Trist
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The crumbling sand is liquid beneath his feet, and he cuts through the dunes like they are nothing but mist.
He stops before a basket.
It is so small and fragile, he could crush it easily with a careless step. Its orange fur is mottled beige and dusty from the desert’s rough touch.
“Mew?”
Death sinks down to his haunches with a sigh.
“Now, how did you end up all the way out here, pequeño?”
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Death had met the infamous Puss in Boots years before he was even named.
Bookmarked by Trist
22 Jun 2026
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“Lobo,” he swallows, clenching his paws once before relaxing them in the cuffs. “Can you answer me one thing then?”
Death’s red gaze flickers down at him, “you don’t seem to be in a position to make demands.”
Puss musters enough strength to shrug, the chains jangling weakly. He tries to smile, but he knows it looks withered and tired.
“Humor a dying gato, por favor?”
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Puss finds that his ninth life might be coming to an abrupt end at the hands of a madman.
Death is here to witness the outcome.
Bookmarked by Trist
22 Jun 2026
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On a rainy afternoon, Frisk and Asgore make strawberry jam.
Bookmarked by Trist
22 Jun 2026
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“I hate you.”
“Hate is a kind of wanting.”
“I want to— I want to kill you. I want you dead.”
“No, you don’t.” He does. He doesn’t. He might. He doesn’t want to shoot Lorne, no, he wants to strangle him. He wants to feel the life leave his body. He wants to do something to him that can’t be undone.Bookmarked by Trist
17 Jun 2026
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There was once a kinder image of Lester in Lorne’s mind- one of him when he was still yet to be much of a formidable force. But the recent few days in Nevada and his betrayal have left a bad taste in Lorne’s mouth as he crosses the state line.
Getting to Bemidji was the easy part.
Putting the man out of his misery would be another story.Bookmarked by Trist
17 Jun 2026