#ro povs

[guardian-of-time-if]

Public Extra Release!

I mentioned in the monthly update that I would be making one Patreon extra public to celebrate my first month of Patreon. The free members voted for an interactive short of Lukyan's POV of the dance scene from the end of chapter 3.

The POV is made in Twine, but I have no intention of converting Guardian of Time away from Choicescript. So why is it in Twine when the game is in Choicescript? The choicescript license requires that any Patreon content made with choicescript be released to the public within one month. Since most of these stories will be exclusive to the Patreon, I decided to make them in Twine to avoid licensing issues.

I'm still new to Twine, so the UI is very basic, but the POV is playable from start to finish, and the save slots should be functioning. I hope you all enjoy it! If you do, and would like to see more of them, consider subscribing to Patreon. Interactive POVs are available monthly on the Lorekeeper ($5) Tier.

[darkfictionjude]

Do you have patreon?

Which reminds me…

It’s like a mouse among cats. Just see him rant about how much he hates Crowny.

Approx. 1,000 words

Read

[buttercupfiction]

first impressions - the Investigator

the next ro pov is here! hope you like it~

-

'Hmm. It's most likely going to rain tonight.'

They look up at the sky, taking stock of the dark grey clouds that have been slowly gathering above-head for a few hours now. Yes, such an outcome seems quite probable... But they will gladly welcome it. Rainy weather always seems to make them feel at ease, and right now, they're in dire need of that peace of mind.

They spent the past hour walking around aimlessly, getting lost amongst the winding streets of the city, trying to drown out their thoughts.

Why can't she just take this seriously?

They sigh, pulling up the cowl wrapped around their neck further up to shield them from the cold night air.

Truth be told, they know what she's like, so they really shouldn't be surprised, but still. They can't help but worry, given the nature of this assignment.

Lost in thought, they fail to notice the rather rapid sound of footsteps approaching the alley they're strolling through, only becoming aware that they have company when they see someone walking towards them.

They jump, startled, and take several steps backward on instinct alone, before registering that the stranger is not coming after them. In fact, the person doesn't even seem to be aware of their presence, leaning with their back against the wall maybe ten feet away from them, eyes closed and their head in their hands.

They can't help but wince at the sight; the person looks... quite pained.

They were going to just slip away unnoticed, but a feeling of concern tugs at them, and before they even realize it, they open their mouth to ask, "Are you alright?"

Instantly, they regret it, as the person's head snaps towards them, a look of distrust marring their features.

"A better question is, why are you sneaking up on me?" they counter, frowning while crossing their arms.

Well, that was to be expected. They should have taken a moment to think about how this would look. Of course no one would appreciate a stranger standing aside like a creep and watching them during their most vulnerable moments, even though that is not what they were doing just now.

"I apologize, that was not my intention," they try, but the person just stares back at them. It's then when they remember they're all covered up, so they tug down their cowl and attempt a harmless smile as they do their best to explain the situation while apologizing once more, then excuse themself and turn to leave, intent on leaving the stranger alone.

After all, it was a mistake to get involved. One they never seem to learn from, seeing as all their attempts at altruism end up exactly like this.

Back-firing.

"Hey, you don't have to leave."

...Huh?

-

(the rest is up on patreon~)

[intimidatingpuffinstudios]

Launching “Difference of Perspective!”

Hey, everyone!

The day has come! I have just launched a bundle called Difference of Perspective in my Ko-Fi shop featuring all the RO POV stories that used to be on my Patreon!

Basically, you get to experience various scenes from The Soul Stone War 1 & 2 written from the point of view of the various ROs!

The bundle stands at 26000 and counting, it costs 10€, and it includes:

​4 Manerkol passages

3 Morkai passages

3 Straasa passages

3 Daelynn passages

​2 Eledwen passages

3 Morkai and Straasa passages

3 Morkai and Daelynn passages

OH! And you can also get a 10% discount for the first week using this link:

https://ko-fi.com/intimidatingpuffinstudios/link/SUPPORT-MORGAN-10

P.S. 1: The NSFW commissions bundle is also getting a 10% discount with this link!

P.S. 2: Monthly subscribers get another 10% discount automatically ;)

[disenchantedif]

An excerpt of Luci’s RO POV that can be played now over on Patreon…

Even if you don't sleep in [their] arms anymore, the memory of your weight gets [them] through the night. Sometimes, when Cameron laughs, [they] hear you instead. [They] still buy the same brand of chips you used to like, and [they] make [their] hot chocolate the way you prefer.

You memory haunts [them], something present in everything [they do].

[rubert-dubert]

no guys they are so okay wdym ?!?! they’re just sleeping !!!!!!

[childrenofcain-if]

Please let us comfort C about their knee 😭 I'm seriously going to be angry if there's no option to beat the sh*t out of Alain when we see him in game 😡

I'm begging you for a fluff piece, they deserve it ❤️🙏

C’s dorm always felt quiet—as though the silence itself was holding its breath. even when music hummed low from the speakers, even when there was a mug of tea on the desk and a book abandoned on the bed, even when you were there. especially when you were there.

you hadn’t meant to stay this long—hadn’t meant to be here at all, really. but the night had bled into a soft comfort that made time meaningless, and C had let their guard down in that way they only ever did with you, trading their usual biting flippancy for something quieter. something fragile and hidden beneath layers of disdain that you’d spent years peeling back.

they were standing now, aiming to move toward the small kitchenette attached to the common area, their voice low as they asked, “do you want anything? tea? something else?”

“tea’s fine,” you said, leaning back against the wall, your legs curled beneath you on the bed. it was a simple enough exchange, a moment so ordinary it felt almost... domestic.

and then you saw it—the faint hitch in their step, the way their right leg dragged ever so slightly behind the left.

your heart thudded once, hard enough to make your ribs hurt.

“C,” you said, your voice louder than you meant it to be. they froze mid-step, their back to you, their shoulders taut as if bracing for a blow. “did you—did you fall or something?”

they didn’t turn around. for a moment, you thought they wouldn’t answer at all. then, slowly, they turned their head, their profile striking in the dim light. the shadows softened their face but did nothing to hide the tension in their jaw, the faint tremor in their hands as if you’d caught them doing something illegal.

“no,” they said finally, the word flat and hollow.

you sat up straighter. “then what—”

“it’s nothing,” they snapped, spinning to face you. their voice wasn’t loud, but it was harsh, each syllable flung like glass shards meant to keep you at a distance. their chalcedony green eyes burned, but the fire in them wasn’t the usual fury you’d come to expect from C. it was fear, raw and unfiltered.

“C…” you said again, softer this time, and that was what did it. their face crumpled, not quite enough to be called a collapse, but enough for you to see the exhaustion carved into their bones. they sat down heavily on the bed, their head bowed as if the weight of the moment were too much to bear.

“it’s nothing,” they repeated, but it sounded like a lie even to them.

“i don’t believe you.”

you waited, the silence stretching between you, brittle and acute. finally, they looked up at you, their face pale, their lips pressed into a thin line.

“my father,” they said, the words forced and clipped, as if they were prying them loose from their lungs with a metal wrench. “when i was little. he… he didn’t like that i accidentally broke a china plate from the kitchen while grabbing some food. apparently it was antique and one of its kind. believed i needed to be punished for being so careless.” they laughed bitterly. “he used a baseball bat to teach me a lesson.”

the air in the room shifted, stifling. you couldn’t speak, couldn’t fathom the kind of cruelty it would take to do something like that to a mere child. to C.

you swallowed hard, your throat tight. “let me see.”

they stared at you, their eyes wide and disbelieving. “what?”

“your knee,” you said, your voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath it. “please.”

for a moment, you thought they would refuse. they sat motionless, their hands clenched into fists at their sides, their breath coming shallow and uneven. then, slowly, they nodded.

C stood, their movements stiff and deliberate, and pushed the waistband of their pajama pants down far enough to reveal their knee. the act itself wasn’t sensual, wasn’t sexual; it was simply them letting you in, letting you see a piece of them they’d spent years hiding. but perhaps that knowledge made it all the more intimate.

your breath caught as your eyes fell on the fair, marble-like skin stretched over the joint. the shape of the knee was uneven, the bone obtruding out at odd angles where it had healed wrong. there were faint scars, pale and jagged, like ghostly reminders of the violence that had shaped them. the area around it was slightly swollen, the skin faintly discolored, a muted blue-gray hue that looked almost tender to the touch.

you reached out before you could think better of it, your fingers brushing lightly against the damaged skin. C flinched but didn’t pull away, their eyes locked on yours, their breath hitching as if the contact ached in ways that weren’t physical.

“good god,” you whispered, the word trembling on your lips.

C laughed, uncharacteristically nervous. “it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“it’s worse,” you said, and the anger in your voice shocked you both. but it wasn’t anger at them—it was at the man who had done this, the man who had taken a child and broken them in ways that could never fully be repaired.

without thinking, you leaned down and pressed your lips gently to their knee. the kiss was soft, reverent, more an act of devotion than anything else. C gasped, their hand flying to your hair, their fingers trembling as they threaded through it.

“what are you doing?” they whispered with a surprised look in their eyes.

“loving you,” you said simply, shutting them up.

see, childhood had been a knife stuck in C’s throat for the longest time, honed sharp by alain’s hands.

it was a knife that dulled with time but never stopped twisting. even now, years removed from that godforsaken house, from that evil man, they felt its cold atmosphere in every step they took, every chronic flare of pain in their knee when it rained or when they put too much pressure on their right leg, every stumble they hid behind a sharp tongue and a perfect façade.

vulnerability was a language they had unlearned as a child, carved out of them with every slap, every shout, every moment alain had twisted ‘love’ into something entirely unrecognizable.

and yet, here you were.

your lips pressed to their knee, the damaged joint that had never quite healed, and C felt like they were being slowly undone. the kiss was so gentle, so absurdly soft against the place they hated most about themself, that they thought they might break apart entirely.

no one kissed scars like this. no one kissed something so damningly ruined and made it holy.

C looked down at you, your face turned toward them like you belonged there, like you didn’t see the unflatteringly jutting angles of their bones or the bruises still hidden deep inside their soul which was wrapped in the rage that they inherited from their father.

you saw them. and in that moment, C wondered if you were the only reason they had managed to keep breathing through all the years of pain and silence.

they remembered the first time they laid eyes on you during middle school. you had been all fire and light, laughing with some friends, your smile so bright it had burned them. C, sitting alone at the back of the classroom, had felt a squeeze in their chest they couldn’t name. not yet.

at the time, it had felt like resentment—how dare you shine so freely when their world was filled with shadows which often made them taste the coppery taste of their own blood? how dare you be a star, so untouchable, so effortlessly seen?

but it wasn’t hatred, not really. they knew that now.

for years, they had convinced themselves that their fixation on you was because they wanted to outshine you, to prove they were your equal. they had fought you in every class, thrown snide remarks, done everything they could to make you notice them.

because the truth was, they would have torn the world apart just to make you look at them the way they looked at you.

and when you finally did—when your gaze settled on them, not with pity or contempt but with something startlingly like understanding—they had felt like they could truly breathe for the first time in their life.

now, as you knelt in front of them, your breath ghosting over their skin, C thought that maybe they had been living for you all along.

and it scared the fuck out of them.

because loving someone like this, needing someone like this, was just a brand new knife against their throat. and the most terrifying part of it all was that C’s heart didn’t mind it this time, not at all.

“tu es tutus,” you murmured, your lips brushing over the misshapen bone of their right knee. you’re safe.

they closed their eyes, their lips quirking up in a faint, almost disbelieving smile.

“amor meus, vita mea,” they said softly, their latin perfect, their voice unsteady. my love, my life.

you leaned into them, your forehead resting against their thigh, and they tilted their head back, their breath caught in a way that broke your heart.

C wasn’t a religious person. alain had beaten any notion of faith out of them long before they were old enough to properly understand it. but as they looked at you, they thought that maybe, just maybe, there was something divine about you.

my sweet starkid, they thought, god—or fate, or the universe, or whatever cruel, indifferent force that exists—must have made you just for me.

they reached out to you, their hand trembling slightly as it settled on the back of your neck. they pulled you closer, their lips pressing against your temple in a kiss so light it barely counted as one.

“stay,” they said, the word cracking slightly. it wasn’t a command though; it was a plea.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you replied, your voice steady and sure, and C thought that maybe, for the first time in their life, they believed it.

that really did hammer the nail in the proverbial coffin. you loved C unconditionally, so they lived.

[realmrooikat]

sillies

[sunshinereani]

raise your hand if you haven't been killed by bbh yet

[insomniackel]

i cant believe 3/3 losa happened....................

[trappedinacomputer]

Bad would understand if the Keepers messed with Aimsey, Ros and Pangi and they came back wrong

He doesn't understand why others don't like them, they seem kind enough

They're just playing a game.

[guardian-of-time-if]

RO POV live on Patreon!

This month's RO POV is officially live on Patreon, and can be accessed here! It's Lukyan's POV of meeting MC in chapter 2 and is available for the Lorekeeper Tier ($5). If you're interested in reading it, consider subscribing to my Patreon.

[mikaikaika]

I think in the initial days Ros spent so much time berating herself over not being intimidating and fearful that now even though time has passed and the situation is changed, she still perceives herself in the same image.

Pili has admitted in private how intimidating he finds Ros to be sometimes and Pangi keeps coming up with new plans to keep Ros on their good side because of how dangerous Ros can be as a foe.

However every good opportunity Ros gets, she finds herself establishing that dominance or intimidation be it in the form of telling Pangi to step back when he was "too close" while talking to Aimsey or the Clownpierce tower situation or be it her threats to Pangi at the arena.

She guards those around her, even when no danger looms, as if the act itself were less about their safety and more a quiet assurance to herself—a way to prove her strength. At its core, it is Ros’s need to have some sense of control, a fragile tether to a world that often slips beyond her grasp. The shadow of being seen as weak haunts her steps, spurring impulsive choices that sometimes betray her better judgment.

[buttercupfiction]

first impressions - the Companion

hey y'all! sorry for the radio silence, i've just been awfully busy lately, but i did promise you the ro povs, so here's the second one! hope you enjoy~

-

Shoot, shoot, shoot.

He's running late.

He was supposed to be back at the Guild half an hour ago, to greet Bellamy's sibling, but the woman he was helping out was just so chatty, and he didn't have the heart to tell her he needed to be somewhere else. She's just so alone in that big old house, her children and grandchildren having moved to the capital, and she insisted he stayed for tea; what else could he do but accept?

And if that means he'll keep some people waiting, then sue him. He knows how bad loneliness can be.

Though thankfully, this isn't anything official, and he had planned it so they meet some time before Kait's available, so there's still a margin for error.

He slows his pace when he reaches the Guild's compound, trying to appear less winded than he is; first impressions are important, and he doesn't want it to look like he just ran here. ...Even though he kind of did.

Passing next to the entrance, he can see Cal and Selene chatting inside, but there's no sign of the person he's expecting. Only when he goes a bit farther down the street can he see them standing under the awning of a building nearby, looking at their reflection in one of the windows.

Okay. Now don't screw this up.

He casually approaches them, stopping a polite distance away, and calls them out by their name.

They turn around, and–

'Oh wow, they're stunning,' the thought comes unbidden to his mind, and he seems to experience a momentary lapse of motor functions, as he just stands there, blinking at them.

Thankfully, they've interpreted his blatant staring as confusion, so they answer him with a "Yeah, that's me."

Shaking off the strange feeling that took over for a moment there, he smiles at them, doing his best to be friendly and put them at ease.

Perhaps he could try a joke?

"Oh good! It'd be awkward if it turned out I just jumped a random stranger on the street, haha..."

Ookay, no, that's worse, that makes him sound like some maniac who assaults people on the street. Ugh, he should just skip to introducing himself and welcoming them to the city.

He acutely aware of their eyes on him as he does just that, scrutinizing him, and he can feel the anxiety creeping up on him. Even more so once they ask if he's actually a member of the Guild.

"Uh, yeah?" Was that not...clear?

Did he give them a reason to doubt him?

...Or does he just seem that pathetic?

His hand goes to the badge on his belt instinctually, almost worried it's not going to be there and he'll look like a fool trying to explain himself. Luckily, he finds it exactly where it's supposed to be, and while that's reassuring, they're still looking at him in confusion.

Should he elaborate? Or would that come across as condescending..?

Ugh, he'll just leave the explanations to Kait.

But before they go see her, he should apologize for making them wait this long. Really, as far as first impressions go, he's making a bad one.

(the rest is up on patreon~)

[gammaraydeath]

practicing drawing my shep + color version for funsies

[disenchantedif]

Theo's POV: In Your Bed...

A brief excerpt from Theodore's RO POV that is now available on Patreon! Theodora's is available in the same side game already, as well!

Soon enough, the door is opening once more with a creak, and he looks up to see you shuffling back in. You had taken way less time changing than he did, yet he still finds himself biting his cheek when you re-enter the room.

Is it weird to tell someone you find their collarbones really attractive? Maybe, but if he's perfectly honest, he thinks yours are super hot.

He's distracted for only a few moments, yet when he blinks back into reality, you're hovering above him.