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defiledtomb · 1 year

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Just finished a spicy side story with Idren. >:3

... and rips the thin seams, tearing the cloth off your body. The shock of his acting has you forgetting to mourn the loss of his hand, and instead you watch him, wide eyed, as he wads up the fabric and stuffs it into his pocket.

#ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #OUGH I CANT WAIT UNTIL JUUUUUNE #🌶️#idren/ida #now i sleep but i have another one to write tomorrow. HEHE

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oddlilpupper · 1 year

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Hello! It’s been a while~

Here’s a fan painting of Idren and my Ophelia from @honeypeabrain’s Ouroboros, glow up and all.

First time painting on my Surface pro, as well as my first attempt at not leaving in the lineart. Not quite yet at that level of artistry I wanna be at, but I think I’m getting closer. Hope ya’ll think it turned out okay! Still can’t do background TuT

Ramble down below!

These two have been invading my every thought lately.

Thoughts like what they could have been before everything fell apart. How “the incident” turned them into enemies who may-or-may-not still have feelings for one another buried under all that hate and anger. How Idren stuck around and got both help and a support system (he and Sive seem pretty close, and I think I recall Honeypea mentioning Auryn befriending Idren).

Meanwhile, Ophelia (or rather, all of our MCs) is forced to retire and lives in self-imposed exile. She COULD reach out for help, but as someone who struggles with mental health (on a less severe level and without PTSD) I know how hard that is. It’s much easier to lock yourself away and let it fester.

I like to imagine Idren knows this and wants to be a supportive figure in MC’s life. This especially considering his response to MC begging him not to drag them out of retirement. Granted, he goes about it in a.... unique way. BUT AT LEAST HE’S TRYING!!!!

Don’t get me wrong when I talk about the differences in experience. Considering the situation, Idren absolutely needed immediate attention and I can understand why no one took the time to make sure Ophelia/the MC was getting help.

On the bright side, Ophelia/the MC was never completely alone. Not with Oma stopping by for visits!

But yeah, I don’t know. Something about these two resonates with me, both as individual characters and as a couple.

#Ouroboros #Ouroboros fanart #Idren #OC #Not really satisfied with Idren's armor tbh #I think the problem is I keep drawing it as if it'd be mostly metal whereas in reality #given his more rogue-like style #It'd probably be mostly leather (or more of a leather like material)#Glad I didn't go with my original plan of making the chestplate one big snarling wolf face #On a slightly unrelated note #That new pokemon (ceruledge) lowkey reminds me of Idren #I caught a female ceruledge and named her Ida #She's my badass fire baby

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louroth · 10 months

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okay but how much does id hate and blame us, really? how much of it is genuine pure unadulterated hatred

I don't think Id can really tell the difference between what they feel- it's all filtered through festering resentment and the little voice in their head that says that they have gone too far, too many times- that they don't deserve love because of how they are both in body and personality. A lot of what Id says is projection, meaning that they lash out/say mean things at hunter when really, they are mad at themselves.

I think this anon put it so well:

They try, in their own way. But everything Id says or does is through a core frustration that they have been unable to soothe for 200 odd years. That is a long time. And it just got worse; they were very jealous of the hunter who got to go home in "peace" while Id was a guinea pig to scientists, learning to be a part of a broken society while in the body of a ghost, all alone. They felt left for dead, abandoned, yet again; just how they felt as they drowned and hunter just watched.

The first murder attempts was Id just seeking contact, but the hunter was too deep in their own grief to see it, and Id decided to just keep reminding themselves that the hunter left them to die, watched them drown and didn't do anything. It just escalated from there. This anon - I saw it discussed in the discord too (and it was beautiful and heartbreaking and funny) is so spot on:

They absolutely have! They carry so much pain, so much regret and genuine resentment towards the hunter, and lost all their self worth through these years thinking themselves not worthy of saving, or loving. Kindness feels like a lie because that is what the past has proven, and what Id has convinced themselves of. It makes Id default to aggression because their head just goes !!!!! and sends out an avalanche of feelings that are impossible for Id to sort through. Violence is very simple, in comparison.

Hatred is far too simple of an emotion to explain how they feel. I don't think there's even a name for it.

Deep down inside, Id just wants to curl up in the hunters arms and finally grieve for everything they lost.

Thanks for the ask(s) :> I hope this makes sense.

#OUROBOROS #ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #idren/ida #id falling to their knees after every interaction with the hunter: WHY AM I LIKE THIS #2 seconds later: ITS HUNTERS FAULT

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louroth · 11 months

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I post stories like this regularly on Patreon, but enjoy this one without having to toss me a coin, as a thank you, because your support comes in many forms and I appreciate them all! :>

Chasing tail - a F!MC x Idren NSFW short

It started a few weeks ago with a breathless kiss in a hidden nook withing the library, both of you tearing at each others clothes before you were interrupted by a hushing librarian. And then the time where his cock had just slipped past your lips and someone had yanked at the door to the storage closet he had shoved you in. There was also the day he caught you on the stairs on your way down the turret, and with no one else around, he had stuck his nimble fingers down your pants and fingered you so thoroughly you could see stars. Right up until a group of guards had stomped down the stairs and Idrens fingers left you trembling for more, begging for it. He had stuck them in his mouth and licked them off like a cat tasting cream. And today, he caught you once more, shoved you into another nook and hooked one of your legs around his waist, pressing in close. Dressed for a mercenary mission, you were trapped beneath the bulk of his metal armor.

“You’ve been hiding from me.”

“Hiding?" You splutter, “I have not been hiding.” Your thighs clench from just how much you have been open to the idea of having Idren shove you against a wall and rut you like a wild thing, or bend you over a barrel, or...

Idren’s palm kneads the yielding skin of your thigh, in such a way that he must be thinking the same.

“So you have,” he says, and his lips drift so close to yours that you breathe the same breath. He pinches a lock of your hair between thumb and pointer with his free hand and follows it down, all the way until the sharp edge of his glove just barely grazes over your hardened nipple. “Every time I have a moment to spare, not drenched in gore or up to my head about the new mission, you are nowhere to be found.”

His hand trails down your waist and then up your thigh, the heat heavy through your skin. When he slips under the hem of your tunic and skirts his fingers along the edges of your cotton underwear, your lips part on a moan. Idren captures them with his mouth, rumbling as his hard gloves keep dancing over the thin cloth covering your slit, featherlight but cold, unyielding with steel. When he finally cups your sex, he makes the pained sound of a wounded man.

His teammate shouts from down the hall. “Come on. We’ll be late.”

Idren turns to hiss at the closed door. He turns back to you with a lazy smile, and kisses you with tongue.

“Nileas calls me puppy, you know? After the way I follow at your heel.” Another kiss. “I’ll do anything you ask of me, he says.”

You laugh against his mouth. “Puppy.”

“I don’t think a puppy acts like this.” A curled, armored finger slips beneath the band of your underwear and the sharpened point of it traces the seam of your cunt. The cold metal resting against the heat of your cleft makes your head spin, your hands grasping the lapels of Idren’s coat with a white-knuckled grip. Seeking your mouth, he kisses you softly.

With a growl, he kneads the flesh of your cunt, reminding you of his other side. The metal of his armor rasps against the fabric, and you swallow the enormous need to grind against his palm.

Idren, the bastard that he is, slows his pace even further, trailing his breath from below your ear down to the edge of your jaw, his cupped hand working in a lazy circle over the slowly soaking fabric of your panties. The pressure is divine, but not nearly enough. He chuckles against your throat as you fail to stem a whimper.

“Hurry the fuck up, Idren!” Now the voice is at the door. “What are you doing in there?”

Idren growls low in his throat, the curled finger tugging away; he rips the thin seams of your underwear, tearing the cloth straight off your body. The shock of his acting has you forgetting to mourn the loss of his hand, and instead you watch him, wide eyed, as he wads up the fabric and stuffs it into his pocket. He gives you a final, chaste kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“Three days.”

“Three days,” you confirm, rubbing your thighs together as cool air washes over your naked flesh. It barely stems the raging need you have to pounce on Idren before he leaves, to make him make due on the promise he whispered just a few nights ago, just in passing; he was getting drinks at the bar and leaned in to tell you that he will fuck you boneless before departing with a wink. Bastard. Now you are standing here again, quivering with need like aspen leaves in a light breezee.

Idren rips the door open and shoves his colleague away, protecting your flushed features from being discovered. As they walk away, your hand lifts to your lips, as if to savor the taste of him. Your head thuds into the wall behind you. Three days.

By the second day, your head and body can’t agree on anything. You sit to work through a stack of forms, but your gaze drifts out the window and you think of nothing else but Idrens breath washing over your naked skin. Your sweater rasps against your curves just like his calloused hands would. You jump at every opening of your door, hoping it will be him, wild-eyed and determined.

By the third day, when Idren is supposed to return from his mission, you are barely paying attention, living solely within the haze of desire that has fully occupied your mind. So much so that when your door rips open mid-day, and Idren stands there still covered in muck and blood, wild-eyed and determined, you don’t even take note of it until he has stomped over to you and thrown you over the shoulder.

Clapping a wide palm over your arse, he starts walking towards the bath. “Oh no,” he sighs, “I got my dirt all over you.”

“How terrible.”

“A tragedy. I’m afraid you’re going to have to shower with me.”

You laugh breathlessly as he carries you into the tiled room, an electric current radiating from the imprint of his hand, still on your ass. Placing you down on the cold floor and leaving you there to sway on your feet, he leans into the shower to turn on the heated water. It spills out from a large showerhead, already fogging the glass doors. After sluicing off his bare hands in the downpour of water, Idren turns to you, grasps your cheeks, and kisses you fiercely.

His tongue swipes silken soft against yours and all the tension you felt leading up to now just slides off your shoulders. You wind your arms around his neck and swallow his breath as he presses closer, tugging you forward with a firm press of his splayed palm to your lower back. You feel something wet and sticky seep through the thin fabric of your shirt, and part from the kiss.

“Idren!” You gasp in reprimand, stepping back to reveal your tunic, mottled with the aftermath of his messy mission.

Idren snickers. “Only one way to solve that.”

You suck on your teeth, but by the way he’s already working on the fastenings of his armor; looking at you with those hooded eyes that still sparkle with mischief, you have already forgiven and forgotten. And, your cunt clenches, you have waited so long for this that another batch of laundry won’t stand in the way.

Idren’s musky scent trails to you as his pauldrons fall with a clank to the floor, and he shucks his shirt with a single-handed pull, leaving his inky hair to fall over the hard panes of his pale chest. Your eyes trail the grooves of his sculpted abdomen, along the duny strip of hair from his bellybutton down to the edge of his breeches, where you watch him adjust his erection, and unclasp his belt.

“Continue?”

You nod absentmindedly, swallowed whole by the fact that he’s here now, ready to finally claim you as his. Your nipples stiffen through the fabric of your tunic, and you swallow thickly. You nod again.

He kicks of his pants and steps up to you, his cock heavy and hard- the shaft presses into your stomach as he grabs the hem of your tunic, drawing it up and over your head. Naked flesh meets naked flesh, and you shiver as his cock twitches against your abdomen.

Next, in quiet contemplation, he weaves his fingers through your hair, presses his lips to your mouth and whispers, so passionately it might be a poem.

“Say pretty please.”

A snort huffs past your lips and into his. “You’re insufferable.”

His hands slide down your naked waist and shoves your panties down to your ankles. He kneels with the motion, now face to face with your aching cunt. He does nothing but breathe, and it drives you up the wall, the heat of it. Finally, his mouth inches closer to kiss, but stops just as his lower lip touches the skin of your labias, and he looks up to you with hard eyes and furrowed brows.

“Say it.”

You give him a hard stare even though you yearn for nothing more than to muffle his words with a slight step, even just a light lean, forward. Your whole body pulses with need. There is still a streak of blood on his cheek and you don’t know where that’s been- and with that you find your out. Still, the words are breathless as you utter them.

“Get in the shower, you oaf. You have blood all over you.”

With a lightning quick swipe of his tongue, an electric pulse straight from your clit to your heart, he comes to a stand, grabs your hand and leads you to the shower.

“Fine." He growls. "But I will have it sooner or later.”

You titter into his back, following him willingly into the hot shower. Idren tilts his face toward the spray of water, and your hands wander to his cheeks, wiping the offensive stain with a tender swipe of your thumb. His hair plasters against his skin like swirls of black ink, even his lashes paint long streaks of darkness. Water clings to them in heavy droplets as he opens his eyes. His gaze is hardened with lust, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

His hand reaches for your breast- but he just grazes past with a teasing touch, grabbing for the soap on the shelf beside you.

“Insufferable,” you mutter, water trailing over your neglected nipples. His answering grin is a wicked, evil thing. He lathers up soap and begins washing himself, hands trailing slowly over smooth skin, a brow raised in smugness.

“Give me that,” you lean into him to grab the soap but he snatches it away from you, tugging you into his embrace instead. The movement has you stumbling and you cling to him for stability. Of course he takes the opportunity to trail his soapy hands all over your body, washing carefully; paying extra attention to your breast and thighs, never touching quite where you want him but for a stray pinch of your nipple here, another palming of your sex there. By the time he considers it a job well done, you are panting through your nostrils, your restraint teetering on the edge of completely crumbling. The slick between your thighs runs down your legs, and every drop from the shower ignites your skin.

Idren shuts the water off and your gut summersaults. Surely, he will give in now.

Your mouth waters at the sight of his straining cock, veins pulsing, the shaft twitching as your eyes take it in. Long, heavy, with a slight upwards curve. You lick your lips, and Idren surges forward to capture them.

Devouring, feverish, the wet heat of his mouth consumes you entirely. He opens the door from behind your back, having you stumble backwards as he steps out, his arm steady at your back. Once stable, you don’t keep your footing for long; Idren lifts you and growls, “Put your legs around my waist.”

You oblige, wedging the hardness of him between your open cleft and his stomach. You tense your thighs and leverage his shoulders to slide your slick over his cock, and relish in the broken moan he utters.

“Nymph.” He grunts, and takes the few steps towards the sturdy windowsill by the sink. Leaning back to catch your eyes with his, he bares his teeth; done with pleasantries. “Say it.”

Locked within his now pitch-black pupils, you defiantly go through the process again, grinding your hips in waves against his pelvis. He thrusts forward slowly, meeting you halfway, but just when his cock shifts in position and the flaring head of it kisses your entrance, he stops, his straining arms keeping you hovering there. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he presses in just an inch, flaring your walls with his girth. Your head lulls, eyes rolling with need. He growls.

��Say it.”

Your body is so heated, thrumming with the need for him to fill the aching emptiness between your spread thighs. He presses in another inch and your resolve crumbles, a low moan winding from your sealed lips. You try to maneuver your hips, press down, but his hands hold you steady, digging into your flesh with determination, though he too is shaking with restraint.

He makes to pull out, and you wail with the loss. You give in and exhale the words he wants to hear.

“Please, fuck me, Idren.”

He snickers, the bastard, and claims your lips with a lazy smile. “That’s my girl.”

He drives you down onto his shaft with a steady thrust, pushing in until he’s seated fully within you, making you both break into a broken, tortured groan. He lifts, plunges in again, withdraws, presses in, fucking you steadily as he breathes into your mouth. Trailing kisses over your throat, your breasts strain against his chest. The cold tile of the windowsill bites at your ass as he places you down, and the chill from the window seeps over your aching nipples as you lean back. Grabbing your waist, Idren still drives into you with a steadfast rhythm, and pleasure mounts, making your thighs tingle.

He snaps his hips and enters to the hilt, fucking you with small movements, never leaving the sheathe of your cunt. He hunches over, groans like a dying man, sucking one of your areolas into his mouth. It sends a spike of pleasure straight to your clit, and together with the rubbing motion of his hips; white hot heat explodes from your core and outwards, your thighs shaking with the force of it.

Idren curses and takes your nipple between his teeth, his hips clapping against your skin with wild, erratic movements. Your cunt flutters against his pistoning cock, and with a final drive of his hips, his arse flexing taut, he chokes on a shout as semen shoots into you, the twitch of his cock spreading his wet heat within you.

For a long while, you just breathe, small movements and soft thrusts of his softening cock.

A droplet of water clings to his nose, and you kiss it away. “You owe me a tunic.”

He raises his eyes to yours, gives you a puppy-eyed look; eager to please.

Your head falls to his shoulder in breathless laughter.

#ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #idren/ida #short story

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louroth · 9 months

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for the sake of a fic I've been tossing around in my head, will we ever see any of Id's previous murder attempts in flashbacks throughout the story?

have a wonderful day!

undecided! You will see new ones depending on how your hunter acts in that relationship, but I haven't decided if I want more explicit flashbacks- they certainly aren't a core part of the story I have planned, but I always leave a bit of wiggle-room. The hunters past is largely up to your imagination, apart for inherently knowing locations, factions and knowledge pertaining to your [origin] work. I will mention the past a lot, but it isn't defined.

The more interpersonal things, how your relationships played out before the story started- I'm just giving every hunter rough guidelines of how the character fits into the world, and the rest is up to you!

And I mean, just fucking go for it. I am not too precious about my characters- I wanted ouro to be an interactive fiction because how malleable the story becomes to every reader. I have yet to see a take on the characters/protagonist that has made me balk, and honestly, I'm kind of looking forward for that to happen.

Anyway, this is so off track from your question- but I hope you see my point; even if there were defined events of the murder-attempts, please feel free to headcanon some for yourself, always! Lord knows those two went at it like rabid, territorial animals when they were supposed to be recovering from life-changing trauma.

Thank you so much for the ask and happy writing!!

#I think it deserves to be repeated that this worldbuilding is meant to be soft #to leave room for expansions at what is hinted at. To get the brain churnin. (It is what I love in fiction personally)#but that imagination part goes doubly so for the hunter #the only thing that is Defined is the plot they will experience throughout the story and how you shape them through choices #Now do tell. Did Id try to put your hunter through the woodchipper or no #sksksksksksksk #OUROBOROS #ouroboros if #interactive fiction #idren/ida #an aside: asked anton to read this reply because my brian is mushy and his response was AND I QUOTE #“its amazing how good you write considering how STUP- *noises of me jumping him like animal biting biting biting

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defiledtomb · 11 months

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Sanpha, watch over us (An Ida x F!Leith short)

this was written as a challenge, under an hour.

Their paths had crossed again on a day when the sun dipped below the horizon, and the moon reigned over the sky, casting its pale glow on the world below; on the world that Ida had come to know to mean more than rocks and trees, now including the slope of a nose and the curve of a hip. Lady Leith, lost in her thoughts, found herself seeking refuge beneath an ancient willow, a sacred space where the presence of love was ever palpable for the inhabitants of Riven, who sought such things in the face of everything horrid. Summer was fading now, the chill of the breeze enveloping the hesitance that lived within them both. Here, Ida watched as Leith ran fingers over her lips, contemplating. It had been only a month since they parted on that mission, where everything went wrong and blood had colored their clothes with rust and stain, and yet the kiss they had shared in the face of death had washed it all away.

Would she remember? Was it nothing to her?

Would nothing change?

It was there, beneath the weighing branches, that Leith's eyes met Ida’s again, and it was as if time stood still, and the universe conspired to bring their hearts together, yanking, violently, refusing to settle for a hazed dream behind closed eyes.

In that moment, the weight of their yearning pressed against their chests, like the longing for a season that had yet to arrive.

"Your cherry blossom lips, dewed with the honey I fed to you beneath the tombs of Oakweth,” Ida let her voice float on a cold wind, tender and tentative, “away from the pressures of what yesterday had wrought. How I miss the taste of them." Ida smiled as she approached, hiding her trembling hands with a voice as delicate as the branches that she pushed aside to venture closer.

Leith laughed, her heart caught in her chest. “Your poems had a way of making me… survive.”

“So I hoped. I couldn’t imagine a world-”

“We lived.”

“We did.” And as Ida stepped closer, her hand reaching out to gently touch Leith’s cheek, a surge of energy coursed through their veins, igniting a flame that could not be extinguished.

"Lady Leith, my persimmon. I yearn for autumn in your arms," Ida confessed, half poem, whole truth, her voice trembling with raw desire. “Have me to hold, as I will with you. For whatever time we have, for forever; for now."

In that moment, beneath the sacred tree, their lips met once more, sealing their vows in a violent kiss that trancendended any spoken or written word. Their love, forged in the crucible of yearning, would endure, unyielding and steadfast, like the ancient goddess of union who presided over their love.

#ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #lgbtq #i will think about this for the next ten years! haha (sobbing and screaming)#leith/custom #idren/ida #heh please have mercy on my quickly jotted down writing i swear I can write better than this 😭#just had an ask accusing me of mispelling sappho. ITS ON PURPOSE DINGDONG (Yes its wholly unoriginal to name #your sapphic love goddess sanpho but i do what i want and you can't stop me!#🩷#SANPHA I MEANT SANPHA

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louroth · 10 months

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Id daydreams about kissing/ making out - omg im crying 😭 - but how would they feel if mc kissed their cheek or something similarly soft? They are starting to feel things again with their armor right? I imagine theyre just as touch starved as mc, and i know a soft gesture like that would cause my mc to combust 🥺 (but also Id has been a tad... volatile with their emotions, so i also imagine them punting my mc across the room rather than face their feelings 😅)

Idren/Ida almost stumbles as your lips depart from their cheek, the cold steel there warmed with breath and the memory of your kiss. Soft, plush pressure, there for one second and gone the next. How the memory of touch became so vivid it nearly buckled their knees.

Long after the hunter has gone, they stand there, tracing the feeling with whispering fingertips.

#and then they chase the hunter down and shove them in a locker. the end #💀#idren/ida #OUROBOROS #ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #thank you for the ask :>#you are absolutely right about id feeling for the first time in centuries 😌

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louroth · 10 months

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I love Id. Love, love, love Id. Buuuut I have a question re: the hostility ooooozing from them, the festering resentment and our MC pursuing them romantically. Will we be able to let Id's resentment, uh, sort of destroy the tenuous romantic connection? Like, Id's hostility/resentment gets to be too much and MC goes like "Nope, can't deal, sorry, my love has withered and died, byyye"?

Yes, absolutely. You can put a definite end to the relationship, forever. It's a whole can of worms, depending on how your hunter goes about it.

😈

#OUROBOROS #ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #idren/ida #look all im saying is there is some room for very bad things to happen #thanks for the ask :>

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louroth · 10 months

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Honestly I think the first step is Id and the Hunter just need to give each other a hug 😂😭

YES 😭 Id would break down completely.

#OUROBOROS #ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #idren/ida #at this point it would save Id's life #idk where that gif is from but the body language is on point #but it has to be at the right moment or else the hunter WILL get batista bombed

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louroth · 11 months

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Need you to consider Landfill by daughter as a peak Id/MC angst song.

Gods so I listened to it while walking my dog this morning and the amount of times she(dogy) was pulling me to continue walking was embarrassing. The refrain! Every line fits! But when she sang 'Thought you said you didn't feel pain'

This is peak hunter x id 🥹 thank you, I will consider it, prolly for the next 200 years. (being absolutely normal abt this)

#OUROBOROS #ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #idren/ida #character playlist #i love daughter also 🤌 the taste! yeowza!

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defiledtomb · 1 year

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The fact that Id, even if they don't realize it; despite their and the MCs past and their history together.... Still tries to bring MC back from the void they've put themselves in. The sorrow, the hole. It's no way to live and I think Id doing this says a lot of about their character and the type of friend(or even enemy) that they are. Despite how they feel about MC or their past, I think there is care there.. Even if it's in the form of an insult.. I may be a bit biased because they're my favorite but 🤷‍♀️

I know! *sobs*

Even though Id can absolutely blame their current shape and their sorrow on MC, they recognize that MC was dealt a bad batch of cards, and that really, underneath all that rancid regret, there is still the person they know and love. Id is the type of person to shoulder the responsibility of getting MC back on their feet, and thinks about it every second of their day, even though they know it might be a lost cause.

#ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #look enemies to lovers have always fascinated me and im so happy that Id has come alive the way they did #it just Works™ and I love them. so much #:>#idren/ida

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