am human so I might miss something. If I do, just let me know!

Doing a Challenge for 2025 in writing 20 Selfship fics:

1. AM/Buttons

2. Gabriel/Marie/Maycella

Selfshiptober 2024:

Day 1 - Confession/Night

Day 2 - Blanket/Flame

Day 3 - Embrace/Blood

Completed works under the readmore:

Castlevania/Akumajou Dracula:

Dracul Brushing Laura's Hair

Sleepy Mornings - Macul

Isaac meets the Castle - Castle PoV

Abandoned wip/series - the rewrite

Game Over - Gabastle

Gabastle - 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6 (Gore)

Birthday Picnic - Machiel & Mathlisa

Gabriel Vent

Newlywed - Gabarie

Vent - Trethias

Semi-wip

Mini-Series - LoS Simon/Selena ft. Mathias.

Cardinal Volpe PoV

Birth of the Dragon (NSFW, Heavy Gore)

Priest - Mactor

First meetings - Priest! Macul

Burial - Gabarie (NSFW, Gore)

Heart - Macul

Outskirts of Wygol - Zobek/Gabriel

Meeting Mathias - Macul (Future Poly)

Meeting Elisabetha - Gabribetha (Future Poly)

NSFW

Leather Kink - Macul

Priest Kink 1 - Macul

Priest Kink 2 - Macul

Petplay - Trethias

Overstimulation - Victhias

Bernadette - Gabastle

Petplay, Plushum, Primal - Trevor solo

Leather Kink - Gabarie

Dacryphilia - Mamon

Body Worship - Macul top Dracul

Blood Play - Dracula²

Fake Priest!Mathias

False idol worship - Mabriel+Volpe (NSFW)

Isaaculcard AU:

First meet

Wine (Vague NSFW)

Lonely Men

Trevorcard meets Isaac

Getting Ready

Going Home

Ready for a Walk

Cigarette Break

Their doll (NSFW)

Petplay + Crystal Toys (NSFW)

Aggressive Loving (NSFW, Knife play, Blood)

Lipstick (NSFW)

Somno (NSFW)

I'm on Observation Duty (mostly Self-ship)

Nancy receives an Email

The Director leaves a note

Valentine's Day

HUGEMAN's picture

The House in the Email

Darkwood

A Night in the Shelter

Bugperson meets the Trader.

Agere

Thunderstorms and Apple juice (Castlevania LoS)

Brother Bonding (Castlevania LoS)

Baby in the Office (Castlevania LoS)

Self-ship

Religion - Gabariecella

Body Horror/Worship - Gabcella (NSFW)

King Sized Beds - Gabariecella

New Pets - Red/Saul

New Addition - Gabriecella

F/O House:

Story 1

Slice of Life, Gavor/Dracard

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Hallucinations

[whaleofatjme1920]

Being like Bros™ with Lucjusz??

I mean we have talked a little bit about me be absolutely on like homie level with Lucjusz but more headcanons pleaseee

The Wolfman, but He's Like Your Estranged Uncle

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Lucjusz in himself is a warning, language]

[AN: For those of you coming from the tags, I got really tired of calling the Wolfman from Darkwood "Wolfman" so I named him Lucjusz bc I was thinking of Poland but somewhere down the line me and the cryptid (asker above) ended up writing him more as Russian.]

Still in the Woods

He just kinda adopts you as his own??? No other way to say it. He sees you, makes fun of you, makes you question your religious beliefs and then adopts you. No one can make fun of you but him.

He pops in and out of your life in the most bizarre way. He does not care if you miss him or not, he visits you on his own time and whenever he remembers.

Lucjusz will go on rants in Russian. If you speak any of the languages he's familiar with (Russian, Polish, Ukrainian) he's much more prone to speaking those over English. He says translating everything to English is a waste of time and rather would not.

With that comes him wanting to teach you Russian because yeah. That's better. Learn his language.

Weirdly helpful to you. Your stairs broke?? He fixed them in the middle of the night.

Does not let you travel alone in the woods when the night comes because he knows how dangerous it could be. Either you stay at his camp talking about stuff well into the early hours of the morning or he takes you back to your home himself. Yes, he would risk going to the village just to see you home safe.

You can come to him for any advice and if it details another person he will offer to eat them. I mean that legitimately.

Depending on what you're doing in the woods, he'll get you special things you need through his time as a trader. There are other messed up individuals in the woods like him, and they all deal in similar, but different enough shady matters.

If you live in the village he'll hang out on your back porch will no one will bother the two of you. Or he'll come into your house, make some coffee and stay until that's done. Though, he never actually stays the night. Outright refuses it.

He protects you more than you could ever know.

Lucjusz has his sweet moments. They're rare, but you see parts of him no one else sees.

Lots of late night campfire talks. It's peaceful.

Always has coffee or tea ready. He likes coffee best, but whatever you want to drink he will too.

That does not stop his alcohol consumption though. He has freakishly high tolerance and does NOT get wasted unless he's drank an entire Binny's. That doesn't happen often.

His sarcasm and cutting vocabulary does not stop. In fact, it's even worse because he knows you'll put up with it.

He's a really solid friend though. People think he'd screw over his friends but the man is loyal to a fault and that's the most bizarre part of him.

Not in the Woods

In the out of the woods section, I tend to keep Lucjusz as a shady individual who deals in not legal things.

He's no longer in pure survival mode so the shenanigans go up ten fold.

He's the kind of guy to call you at 11 at night and tell you he's coming over only to honk the horn and say he's actually outside. Going with him to places and saying no to these excursions is not an option.

He also likes to go to really weird places that have even weirder people. They're always really fun and aren't that overwhelming!

Lucjusz will send you lots of memes throughout the day. He's actually not that big on texting because he finds it boring. Is more prone to video chatting/calling or just sending memes lmfao.

He is the scary guard dog. No one will get near you while he's around. He's protective by nature.

He's the definition of problematic without actually being problematic or holding problematic views?? People legitimately like to hate him and he likes hating them back too. It's just his thing. People ask how you're like best friends with him and you can't explain it but it works.

Because he's still dealing in not entirely legal things. he will sometimes gift you equally not legal things. Ranging from drugs to arms, it's like a reward.

He knows what tiktok is and finds it stupid. Does that stop him from making an account and sending you the most surreal memes? No.

Invites you over to his home a lot. It's somewhere on the edge of the city at the edge of the forest. He can't seem to leave it. The two of you spend a lot of time on the front porch in the summer watching the fireflies, pleased you don't have to fight for your life when the night comes.

He drives around with you a lot. He strikes me as the kind of guy to have a truck. So-.

Also his cooking is pretty good?? He will have you over for meals.

Yes, the two of you have gotten chased through a cornfield in the middle of Illinois at 3am by a farmer and their family wielding literal pitchforks it's called character development.

He uses snapchat. Hundreds of strangers follow him simply because his stories are insane. You ever see that guy Skweezy?? It's like him, but a lot meaner and a lot more swearing in Russian. You are part of those snap stories.