Results 1 to 7 of 7

Thread: White Day Lemon Contest (2018) Entries

  1. #1
    好き! Kirby's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2013
    JP Friend Code
    Blog Entries

    White Day Lemon Contest (2018) Entries

    Here's all the submitted fics. Same drill, voting will begin in a day or two, and each fic will have the prompt at the end, in a quote. Both the prompts and fics will remain anonymous, and it's up to the submitter's discretion to reveal themselves if they wish.

    Wall of Shame, ho!:
    Raylen Cypher: 0/1

    If you finish your fics and turn them in later, you can get your name off this wall. It is highly encouraged that you do so.

    Last edited by Kirby; March 21st, 2018 at 04:54 PM.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dullahan View Post
    there aren't enough gun emojis in the thousandfold trichiliocosm for this shit

    Linger: Complete. August, 1995. I met him. A branch off Part 3. Mikiya keeps his promise to meet Azaka, and meets again with that mysterious girl he once found in the rain.
    Shinkai: Set in the Edo period. DHO-centric. As mysterious figures gather in the city, a young woman unearths the dark secrets of the Asakami family.
    The Dollkeeper: A Fate side-story. The memoirs of the last tuner of the Einzberns. A record of the end of a family.
    Overcount 2030: Extra x Notes. A girl with no memories is found by a nameless soldier, and wakes up to a world of war.

  2. #2
    好き! Kirby's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2013
    JP Friend Code
    Blog Entries

    Age After Age Novelty

    "There is no feeling in the world that is as grand as that of a first. The trepidation. The hesistance. The thrill. The novelty.

    "When something is transformed from unfamiliar into experienced—that is the true magical property of the miracle that is life.

    "We humans, we chase that alchemy of the mind. We hunger to make the unknown into the known. Life is the flame of consumption that billows on that fuel!

    "But, the sweet taste of that raison d'etre doesn't last. The fire burns out. Humans die. Life dies. Nothing stops that fade, that decay. So much novelty – so many firsts! – never to be experienced. We are doomed to ash, and shall all remain ignorant of the eternity that comes after us.

    "The Hindis have a phrase for that sad state of affairs. 'Hungry ghosts' they call them—us. All who live, always wanting, never satisfied. I want more. I want more. I want more. I want more. I want more. I want more. I NEED more, actually. It's a disease, but it's a disease we're born with."

    "Tucker, hombre," says his friend, "when ya went off to dig a cat hole didya smack up on the moonshine behind my back? Washed down some peyote with it? You've been talkin' my ear off with all of that no-sense."

    "Oh, I'm on something even better than that, Stanford, my friend."

    His mouth open wide, "Tucker" lunges at Stanford. A fleeting, precious moment later, his mouth is snapped shut, full of throatflesh. His head whips back and forth, in re-enactment of a coyote shaking its prey. His prey weighs similarly enough to him, yet he still whips it with the ease one would a sack of potatoes. Skin and esophagus tears. Adam's apple and larynx clenched between his teeth. It sounds like a wet book being torn in half; a thick, moist sound. The artery flows like a mudslide, pulses with each heartbeat, stains the dusty red ground an even richer carmine. So much blood pools that it reflects the full moon and glistening stars above.

    That moon—a ruby eye.

    That moon—a scarlet causeway, a hole in the sky to a faraway world.

    That moon—a crimson moon.

    "Gorge yourself, thrall," I Urge Tucker. "Then sally forth," and vacate my presence from his mind, close the door on the connection.

    At that, I go through the back door and head straight for the garden. It is a tad -much- for a thrall to ramble off like that, to use my own suggestions as a basis for such hackneyed drivel, but that has always been the case with the evil eye of this body—and such embarrassment is momentary. My image lingers in their minds, strips them of will and inhibitions as easily as I strip these roses from the bush.










    Nine moon-white roses. One for each time. A mere portion of those I've enthralled in this life, spread far and wide across this land. I've no doubt she'll ferret them all out and butcher them all. Perhaps she'll enjoy them as foreplay. Perhaps it'll be over too quickly for her. Whether she enjoys herself in some way or not— —I don't care. The pleasure is all mine.

    "Clarissa," I beckon to a face that's been familiar since this childhood. "A glass." The aged Valentine maid hasn't moved from her spot in the corner of my humble but hardy atelier, just like the good little statue I've come to treat her as. With those stony features of hers it only made sense. She produces a tray with a hefty decanter and a goblet, made from pilfered Injun silver and opals. The attar of chilled iron fills my nostrils as what she pours from the decanter fills my cup. "All the way. Don't spill a drop." Her shaky hands she had while liberated are steady while under my Urge. She thanked me for that once. Again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again. The sound of an old crone crooning like a broken phonograph—I told her to shut it. She did, and hasn't said a word since, even when prompted.

    Clarissa the quietly grateful hands her master the cup full of blood, not moving once from her spot. I take it and set it on my desk. One by one, I dip the roses in the blood. They all turn red. I take the bloodied flowers to my bed, crush them in hand, and scatter the petals across my sheets. Satisfied with my work, I return to my desk, take the goblet and down it all in one go. As the final drop of ichor slides down my throat I swing my arm. Clarissa's head flys down the hall, but her body continues to stand ever attentively.

    "I don't need anyone else. Not anymore. Not with you coming so soon, O' Princess."

    I await her. Not as Daniel Valentine, the talented and gifted pioneer heir, but as her first—Michael Roa Valdamjong.

    That night, the fair belle makes her way to town.

    I make to overwhelm her with numbers. Every living thing for forty-square miles is Urged by me. Feeble humans gifted with a boon from me to hold nothing back break their bodies upon her. They light themselves with oil. Explode themselves with gunpowder.

    "Around these parts, they say that he who catches the hoop snake will catch eternity." I say to her. "But, the hoop snake can never be caught. They say it's too fast. That's their reasoning."

    It does little to hold her back. She slices through them all with an ease even greater than that of a farmer would reap wheat. Their flesh is pulverized by her angelic moves, quick as the wind.

    "The wind—they say that even the wind tried to catch the hoop snake. But it could not, and so the direction of the wind changes, for the wind blowing it dies and is replaced with a different wind."

    Still the Urged charge. Still the Urged fire guns. Still the Urged act upon my desires. Still she shreds them into fine mist and mince.

    "Even the sun, he too tried to catch the hoop snake. He tried to give the hoop snake a shadow, enthrall him to the sun. But—the snake was too fast."

    I have a secret weapon. While she busies herself with the rabble I Urge them—the shamans. This frontier mansion might be my atelier and the foundation of the Valentines' craft, and it and the land surrounding it my territory, but the greater land, the limitless expanse of America itself, is theirs. It's theirs because it's not theirs, therefore it's theirs. Such stands the beliefs of the Injun, and such does it allow me to abuse their gift, Urge them to call it down.

    Fight fire with fire. Cure poison with poison. Pit an elemental against an elemental. I force it upon her: the True Ancestor against the Thunderbird.

    Her incorrigible gaze wadens ever so slightly. My heart is filled with glee. To set Earth against Earth, I can only imagine the depth and breadth of her surprise.

    It's not enough. Her emotions—her range of expression is nowhere near enough to what I'd like. There's still too much purity in her. What I was able to tease out of her is nowhere near enough. It's like I managed to scratch a diamond with my own fingernail, all those years back, to find that I can no longer do so. Then, I can scratch the diamond, but even less than before.

    "That's fine by me, O' Princess. That I can affect you even a miniscule amount is enough to set me off!"

    The moment passes. It's not the first time she's hunted an emissary of Gaia, even if they were the corrupted Lords she was made to destroy. The great bird flits about at the speed of lightning. She overwhelms it with the chains of her castle. Hundreds per second are fired from her phantasmal space into the sky at the phantasmal raptor. Her strength has increased for this bout. Such exertions, even if they are a matter of course for her— —my erection, which I have sported ever since the night began, is somehow even harder than before.

    She brings it down. Electricity explodes from it, shoots into her and everything. She is unphased. The Princess of the True Ancestors crushes its skull with her hammer-blows.

    "Even the sun, he too tried to catch the hoop snake. He tried to give the hoop snake a shadow, enthrall him to the sun. But—the snake was too fast." My words make it to her now, directly. She has made it here, to the manse. She intends to bring it all down, take it out along with me. "The hoop snake can never be caught—a legend whose existence is always in question, even by the supernatural is just like me and can never be caught."

    I make to combat her myself, but she's far too sprightly on her feet. Thus, my own feet are separated from my body—her blow crushes my legs beneath my knees, and I fall down onto the bed. Right atop my preparations.

    "What was that about never being caught, Roa?"

    "Ah, that? This body is merely flesh. I am forever out of your reach, while your body is always within mine."

    She stomps on me. Her heeled boots crush my pelvis. Bone audibly crunches—and still I'm hard as the flagpole that once stood in the town's square.

    "You are particularly lucid for this incarnation, Roa. That time before was a step backwards, and this time is two steps forward."

    "What a wonderfully back-handed compliment, O' Princess. You commend me for my fortune while you hope that my awareness of that very fortune will make me taste of despair—the implication that my luck shan't hold."

    I meet her gaze with mine, focus on her. Even as my legs heal she smashes me in the face, crushes it inward, and yet it's still not enough to kill me. She softened her blow. "That evil eye of yours, are you trying to steal me away? Pathetic. Your Urges have no effect on me. I'll not suffer you into my mind. If anything, I'll be the one to make YOU suffer," The White Princess looks at my erection, brow furroughed in annoyance. "You want something? I'll give it to you."

    "I don't want it. I don't want you to give. I NEED it. I want you to TAKE it. Yes! Play with your food! Act the cat! Make me your mouse!"

    "Sickening..." Her words are directed right towards me, for she has no qualms to the way she drives her clawed hand into my belly and twists. My guts, which should always remain in place, are toyed with, stirred, churned like she wants to churn butter. My blood squirts and spurts and stains her dress.

    It makes me howl in pained laughter. The ecstasy makes my skin crawl. "TRULY! To see your face contort with disgust! But you cannot suffer the serpent, either!" I hold her arm with both hands, a coyly feeble effort to hold this unstoppable beauty in place. "How bitter of a hollow victory it must be for you, O' Princess! What Sisyphean woe—!"

    Suddenly, I feel like a mountain crushed beneath a mountain range. The gravity! The True Ancestor is responsible for this. I'm too heavy to move. Too heavy to laugh. Too heavy to breathe. But still, I move. Still, I laugh. Still, I breathe.

    The Princess' eyes narrow, her annoyance clear. An aspect of her pride, pride that she never knew she had, pride held deep down, has been wounded—to sic Earth against Earth. I know she wants to pay back that humiliation. That hunger of hers was there, is still here. All I need to do is convince her, and I never needed anything like this body's evil eye to do so.

    All it takes is a broken, bloodied, true smile.

    An instant response. The Princess slashes her arm. My mandible goes missing. I hear the snap of bone after the fact. The moon is full and my blood runs hot and endlessly. She rips her other arm, long and greasy-slick intestines in hand. A lovely reaction from her, and a prelude. She surely feels my unfettered desire. Her frustration, her humiliation, her own desires echo back and warp outwards.

    In her confusion, in her anger, she finds no way to satisfy herself other than to satisfy herself.

    This life of mine will fade soon, but there's no doubt I've won.

    Still donned in that blood-stained dress, she rides. She is warm, and hot, painfully tight. It's not enough for her. She still cannot get satisfaction, squeezes my guts in frustration. Pain fires through my nerves. I gasp out, equal parts pain and pleasure. "Shut it!" The Princess snarls, her well of vexation as plentiful as the moonbeams that pour down from that heavenly body. Her own heavenly body quivers in pure emotional distraught, and she coils my own offal around my throat. Her hands pull on the natural noose, and all sound dies in my throat.

    I know that I cut a horrendous sight. That's perfect. I want to burn my memory into her. I want her life to revolve around me even more than it already does.

    This is good, but it's also not enough.

    It won't ever be enough.

    I want this to go on for a thousand other lifetimes. I want this repetition to occur until the planet crumbles away.

    I want to leave you behind with nothing but resentment in your eyes and the shame of failure to your name, O' Princess.

    —and I know that you know this, without me even saying anything.

    Her cunt has wettened, but not by much. The pleasure she gets out of throttling me doesn't translate into pleasure for her body. She knows how hollow it is, how futile, but she still cannot act in any other way but to act upon that very act. My cock becomes the only part of my body that she doesn't butcher; her instinctual, innate lust only able to exert such a slight influence over her beautiful violence. I do not egg her on with words. I cannot. She won't allow me. Instead, my mere existence eggs her on. So long as the ourobouros clenches its own tail between its fangs she will be forever tied to me becasue she WANTS TO.

    So enjoy yourself, my princess. I certainly am enjoying you.

    The princess has lost her self-control. It's a sight as awesome as when I first fed her my blood and she went berserk, no less transcedental. She hisses at me and her body moves on its own. The princess bounces atop me, atop this bloody rose-covered, blood-covered bed, with a wild abandon flavored with frustration and tepidation. She is without recourse, so she fucks me all the way to her womb. Even with my body mutiliated so her actions are rife with hesitation, but earnesty, and seeping with anger. Even reduced to a garbage pile of torn meat, with this particular life of mine's fate sealed, I can't help but respond to her and her own unique flair.

    With my life being choked out from me, I defile her insides with the semen of the man that she hates.

    "The dead can't cum," says that sore loser of a True Ancestor.

    "Too late for that, and too late for everything," her deathgrip on me has lessened slightly enough in that moment for me to get a few final words in. "We just can't keep away from each other can we?" said I.

    "No, we cannot..." replied Arcueid Brunestud.

    The next instant, she visits absolute destruction upon me. The Valentine estate, and its lands which should have been the heirloom to a new, maverick line of magi making their mark in the New World, is brought to nothing via the force of an exploded volcano.

    Eighteen years of life for that incarnation. Slightly worse than my usual average, but I acquired such great and novel experiences out of it that the scales tipped in my favor and became a net positive.

    Out of the thaumaturgic wastes of America: now, London.

    As I expect, her obligate vengeance pursues me across the eras.

    Her timing is impeccable. I had acted upon a whim in order to pursue a fantastic specimen that had been wrecking havoc in Whitechapel. I meant to kill it and warp it to my needs, refine it into becoming my finest familiar. That job was barely done, the research hardly started, when she arrives.

    My body is crushed in rubble and set ablaze in spontaneous flame. The White Princess wants nothing to do with me this time. An error in judgment takes me out of the fight too soon. A premature ejaculation if there ever was one. Those cold, red eyes of hers silently judge me, perhaps even mock me.

    Does it please you, O' Princess, to achieve such a quick victory? That please me in turn. I hope you see the smile on my face, the smile that'll surely show as my lips burn away, and my gums burn away, and you see the teeth and bone and cooked eyeballs that stare back emptiy at you. If you see my smile, my true blue smile, I hope that sickens you. Anything, any reaction, it's all too desired.

    My final thoughts here are the same as the ones before, but without the need to say them at all. She already knows those words that I have etched onto her heart.

    'We just can't keep away from each other can we?'

    'No, we cannot...'

    —and we shall see each other again, and again.

    Let this bloody romance carry all the way through to the end of time.

    Michael Roa Valdamjong has experienced many deaths. Sometimes they were quick. Sometimes they were violent. And sometimes Arcueid Brunestud choked him with his own intestines as she fucked him to death. [Erotic asphyxiation, explicit violence and snuff, obviously. Roa POV, multiple incarnations, exploration of the TWISTED FEELINGS AT PLAY all encouraged.]
    Last edited by Kirby; March 21st, 2018 at 05:19 PM.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dullahan View Post
    there aren't enough gun emojis in the thousandfold trichiliocosm for this shit

    Linger: Complete. August, 1995. I met him. A branch off Part 3. Mikiya keeps his promise to meet Azaka, and meets again with that mysterious girl he once found in the rain.
    Shinkai: Set in the Edo period. DHO-centric. As mysterious figures gather in the city, a young woman unearths the dark secrets of the Asakami family.
    The Dollkeeper: A Fate side-story. The memoirs of the last tuner of the Einzberns. A record of the end of a family.
    Overcount 2030: Extra x Notes. A girl with no memories is found by a nameless soldier, and wakes up to a world of war.

  3. #3
    好き! Kirby's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2013
    JP Friend Code
    Blog Entries

    Gamer Girl//Cam Girl

    It had been so gradual, Jinako hadn’t even noticed but it was a shock when the order of the latest PC rig was turned down due to ‘insufficient funds’.

    She rarely bothered to check her finances as she always believed she would have enough spare so she didn’t know when the tournament payouts had declined over the years. Her expenditures had been growing as well; constantly spending money on the latest games, all the downloadable content and constant micro transactions. Not to mention constantly spending hundreds to update her PC’s capabilities – even on the overpriced graphics rig and monitors. The outgoing costs were always greater than what was coming in and before she knew it, Jinako was borderline broke.

    In Jinako’s own eyes; in no time at all she had gone from a wealthy star at the top of her game to a fallen idol on a narrow budget now struggling to keep herself afloat.

    As much as she hated to admit it, no bank would give a loan and there would be no handouts of money. There was the chance of her making money by streaming her games but looking at her competition in the past, it was unreliable as there could be a big payoff but she knew most people would want to watch her for free if they could get away with it. What Jinako needed was a big influx of cash to stabilise her finances and she’d have to do it herself with what little she had. Fortunately for Jinako, she remembered that there was other ways she could get money with cameras, it wasn’t as if she could deny there were a few other kinds of streaming that were popular.

    Sorrow welled within her as the last few purchases she made; a few extra cameras and an outfit made her bank balance hit the ground. After the bills went out at the end of the month, they’d be in the negatives and she’d be officially bankrupt. Content to spend her time playing video games and eating junk food, Jinako had spent her entire life on the inside and barely spoken to anyone and now she had nothing at all. Jinako had spent the last of her money, or rather her parent’s money and a week later the order arrived.


    The day passed her by quickly in a haze and night came swiftly. Glancing quickly at the clock, Jinako nervously adjusted her clothes in front of the full length mirror, knowing full well it was something she would never normally wear. It wasn’t as if there was anything wrong with it. Jinako certainly didn’t have a problem wearing sexy clothes like cute black lacy underwear; it was just that she never had anyone to wear it for till now. This was a lot more than just underwear though. She ditched her normal comfy clothes for a white corset, high heeled thigh boots, fishnet stockings, her big clunky prescription glasses, and head ornaments. In short, a bunny girl suit It was very cliché to say the least and not her usual style however Jinako knew it was just what she needed, men always liked the same thing and these bunny girl outfits were pretty popular. It would help with her… debut.

    The more she looked at it, the more her outfit needed tweaking. The suit was a little too tight around the chest making things hot, ears at the wrong angle so she constantly had to adjust them and as she did, she noticed her hands her clammy and shaking a little.

    ‘Come on Jinako, it’s just nerves.’ She told herself. ‘No probs.’

    Taking a deep breath, she slowed down. Jinako reminded herself this was her taking back control, making her name stronger than ever. Also when she stopped thinking too much; Jinako looked up and down her outfit, the accentuated curves, corset, fishnets and boots? All that combined with the glasses adding in a cute angle to it all, she looked pretty damn fine if she didn’t say so herself. After checking the time and realising she really did have to go now, she gave up fussing over her outfit and hoped over to double check the cameras were set up. If was Jinako could practically feel the gaze of the camera’s on her already but couldn’t help but smile a little. The set up was perfect and she looked the hottest she had ever been. It was probably a last minute thought on her part but she had seen a few late night streams of hot guys and girls playing about herself. To be on the other end of the camera was, in its own way unique way, thrilling.

    She quickly turned to her keyboard. A moment later, a red light appeared above the camera’s lens.

    “Um, hi everyone! Jinako here.” Jinako’s voice was notably unsteady compared to her cocksure attitude on the Eurozone virtual gaming battlenet. Her eyes darted to the side as the number of people viewing the stream slowly rose with digits increasing almost every second; her name still carried some modicum of weight to it. A tiny, growing thrill of excitement twisted in her gut to see it. However as she turned back to the camera, she continued, “It’s muh’ first time doing this so I’m going to be taking suggestions tonight.” It wasn’t a start that inspired confidence and the answers were bland and unimaginative, just asking her to ‘Show her tits’. Well it was certainly crude but she couldn’t really say no to people mere moments into her first stream.

    “Well, a cute girl like me doesn’t just give it up straight away…” She placed her hands by her bust, slowly tilting in front of the camera as she squeezed her breasts together and pulled the outfit down just enough for her nipples to poke out. She jiggled around a bit to make sure the viewers got a proper look before they went back in. “But for you, I’ll make an exception.” Jinako remembered hearing that move elsewhere and that was certainly one worth remembering. She made a mental note of having to thank Hakuno’s short blonde European girlfriend, or the one who dressed up like a fox. It was getting hard to keep track of everything that was happening with them.

    With the sight she had just put on and the guarantee that people wanted a piece of her, it was almost no time before more comments started coming in. The tease had gotten them hungry for more of her.

    So she began to move. Repositioning herself away from the camera so her whole figure was in focus, she knelt down in centre frame with her legs spread to imitate she was straddling. Jinako began to slowly gyrate her hips and began to moan; slowly tracing her fingers up from her fishnet thighs up to her breasts, certain to show off all her curves as she did.

    “Not long ago I was fucking my enemies online but how many of you at home were wishing you were ones fucking me?” After flashing a wide smile she pulled down the front of the corset this time fully showing herself her delightfully soft and full tits, pressing them up and giving a slow lick with her eyes locked in at the camera. “How many of you boys at home have always wanted these? Show me how much you want me.” And on cue, the number of hits rocketed and the chat roared in agreement. Shortly after, the donations started pouring in She had already made her money back she had spent on tonight! She had garnered a number of fans and a lot of people she had beaten over the years so it made sense the number of people would grow for more she played this angle. It wouldn’t be long until she was raking it in!

    ‘Jinako you are one smart cookie!’ She thought to herself.

    “Ohhh~, thank you boys.” Jianko said with a sickening amount of sweetness. Reaching over to a little bag just off the angle of the camera and pulled out a toy. A smooth dildo and some room temperature lube, all the easier to play with. Squirting some over the toy, she pulled them into the frame. “You know I do all this for you.” She adjusted the camera to make sure it was focused on the close up, Jinako tilted her head up and slowly lowered the dildo teasingly and as it brushed her lips, she gave a little lick as she happily slip into her mouth and pushed it deeper, steadily moving it up and downward. Starting off slow, she let out a delightful moan. She pushed it deeper and started a mild gag as the slick warmth pressed further down to the limits of what she’d consider comfortable.

    Slowly, she pulled out the dildo before addressing the viewers with a playful bite. “Ok, maybe I’m doing this for myself too.” Jinako admitted, “but how many of you guys have wished I was under your desk doing that while you were the ones gaming?”

    Making her script up as she went along and shamelessly ripping of material that she heard elsewhere. The views kept rising and the donations kept on coming. Returning the camera to its original settings, Jinako lay down on her back with her legs spread “But I think I know what you’d like to do even more.” The chat was going wild, so fast it was almost hard to keep track with the comments but there were a few that were more common than the others.

    ‘Hey, who’s that guy in the background?’

    ‘He’s cute.’

    ‘You should totally fuck him!’

    Jinako whipped around and sure enough there he was kneeling down scrubbing away at the floor, tidying up her room for her no less. Through means she couldn’t fully understand, Karna had fully materialised and now a constant companion. Much like how Hakuno now supposedly had three lovers and an adopted child now, Karna had now become a roommate. In truth, he was closer to a butler, as Jinako was something of a slob he had picked up all the slack in her stead with no complaint. He cooked for her and evidently, cleaned for her too.

    “Karna?!” Jinako spluttered in disbelief, “W-what on earth are you doing?”

    Karna paused for a moment and put the bottle and sponge to the side.

    “You spilled cola and pizza on the same spot not long ago. I wanted to get the stain out before it became permanent.”

    Apparently the dolt had never heard of a rhetorical question. This only flustered Jinako even further as she only now realised her position, semi-naked on her bed surrounded with cameras.

    “Why didn’t you say anything when you came in-”

    “You were otherwise occupied and fully focused on the screen; I didn’t want to disturb you.” Karna replied in a decidedly curt manner, he could be awfully blunt at times.

    With a frown etched across her face, Jinako regrettably turned back to the screen, dreading the response. She was half expecting a barrage of mockery. So-called fans could easily turn on their idol after all. So many people had come to see their favourite tournament player try to play as a Cam Girl for the night. It was a night that had almost certainly been ruined now.

    As fate would have it, that was not the case.

    The words were surprisingly… positive?

    They were talking about how the ‘Confident, hungry woman’ doesn’t quite fit her image. That she was so much cuter all flustered like this and worth showcasing any embarrassment. The overall consensus was that ‘Accidental Sexiness’ was so much better for her. Jinako steeled herself and strengthened her resolve. She wouldn’t have to pretend to be anyone else, just being herself was what the people really wanted all along! That’s why they were really here after all!

    There was still the problem of Karna, who had since resumed work and gotten to scrubbing up after Jinako’s mess. Although he wasn’t her preferred type of a cute young boy like that blue haired writer she met, Karna still had that look like he was in a boy band and popped right out of a J-POP magazine. It was a look that had a sort of universal appeal.

    So, with the camera still rolling, Jinako turned back to the camera and wiggled up close to it with a sly mischievous smile, or more accurately her attempt at one. “Hey,” Jinako whispered to the camera, “He is pretty cute. Should I have a little fun with him? Show me how much you want to see~.” The comments were naturally that of universal approval. Jinako had put on a show and kept teasing them, they wanted a payoff to it all. It was time for Jinako to make the move.

    “Oh Karna, could you come over here please?” Jinako lay on her back and almost purred in delight as Karna put down the cleaning equipment and followed her call. “Be a dear and take your clothes off.”

    Without question or quibble, Karna compiled. There was no style to the removal; he simply stripped down as he approached. First was his rubber gloves that were placed on a side cabinet, second was his shirt that was tossed aside to reveal a strikingly well defined set of abs and muscle despite his thin frame. Finally were his pants which he hooked with his thumbs and pulled them down along with his underwear and they hit the floor. Karna walked forward with no shame or visible pride in his nudity, it must simply be a ‘natural state of being for him’ Jinako thought to herself before her eyes turned blatantly on his figure as possible.

    She leaned in forward, grabbing a hold of Karna and pulled him in tightly to feel his body against hers with their hands running across each other’s bodies. The natural warmth from his body was great, perfect for cold nights. His skin was soft to the touch but the tapestry of muscle was firm which only stirred more heat within her. Jinako could feel his fingers trace across her figure with the slight calluses on his fingers from the manual work he’d done in his life, it was rougher than the rest of him but only served to stimulate her more. Finally was the sensation of his slow breath against her skin which made every hair on her strike up. Her heart was thumping louder and louder. Her breathing was harder and harder. Every fibre of being was calling out to him as he leant in and place a gentle hiss against her neck and she gave the first genuine gasp all night.

    Jinako’s mind was racing, it felt it had been forever since another touched her and her servant was so sensual and gentle with her, making her want more and more-!

    She was the one being pulled along now.

    Karna positioned himself on top of her and between her legs, reading her cues but certain not to take another step further than what they were doing. He was waiting for her to give her consent.

    Jinako opened her mouth “A-aaaa, I… I-I’d.” But the words caught in her throat. Her whole body tensed but she wanted this. She needed this. “I-I’d like you… to place your hand between my legs.” It was so hard! “And kiss me.”

    This wasn’t a controlling lover giving commands, or a Master commanding a Heroic Spirit in the Moon Cell, but one person asking to be lead. The son of the sun god was a true hero of charity as he followed her wishes and went beyond, his hand settling down between her legs and fingers slowly beginning to rub at her material, stimulating her underneath, drawing out moans that he silenced with his lips flush against hers.

    “You feel good,” Jinako moaned, wrapping her hand around his cock and starting to clumsily stroke at it as the other moved almost of its own free will as it moved along his arm, and side, caressing him and urging him to move faster and tighter still.

    Karna moved in kind as he moved his fingers around her outfit and pushed his warm fingers into her hot and slick core, rocking back and forth at a gentle pace which only made her savour the insanity of the moment even further. Pleasure took its place at the forefront and the sensation stirring within of her good Karna’s fingers stroked at her faster and deeper by this stunning demigod. He even taking charge with the kissing as their lips brushed against each other, his tongue just flickering against her, on the verge of going deeper but keeping on the edge, keeping her on the edge. With his fingers at such a splendid pace, Jinako let her free hand grip Karna’s back, pulling him and keeping him there. Karna moved to kiss Jinako’s neck as she began to moan, hand working up and down his cock. The sight and feeling of his length in her hand, so warm and eager, only worked her up further. Her initial thoughts of putting on a show, working him slow and teasing the audience but as the two worked each other, she couldn’t help herself as she stroked faster and succumbed fully to the moment and adoring him with every stroke she gave in turn.

    Jinako was most fortunate as Karna was focused entirely on her, stirring the heat within her warm slick core and deftly working with a divine finesse as Jinako was clearly in need. Jinako’s actions were less precise and a bit clumsy with how she stroked him but the sensation of her nails digging in and the way her body jerked as gave out the sweetest cry was all the satisfaction he needed.

    It all reached to a head in what felt like an eternity yet no time at all with the sweet hot satisfaction of Karna’s pressure within her. He could tell Jinako was close and didn’t want him to hold back as her moans turned into a cry “Please! I’m- I’m so,” she called out as she jerked him off faster with a hungry desperation as she succumbed. With a great hot swell of excitement, the build up of pleasure inside finally pushed her over the edge, heaving and shivering as she lost herself. “Karna!” she gasped, hips bucking underneath him.

    Her hands fell limp to the side, exhausted, but Karna wasn’t done as his lips met hers and pushed forwards and hungrily met him, unable to stop kissing him.

    “I’ve never… that hard… from just a hand,” Jinako groaned in between kisses as strength began to renew itself within her as her grip on Karna. With what meagre might she had, she flung herself at him, rolling Karna onto his back and with her atop. Her eyes glanced back towards the camera, the views and donations having skyrocketed just now, she reached forwards and adjusted it so she and Karna were in focus. However this time the center frame was based towards Karna’s pelvis, specifically what was still hard and standing erect to full attention.

    Without reading the comments on the screen, she knew what they wanted, it was what she wanted. She wanted to ‘reward’ her loyal servant but she needed to really feel him deeper, a fire had been lit and it had no intention of being stifled out as she drew back from his lap, planting her kisses across her nicely toned stomach back down to where his cock was standing proudly before her. “Karna,” Jinako said, now devoid of the uncertainty and awkwardness from earlier, “I want to suck your dick.” “Wouldn’t you rather sit on my face?” Karna asked, eager and willing to please “I’m more than happy to keep pleasing you as long as you need me tonight.” Karna was clearly a very generous lover as one may expect from one called the ‘Hero of Charity’ and Karna didn’t hesitate for a moment to just keep giving, ready to do whatever to please her. Tonight was apparently all eyes of Jinako.

    Tempting as that was however, this act was for herself even though she was the one to give. A selfish charity.

    Her eyes locked on and stared hungrily at Karna, she had never noticed till it was literally in her face but she had a gift here. It was long, it was hard, rigid and still full of energy even though Karna had brought her to orgasm so soon. “I’ve missed this.” She confessed peppering it with eager kisses, running up and down the cock with affection and adoration. It was true and not for the show of the viewers, it had been longer than Jinako would have cared to admit since she had been touched by another. This was a sincere need, with a continued desperation as she continued to give Karna affection.

    Slowly but surely Karna began to react, letting out a soft moan, fingers reaching down to pat at her soft hair, adoring her with the steady gentle touch. “You’re doing marvellously.”

    “You only say this now when I give you a blowjob.” Jinako snided, it wasn’t his fault or anything but she had never made any moves that she wanted more and Karna… even if he did he respected her distance and was certainly more than happy to remain as friends. That said, the way he was making her feel tonight was a way he had never done before and she didn’t want him to stop. She never wanted him to stop right now.

    As she brought him to her mouth and gave a few hesitant licks at its tip, one last streak of nervousness hit her, but not as much as there really should have been. Karna had been encouraging her this whole time in his own unique way and damn but it worked. “Keep telling me how good I am.” As her tongue slithered out, Jinako was oddly comfortable. Perhaps it was newfound confidence, perhaps it was Karna. But regardless, she slowly began to lean in closer, Karna’s warmth beginning to push past her lips and roaming tongue and into her mouth and her partner humming in delight for her.

    Karna’s fingers now ran themselves through her hair, gently moving his hand in time with Jinako’s own movements. “You’re so beautiful, you know that? You feel so, so good.”

    Karna hadn’t complimented her like this before, saying such things as ‘Even snails have their own dignity’ but that was breathtaking. He was far more worldly than her and to him she was a real woman, pleasing a hero such as himself. He was just the encouragement Jinako needed to keep going, working together in collaboration as he guides her, almost as if he were teaching her silently. Jinako pushed further and further down, letting Karna fill her mouth. He was hot and pushing down on her tongue with his size as she continued to roll it back and forth. Her pleasures stoked from earlier began to grow in a new way.

    Jinako’s head rolled back and forth at a good pace, the motion easy to slip into an almost hypnotic fixation, the only other interaction being Karna’s moans growing louder as he started to rock his hips for her against her own new aggressive, firm touch with the need to please. She wasn’t as charitable as Karna, it was to show she had it in her and for her own enjoyment, though that was probably why Karna agreed to it instead of lifting her into position and burying his face in between her legs.

    But if there were to be a next time, that would be the first thing she’s have him do to her.

    As Jinako’s hand slipped to a familiar spot, her fingers dancing where Karna’s had before, she heard one clear word finally. “Deeper,” he purred as Jinako felt herself up, the words adding weight to gravity as she brought her mouth to the base. Jinako have out a little gag as she did but with Karna’s hands still entwined with her hair but at the back of her head in one last lesson, to suck faster and deep as she wanted to go. Karna’s touch combined with her own made Jinako shiver, her own need at a new height but she’s focusing solely on having her fun, and making Karna finish too. She let it wash over her, simple and sweet.

    “Oh, you feel incredible.” Karna groaned, his grip on her hair tightening further as his own hips rolled faster. Jinako had prepared herself for this, Karna wasn’t the type who’d yell out that he was going to shoot all over her face but his actions had done the talking, the way he gripped her and moved was indication enough.

    Jinako was rewarded as Karna let out one final bated breath. Jinako began to pull back on instinct almost entirely which ensued he spilled out into her mouth. She felt the surprise of the salty flavour splash against her mouth overpowering her and making her pull back fully as a final spurt shot upward across her glasses.

    Her mouth agape as a little trickle of his release exits Jinako’s mouth as her eyes shift over to Karna.

    “Thank you.” Jianko moaned, taking off her glasses and crawling up to kiss Karna, “I really needed that.”

    Karna panted heavily, “I’m glad you enjoyed that, you were good for me too… well as well as our audience.”

    Jinako had almost forgotten about the camera’s rolling and started up in amazement at the screen. That was enough pledges put down to keep her comfortable for a while. She’d need to win some more tournament money, maybe set up a streaming channel, have Karna keep track of finances but this had done everything she wanted of a significant amount of money in a short amount of time. However she realised that the camera was still rolling while she was in her daze.

    “That’s the end of our show tonight, ladies and gentlemen,” Karna said as he got up and reached to the camera with a warm smile. “If you’re fortunate we may do this again and we may do more for you. However what happens next right now is just for us.”

    With the camera switched of, Karna spun round back into the attendance of his master as he wrapped his arms around and held her tightly. “What would you like? Some more recreation or do you need to rest?”


    For the first time in a while, Jinako was acutely aware of her limitations with her awareness directed inwards. A little light headed, sore hips and a lingering taste in her mouth.

    It was an inconvenient truth and silly old Karna hadn’t turned off the camera just now then perhaps she could have gotten a little more cash.

    –But he knew what he was doing, she was never going to convince him otherwise, she wasn’t even going to convince herself.

    “Maybe… just a little…

    … would be nice…”

    “We can do more later if you want, for now just rest.” Karna’s legs were boney and his lap made for a poor pillow, a fact she had berated him before. His touch and comfort in his embrace more than made it as they snuggled up, holding one another.

    Jinako mumbles, her last words inaudible before sleep overtook her.

    “Kar….. Lo… …ou.”

    Well, to herself maybe.

    Kairigiri Jinako/Karna [Fate/EXTRA CCC] It finally happened. Jinako ran out of money. But, she wants to continue living the NEET life with her and her Servant, Karna. The only recourse left for a useless, somewhat chunky shut-in like herself is...doing cam girl work? Use this as an inspiration. Make Jinako awkward when appropriate. Start off solo, but then, at the behest of the members of the live chat she's doing the show for, incorporate her Servant, Karna, into the mix. Make the lemon content escalate as you continue to incorporate the live chat into the lemon, with the anons tossing out commentary and suggestions that Jinako and Karna are obliged to fulfill as more pledges roll in. Mandatory Tag(s): bunnygirl_suit, glasses, webcam, male_and_female pair, voeyurism-via-livestream -- add more at your own discretion.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dullahan View Post
    there aren't enough gun emojis in the thousandfold trichiliocosm for this shit

    Linger: Complete. August, 1995. I met him. A branch off Part 3. Mikiya keeps his promise to meet Azaka, and meets again with that mysterious girl he once found in the rain.
    Shinkai: Set in the Edo period. DHO-centric. As mysterious figures gather in the city, a young woman unearths the dark secrets of the Asakami family.
    The Dollkeeper: A Fate side-story. The memoirs of the last tuner of the Einzberns. A record of the end of a family.
    Overcount 2030: Extra x Notes. A girl with no memories is found by a nameless soldier, and wakes up to a world of war.

  4. #4
    好き! Kirby's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2013
    JP Friend Code
    Blog Entries

    Death Eaters

    Some things never die.

    This is not the way things should be, but they way they are. Even with the restoration of human order, irregularities remain, bubbles of stubborn false history. They can be left alone to wither and die without their vine, but in some ways they remain useful: materials, experience, team bonding. Ostensibly the first and truly the third reason was why the Master of Chaldea had sent two of his Servants seeking a votive wine from the half-flooded house of Adrammelech in the ruins of Sippar. Such an easy thing for that mage to say, occupying their time playing with all their best friends back at the base, but the reality is much more difficult.

    The hydra crashes through one of the pillars that once held a great roof, a hundred shooting heads pursuing Ryougi Shiki. A small flash of red and blue, speed is her best defense, slipping around the rubble and water, sword in hand warding off the occasional snapping jaws that come too close. Something about it frustrates the great beast; she’s forever just out of range, kimono ragged with the marks of near misses, and it demands all of its attention, offensive as she is to its kingly instinct. It never expects the spears. Scores of red thorns crush into its side, and it whips its heads around, looking for the source of the new attack. In that moment of divided focus, her sword flicks out, and a head drops to the ground, frozen dead in the middle of its rage. Bereft, the long neck it was attached to writhes senseless, the most recent of its fellows so destined. None regenerated from the clean cut; there’s no multiplication, no slow overwhelming attacks. It’s slow in the opposite fashion: the heads drop one by one, a progressive final end to parts of the creature’s life. She’s here because she’s perfect for the job.

    Scáthach slips back into the shadows, and the hydra’s strongest heads strike nothing but air. She’s here because she’s perfect for the job; out of Chaldea’s beast hunters, the legendary teacher is the obvious pairing for Shiki, who has more instinct and power than experience. She can do it herself, she insists, but she has to admit that this way is easier. All she has to do is flick between the shadows as is her nature and hammer the beast, Gáe Bolg coming down like a hail of frozen blood on its hide. Every time she throws a group, it looks for her, and it loses a head. Simple, but she doesn’t like simple. She’s been taken along on a mission to serve as artillery, and it puts her on the level of a mere mage rather than who she is. The next group of spears lands almost a second after, and the head that drops is the halfway point. Shiki, always in motion, slows down, because there’s no need for anything else. The hydra is slowing too, come to rest in a deep pool of water and lashing out with its heads; Shiki flicks past the blows in the blink of an eye, gliding over the water. Scáthach knows her partner shouldn’t be able to survive: the poison on the hydra’s breath burns even the lungs of Servants, and it takes a conscious part of her to avoid breathing it in, purging the air with her own mana. She can see what Shiki does, and Shiki simply doesn’t breathe. The same mesmer that she works on herself with her sword that lets her feel the strikes before they land convinces her that her lungs need not move and her heart need not beat, so she’s uninjured even as her clothes are slowly etched away by poison. And she knows there’s eyes on her; Shiki looks up at the deep hollow under a broken pillar Scáthach tucked herself into this time, cutting away another head, and judging her in return.

    Scáthach moves and Gáe Bolg flicks a deep gash into the hydra’s tail. It doesn’t heal, and so she could do this on her own, but she would have to pick it apart slowly over a day, cutting it down to size with quick spear blows, while Shiki can move her sword and cut away a neck three times as thick as the sword is long. She has to admit she’s outclassed. But she insists on contributing now personally, and they both dash around it, staying ahead of the crashing snakelike heads, all the while each with one eye trained on the other. They can claim that it’s simple situational awareness, but they insist on watching each other now as the end draws closer, each thinking that it would reveal something about the other.

    Wolves circling a wounded bison. Scáthach is a blur of action, taking every blow she safely can and a few she can’t, trying to wound it whenever. The sight of it’s sky-blue blood doesn’t enrage Shiki the same way, but it’s no longer necessary to cut to kill, so she cuts when she can, aiming for tendons, muscle groups, bone, picking it apart when she can. The hydra senses its death exposed and thrashes, even the headless necks wrapping all around it and crushing rock to rubble, fighting only to be alive and permanently crippled - at best. The instinct is easy to recognize, and Shiki flicks herself backward, alighting on the water and watching it tire itself. Yet Scáthach dives in, working between the knots of spinning heads with the thinnest of margins and digging into it with one spear in both hands. The hydra’s noise is a hiss that should be an earthquake but only shakes the water as Gáe Bolg draws a deep gash a spearlength long, cleaving muscle away from the spine.

    Poison seeps from the wound. Somewhere, it recognizes among its many brains that it was a deathblow, and yet it struggles and stands tall, titanic lungs drawing breath and bellowing, eating away at even stone. It stumbles; a triptych of spears lands in the back of its hindlegs, and it crashes down, throwing up a spray of water. Scáthach cuts through it, suddenly coming for it’s chest - though its back legs are crippled it still tries to stand, presenting its chest, and two spears carve a great V through it, hide falling open. A sword flies past her head - Shiki must have thrown it, she thinks, imagining it, the quick spin in a circle she must have done to build momentum, tattered kimono spinning behind her as she cast the weapon that disappears deep inside the hydra’s flesh and clearly strikes a heart within its heart. It heaves a last breath and suddenly collapses into the water like its strings are cut. Scáthach feels the energy burst from the corpse, washing out back into the world, and the flesh itself begins to steam, the hydra’s energy no longer holding its own poison at bay. The bones could dig themselves a mile into the earth if they’re that virulent, she thinks. But it’s a moment before she realizes that Shiki has vanish.

    She finds her partner just a couple minutes later under the early afternoon sun in a grassy field on the bank of the Euphrates, just outside the walls of the ruined palace. It must have been a king’s garden at some time; flowers in all the shades of earthly gems dot the grass, yellow and purple and deep blue. Shiki doesn’t react much as Scáthach draws near, but no longer like a dead body - like a cat who senses a presence, and decides to ignore it, sitting back to aimlessly picks at the grass. “Well, you said that you weren’t a real Heroic Spirit? You’re not bad to watch, just for having pure instinct.”

    “That’s right. Stuck on the boundary.”

    “A shame. You could be quite something with time; but you’ll be content to go back to your quiet real life?”

    Shiki sighs. “What’s here that I want? All I wanted was an everyday, and I made one for myself. There’s no need for me in such an unnatural world.”

    “That’s a lie you tell yourself.” Scáthach looks at her body, poking out from the kimono - the poison is neutralized now, but its effect still remains, and her kimono sloughs around her, tattered and weak like a pulled-apart cobweb. But through the gaps she can see Shiki’s slender legs, completely unmarked and inviolate, and she stops talking besides Shiki, talking to her instead. “You’re far closer to what only you can kill than you want to believe.”

    “And you’re not so different from the monsters you claim to hate either, witch of shadows.”


    “They should have died out long ago. And you should have also, no?”

    Scáthach sits down next to Shiki, leaning over to look into her face. “You said yourself that you shouldn’t be here, so that makes two of us foreigners. If we’re both in a living dream, why not learn something new, and have a sweet taste in your mouth when you wake up.”

    “So what? Show me what you want, I don’t care.” All of a sudden, Scáthach puts a hand on Shiki’s leg - the remains of her kimono disintegrate at the touch, gloved fingers brushing firmly over Shiki’s slender thigh. They creep inside and up, moving insistently.

    “I want to see you alive. You can be a moving doll but you should be more than that, shouldn’t you?”

    “I’m married, you know,” says Shiki, lying there and looking at Scáthach with grey eyes.

    “And I thought we agreed this was a dream.”

    Shiki never says yes, but she never says no, and to Scáthach her gaze says that she barely cares, but is willing to allow it out of simple curiosity. And Scáthach can’t help but try; she wants to help Shiki, but she looks at Shiki like a porcelain doll that needs joints and limbs and breath and life, and to make that happen she needs to break her, crack that indifferent exterior and half-dead body so it can move, help it break itself.

    They only hear the faintest touch of a breeze ripple through the grass. Covered in paper-think dark wine fabric, Scáthach’s fingers reach between Shiki’s legs like a stain. One brushes at her clit. Shiki’s eyes are closed, but she does make a low moan as Scáthach’s nail barely scrapes against her. Those hands had been throwing spears with wild abandon, but now, her fingers are incredibly controlled for only the desired action.

    Reaction? Maybe. The finger slides inside Shiki, and she clenches around it, but her face is still a mask. She should be moving more, Scáthach thinks, but she’s holding her own feelings inside. And Scáthach adds another finger, slowly letting her get used to its gentle in and out, before she curls them inside. Finally, Shiki makes a real noise. Her moan is almost hoarse, crackling, suddenly unguarded and Scáthach has to have more of what must be the real Shiki. Her fingers press right up inside her, just barely with enough skill to hold them back from being pure lust (though that’s where they will be in the end). And slowly Shiki starts to move with her, letting her hips break and roll into Scáthach’s hand, just barely, but enough to adjust the angle, pushing the fingers into her the right way.

    It can’t be enough. Feline, Scáthach slides over Shiki’s body, fingers still moving endlessly while she brings her face close. Her long hair falls around them in sheets, secluding them together away from the sun, and Shiki’s eyes sparkle in the shadow for a moment before Scáthach leans down to kiss her, immediately drawing open her lips. Shiki’s tongue does little as Scáthach meets it, feeling out the rest of her mouth - receptive but passive, just like everything else, and Scáthach can’t stand that degree of control, needs a noise. She draws Shiki’s body up into hers, twisting her fingers now up into what she rightly guesses would be the spot. It gets her her noise, as a muffled Shiki groans up into her to be captured.

    From then on it goes quickly, nearly surprising Scáthach as she gets little teardrops to bead at the side of Shiki’s eyes, her noises slowly growing more needy until she’s forced to bite down on a finger to stop them. She holds Shiki softly as the girl shakes in her hands with a quiet orgasm helping her ride down the long peak and keeping her close, curling up around her body as they lie there in the field.

    They saw each other later in the hallways of Chaldea, and Scáthach was ready to approach her closely, walking with her arm to arm, until Shiki pulls away to keep walking, a dead woman.

    Scathach goes hunting, and brings a pretty female partner. After the excitement of bringing down a terrifying monster in an epic battle, they do it. Action-followed-by-yuri-smut story. Any time period, Sensei can be a Servant or a wandering immortal warrior witch queen, her partner can be her Master or her Servant or someone/thing else entirely; more than one partner is cool, too.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dullahan View Post
    there aren't enough gun emojis in the thousandfold trichiliocosm for this shit

    Linger: Complete. August, 1995. I met him. A branch off Part 3. Mikiya keeps his promise to meet Azaka, and meets again with that mysterious girl he once found in the rain.
    Shinkai: Set in the Edo period. DHO-centric. As mysterious figures gather in the city, a young woman unearths the dark secrets of the Asakami family.
    The Dollkeeper: A Fate side-story. The memoirs of the last tuner of the Einzberns. A record of the end of a family.
    Overcount 2030: Extra x Notes. A girl with no memories is found by a nameless soldier, and wakes up to a world of war.

  5. #5
    好き! Kirby's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2013
    JP Friend Code
    Blog Entries

    Cold and Lonesome

    Stillness. Were there a perfect word to describe Chaldea’s state, stillness would be the first to come to mind. The place had darkened, its inhabitants become motionless, standing yet unconscious, forever waiting.

    The entire facility was devoid of power, thought, color, motion, life and warmth. Eternally frozen, captured in their state, they showed a photograph of longing.

    Chaldea was waiting for something which would never happen, for someone who would never come.

    However, all things that slumber wake or die in their sleep.

    And it was time to wake up.


    An unimaginable chill went through me. It didn’t feel cold, it felt painful, desperate, violent.

    My hands worked, assaulting a lighter, forcing into existence a fire where there was a small, pathetic pile of sticks and bark.

    Under the cover of an alcove, a fortunate stacking of stone, a small flame came to life.

    I huddled close, approached my convulsing fingers, my numb face to the fire. More sticks, more bark, all I found on the way, all that looked dry.

    Between uneven breaths, I felt energy drain from my body, from every cloud leaving my mouth.

    I was sitting, but my chest didn’t want to stand straight. I fell to my side, immediately shoving myself as close to the fire as possible, face and fingers as close as I could without burning them.

    Should I take off my wet clothes? Should I force myself to stay awake? I didn’t know, I didn’t know. I looked at my phone, wet, unresponsive, dead, laying next to me.

    This was supposed to be easy.

    This was supposed to be the easy way.

    To the sound of desperate gasping, my eyes failed me. My numb body refused to move. No energy went anywhere, the only sensation coming from my lungs and my fingers, a painful burn.

    My mind left me.


    Everything came to life at once. A violent, terrible shock came over her, not unlike having a bucket of frozen water tossed at her in her sleep.

    Fire immediately formed around her hands as she looked around. It was her room, in Chaldea. The lights were on, the bed was made, but half the room was missing. At the midway point, the room crumbled, turned into shards and stopped existing, showing a great black nothing.

    Before her confusion had time to be registered, it had already made way to anger. She reached for the door, still intact. It was an airlock-like door, but it wasn’t opening on command as it should.

    She banged on it with the force of a heroic spirit, aware her voice wouldn’t get through.

    Banged once, twice, until once again aggravation turned to anger, and a great fire formed at her feet, and around her hands. She forced her hands on the door, burning and melting the steel as she tried to make a foothold to pry it open with.

    It didn’t work. Like a gorilla trying to hit a projection, a dog trying to reach inside a television, the door was impossible to affect. She cursed loudly, strongly, banged on the door as fire unwillingly sprouted at her feet, covered her being as she grew angrier and angrier.

    Until finally, someone knocked back. She looked at the door in surprise, knocked again and was responded to immediately.

    Silence followed, the longest seconds she had ever felt, until a very loud knock came again, this time not on the door. Whatever happened, it resulted in the door opening quickly, so quickly it was impossible to see. As if the door’s two only states were wide open and tightly shut.

    “Are you okay?” A voice came from outside, rushing in to meet her.

    A girl wearing a bikini, gauntlets and a hat came into view.

    “Martha,” the woman’s voice came out, aggravated and belligerent. “I suppose I should thank you for that.”

    The woman’s face hardened immediately.

    “Jeanne.” A frown deepened. “Come outside.”

    Jeanne looked at her quietly as a response, then headed outside the room.

    “What in hell…”


    “Hey there, [you]…” A soft voice spoke to me. I looked around, to see two girls. One was lean and muscular, with long, dark hair. She was wearing a bikini and holding a hat in her hands. A cross hung from her neck. The other was more buxom than lean, with short, whiteish hair and stunning, golden eyes. She was wearing a short dress with a coat over it.

    They both seemed ephemeral, impossible. I looked at them then at my hands and felt strange, like my they weren’t my own.

    “Are you alright?” The long-haired one asked, concerned. She looked straight at me, at nothing else.

    “Ah, uh, yeah. I’m fine, just a little, uh…” Thoughts came to mind. Instinct, memory. “It’s my first time with both of you, is all.”

    She giggled, and the light haired one blushed and looked away.

    “Don’t be worried, [you].” She stood up, and I just realised I was lying on a bed, in the dead center, and they were sitting at each end of it. She tossed her hat aside, approached me and climbed the bed on all fours, directly over me. “I’ll take the lead for now. I’m sure [she] will want to give it a shot when we get started.”

    I heard a huff from afar but was immediately distracted by the soft sensation of lips meeting my own.

    The earlier feeling dissipated. This was unmistakeably real, an unforgettable experience.


    “This can’t be real.”

    Jeanne starred as seconds passed. Outside her room was not a hallway. It was half of a hallway, the other half…

    It was hard to describe. If she looked up, she could see a nightmarish blue hole, a thousand cracks spreading away from it, turning all sorts of colors. Around it, she could see rooms, locations. She saw London floating behind it, partially obscured. She could see Orleans, off to its left. She could see hundreds of locations from their work to save the world floating, no, gravitating around the hole.

    A feeling of dread overcame her, she looked to her left, to see Martha standing in the hallway, then to her right. A void, like before, as if the area had forgotten to exist in its entirety.

    Unlike in her room, however, she could see past the void. She saw more places, more [event locations] and [main story destinations] floating, slowly reaching for the hole.

    “What is this? What the hell is this?” Jeanne barked at Martha, but the stoic saint simply shook her head.

    “I don’t know. As soon as I awoke, I started looking around for answers, but I didn’t find anything until I heard your knocking.”

    “How… how did you even walk around this mess?!” Jeanne gestured behind her, where the hallway no longer existed.

    “I walked the halls until they stopped, but whenever I approached the end of their existence, they’d suddenly just extend.” Martha walked past Jeanne, to the place where the hallway stopped. As she reached the absolute edge, the hallway suddenly stretched out again, continuing onwards, just as described. “Come, Jeanne D’Arc. There must be most people trapped, we have to help them.”

    Jeanne stared at the composed woman, jaw loose. She then looked up, at Orleans, and London, at Rome and Liz’s castle and Mysterious Heroine X’s crashed ship and a great apartment building and-

    The hole was changing color. It went from a bright blue to a bright green, slowly and surely, and the cracks around it followed suit as they spread.

    “No.” Jeanne laughed slightly. “No, I’m leaving.”


    “I said, I’m leaving. Everything’s getting sucked into that big hole, right? I’m going to go have a look, up close.”

    “Jeanne, what about the rest of our comrades?” Martha said, putting a hand to her chest, obviously about to continue her speech.

    The fallen saint’s face contorted into disgust.

    “Save them your own damn self.” She said, not letting the saint continue. She turned the other way and walked off.

    She could feel the true saint’s eyes on her back, even after she was gone. Eventually, even that sensation had faded away, its disappearance lending a deep feeling of solitude.


    The bikini had disappeared at one point, its removal masked by an intense session of non-medical mouth to mouth.

    I saw this in between breaths, and she immediately noticed. She licked her lips, and her face retreated away from my own, her entire body moving backwards, putting herself between my legs. My member stood proud to meet her, and she smiled to see it tall and large, a pulsating vein of desire.

    “Well then. [You], [you]’re certainly ready for this.” She gave it a kiss, and I took a deep breath. I wanted it, wanted her to take it. She licked it, tickled at my package, and looked up to me hungrily. A pair of golden eyes turned to watch us, unreadable.

    “I… P-please…” I couldn’t even form words to explain my desire, but she understood. She rested her mouth near the top, giving it a big kiss, lick, and then pushed her head down, making my penis disappear.

    It was wet. It was hot. A warm, mucous membrane met my head, caressed it, stimulated it. I felt restless, I wanted more. My hands involuntarily rose up, reaching for her head.

    But my own was taken first. Without noticing, the light haired one had come to my side and pushed my head down. She was still in the mini dress but had taken off the coat. I looked at her, her face, and in the corner of my eye I saw she had nothing underneath.

    Once again, I was noticed. She pulled the mini dress up a bit, showing her crotch. Before I could even appreciate the sight, she had thrown a leg above me and put my head into her intimacy.

    “Lick,” she said, her voice hard, though her cheeks were bright red.

    I obliged.


    Eventually, the corridor did end. Instead of falling into a void, however, the hall simply turned into a different terrain. At Jeanne’s feet was now the burning streets of Fuyuki. Its flames refused to shake and dance as real fire would, their state reminiscent of a still picture.

    She took a few steps, felt the ground, and walked back into the hallway. Despite the clear difference in material and solidity, they felt exactly the same. Curiosity unsatisfied, she decided to keep moving.

    As she walked through the terrain, the same phenomenon as the hallway happened. The world seemed to only to exist so long as she walked towards it, through it.

    And as the world existed, so too did residents exist within it. More than once, Jeanne creating a new segment of the world brought about the appearance of skeletons and dragon tooth soldiers. Some were frozen, unmoving as the portrait she walked through. Some moved and seemed hostile, but never truly acted, as if waiting for her to make the first move.

    So, she walked past them.

    She walked and walked, her instincts guiding the way. Eventually, she found herself in front of the big mountain. She walked around, found its entrance, and almost went in. Instead she looked up to the sky, to the great hole. It was as green as it was before, but it felt larger now.

    Either it was larger, or she was slowly getting closer. She preferred the more optimistic of the two, a conclusion reached with a grimace-like smile.

    “Well…” She muttered to herself. “So long as I don’t have to walk through every single area we’ve been to.”

    She walked down the tunnel, to the place where the first singularity ended. After a long trek through a cavern filled with unresponsive enemies, she made it to where a familiar face was standing. At the very height of a ledge was Saber Alter, standing tall. Her sword was planted in front of her, and both hands rested on its pommel.

    Jeanne shouted her name, with no response. She walked up to the king and waved her hand in front of her face. She pulled at her cheek. She punched her. Nothing garnered a reaction.


    Jeanne walked away, towards a darkness further in the cavern. As she reached it, another world spread before her.

    Orleans, she realised with a sigh.

    She put one step in front of the other and kept walking, her goal clear and her focus unbreakable.


    I could barely focus on licking, as my member was under an assault. But still I tried, and tried, and eventually my mouth’s own liquids were not the only ones I was tasting.

    I couldn’t feel the taste, but I knew it was there, it was different.

    I tried to keep going, between the need to constantly breathe and the desire to interfere, to add to the assault in between my legs, until finally it stopped.

    The girl directly above me noticed, and she took her leg away, sat next to my head.

    She wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at the other presence, who had adjusted so her other mouth was the one now facing me.

    She looked at me, at only me, her face red with excitement. Her warm hand grabbed hold of me, held me in place, and guided me in properly as she fell onto me.

    It was like another world, compared to the one hidden behind her lips. I was completely devoured. The warm, sticky feeling present in her mouth was multiplied here. Every fold felt as lewd and accepting as her tongue, every crease as hungry and willing to wring me dry as the girl who owned them.

    “Let’s… get started, then.” She fell over, my member within her, and said this in my ear. I felt her words ring in my head, turn my chest into a furnace and trigger a rush of energy between my legs.

    My hands grabbed her hips, and I…


    Jeanne put aside her flag for a moment and put both her hands on her hips, exasperated.

    She was both thankful and disappointed nothing had happened in Orleans. She saw her old self for a moment, had fun comparing the her from then to herself now, but apart from that it was just bad memories.

    Then came Okeanos, where she learned she could walk from a beach onto a boat onto another island immediately.

    Then was London, where she learned that walking for hours with no distractions was a boring endeavor.

    Then America, which was where she was now. In front of her was a white building with a massive spear right through it. While it could have been impressive, the spear stopped existing after the tip, becoming part of the void. Most of the building decided to do so as well.

    She sighed and looked to the sky, the hole becoming a shade of yellow. Like a sunset, but instead of the sun…

    A moment passed in silence. She picked her flag back up, walked through the door of the white house and came out into a desert.

    Camelot. She started walking, occasionally looking up to the sky, the hole making a bigger impact than the sun, which didn’t exist. Its light did, however.

    She walked, and walked, until she found an interesting occurrence.

    She walked to a shadow, creating the next area, which revealed Camelot in the distance. Revealing Camelot in the distance upside down, rather.

    Not only had the newer areas never gone so far before, she also didn’t understand what was happening. But then there was nothing else she could do, so she put a foot before the other. Eventually the desert stopped, made way to a more volcanic, solid-looking terrain.

    The one problem was that where one ended, the other started hundreds of feet in the air. Jeanne walked forward and poked at the abyss at the end of the sand with her flag. There was nothing, no further path. The fallen saint did, however, notice something completely different. Her flag wasn’t hanging downwards, but up.

    “Ha…” She mumbled, voice filled with the kind of aggravation only boredom could ignite. “A leap of faith, then.”

    She walked forward, off the edge, and started falling upwards. She did not fall straight or gracefully, and her landing could not be described as either. Dropping her flag and rolling a few times too many, she forced herself back to her feet. She picked up her flag and looked at Camelot, then back up to where the sand was. Then, she looked off into the horizon, where the hole lay motionless, its color stable.

    She shook her head at the entire situation.

    She walked into Camelot, only to see that while the city had been fully visible, the ground was still a part of the too-familiar abyss. She stepped forward and ground came to be, but different than before. Before, it didn’t exist, until it suddenly did along with décor and static background.

    This time, the streets seemed to flip into existence, tiles that were not there spinning into motion, into shape and form, leading her onwards. No buildings, no gardens, just street.

    Jeanne hummed unpleasantly, followed by a smile. She had the nasty feeling this meant something was going to be different in this place. A nasty feeling, but at least a break from the boredom of walking along silently.

    She walked the streets surrounded by nothing, seeing only walls in the distance around her, and the castle in front. Eventually she came to the castle itself and walked in the front door. What she found however, was not a dark area waiting to exist.

    Here the décor was complete, even without her prompting it. An uncomfortable feeling crept into her gut, immediately before a feeling settled on her shoulder, falling from above.

    A wet feeling.


    It was wet, it slid in and out so easily, so pleasurably, but every stroke felt so far from the climax I craved.

    I wanted to spread my seed into her.

    I wanted to mark this girl, to make her mine in the most primal of ways.

    She fell forward again, her hair falling around her head, giving me an unforgettable image. Her mouth was slightly open, her cheeks red, eyes filled with desire.

    The sight burned itself into my eyes, my very soul. This woman, this woman I am relentlessly pounding into, this woman I am doing this act with, this woman is mine.

    Yes, yes, this situation, this is where I belong, beloved by these two girls. I am wanted, hungered for, sought for.

    I breathed heavily, the situation, exercise, the emotion overtaking me.

    Something obstructed my vision. Not darkness, shade. I saw a crotch, moist, pink, hungry. It didn’t obstruct the other girl, who was pushed a bit further for the new participant. I still saw her, breasts jumping up and down as I pumped into her, but now I could see a new sight. Yes, this new girl, this wetness.

    I wanted to make her mine too. She wanted to be mine.

    I was desired.

    She didn’t wait for me to do anything, she moved down on her own, knees folding to give me once again her slit.


    Jeanne didn’t wait to look up before acting. She immediately darted forward, turned around and blasted the ceiling with fire.

    Many of Gilles’s squids came down, hitting the floor with barely a sound, and disintegrated from top to bottom. Many more wriggled and squirmed on the ceiling, and she saw a familiar face amongst them.

    “Gilles!” She shouted, and the upside-down deviant opened his eyes to look at her.

    “Jeanne… oh, Jeanne. You shouldn’t be out here. Return to your room.”

    Jeanne didn’t even have time to respond before more of the beasts fell to the ground, this time full of vigor, and assaulted her directly. Tentacles came from each side, and she ducked to avoid them, calling forward a dark flame to devour her surroundings.

    The beasts couldn’t withstand the flame and disintegrated once more.

    “Ho… well, looks like you’ve chosen your fate, Gilles.” Jeanne’s face contorted into an angry expression. “You’ll regret turning on me.”

    “No,” he immediately answered, dropping down from the ceiling, falling onto his back. He contorted impossibly until he was upright once more. The rest of his beasts fell along with him, surrounding Jeanne from all sides. “If you keep going, you’ll regret having left your room.”

    “Is that so?” Jeanne forced herself to sound bored through clenched teeth. “I think I’m the one who gets to decide that.”

    A dark vortex of flame danced at her feet. The amassed power built up at Jeanne’s command, waiting to be unleashed. She pulled out her sword and held it above her head as the very lighting around her seemed to dim. As soon as a single one of Gilles’s creations lunged at her, she shouted for its release, for its name. Flames reached out to every corner of the room, bursting with power, hunger and violence. Stakes rose from the ground, skewering the squid-like creatures as they burned.

    She was glad that none of them could make a sound, as they all turned to ashes. It would have been a cacophony otherwise.

    Only Gilles remained, standing directly facing her, untouched and untargeted by the flames.

    “Last chance, Gilles.” Jeanne was not smiling.

    “How could I live with myself if I let you go and hurt yourself?” He opened his book, and behind him spawned massive tentacles, signs of a beast magnitudes larger than the others.

    Jeanne waved her arm and flames released, burning away her last remaining opponent.

    There were no last words, no parting statements, no verbal end. She looked for a moment at where he once stood, then turned around and walked away purposefully. He said something was going to hurt her. That meant, there was something at the end of this long road.

    Where there was once doubt, there was certainty. The situation had changed.


    The situation had changed, at some point. I was still pounding the long-haired girl. It felt like my soldier had now become one with her trench, an inseparable combination. But now, she was on all fours, and I was behind her. Next to her, also on all fours, was the short-haired girl. My hand had nestled into her wet crease, pushing, pulling, going left to right, searching deep within, pleasuring from the outside.

    I could hear nothing but heavy breathing. I couldn’t even tell whose it was anymore.

    She was still looking at me. She was facing away, but I felt like I was still being looked at by her, like I was the only person in her eyes.

    Yes, that is what it is, love.

    As I thought that, I kept going, wet folds constantly accepting me, feeling good, feeling unending.

    I wanted release. I wanted to give her my release.

    I pushed harder, harder.


    In Babylon, the environment got a little less static. The entire area would quickly shift and change in the blink of an eye. Just as flicking a light switch could immediately change a room this place too, changed in a similar way.

    The entire area would suddenly look overcome with a black mud, then immediately disappear with a flicker.

    However, she’d already confirmed that stepping on the mud was the same as stepping on any other surface, so it was of no concern.

    She kept walking, onwards and onwards, waiting for the next time someone would stop her.

    Eventually, she came up to Tiamat itself, going straight from the ground, to a shadowed area that immediately brought her up the in sky. Much like the spear in America or the lack of sun in Camelot, the area didn’t actually extend down far enough to see what was going on, leaving only the gold ripple at her feet to indicate she was actually supposed to be able to stand here.

    She walked passed the still alligator-mouthed giantess and onwards, surrounded by darkness.

    Jeanne suddenly heard something. A clash of blades, a metallic scratching, the sound of bladed skates. It was something along those lines, and immediately she ducked out of the way of a swinging blade. She threw herself forward and tossed out a wave of fire to her aggressor, pushing them away.

    Back on her feet, she saw her attacker, a tall, sword-legged woman wearing a white dress and a lack of decent underwear, or anything around her crotch for that matter, just a small plate. An unnatural smile was displayed on her face, completely unmoving.

    “What’s this now?” Jeanne said angrily at the new arrival.

    Meltlilith made a noise from her mouth, sounding electronic and wrong and impossible. Her mouth did not close, even once, as it poured out an aggravating static, an unappealing noise.

    Without even giving Jeanne a chance to react, she slid across the ground and kicked at her with a bladed appendage. Jeanne ducked out of the way and tossed out fire once again, which was avoided with an uncommon grace.

    Jeanne clicked her tongue and sent out fire once again, her opponent dodging and avoiding like a figure skater. She lunged in to attack Jeanne once again, and Jeanne had to parry the heels with her sword.

    Meltlilith took her leg away and came in with the other, which was blocked again, and again she twirled and twirled and attacked and attacked. Jeanne kept blocking more and more, as terrible, incorrect laughing came out from her opponent. But every single blow blocked was another inch of anger in Jeanne’s head, another piece of fuel for a flame that danced beneath her.

    Eventually, the assault became too much for Jeanne’s nerves, and she snapped. The flame beneath her exploded outwards, pushing away her opponent.

    A terrible, screeching sound came out of her open, smiling mouth as she flew away.

    Jeanne didn’t give her enough time to get back up, to start her dance again. She dashed over to her, stabbing her into the absent ground, into the gold ripple with her sword. She forced the blade down with both hands, discarding her flag for just a moment. The dark vortex of flame underneath Jeanne stirred and rose upwards, clinging to the darkened saint.

    Burn.” The fire that covered Jeanne rushed to her arms and down her blade in an uncontrolled blaze, inciting a screech of terrible, inhuman noise from her victim. Dark flame devoured her, overflowing to spread across the inexistent ground, creating a blanket of cursed conflagration.

    Jeanne kept it going, venting her frustration to the incomprehensible servant. She kept going and going until Meltlilith herself disintegrated, leaving only the fallen saint and the unmoving stature of Tiamat.

    Jeanne stayed for a moment, leaning on her sword, until finally she decided to keep moving. She picked up her flag, and kept walking, to the final destination, the end of the Grand Order.


    The scene changed again, she was down on the bed, taking it. The other was on top, and I pleasured her in other ways.

    The scene changed again. She was standing, hands on the wall, and I pounded from behind. Her back glistened with sweat, her hair getting wet, curly, sensual. A white head was below, holding my testicles sensually, or playing with the girl’s clit.

    The scene changed again, I was holding her up in my arms, by her legs. Her hands reached behind my neck.

    The scene changed again, I was fully on top of her, pressing down and deep into her.

    Still, I felt no release, but the longer it went the more I wanted it. Conscious thought left me, as only a desire to thrust remained.

    Again and again.

    The scene changed, I thrusted, I felt pleasure and pleasure and pleasure but no release.

    The scene changes, again.

    I want release, I want to thrust into the other girl, I want, I want, I want.

    The scene changes.

    The silver haired girl kisses me for the first time.


    Solomon, the final singularity. Jeanne walked up to see the otherworldly area, expecting to see nothing, another area filled with void, incomplete. Instead at the first zone, which she absently remembered being called Ceremonia, she could see the entire area, a great ruined temple spread across demonic pillars, creating an odd, tree-like vista.

    She looked around for a moment, seeing an entire zone for the first time since her trek started. She walked slowly, carefully taking in the area around her, as the eyes of the pillars glowed softly.

    For the first time in what felt like a very long time, she looked up at the sky, to see the hole, the tear in reality taken form. It was massive, or rather she was very close to it. Its yellow had changed to a deep red.

    “Frightening, isn’t it?”

    Jeanne looked down and saw the girl who died here. Short, purple hair, black armor and a huge shield at her side. She was standing there without a care in the world, looking up at the hole herself.

    “Confusing, more like,” Jeanne grumbled.

    “Right?” Mash laughed softly. “Still, it’s rather pretty for something destroying our world.”

    “Ho…” Jeanne hummed, looking up. She could still see the landscapes of places she’d travelled, of certain events she’d seen, and yet…

    They were certainly less numerous than before.

    “Well.” Jeanne shrugged, and smiled smugly. “Nothing to do but stop it. Is that why you’re here, too?”

    She smiled sadly and shook her head.

    “No, there’s no stopping it now. I’m just here to meet others who’d make it this far. And well, this place is the only place I can see sempai.”

    “What are you talking about?” Jeanne took a step closer, which Mash answered with a step back, putting the shield between them.

    “No, I shouldn’t have said that much.” Mash shook her head. “I’m glad I managed to meet another person, Jeanne. But I can’t have you go any further.”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeanne took more steps forward, answered with a few steps back.

    “I can’t let you go further. For both your sake, and his.”

    Jeanne took a step further, answered with the sound of a shield smashing into the ground. Demonic pillars sprouted out of from the temple’s floor, making an unmistakeable sound, a rumbling noise, a foreign language. Thousands of eyes looked at Jeanne at once, an unstoppable onslaught unleashed.

    Jeanne steeled herself, the strangeness of the situation removed in her mind by imminent danger.


    That was strange.

    I remember her taste, down below. I remember the weight of her body.

    But her kiss was empty.

    Her kiss had never happened.

    I could not remember her kiss.

    All the times we switched positions, the feeling, the pleasure was the same, why now was it empty, absent? Why had I never kissed her?

    I could hear heavy breathing.

    Bodies changed.


    Their attacks were unavoidable. Dark clouds, beams of energy and geysers of power assaulted her, and she wasn’t fast enough to avoid getting hit. It was impossible.

    Yet, Jeanne felt no true pain. She felt a massive pool of endurance. She felt like she could take a thousand of their attacks and still strike back. She did strike back, she swung her arm and threw around fire, burning the tree-like pillars. But the more she burned down, the more appeared.

    It was a slugfest of arcane powers.

    The battle didn’t end, two unstoppable forces sent against each other. Dark fire marred the environment, recreating it to look like scene of an arson, the remains of a war still ongoing, never ending.

    Until an outside force stepped in. Another barrage of lasers came and Jeanne prepared to take the hit, until someone stepped in front of her. Gauntlets blocked the blow, diverting the shot away.

    Martha shook her arms off as she ran forward, punching pillars right in the eyes.

    Jeanne smiled and kept blasting away the pillars. Burning them away again and again, and with the help of Martha they started getting mowed down faster than they could come back.

    Jeanne ran forward, burning pillars as she went, making sure they stayed down. She jumped over a charred, disintegrating body, and for a moment her eyes locked with Martha’s.

    Jeanne smirked.

    Ignoring the spawning Demon pillars behind her, Jeanne ran to the Throne, after Mash.


    I remember now. This, this happened. The idealized, impossible forms before me changed, returned to the real situation, to realistic bodies.

    Long, brown hair, not purple. No cross, no bikini. It had been underwear. I look down and of course there it was.

    The hair was white, bleached but too long. It had shortened, and the face was not blushing when it looked at me. It looked difficult, complicated, unreadable.


    I pulled out of the long-haired girl, who herself looked confused, worried.

    Ah, I was flaccid.



    Jeanne came up, breathing heavily. Her clothes were in tatters, her hair a mess. The Shielder meanwhile was facing away, looking at pictures still in the air. A cat, some food, a boy, a boy and a girl, a landscape, some papers up close, a schedule, the boy again, and again, looking worse and worse as time goes. A screenshot of sorts came up, a catalog of people Jeanne recognized. The boy again, with an older man and woman.

    “Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you!” Jeanne stomped ahead, grabbing Mash’s shoulder.

    “Hello, Jeanne.” Mash was smiling again, her expression stiff. “You’ll never guess what I found.”

    “I think I might, actually.” Jeanne punched Mash in the face. The Shielder took the hit silently, then turned her face to look at Jeanne again, animosity in her eyes. “Enough, I’ve been seeing enough of this nonsense to make a bit of sense out of it. It’s not even the first time it’s happened to me. But I want you to say it.”

    Mash looks up at Jeanne, hesitant. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, like a paused moment, Mash spoke up.

    “This world isn’t real.”


    A threesome, she had asked. I was nervous, unsure, we had gone out so shortly we’d never even been just us. For a first experience to be three was frightening. But she wanted to do it, and I didn’t have the courage to even try to say no.

    I was uncomfortable, when a punk girl met us the next day, and was so familiar with her.

    I was ashamed, embarrassed, when they pulled down my pants and saw me so hard.

    I felt unwanted, as they kissed above me. I felt undesired, as we shifted to the missionary position, yet I was never looked at, even once.

    I felt deep, immense shame when I grew limp. I ran away to the shower, and she looked at me, worried, scared, afraid, guilty, unreadable, unknown.

    She looked at me, for the first time since she’d taken off her clothes, and I felt her eyes look at me forever.

    Mission start.


    “None of us are real. We’re all programs, pieces of art, created to follow, to serve, to speak words of love to someone on the other side of that.”

    Mash pointed up to the tear, its outline and cracks now a hot red.

    “We’re not saving the world. We’re not going to other times, just fake maps, fake stories, a fake world, a fake enemy. We’re just lines of programs, made to do what we’re ordered to.”

    She reached for the images, took a picture taken of the boy most often showed.

    “What we’re ordered to do by this man, here. This man who doesn’t even exist in our world.”


    She talked to me later that week, she said a thousand words, I only understood a few. It was too loud to hear her. I apologized and left.

    Mission parameter: Disconnect.


    “This man sends us to fight, to war, do die again and again and come back,” Mash said calmly.


    I saw her every now and then, from the corner of my eye at school. On my phone, she’d send texts I couldn’t read. I could feel her eyes, looking at me as I ran away.

    So I ran further, quit school. Looked for work, away, away, away.

    Stay at home, look for work, go on computer, look for work, distract. Distract from the sounds I keep hearing.



    “We gather for this man, grow through his actions, evolve under his order.” She looked down as he talked.


    Work was found. Mountains, winter, caretaking, alone. I wanted alone. I wanted to stop seeing her eyes. To stop seeing her friend’s face. To stop remembering.

    I needed more distraction. Work wasn’t long enough. I needed an out, something to focus on. Started going online more. Started playing games more.

    I still couldn’t sleep. I kept hearing heavy breathing.



    “Our story was never important. We’re not even pets. We’re a game, to be tossed aside if ever he gets bored of us.” Her voice cracked.


    Wandered the mountains. Winter was cold, it felt numb, and it was hard on my legs.

    It helped me forget.

    Watched tutorial videos on a thousand subjects, dropped within a few weeks.

    Played games on my phone. None lasted. None lasted except for one.

    No contact. Mission complete. The mission was simple, it was easy. The sounds were dying off.

    I had disconnected.


    “Our feelings aren’t even real, just lines of program in a phone. That’s what that is, up there. The phone’s breaking.”


    I got a text, family member wondering where I’d gone. Short response. Quiet.


    Got a text, friend worried where I was gone. No response. Still quiet.


    Got a text, she

    I didn’t read. Her texts are too noisy.

    I was disconnected.


    “This man treats us like toys, cheap entertainment.”


    I couldn’t stay disconnected, I kept getting too loud, I kept needing, I read her messages. She was worried. All of her eight, unanswered texts were her worry. She needed to know if I was alright, if I was alive.

    It was too loud, I’d answer when it was less loud.

    For now, disconnect. I promised a return.


    “Knowing all this, we should hate him. I should despise him. I should want to make him pay for forcing us through this fake drama, these fake moments of real fear and despair.”


    The games didn’t make it get less loud. I needed to answer her.

    The walks didn’t make it quiet down. She needs to be answered.

    I don’t deserve this unending noise. She doesn’t deserve this silence.

    One more walk, for sure, this time. The snowstorm last night wasn’t even too large, I’d be-


    “But I can’t help it.” She looked up at Jeanne, her face awash with tears. “I don’t care if it’s programming, if it’s something that isn’t even mine. I love sempai. This man, this boy, I look at him and realise what he’s done to us, but I can’t help but think he looks good, like this is what the sempai I love looks like. This is the man I love, despite everything, and I can’t make myself feel anything else for him.”

    Jeanne looked at her, then at the photo, then up at the hole, becoming brighter and brighter. It started looking more and more dangerous, like it was inches away from exploding.

    “Well. In that case, I should go sock him for you.”

    “Wha…” Mash looked at her like she was crazy. “Did none of that hit you! We’re not even real! We’re fakes!”

    “Like I said, not the first time this happened. I was fake to begin with, something Gilles made to fulfill his fantasy. Just like everyone else, as it turns out.” Jeanne walked past her, to look at the stack of photos awkwardly present, floating behind Mash. “Not what I expected.”

    Mash backed off, wielding her shield.

    “What are you planning?” Mash’s voice sounded hoarse.

    “Well, I’ll try going up there. I want to try meeting this man,” Jeanne said, pointing up at the hole. Mash gaped for a second, until her face hardened with resolve.

    “I won’t let you hurt sempai!”

    Jeanne smiled.


    I jolted awake, my breathing erratic.

    I was alive, the fire beside me become small, weak, near death. I felt my fingers, but not my toes. I felt my breath, my life, but no energy. My coat was frosted over, my environment white and hostile.

    But I burned. Deep in my gut, I felt a deep burn, a deep fire, a deep emotion. I wanted to live. It was getting loud, and I understood what was so loud, I couldn’t even think.

    It was me, I was loud. My breath was loud. My cries, my tears were loud. The noise stopped me from doing anything because the noise was all I was doing. But I didn’t want the noise to be the last thing I heard. I wanted to get up, to see her, to make a different noise at her. To shut this noise up.

    I didn’t want to see her, I wanted to disconnect.

    I want to see her, I want to reconnect with her.

    But still, my body wouldn’t move. Despite this deep fire inside of me…

    I could feel myself overwhelmed with darkness, and cold.


    Mash could feel herself become overwhelmed with Jeanne’s oppressive power. A black flame had taken permanent residence on her shield or rather might as well have. Any attempted advance was met with a burst of flame. Any defensive action was not allowed to end. Any maneuver was called out, and noble phantasm use could not aid Mash in taking ground.

    Jeanne was not feeling it.

    Blast after blast she threw the servant further and further from her. Jeanne knew she could become invulnerable for a short time, she waited for it. But it never came. She wouldn’t be able to fight unless she was allowed.

    The fire blasts stopped. Jeanne dropped her flag to the side, donned an unpleasant smile and beckoned to Mash.

    Mash looked at her, stunned for a moment, then immediately made a charge. She jumped up and forced her shield down, only for Jeanne to dash under her and kick her from behind. Mash caught her balance and turned to face Jeanne, staring her down.

    They were just a few feet from each other.

    Here, the real fight started. Mash put her shield ahead and rushed, but Jeanne had jumped up. She adjusted at the very last second to block Jeanne’s foot reaching down to stomp her. Mash tried pushing the shield outward, forcing the woman off, but Jeanne had already put her weight forward, forced herself to fall forward, behind Mash. The Shielder’s weight was all in front, and Jeanne’s sword struck her armor directly.

    The hit was light, and as Mash was already moving forward, she kept her momentum going to reposition herself. But Jeanne wasn’t done yet. Before she could fully turn the bulk of her shield around, she stepped in, her fist endowed with a black flame, and unleashed a powerful straight punch directly to Mash’s face. The full strength of the servant sent the demi-servant tumbling backwards.

    “Whew, that does feel better than just tossing you around.” Jeanne shook her hand off. Mash got up on a knee steadily, bringing her shield up. “You know, I probably don’t even need to fight you. The game would probably keep generating paths for me until I reach the tear, if I just walked away right now.”

    “Then…” Mash looked confused. “Why are you still here?”

    “Beating you up before heading off seems like the right thing to do,” Jeanne said, cracking her neck.

    “I don’t understand,” Mash mumbled, standing once more.

    “Good, that makes both of us.”

    Jeanne didn’t allow the conversation to continue. She ran forward at Mash, prompting her to put her shield before her. At the last second, she dropped completely, sliding in and sweeping Mash’s leg right out from under her. The demi-servant used her other leg and shield to remain standing, but Jeanne took the action’s delay as a time to get up and knee the Shielder in the gut.

    She would have fallen to the ground, had Jeanne not grabbed her collar before she could collapse. For a short moment, the two’s eyes locked. Then, Jeanne turned around, pulling the collar hard enough that Mash’s feet left the ground. With a great heave, Jeanne tossed Mash on the ground like a football on a touchdown. The impact was so hard Mash bounced off the ground a couple times before finally settling, motionless.

    Jeanne stared a moment, waiting for movement, signs of life or willingness to fight. None came. She picked her flag back up and walked away, looking back only once.

    “Don’t worry, I’ll sock him once for you too.”

    She walked off, her goal within reach, a great hole ripping her world to shreds. A great unknown, an unforeseeable conclusion.

    But a conclusion she had to reach.


    The sun rises in the distance. My eyes shifted, just a bit. The fire had faded. I was next. It was quiet. It wasn’t cold. It felt comfortable, somehow. I could feel myself falling asleep, the last thing I’d experience being a sunrise.

    I couldn’t see the sun, though. Something was in my way. I moved a bit, my neck cold, and creaking, and unwilling. On the ground, where I’d dropped my phone, useless and empty, was a fire.

    Some kind of dark, shadowy fire. I looked up, a bit, as far as I could. Shapeless, dark, looming over me. I couldn’t describe it. It was indescribable.

    It felt alive, somehow. It felt like it was looking at me, somehow. I felt like it was here to hurt me, somehow.

    Burning returned. Noise returned. I was being too loud again. It was here to hurt me, I was afraid.

    “Do it.” The words escaped me on their own.

    I didn’t want to be hurt. I wanted to be saved. This burning, I, I want to live.

    “Kill me.”

    I want to see her. I want to go home. I want to play my phone game. I want to go for a walk. I want to ride my bike. I want to disappear. I want to see everyone again. I want to be forgotten. I want to be found.

    I want to be saved.

    “Please, do it.”

    I couldn’t even say any more. My lung felt dry, empty, weak.

    It looked down at me, for a long, long time. The sun was rising further and further. Immobile, staring, judging, deciding, thinking, pondering, ignoring, teasing, torturing, sleeping, PROLONGING MY AGONY.

    “DO IT!” I heaved at her, dry, painfully. I coughed, I burned, my breathing became too loud, too loud, too noisy, I wanted it to go away, to go away forever.

    “Now, now.” A hundred voices came from it. Sounded almost computerized, mashed up, edited. “Don’t say such things, [master].”

    The voice hurt the ears, became less and less pleasant the more words it forced into existence.

    “I’ll warm you right up…”

    A dark, burning hand reached down to him.

    Jeanne Alter x Gudao x Summer Martha. It was supposed to be an easy mission. Hell, his two lovers were max ascended and grailed even! Yet, here Gudao was in a cabin with them freezing himself to death. The mission was to wipe out enemies and collect materials to bring back. The string of mishaps started when he brought the wrong Mystic Code. Next, it was winter within the singularity. His Servants weren't affected by the cold but he was! Third, he broke into a frozen lake and was soaked. Seeing their master in this state, the two had no choice but to strip down and share body heat in one sleeping bag. (Tags: Vanilla, massage, spooning, cowgirl, doggy style, one-on-one, threesome, creampie.)
    Last edited by Kirby; March 21st, 2018 at 07:23 PM.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dullahan View Post
    there aren't enough gun emojis in the thousandfold trichiliocosm for this shit

    Linger: Complete. August, 1995. I met him. A branch off Part 3. Mikiya keeps his promise to meet Azaka, and meets again with that mysterious girl he once found in the rain.
    Shinkai: Set in the Edo period. DHO-centric. As mysterious figures gather in the city, a young woman unearths the dark secrets of the Asakami family.
    The Dollkeeper: A Fate side-story. The memoirs of the last tuner of the Einzberns. A record of the end of a family.
    Overcount 2030: Extra x Notes. A girl with no memories is found by a nameless soldier, and wakes up to a world of war.

  6. #6
    好き! Kirby's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2013
    JP Friend Code
    Blog Entries

    A Tragic Mismanagement of Time

    Required Reading

    “And thus Achilles pierced her deeply with Peleus’ sturdy spear and extinguished the life of Ares’ daughter. Then from her head he plucked the helmet and at once marvelled, for underneath lay a face that even death could not tarnish, beautiful as the breaking dawn, the visage of a goddess in the flesh. At once the hero’s heart was beset by both the deepest love and grief: to have slain such a beauty beyond compare, given to the cold grasp of Hades when he could have borne her home and made her his bride, a mighty queen befitting the mighty hero. Desire flooded his being for that warmaiden lying on the blood-sodden earth, a fire within him that he would never be able to quench.

    But wait, Achilles then thought, beholding her rosy cheeks still red with the warmth of life and the single wound he had cleanly struck through her heart, stealing her life but leaving her flawless body otherwise unmarred. Waaaait, he reasoned with himself, meeting the eyes of the Argives who had gathered around the fallen queen of the Amazons with the same conspiratorial stare. Maaaybe I could still…


    “Rejected. You didn’t tag this for necrophilia.”

    “...actually I was kinda curious to see where this would--”

    “Dropped like hot garbage. That’s just nasty, dude.”

    A mechanical sound, then a trio of voices cut the aspirant poet off mid-recitation. He was ushered off the stage by the attendant to the crowd’s murmurs with the disappointment of a glorious dream being mercilessly crushed still evident on his face. From somewhere in the stands an amplified voice rose above the crowd with way more enthusiasm than the situation called for.

    “Oof, another contestant crashes out! As expected of these illustrious judges, they have proven very hard to impress, nowhamsayn? The next contestant has his work cut out for him! With the tags of “lolicon”, “bestiality”, “stomach deformation”, and a shocking “fluff”, give a waaarm welcome toooo… Redditus!”

    The crowd didn’t seem to like the young man that climbed the stairs up to the stage, meeting him with boos that failed to dampen his excitement. Or maybe he was just too dense to realise.

    “Good day to you, sirs, madams, esteemed judges. By the grace of the Muses and the Divine Father’s favour I wish to present to you a heartwarming tale of love the likes of which the poets shall sing for eternity! An unlikely love that blossomed between two souls that were shunned by the world, yet found solace in each other’s hands! Youth! Innocence! And yet steaming hot romance! Hark to the tale of the lovely goddess Euryale, the image of ideal beauty that was cruelly cast aside because of Athena’s fury, and how she found love in a fellow outcast, the unwanted son of Crete, the hideous beast with the pure heart of a boy, the Minotaur himself, Aste--!”

    Bzzt. The chime cut him off before he had even begun, all but smashed by a fist clenched in anger.

    “The fuck is this?! Are you mocking me, you shitty quinary? Fuck off back to Redditia!”

    “Brother, it’s just fanfiction. You can pretend it’s some faceless farm animal.”

    “I blacklisted it for a reason! If I wanted to hear shit like this I would ask my wife!”

    “Funny, did your parents never tell you how they met?”

    “Shove that stick up your ass, you ponce!”

    “Ooooooh, it seems the prospect of tender bull-on-loli loving has rubbed Judge Minos the wrong way! What can ya do, rules are rules, and even a single rejection equals elimination. Better luck next time!”

    And so another contestant fell short. The crowd was divided on whether to cheer or boo for the early elimination. With this year’s judges shooting down entry after entry before they even got anywhere they had barely gotten to listen to any of the good stuff. And they sure didn’t pay the rather expensive tickets for this event to be completely blueballed.

    That event being, the annual competition of Lemon Recitation, where the finest porn composers in all the land gathered to test their skills of lurid expression and unbridled creativity before a panel of judges and the crowd of connoisseurs of wealth and taste, seasoned reprobates, and horny kids. Drawing from history as well as myth the contest was a celebration of traditional values and a good way to unwind after the stuffy and highbrow dramatic competitions that took place earlier in the year.

    The problem was that even if it’s a porn contest everyone still wanted to win. After tons of salt were spilled in the previous year’s contest about how taste in porn is too subjective and arbitrary, about it outweighing criteria such as the storyteller’s skillful prose and masterful descriptions and how the story about Andromeda getting tentacled in every hole should have totally won, the organisers were pressured into finding a panel of judges that could truly be considered beyond reproach, who could be trusted to judge the merits of every entry fairly and impartially.

    They, concerned over the outcry and the projected impact on pre-bookings, reached out to the three judges of the dead in Hades and inquired whether they would be free and willing on day such and such to sit on the gilded thrones of the panel, listen to some fapfics, and rate them according to their wisdom that is the greatest of all mortals. To their surprise, they agreed quite easily.

    Unfortunately, it turned out that the arbiters of virtue and sin did not, in fact, make for good fanfic judges.

    Rhadamanthys had left his seat to physically restrain Minos, holding his arm back so that he wouldn’t fling his heavy gold goblet at the hapless poet who was being shooed off the stage by the worried-looking attendant. Meanwhile Aeacus twirled a sceptre of elaborately carved olive wood and inlaid veins of silver in his hands with a mixed look of boredom and disappointment on his face. He had imagined this to be a pleasant break from the serious duties of a judge of dead souls, but so far they had only gotten aggravation out of the whole affair. The contestants, and even the crowd were all men too, so there was nowhere to rest one’s eyes either. He sighed deeply. What a drag.

    “Uhm, well, er-HEM,” the announcer fumbled with a parchment for a moment before regaining his bearings. “Next up we have a bit of a celebrity! This contestant has made quite the name for himself as a wandering poet, extolling the excellent exploits of extraordinary exemplars wherever he goes! Claiming a galore of tags, featuring fan-favourites “monster girl”, “defloration”, and “nakadashi” while also taking a gander at combinations rarely-seen and even more rarely well-executed: “consentacles” and “consensual gigadick”! If that doesn’t pique your curiosity you must either be a complete normie or a very high-level degenerate indeed. Iiiiintroduciiiing, the vaaagrant baaard, Maaaajorleaaague-gaaaaamin-gi-CUS!”

    This time the crowd rustled with cautious anticipation, for this strange and distinctive name was not unknown to them. The man who clambered onto the stage, dressed in curious clothes and holding a harp in one hand and a satchel over his shoulder was said to follow the footsteps of legendary heroes, witnessing their heroic deeds firsthand and recording them in tales for all men to hear. Truthfully it wasn’t as if ideas wouldn’t spread from person to person within a culture until a narrative of a hero’s exploits formed without a wandering poet travelling from city to city to propagate them, but this particular poet could claim something no other colleague of his could: he was said to have had the privilege to personally record the adventures of the greatest hero of them all.


    It seemed that the judges had taken notice of him too, something - perhaps his name or his selection of tags - grabbing their attention. The poet took a theatrical bow at the wait towards each of the judges and plucked a few strings on his harp experimentally, letting the harmonious notes linger on the air until the were swallowed up by silence.

    Then he tossed the gilded instrument to the side like a toy where it landed somewhere with a clang.

    “How’s it hanging, my dudes? I’m guessing pretty low since you’ve all been getting blueballed out here for the past two hours. Good news, I’m here to help with that, so sit your bottoms tight and enjoy the ride.”

    From his seat in the podium, Rhadamanthys stirred - not out of discomfort, for your information - and addressed the flippant bard.

    “Such irreverence, yet humour you we must. You speak of monster girls; what, then, is your subject?”

    “Why, a former pupil of yours,” Majorleaguegamingicus answered, tapping his temple with his finger and favouring the adjudicator with a knowing smile. “A man larger-than-life in every aspect, metaphorically and physically.”

    “Hm,” Aeacus interjected, “you must mean…”

    “Yes. Today I will recount a tale of the greatest hero, the demigod whose girth cannot be ignored, the one and only, the incomparable Herakles, as I witnessed it with my own two eyes.”

    At that, excited murmurs washed over the crowd. The prolific demigod was a popular subject of the poets, his exploits being as many as his partners. As a result it could be difficult for the poet to recite a completely original tale that doesn’t retread the well-known topics of the Herakles franchise in a desperate attempt to recycle the stories told a thousand times before into fresh and exciting content. Minos must have thought so too, for he snorted with contempt at the name, already losing interest.

    “Couldn’t pick anything more mainstream, eh. What’s next, yandere Medea? Electra daddy kink? Helen/Paris songfics?”

    “Wise King,” the poet answered undeterred, “have you ever heard the tragedy of Scylla the princess-turned-aquatic-lifeform? It’s not a story the dramatists would tell you.”

    “Actually, I have. She had a bit of a crush on me and ripped her father’s hair out over it. Crazy watery tart. And what do you mean, have I heard. You trying to imply implications?”

    “Certainly not, your surliness. And that’s a different one, much more literally named in my honest opinion. I do believe that this epic romance will seem as radical and fetch as a remake of that myth you used to love but the bard now refuses to ever sing.”

    “Get on with it then,” Minos waved impatiently.

    “Monster girl, huh…” Rhadamanthys repeated to himself.

    “I’ve seen what happens when he gets inside sea monsters. It’s not pretty,” Aeacus muttered darkly.

    “Anyway,” said Majorleaguegamingicus, “this one’s called Sandstorm

    Thus he began this strange and totally not fake tale.

    / \
    / o ,\
    /....... \

    The twelve labours that immortalised Herakles are thought to have been performed as penance for the murder of his family while captured in the web of madness that Hera had cast over him. For long years the demigod subjected himself to dangerous labour and humiliation by lesser men than he in order to purify himself of the hideous crime. Or that is what the legends say.

    The truth, as told by the demiman himself, is that he was absolved of the crime by an old king not long after. In fact he gave him 50 grandchildren through his daughters to remember him by. What truly vexed the hero to the point that he sought the counsel of the Delphic Oracle was a problem much less spiritual in nature.

    You see, Herk is a big guy. Not just for you, for everyone around him. Two and a half meters tall, to be exact, and with the dick to match. But as is natural for any self-respecting hero he had his needs, and getting those needs fulfilled was rapidly becoming a serious issue. If a woman was not intimidated at first glance, thinking that a chance to try such a thing would likely never come by again, she was certainly traumatised after they were done. Emotionally, not physically - Herk is actually a really considerate guy, but he can only go on for so long with just the tip.

    (It should be said here that Megara was a remarkable woman with an amazing capacity to love, if you catch the drift.)

    The Oracle, swathed in dank vapours and slurring rather terribly, spoke her divinely inspired message:

    “Don’t be a baka, smash cloaca.”

    Herakles pondered the wisdom of those words, and decided that while their true depths were still impenetrable to him, he could start by finding the biggest idiot he knew and seeing what he had to say. And that is how he travelled to the court of his cousin Eurystheus and asked him what were the things he would rather not do the most. The rest is history; or rather, legend.

    Rear naked choking the Nemean Lion Friend. Shrugging off crabs to pound the Hydra into the ground. Capturing and (s)laying numerous MonMusu rejects, even NTRing them from their gods. Shooting the Hundred Heads of the harpies of Stymphalia, unarmed. While he was reluctant to describe what went on with the kinky centaurs herded by King Diomedes, he fondly recalled the adventures he had with the shortstack draphs he stole from that whale Geryon’s mancave. As for what deeds he performed in the man-thirsty land of the Amazons and the Garden of the sheltered Hesperides, words failed miserably to describe them.

    By the time he asserted his dominance over the three-headed awoo Herakles had understood that only the most phantasmal of monster girls could accommodate his needs. Yet he still felt that something was missing. His exploits had earned him glory and satisfaction but he had still not obtained something vital that he had once had and lost: love.

    Thus having completed his best-selling twelve-part series he set off on another journey, searching far and wide for the one that could fill the oversized void in his oversized heart. And as he was one day passing through the straits of Sicily, on his way to pay the cowgirls of Helios a visit, he met her.

    Clinging to the base of the cliff overlooking the churning sea was a terrible monster. Six long serpentine necks writhed above a draconic torso, itself ringed with vaguely canine heads that sprouted out of it, all filled with double rows of serrated shark teeth, their eyes four each in number and burning with bloodlust and hatred. From its waist downward a mass of tentacles supported the massive beast, thick as tree trunks and filled with pulsing suction cups.

    It was Scylla, daughter of a sea-god, a princess who was cursed into this hideous form by a habitually jealous witch. From her whirlpool of emotion - the resentment for her unfair punishment, the sadness for her lost life, and also the unbridled rage and lust for revenge and a dark exhilaration for her new demonic form - emerged a monster that delighted in attacking the passing ships and devouring their crews in every manner imaginable.

    The monster sized Herakles up with her many, many eyes and knew that he would not be easy prey. Herakles sized the monster up and wondered if the one he’d killed in that weird ashy lake that one time was its relative.

    Then he pulled out his bow and no-scoped the fuck out of her.

    It was not fit to be called a battle. Scylla was a famed monster but Herakles’ A+ Rank Giant Beast Hunting had been rightly earned. The sea frothed with mingling blood and foam as enormous arrows pierced and severed the lashing necks and tentacles that came his way before they had the chance to touch him. The monster thrashed in pain she had never before experienced in her life, feeling with an animal intelligence that her life was being extinguished by a superior predator. Heads as big as houses fell into the sea with gigantic splashes, eyes lifeless and ruined by the demigod’s projectiles.

    Scylla was panicking. She had given herself over to the beastly instincts, burying her human heart and form deep within that monstrous body and mind so that she would never be hurt again, but that body was rapidly falling apart. At this rate, she would have to-- she would have to flee before that man could see her - before she would have to see herself for what she truly was!

    But there was no escape to be found from Herakles’ killstreak, and as the last of the draconic appendages was headshotted with contemptuous ease the monster’s ravaged form seemed to disintegrate before the hero’s eyes, the scales and serpent-dog parts sloughing off and dissolving into the sea as if they were melting - or rather molting. Soon enough the titanic monster that towered over the prime male specimen of Ancient Greece had shrunken down to a much smaller form that lay crouched amidst the wreckage of its destroyed body. When Herakles made to approach it with his bow still clutched in his hand he was surprised to see that from within the monster had emerged a woman’s form, whose nubile body was plain to see for his trained eyes. Her hair was luscious and vibrant, her delicate arms hugging her own body as she shivered, covering up a chest as steep as the cliffside she called her home, and what joined her shapely hips in the place of legs were tentacle-like serpentine tails. He imagined that if she stood on them she would be roughly level with his height.

    All of a sudden Herakles, weary of travelling the sea for many days with nothing to comfort him, had the strangest craving for octopussy.

    “D-Don’t look at me,” the girl cried out with tears pooling in her eyes. She turned away from the approaching hero in a desperate attempt to hide her face from him. “This h-hideous body can only cause s-suffering.”

    Herakles remembered the prophecy of the Oracle. But more than that, as the consummate gentleman he was not going to let that pass.

    “Nah, you’re pretty hot, babe.”

    The fallen princess lifted her tear-filled eyes to look at the gentle giant who had smashed her body to pieces to reveal her true self. She who had been cursed unjustly for rejecting another’s love now felt the flutter of an emotion she thought she would never feel again in the heart that had been shattered so long ago. Their eyes met, and she knew she was in love. Then her gaze travelled south until it met Herakles’ stone pillar, and she gave a shy smile, her tentacle-tails beginning to wind round the hero’s legs and travelling ever upwards.

    And then they fucked.





    “So where is the actual lemo--”

    / \
    / o ,\
    /....... \

    “...and that’s how you two met?”

    Jeanne Alter threw a dubious glance at the mad giant, then at the girl who was still sleeping on the bed with a content look on her drooling face, then back to the giant whose lips were set in what felt strangely like a very self-satisfied smirk. He pounded a fist to his chest with a smack that shook the room’s walls. The Lancer-class Servant in his bed shifted to better hug the pillows.

    “I… see,” Leonidas said, not really seeing the point of the story they’d just heard or understanding how Berserker had even communicated it using only roars, hand gestures and black blocks of text. “Then perhaps you were not affected by this incident but independently expressing your… mutual love.”

    Alter made a gagging noise in the background, but honestly they’d already seen weirder things in their investigation of the halls of carnal debauchery that Chaldea had inexplicably become. Never mind Queen Medb’s newly christened “Pleasure Dome” or Matthieu Kyrielight’s inversion impulse awakening her latent nature as a public meat toilet; the things that Scathach was doing with Hessian Lobo were not meant to be witnessed by eyes of any kind.

    “Ugh. Let’s go.”

    Without bidding the demigod adieu Alter pivoted on the spot and exited the room with the Spartan king quickly muttering his congratulations to the happy couple before following her out into Chaldea’s corridors.

    The situation was pretty bad. The two had been wandering around for hours searching for the perpetrator of this incident and they had gotten no closer to finding them than they had understood why they were the only ones seemingly spared the inhibition-loosening mental effects that had turned everyone else into sex-crazed morons.

    In the end they had decided to start from the most plausible suspects behind Chaldea turning into Sesshouin Kiara Land but they’d had no luck so far, and the effect seemed to only worsen with time. Soon not even the children, locked inside Leonidas’ room and kept occupied with impromptu sketches and storytelling by a few of the King’s retinue, would be spared.

    Alter’s heels did not click so much as splash against the floor that was spattered with things better left to the imagination. She sidestepped a particularly large puddle with a sneer of profound disgust on her face. Leonidas, having experienced the aftermath of many a Gymnopaedia festival firsthand, was a bit more familiar with navigating scenes of fallout following naked mass frat parties. It didn’t stop him from wishing he was wearing rubber boots instead of sandals.

    Suddenly, the two Servants felt the pressure of observation upon them. As it drew closer they could perceive what they had come to identify as waves of raw lust that had been rolling off of almost every single person, mundane or otherwise, that they had met so far. No doubt, another brainwashed sex-addict was approaching - in fact they could sense that he was just around the corner ahead of them.

    “It’s… some random kid pitching a tent? Get your hand out of your pocket, you’re not fooling anyone.”

    “No, wait, isn’t that the new limited 5* Assassin from the Tsukihime event?”

    “What the hell is a Sookihim—LOOK OUT HE’S GOT A KNIFE!”


    And then they were fucked.

    Herakles was a hero, a warrior, a gentleman, a lover, and he was two and a half meters tall with the dick to match. Consensual gigadick. Any partner/setting. Multiple partners allowed.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dullahan View Post
    there aren't enough gun emojis in the thousandfold trichiliocosm for this shit

    Linger: Complete. August, 1995. I met him. A branch off Part 3. Mikiya keeps his promise to meet Azaka, and meets again with that mysterious girl he once found in the rain.
    Shinkai: Set in the Edo period. DHO-centric. As mysterious figures gather in the city, a young woman unearths the dark secrets of the Asakami family.
    The Dollkeeper: A Fate side-story. The memoirs of the last tuner of the Einzberns. A record of the end of a family.
    Overcount 2030: Extra x Notes. A girl with no memories is found by a nameless soldier, and wakes up to a world of war.

  7. #7
    好き! Kirby's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2013
    JP Friend Code
    Blog Entries

    Untitled (Incomplete)

    Flaming ruins spread around the Queen of Heroes and the King of Knights. Fragments of armor and drops of blood glittered alike as they fell to the ground to be consumed by dead earth. And in the midst of chaos and death, bloody and bruised and exhausted, the Queen, still shining as if this were her own court, began to laugh. The King stood still, face stony.

    The Queen said through breathless mirth, "O King, brilliant King of truly are amusing! Your bravery and spirit move my heart to pity, and I must ask: How long do you have left?"

    The King held silent, yet was betrayed by the shortness of her breathe and instability of her footing. For a brief moment she seemed to shimmer on the wind, ephemeral as a flurry of snow. Still she glared in defiance.

    The Queen composed herself, restricted her expression to a warm smile. "Come now, King. We both know your Master has fallen. Your time is likely measured in minutes by now. And look around us: It is clear as day that the Grail is not what you believed." Her smile dimmed slightly. "I suppose I should apologize for that. Had it occurred to me to thoroughly examine my own treasury, I likely could have discovered this corruption sooner. But I had not expected to be challenged to such a degree that its nature would be of any interest." Her smile brightened, almost glowing in the dim air. "Again, I must commend you. Your strength of character and will approach my own, and your strength as a warrior approaches notability! Even in this smoke and fire, your beautiful soul shines out its truth, proclaiming you a worthy individual! You carry your foolishness and wisdom alike with head unbowed, and though the world burns around you, you barely falter!" The Queen was shouting now, her joyful voice driving the flames to shiver and shrink in reverence. For a moment, the silence rang.

    Finally the King spoke, forcing the words through her labored breaths. "Are you quite finished? As you said, my time is limited. I am no learned scholar or fearsome sorcerer; I don't know what this madness is that spills from the Grail, and so my path forward has not changed."

    Make a case for or against gendered sexual relations within the power dynamic. Demonstrate your case by means of female Gilgamesh within a restrained Fate/Stay or Fate/Zero AU. (Proposed tags: resolved UST, kinetic impact, combat damage)
    Quote Originally Posted by Dullahan View Post
    there aren't enough gun emojis in the thousandfold trichiliocosm for this shit

    Linger: Complete. August, 1995. I met him. A branch off Part 3. Mikiya keeps his promise to meet Azaka, and meets again with that mysterious girl he once found in the rain.
    Shinkai: Set in the Edo period. DHO-centric. As mysterious figures gather in the city, a young woman unearths the dark secrets of the Asakami family.
    The Dollkeeper: A Fate side-story. The memoirs of the last tuner of the Einzberns. A record of the end of a family.
    Overcount 2030: Extra x Notes. A girl with no memories is found by a nameless soldier, and wakes up to a world of war.

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts