how do you feel now that crumbs has gained such a following? do you ever struggle with living up to expectations, or is it easy to continue being true to yourself and your creative vision? i've been following the story for a while on TT, you're one of my biggest inspirations in my own comic journey, i adore the way you use colour! thank you for posting!!!! i hope you keep at it :-)
Hello! Thank you so much for keeping up with Crumbs and Lilie!
To be honest I never thought anyone would be interested in this at all. So expectation wise I just don't feel like there are any. Not from fans anyway. I find everyone been very sportive of the work so far. I'd say I'm pretty timid to posting online but doing this comic as given me some more confidence.
At lest in the project, I'm really just using the comic as a tool get better till I meet my own expectations of where I want to be as an artist. That would be my hardest hurdle with all of this. Creative vison wise, there's so much I wish I was doing, but maybe by the end of it all we will be there.
I'm glad it's been inspiring to you! I wish you the best on your comic journey! If I could give any advice it would be to just post it! Don't worry where you are now, in time it will be what it needs to be.
If you have any question about the comic or the art prosses feel free to reach out :D. I'll answer them the best that I can.
Do you plan to release the physical version of the comic some time in the future? I'm honestly in awe with the are direction and your skill and would love to have a physical copy of it 🥹 If not, is it possible/will it be possible to order prints or something of the sort?
Sorry I dont check my Tumblr too much!
Im not sure if I will ever do a physical copy at the moment. I'll look into options of that when the series is completed.
As for prints, im been working on setting something up! I will be sending prints out personal so im just setting up for that.
Getting to have them in @mumbledpie's awesome comic made me realize I've been severely neglecting my goblinsona despite the fact that they bring me an immense amount of joy so here are some doodles of My Goblin in all their glory
(1) : an adverse opinion or leaning formed without just grounds or before sufficient knowledge.
(2) : injury or damage resulting from some action of another in disregard of one's bodily integrity.
Or, they fight then they fuck.
TW: Explicit sexual content, blood, choking.
Fresh autumn breeze chilled the knight as she kindled the fire. Her cold eyes remained fixed on the growing flame as it ate at the wood, purposefully ignoring the side glances the goblin shot at her. He wore his gnomish attire, comfortable for an evening at the improvised camp.
“You look too much like a deserter.” He looked her up and down. “You need to change.”
She sighed, finally acknowledging his gaze. “Into what?”
“Something less conspicuous,” he said, eyeing her weathered axe.
She glanced sideways. “I’m not dropping the armour nor the axe.”
“Why not?” He narrowed his eyes, carefully examining her for any signs of contempt. He found many.
“Why not?” she repeated the question, coated in distrust.
“I’ve taken this route dozens of times,” he lied. “I know how to avoid its dangers. Even if we encountered bandits, I’m capable of protecting us both.”
She had to laugh, scoffing at the thought of trusting him with her life. “Like you wouldn’t ditch me the very instant it got ugly.”
“I would not!” His words sounded more genuine than he expected. “We need to get you to Myosotis!”
Lilie tsked, looking away.
“I assure you, goblin, I can hold my own.”
It was his turn to chuckle. “Yeah. I saw.” He leaned closer to her, pressing where he knew it’d hurt. “You lost your sword. Quite the display of ability.”
She got up from the log, clenching her teeth, staring daggers at him.
"Have you taken it as given that I've been wasting these months?" She could not remember a two-day period where she hadn’t been sore from training.
His eyebrows rose in a way that managed to be both a question and an insult.
“Stop speaking,” she retorted and turned away, heading for the denser foliage. “Don’t test me, wretch.”
She withdrew, clumsily struggling to remove the heavy chainmail. She was seething, wrestling with whether the conniving man was worth the trouble.
When she returned, Crumbs had cleared the space next to the fire, pushing their belongings aside. He threw a short staff at her feet, holding his sheathed dagger.
The last of the twilight shone across his scowling face.
“Come then, show me,” he taunted her.
Lilie rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
“Show me your best.” He beckoned her with his hand. “Come.”
She scoffed, bending down to pick up the staff.
With her guard up, she approached the shorter man. Their gazes locked.
He lowered his center, guarding his front with the dagger. She created distance, holding the weapon with two hands straight in front of her. They circled each other. He watched her careful steps. She calculated the reach of his cuts.
He feigned an attack, and she raised the staff, preparing a downward cut. Too high, too great of a window. He lunged, aiming for a double-legged tackle. His shoulder drove into her thighs, his hands sweeping her legs out from under her.
In an instant, the dagger was at her neck. He tsked, getting up. He did not offer her a hand.
Anger boiled inside her as she rose.
“Pathetic.”
When it threatened to spill everywhere, her focus narrowed, fuelled by spite. She took a deep breath and held a lower guard, tilting her staff to the side.
Against an opponent like him, she’d need reaction time and mobility, not reach. The circles grew tighter, her steps more careful. He lunged again, testing her. She stepped back nimbly and sent a wide attack that connected with his forearm. He hissed, rubbing his skin. A slight smile crossed her lips.
Infuriating.
Confident, she threw a quick, low cut. He avoided it, easily side-stepping the stick’s path. He dove, seizing the opportunity. Had she not been preemptively stepping away, she’d have felt the dagger’s sheath carve a path on her stomach.
He threw another cut in quick succession. This time, the staff met his dagger, cutting its path. A solid block. She pushed the staff down against the guard, weakening his hold. He pivoted away, creating distance.
The young knight had improved considerably, if he were being honest. He was not being honest.
Seeing his gaze flicker, she threw a thrust, aiming for his abdomen. He was already sideways before she'd committed to the thrust. He grasped her staff firmly and pulled. As her eyes widened, he got inside her guard and pushed.
She stumbled, letting go of the staff, and tried to step back, only to trip over the goblin’s calf behind her ankle. She fell on her back and the air left her lungs.
This time, she knew where he’d come from.
She couldn’t stop him from straddling her, but her hand shot to his arm before he could put the dagger to her neck, holding it back. He tried to break her grip with his other hand when he was suddenly launched forward. She’d raised her hips, forcing him to use an arm to stabilise himself if he wanted to stay on top.
Before he could react, she snatched the dagger from him and threw it out of his reach.
Containing a growl, he put a forearm to her throat and pressed down. Choking, she still tried to get whatever air he’d allow inside her lungs. She wheezed, struggling to keep the weight off her, pushing away at his chest. His other hand, reaching for his boot, went unnoticed.
She felt the cold tip of a knife teasing the skin under her jaw.
She blinked at him, eyes wide before going back to her usual scowl. Yellow eyes tracked her every movement.
"You…" she trailed off, voice rough from the constriction at her throat.
“You need to learn when to surrender, girl,” he muttered, breathless. “Give up.”
An audible whistle stained her breath as she struggled against him. It was useless, he wouldn’t budge. Fear threatened to slip in. He almost felt bad.
A tinge of worry tainted his face as he watched her lose strength beneath him, her gasps for air getting weaker. Her icy eyes fluttered, rolling back. He’d gone too far. He released some of the pressure.
She held the cool edge of his own knife to his throat as dark blood trickled from his nose down his cheek. He could feel her still-wheezing breath on his face.
As soon as she felt the shiv leave her skin, her fingers wrapped around his free wrist and pulled it across his body, elbowing his face. His balance went. She planted her foot flat against the ground, and with everything she had, she threw her hips up.
He toppled sideways. She turned with him, chest to chest, refusing to let the momentum die. The ground met his back. Before he could shake the surprise from his eyes, she was straddling him, her knees pressing snug against his sides. She leaned forward, pinning one of his arms down.
“Give-” She turned her face and coughed, clearing her strained airway. “Give me a good reason not to choke you out, goblin.”
After an experimental struggle, he went limp, catching his breath. He put his free hand to his nose, feeling moisture drip. He stared at his blood-covered fingers and hissed.
“Isn’t this a good enough revenge?” He turned his hand, showing her.
She considered it, letting the shiv’s sharp tip kiss the stubble under his jaw. Something twitched under her pelvis. She rolled her hips against it lightly. He chuckled.
“You’re cruel, toying with me like this.” His pupils widened, swallowing the saffron irises.
“Give up, then.” She didn’t let go of the steel hold on him. “Or find a way out.”
“I don’t know why you want to be a knight. You’d be a much better fit as the town’s inquisitor.”
“Shut up.”
She rocked her hips again, this time with intent. He sucked a breath through his teeth and looked down at where their bodies met, biting the tip of his tongue. He put his free hand to her hip, holding onto it. He held her gaze as he lifted his hips, grinding against her.
She tsked, feeling a blush spreading on her face. She sat up and let go of his arm, focusing on the feeling.
Without a warning, he had toppled her once more and settled his body between her legs.
He angled the shiv at her body, threatening her liver.
“I have to say, I’m impressed.” He leaned closer to her, his dark blood dripping on her dress. “Wanna keep going, princess?” His deadly sweet words tickled her lips.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She nodded, mouth agape.
She, however, pushed the shiv away from her and turned around on her stomach in an attempt to escape the too-vulnerable position.
Grave mistake.
He easily took her back, setting himself on top of her. He manoeuvred her body, turning her on her side slightly where her liver was exposed, and pushed the shiv’s tip against the soft skin once more.
The difference between their heights wasn’t so noticeable in this position. His head was right by her ear. A hard length pressed against her ass.
“Never turn your back on the enemy, darling. It’s dangerous,” he cooed.
Her skin prickled.
“Fuck off.” Her insides fluttered with tension and arousal.
“You know,” he whispered, calm and collected. “You’re gonna have to explain that thing you were doing before.” He could hear her panting in the crisp evening air. “Whatever you want, you gotta ask nicely.”
Lilie turned her head to him with something meant to be a glare on her face.
“Like you’d do what I asked.” She mumbled against her shoulder.
He chuckled softly.
“Try me." His deep, breathy voice made her heart skip a beat. “I can be so obedient when I want to.”
Her insides swirled in anticipation. His hand found the short, soft hair on her nape, and he tangled his fingers in it, pulling lightly.
Sharp fang-like teeth grazed the shell of her ear. The pressure from the shiv returned. She grabbed a fistful of fresh grass, quietly planning his demise.
She turned her head, and their lips met. No tenderness to be found as she bit down on his soft flesh.
He growled, deep and animalistic against her mouth. He pulled back just enough to turn her back around and lunged to kiss her, rough and hungry, nipping at her lips and tongue. She moaned into it and held him by the neck of his shirt, biting in return. She could taste his black blood on her mouth, iron and death and passion.
His jagged kisses travelled down her jaw into the soft of her throat. He found a spot where he could feel the pulsing of her frantic heart, and he dragged his tongue across the skin. He bit down, hard enough to make her yelp, and sucked on the sensitive flesh. Peppering vicious kisses and languid licks until the flesh turned purple. Lilie’s head felt light, and her face burnt. He pulled away, contemplating his work.
“Did you leave a mark?” She'd have liked to sound threatening.
“Mhm, I did,” he purred as he caressed the bruised skin with the back of his fingers. “Are you gonna get shy about it?”
She rolled her eyes at him and scoffed, her face flushed to the tips of her ears. He heard her mumble something that sounded like "too many clothes...”
He sat up, kneeling, and removed his dirty shirt. Under the fire’s glow, old scars caught the light.
She took off her surcote and they held each other’s gaze. She slid her trousers down her long legs, leaving her simple cream-coloured top and panties.
He watched as her eyes travelled around his body, taking him in. He palmed his erection through the fabric of his pants, showing off.
With a half-lidded scowl, she pushed him down on his back. She climbed on top of him and aligned her core to his length. She put her hands on his chest, feeling muscle ripple beneath, and rocked her hips, grinding against him. Not for his, but for her own pleasure.
His small sounds of appreciation made her insides melt.
She wrapped a hand around his throat and felt his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He made a show of it, his panting and light moaning strained under her grip. Half-uttered words in languages she didn’t speak spilt from his blood-stained lips. He dug his nails into her thick thighs. Pre-cum leaked from his tip.
He couldn’t wrench his eyes away from the bruised flesh on her neck. Purple suited her.
A clawed hand reached for her top, waiting for a beat before pulling it up over her soft chest. He desperately needed to put his mouth to her, practically drooling at the sight of her puffy, hardened nipples. There was a weak attempt to topple her again, met with a tighter grip around his throat.
“Stay down,” she commanded, still grinding against his cock, chasing her own pleasure.
His brows knitted together, his expression turning needy.
He continued taking her torturous ministrations and sat up slowly. The hand that wasn’t propping him up found one of her breasts, softly kneading it. His mouth found the other, sucking and lapping at her silky nipple. She moaned, adjusting her movement to give him easier access. She, benevolent, found his tip and rocked against it, drawing muffled sounds from him. He sucked harder at the pink flesh, nipping lightly until it was covered in red and purple spots. She drew sharp breaths. He felt her wet slick dampen his already stained trousers.
“You’re making quite the mess,” he pointed out, looking down at the dark, sodden spot.
“Then take them off,” she retorted, a tint of mockery behind the scowl.
He looked up, glaring, and put a hand on her stomach, guiding her off him. He hooked his fingers into the cloth and lowered it with agonizing slowness, basking in her hungry glare. A thick, heavy shaft broke free, tip leaking heavily.
He moved before she could get back on top. She didn’t fight it and lay back, propping herself by her elbows. He knelt between her thighs and ran his thumb up the damp cloth, the fabric so wet it had turned almost sheer, outlining every fold. He took his finger to his mouth and coated his tongue with her slick, savouring her.
He pulled them down as she raised her hips and put his hands on the back of her knees. He pushed her legs forward, exposing her pussy to the cold forest’s air. She flushed crimson as his gaze travelled from her dripping slit, up to her face, and back down again. He leaned forward, and her soft thighs squished his long ears.
He dragged a long tongue up her wet core, still looking deep into her icy eyes. The knight let out a sharp breath and let her head hang back, moaning softly.
The goblin devoured her, messy and hungry and loud. It would be mistaken for worship, were it not for his obvious efforts to draw embarrassing sounds from her. He sucked and tongued at her plush folds, not quite focusing on her swollen nub. The filthy noises of his face buried in her dripping cunt filled the air.
He stopped suddenly.
“Too proud to look down, are we?”
Lilie glared at the goblin. His lips and jaw were covered in slick, and her juices dripped down his chin, mixed with what was left of the dark blood. Her cunt fluttered at the sight.
“Goblin, I swear,” she panted, breathless. “I swear I’ll gut you if you don’t stop talking.”
“I’d love to see you try, knight.” He dove back down immediately, lapping and suckling at the sensitive nub. He grazed it with careful fangs, just enough to make her jolt.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Mm-hm.”
She tangled her fingers in his dark hair and pulled tighter against her core. He chuckled.
This was a command he was willing to obey. If she wanted rough, he’d show her.
Experience guided his tongue’s precise strokes to her aching clit. Over and over and over. Drawing out her pleasure. No doubt, better than she could ever manage by herself, he rushed her towards her climax.
Her hips jerked against his mouth as she drew closer; soft gasps turned to whimpers under his merciless ministrations.
Too soon for her wounded pride, she came in scorching waves, flooding his senses. He swallowed her pleasure, greedy and arrogant.
Oversensitive and shaking, she pushed his face away from her dripping cunt.
She lay there, panting as she recovered, slowly coming back to the forest. He sat up, kneeling, and released one of her legs. He wiped his damp chin, and his wet hand wrapped around his veiny shaft, smearing her juices on it.
Her panting steadied, one shallow breath at a time.
He rested his heavy head at her slick entrance and stroked himself lazily, rubbing the tip up and down her swollen folds. The look on his face, a sneering grin, silently daring her to speak, either to beg or curse him out. She clicked her tongue, frustrated by his teasing, and glared at him.
He didn’t budge, circling her opening. Softly pressing down, only to pull away again. Her hand drifted toward the discarded shiv nearby.
An exasperating, soft laugh escaped him, and he slowly pushed his girth inside, dragging against the tight, burning walls, stretching her. A long, shaky moan escaped them both.
He sank to the hilt and paused, letting her adjust while he drank in the sensation.
Then he began to move with slow, careful thrusts, watching her face closely. Her half-lidded eyes and parted, panting lips showed nothing but pleasure.
“I don’t think you understand who’s in charge here.”
Her words rang in his head right before he slammed into her without warning. He fucked her puffy cunt in short, punishing strokes. He gave her only a few brutal thrusts before grabbing her legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Leaning forward, he drove even deeper, folding her in half beneath him.
Her eyes flew wide and she gasped, cursing viciously under her breath. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the moans spilling out of her. Every aggressive slam sent a shock of overwhelming fullness through her core. He was so deep it felt like he was rearranging her insides, the head of his cock kissing her cervix with every savage stroke. A burning stretch mixed with too-intense pleasure that made her walls flutter around him. Her clit throbbed painfully with every slap of his hips. Her head was starting to feel light, and she dug her nails into the grass and dirt, clawing at the ground.
The forest echoed with the filthy, wet sounds of him fucking in and out of her. His own pace was betraying him, bringing him too close too soon against the scorching velvet inside, clenching and rippling around him.
With a muffled curse, he bit hard into her thigh to silence his own desperate sounds. She was pulling him in deeper, tighter, against his will. He was too close.
He yanked himself out with a growl and flipped her onto her stomach. He panted, his throbbing cock still on edge. He climbed on top of her. She could feel the frantic hammering of his heart against her toned back.
He curled an arm around her throat. She didn’t fight it, wrapping her fingers around it.
Pulling her closer, he squeezed her throat lightly. Her breath hitched, getting slower. He pushed himself back inside with a sharp exhale. Each of his hard, deep thrusts rutted against the sensitive spot inside her.
Barely holding on, voice hoarse and strained, he rasped right against her ear.
His lips brushed the shell of her ear with every brutal thrust. Low, animalistic grunts escaped him, raw and broken, each one vibrating straight into her ear. He tried to muffle them by pressing his open mouth against her bruised neck, but it only turned the sounds into wet, trembling moans and shaky, desperate breaths that sent shivers down her spine.
Scorching, silky heat gripped his cock with every thrust, her walls fluttering and clenching around him as if trying to pull him even deeper. The obscene, wet squelch of her dripping cunt and wheezing breaths filled his ears, drawing him close to the edge once more. His rhythm faltered, turning erratic and desperate. Harsh grunts poured out of him, guttural, almost pained. Each one hot and ragged against her ear. He couldn’t hold them back anymore. A deep, trembling growl tore from his throat as he fought the rising pressure, teeth grazing her purple skin while his hips snapped forward with needy, stuttering thrusts.
“Can I come inside?”
Her lips curved, wicked.
“Say please.”
“What?” he almost whined.
She snickered, eyes narrowed, looking back at him. Her sore throat struggled against his bicep.
“Say it.”
The denial made his cock twitch hard inside her. He was already leaking, a thick drop of cum oozing out against his will. His hips stuttered.
“Please, let me come inside.” His voice cracked. “Please.”
She let the silence hang for one torturous second, then gave a single nod, parted lips and glassy eyes.
With a broken growl, he slammed into her and came violently, flooding her cunt in thick, pulsing ropes. He sank his teeth into her shoulder to muffle the desperate, animalistic sounds tearing out of him as he throbbed and emptied himself deep inside her.
His spent thrusts slowed, growing lazy and shallow. Lilie hissed sharply as pain flared from the bite marks on her shoulder. He tasted blood on his tongue and slowly loosened the chokehold around her throat. Without thinking, he dragged his tongue over the small punctures, lapping at the broken skin while he rode the final weak pulses of his orgasm.
He stayed buried inside her, lazily fucking his cum deeper with a few slow, deliberate strokes.
“Mighty warrior indeed. Is this how you usually best your opponents?" she teased, looking back.
He clicked his tongue.
“Only the ones I don't actually deem threats.” He pulled out of her and sat up.
“You get hard at having a knife pressed at your throat.” Her smile could be heard in her words.
The goblin spread her folds with two clawed thumbs. Cum dripped out of her under his attentive gaze, pooling between her closed legs.
One, two drops of black blood fell on her fair skin. He wiped the fresh trail under his nose with the back of his hand.
He dismounted her, and as she turned over onto her back, he closed the distance between them. He lifted her chin with two arrogant fingers and whispered in her ear.
“Your cunt is so pretty, full to the brim with my cum.”
He placed a chaste, bloodied kiss to her flushed cheek.
Goblins!!! Thank you for everyone participating in my goblin event this chapter! It was a pleasure to draw all your goblins and I can't wait to see them in the comic!
The night had been dry, at least. They had walked for hours through cold rain beneath a sinking sun. Wet clothes and cold bones make for short tempers, and they had been snapping at each other by the time they reached the roadhouse.
It was small, but it had everything a traveller might need. Its walls were stone and mud, the interior all dark wood and low beams, capped with a tiled roof and a small stable to the left. The Magpie’s Nest.
They entered, chattering teeth and dripping clothes, when a voice boomed from behind the bar.
“Take yer boots off before you make a mess of my floor.” A middle-aged fae woman, with frizzy dark hair and a cunning glint in her eye, glared at them from across the room.
Ten to twelve other patrons sat at wooden tables, quietly eating and drinking.
They clumsily took off their drenched, blister-raising shoes without a word. Only when they stood close to the roaring hearth did their shoulders drop, letting go of a breath they didn’t know they were holding.
The warmth emanating from the fire made the tips of their freezing toes ache. They exchanged knowing glances. The amulet continued to work, and once again they would play their roles: a charming gnome and his escort.
“Evening, ma'am," said the gnome, approaching the barmaid.
“Evening, sir. You’re lucky you got here on time. We’ve got the one room left. Your keeper may take the stable, though.”
He didn't look back.
“Aye, that’s a suitable arrangement.” He shifted the subject smoothly. “We took down a mighty boar on the way here. Most of it has been salted and smoked. How much for it?”
He laid the wrapped parcels of meat on the bar.
She examined the produce for a moment, and took the parcels through a door behind her. A kitchen, judging from the smell wafting out of it.
The knight cleared her throat behind him. When he looked back over his shoulder, she was not scowling, but she looked down at him with a piercing glare. A slow smile crept onto his lips.
The maid came back, empty-handed. “That’ll cover your room and dinner, plus thirty pieces of gold.” She leaned on the bar, chewing on a splinter of wood. “Deal?”
Crumbs nodded.
“Your room’ll be the one marked with a shrike. Upstairs to the left,” she said, tossing a key and a satchel of coins.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the goblin said, bowing his head slightly.
They hung their wet capes to dry near the hearth and made their way upstairs, with Lilie keeping a deliberate step behind him.
The doors were adorned with beautiful carvings of various birds. The one to the left portrayed a shrike resting on a branch of hawthorn, gazing into the distance. He opened the door with the iron key and paused at the threshold to glance back at his alleged protector.
She narrowed her eyes.
“Am I not allowed to enter your private quarters, my lord?” She leaned forward and whispered, “Would Your Grace allow me to take my fucking armour off?” She tilted her head to the side.
He smiled, completely unbothered and clearly enjoying the authority his disguise afforded him.
“Would it not be undignified of you to change in front of your master?” he said, feigning concern.
She stepped closer.
“Move, or I’ll make you fight me to keep that charm on you, goblin.”
He thought about it for a second, smiling.
“You know I would,” he said lightly, stepping aside.
She didn’t dignify his words with an answer other than stepping on his toes on the way in.
“Ow, ow, ow!” He held onto his bare foot. “ðɘɾdɒ…”
She took off her chainmail and cuisses, not looking back at him.
“Would it kill you to be a bit nicer to me?” he asked, pouting slightly. “We’re better off together. If you don’t want me around…”
“…just say so.”
She took a steady breath as she dried her protections, letting her head hang.
She weighed it in silence. They certainly were better off together. Still, he had a talent for pressing on every exposed nerve she owned.
She put her overarmour back on before turning to face him. He avoided her eyes, jaw tight as he rubbed at his bruised foot.
“Drink with me.” She walked out, not looking behind.
By the time she reached the bar, two brimming tankards were already waiting.
She opened her mouth to ask, but before she could utter a word, the woman spoke.
“Ale. For you and your protégé."
Lilie’s mouth hung open as she nodded, taking the cups to a strategically secluded table.
She settled into the wooden chair, easing back at last. The rain thudded softly on the roof while the fire crackled in the hearth, filling the tall room with warmth and low murmurs of conversation.
The goblin approached, not limping, she noted, and sat on the chair in front of her.
“Sláinte!” He raised his cup, and she touched hers to it with a soft clink.
They drank deep. The ale, sweeter than expected, went down easily.
She wiped the foam from her lips with the back of her hand and hummed, relishing the fruity taste.
“Tastes like juice. Dangerous stuff.” He set his heavy cup down and reached into his pouch. “Dice?”
“You cheat.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“No, I calculate.” He offered the dice in his open palm. “We don’t need to bet money if you don’t want to.”
“What then?”
“How about a round of Liar in exchange for a question?”
She didn’t have much to lose and a lot she’d like to ask.
“Fine. I’ll start.”
The five dice clinked in her hand as she took them from his rough palm.
She rolled one on the table. A King.
She grabbed a small wooden cup from a nearby table and dropped the other four inside, letting them rattle before slamming the cup upside down onto the table.
She peeked at the result under the tumbler, shielding the sides with her hands.
“Three of a kind,” she announced.
“Liar.” The word came without hesitation.
She frowned. “Why?”
“Come on.” He gestured for her to lift the cup, feigning nonchalance.
“Pffft…” Bust.
“Drink,” he practically commanded.
She gave him a dirty look, studying him over the rim of her tankard as she downed the ale. She stuck her tongue out, trying to rid her mouth of the cloying sweetness.
He scooped up the dice, a cocky smile playing on his lips, and rolled two dice on the table. Jack and Queen.
His expression was unreadable, almost eerie, as he took a quick glance under the cup.
“Two pair.”
She studied his face closely. A one-sided smile tugged at his scarred lip for just a moment.
“Liar!” she nearly sprang from her seat.
A long pink tongue slipped from his mouth in mockery as he revealed his dice: Queen, Jack, Clubs. Two pair.
She covered her face with her hands and groaned.
Two more full tankards of ale waited for her at the bar. The maid gave her a sidelong glance as she scrubbed at a plate.
Lilie carried the offending drinks back to the table, her face already warming from the alcohol.
She sat down and raised her cup, waiting for his to meet it.
Clink.
She drained half the tankard in one go.
The goblin, seemingly unfazed by the ale, drank at a far steadier pace.
“Best out of five?” he asked, sipping languidly from his cup.
She stared at him like she was trying to burn a hole through him, and he held her gaze, unyielding.
She took the dice again. Four into the cup, one left out. Hearts.
She lifted her side of the cup, stone-faced.
“Three of a kind,” she announced.
“What kind?”
“Hearts.” Her jaw clenched.
He leaned forward, slow and deliberate. She raised her brows ever so slightly.
“I see it.”
She smiled, wide and sharp, and his heart dropped.
He revealed the dice: Bust.
“Two to one,” said she.
“Not yet. I can always get lucky.” He scooped the dice into the cup, rattling them and slamming it on the table.
“Four of a kind. Hearts.” He never looked under the cup.
She lifted the cup, her eyes fixed on his, not daring to look down. Just in case.
“Two to one.”
Beneath the cup, only a simple pair of hearts.
She pushed his drink closer, a silent command.
He drained it, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
He wiped his lips with his thumb, quietly planning his next move.
He rolled a die on the wooden surface. Clubs. The other four clinked in his cup.
“Two of a kind.”
“What kind?” she echoed.
He stuttered for a moment. “Jacks.”
A false tell. Obviously, he counted on her to call Liar.
“I see it.”
He smiled softly.
Nothing but a bust under the cup: Jack, Queen, Ace, Clubs, and Hearts.
She scowled, wrinkling her nose.
Leaving the Hearts out, she tumbled the other four, keeping them hidden from the goblin’s view.
A small peek.
“Three of a kind.”
He opened his mouth, all but ready to call “Liar,” but he stared at her for a moment instead.
She tried to look neutral, but calm satisfaction softened her face. Her rose-tinted cheeks lifted with the faint curl of her lips. She leaned on the table, resting on her elbows, making herself comfortable. There was a hint of a challenge in her half-lidded eyes.
He settled back in his chair.
“I see it.”
She looked mildly annoyed. He could find four of a kind, but it wouldn’t be easy.
He lifted the cup, revealing a three of a kind. Hearts.
Keeping the trio outside the cup, he put his hand to his mouth, deep in thought.
Meanwhile, she calculated in her head. With two dice left, he had two chances out of six to roll another Heart. Roughly one in three against her. A little higher, if she accounted for a full house. She liked her odds.
The two dice clinked softly against the wooden table.
He gazed at the result, a satisfied smile immediately spreading across his stubbled face.
“Five of a kind.” He held up four and a half fingers.
“Liar!” Her eyes narrowed.
“You wish, girl.”
The cup lifted, revealing two more hearts.
She pushed back from the table, groaning and cursing under her breath.
He scooped the dice quickly before she could notice the thin sheen of spit clinging to them.
He chuckled, amused, and she rolled her eyes at him. She brought her ale to her lips, taking small sips.
“I knew you’d cheat, no innocent hand rolls that well.” She laid back on her chair with crossed arms.
“I didn’t take you for a sore loser.” He said, not meeting her eyes. His hands reached for his bag.
“Fine. Ask away.”
Her blush deepened, remembering the times she’d played truth or dare.
He pondered quietly, stuffing his wooden pipe with dried leaves.
She watched his mouth intently as he lit it with a match. A puff of smoke slipped between his sharp teeth.
“So, you kill Grimwald. You deliver his head to The King on a silver platter. You get honour and recognition,” he shifted his gaze from his pipe to her, as if contemplating her soul. “What then?”
Lilie looked down into her cup. A sad frown crept onto her face.
She hesitated, avoiding his eyes.
“In truth…” The fist not supporting her heavy head tightened. “I am looking for my brother.”
“I have reason to think he’s somewhere in the west, and finding him is all I care about, really.”
He noticed her lip quiver slightly, and his heart sank.
Guilt crept over him, scratching at his lungs and twisting in his gut.
The firelight illuminated her rounded features and golden locks as she stared at her ale, her mind far away.
Crumbs tried to get the right words out. “Don’t worry,” “You’ll find him,” “You’re beautiful.” They all felt like poison on his tongue. So he stared, filling his chest with soot again and again.
She exhaled softly, letting go, and tapped the table between them.
“We should rest, gnome. We have a long way to go yet.”
He swallowed, hard.
“Aye.”
He watched her leave the table and head upstairs, trailing behind her.
With her bedroll and his blanket in her hands, she made her way outside to the stable’s entrance. Two horses rested in their stalls, and she clumsily made her way to the hayloft above.
She set down her bedroll and piled straw beneath her head, making a pillow of sorts. After pulling off her boots, she lay down on her side and closed her eyes.
The world spun around her, and her restless heart pounded in her chest, refusing to let her sleep.
She turned onto her back, feeling hot.
Under her breath, she cursed at the alcohol and the goblin. She had not expected him to read her so well. He had made her feel uneasy under his black and yellow gaze.
“You wish, girl.”
He dares speak to her like that, poking at her every chance he gets. A glutton for punishment.
Her mind wandered to the details of his scarred face. The golden glow of his eyes. His dark, messy hair. The way he’d stuck out his tongue, almost reaching past his chin.
Heat crept up her face, a scarlet blush spreading further to her chest and ears.
She lifted her hips, pulling her hose down her legs but leaving her braies. She caressed her soft curls through them, and reached further, feeling her sensitive flesh under the fabric.
She removed it, not wanting to sleep in wet underwear.
Her hand went to her mouth, gathering spit on the tips of her middle and ring fingers, and she spread it on her already plump folds.
She gasped softly, not expecting such an intense sensation as she rubbed circles on her wet cunt.
She brought her other hand to her mouth and gently bit down on the back of it, in an effort to muffle any sounds that might escape her.
She slowly increased the pressure and speed of her ministrations, only stopping to gather the creamy slick that oozed out of her hole. Her mind kept feeding her flashes of her companion: as he changed and the muscles on his back rippled with movement, as he held her gaze while telling her to kneel, and of his mouth as he stuck his tongue out, all teeth and flesh.
She moaned, clinging onto the image of his still sleepy form in the morning, an evident erection pressing against his pants.
On the other side of the wooden wall, the goblin’s ears perked up for the second time. Sleep had evaded him so far, the weight on his chest too heavy for rest. He cursed his keen senses, picturing the scene. He held his breath, unconsciously, picking up the wet sounds and muffled gasps through the wall.
Something inside him asked, begged, to rush to the stable. He turned to lie on his stomach instead.
High-pitched whimpers and loud breathing poured out of her as she rubbed hard on her puffy, now dripping pussy.
“Fuck.”
He heard her curse, and he couldn’t help but rut uselessly against the mattress, biting down on the pillow.
Her swollen clit throbbed against her fingertips; she was close.
She grabbed a fistful of the blanket and brought it close to her face, breathing in. Leather, cloves and sweat.
She moaned, a little louder than intended. “Please,”
He held onto the mattress, tightening his fists around the sheets, pressing his hard cock to the bed, a futile attempt to alleviate the tension. He so wanted to please her.
Guilt snapped at him, pulling him out of his fantasies before they even began.
By his side, she pushed herself over the edge, pleasure spilling everywhere, rippling through her body as she came in her hand. She panted against the fabric, trembling with raised hips and curled toes.
She slowly relaxed onto her bedroll, a fully satisfied smile creeping on her face.
Mere days away from Myosotis, a respite is needed.
This chapter contains explicit sexual content towards the end, as well as very mild horror/gore.
Loredas of the Second Week, Second Moon of Fall
We near Myosotis. We expect to reach it in two days’ time. It is now noon, and if my memory is correct, we should arrive at the Esfantes clearing within a few hours.
My skin is galled, my armour needs mending, and I could use a respite. I will try to persuade him to make camp by the lake for the day.
The Seedsgrowth festival had been held in the Esfantes clearing for centuries. Celebrating fertility and new beginnings, the lake and temple were filled with fresh flowers. People then ate, drank, danced and rutted until the flowers wilted. Now, more than half a year later, with another half to go until the next one, the small temple stood unkempt and abandoned.
The lake, however, buzzed with life.
The tired, sore goblin took a moment to appreciate the scenery.
“We could enter the temple and catch our breaths,” suggested the knight.
He hummed in approval.
Inside, the temple was humble, with long tables and benches resting against the grey stone walls, and mostly unbroken windowpanes.
The longlegs exhaled loudly as she set her pack down, groaning as she rolled her shoulders. She glanced at him, noting any signs of weariness. She longed for a warm meal and shelter from the cold wind.
He set down his heavy pack, rubbed his eyes, and stretched before stepping outside.
She trailed behind.
“There’s a small fire pit as well. We could fish and cook here, maybe even stay the night.”
He scanned the area quietly. She gave up waiting for an answer.
“I’m taking the armour off.” She went back inside.
The goblin breathed deep, appreciating the loneliness. She did not make a terrible travel companion. She pulled her weight, kept her complaints to herself, and spared him endless chatter.
He had noted how she sometimes paused to appreciate plants and creatures along the way, even collecting small flowers and fragrant herbs. She whistled familiar tunes from time to time, and didn’t snore much. It could have been much worse.
He headed for the treeline, eyes on the grass in search of fresh tracks to follow.
A male boar must’ve drunk from the lake not long ago. The thrill of the hunt stung his heart, and he skipped back to the temple.
“Come, there’s a boar nearby; bring your sword," he said as he rushed to free himself of his more delicate clothes.
At this point she knew there would be no warning when it came to the half-man’s nudity, it was up to her to divert her gaze. And she did. She fastened her belt back on and took her weapon, heading out to wait for her excited companion.
He rushed back out, clad in his thick goblin garments, the tight gnomish pants and shoes nowhere to be seen.
They sought the trail, finding the split-hoof tracks easily in the mud and grass, and following them where the trees covered the sky.
Brown, thick hairs. A broken branch. A small puddle of foamy saliva. Droplets of iridescent oil.
Crumbs froze on the spot. He slowly turned toward the blonde with fear in his eyes and a finger pressed to his lips. His yellow eyes, pupils blown wide, fixed on her. Then they heard it.
A snort, behind them.
“Don’t look it in the eyes,” he whispered. “whatever you do.”
The knight held onto her axe, trembling as she turned. The impulse to locate the creature’s eyes was hard to resist. She pivoted and saw the wild boar they had been tracking.
Its eyes. They were wrong. Not the dull brown she expected, but slick, swirling things, like oil on water. Molten nacre and rainbow sheens folding into themselves.
The wild boar grunted menacingly.
She turned her gaze upward, but her head was already spinning. She heard whispers calling to her from deep into the forest. The eyes’ afterimage clung to the inside of her skull, dripping and pulsating.
“Shit.” the goblin muttered.
He had read about these creatures, a threat or a deity depending on the author. Deadly either way. He dashed, diverting attention from his stunned companion. By the way she was heaving, she must have looked.
The boar charged with a squeal.
The goblin moved on instinct, watching only above the line of its ears. He dove aside as it thundered past, slashing shallow across its flank. The hide was thick, his dagger barely bit.
The animal turned with a shriek, foam stringing from its jaws. Its eyes shimmered bright.
He felt the pull this time. Just a flicker. Just a glance from the corner of his eye.
The mud and leaves at his feet felt impossibly sticky. The charm, dangling from his wrist, burnt and lapped at his skin.
He bit his tongue until he tasted blood.
Pain anchored him.
The human followed the creature by sound, not taking her eyes off the bright blue sky. She knew it was charging at her. Dodging or rolling with her chainmail wouldn’t work. She dropped to one knee, planting the haft of the axe hard on the ground, the blade’s toe angled at the animal’s soft throat.
Hooves tore earth. Breathe in. She braced.
“No!” the goblin yelled, reaching out to her.
At the last second, she looked straight at the beast and drove the axe upward with both hands.
Steel met flesh, and the cleaver tore through the boar’s thick neck in a hot, resisting crunch.
Even with her weapon buried to the haft in its throat, the boar’s charge did not simply stop, it broke.
Its full weight crashed into her a heartbeat later, a wall of muscle and bristle and dying momentum. The tusks screeched across the chainmail at her hip and ribs, snagging, pressing hard enough that she felt the promise of them through steel. Then the body collapsed over her legs, heavy and hot and twitching.
The small god’s eyes dripped with viscous tears. She blinked, and she saw a man where the boar lay.
She turned and vomited onto the cold forest floor. She looked at him again,and there was only the boar; her white surcote drenched in dark hot blood. She let out a groan, scrambling away from under the carcass.
The goblin dashed to her side and knelt, at a loss for words.
“Are you… Did you… Why?! You…!” His face showed a mixture of incredulity, anger and relief.
She laughed, looking down at her body, pressing at her torso through the armour, checking for broken bones.
She sucked air through her teeth. Nothing broke. Everything hurt. The blonde wiped tears, spit and bile from her face before retrieving her weapon. “A child with a knife, was it?” Pride shone where fear dissipated.
They held each other's gaze for a long moment, a duel of egos.
The trembling man took out a polished wooden flask, and began collecting the oily substance still weeping from the demifae’s eyes. He looked at the small, slow stream entering the flask; and planted a hand on the floor, tying a thin thread between reality and himself.
The creature’s blurry eye moved quickly, fixing itself on the goblin. He felt naked, as if his soul were being weighed and his memories judged. He dug his long, black nails into the dirt, focusing on how the grass and dirt felt on his fingertips.
He looked away, at the woman beside him. Her cream-coloured surcote was now dripping golden honey onto the grass beneath her. He heard her voice, clear as day, in the back of his head, almost as if it came from his own throat.
“My name is Lilie. I am a Knight. I will kill you in your sleep. I know you want to taste me.”
He looked down at the pig again, as if it would help tell reality apart from the oily tricks.
Grimwald’s dead body stared at him, wearing his familiar look of disappointment.
A guttural voice spoke: “Bring her to me. She is all we need.”
He was heaving, tears welling up in his eyes.
Then came something real. A touch. Firm hands covered his eyes from behind.
“Don’t look anymore. The oil is still falling into the flask. Use your fingers to feel when it stops dripping.”
A few hours later, the boar had been bled, gutted, and transported back to the temple. The short walk back was quiet.
They still had a generous amount of daylight, so they decided to make stew. After dressing the boar, he cleaned out an iron pot and set water to boil. While she cut, salted, and readied the best pieces for selling, he went out and gathered wild herbs and roots.
When he came back, she was done and now stood motionless, eyes fixed on the boiling water, still covered in blood.
“You should clear yerself up. I’ll finish this,” he said, sorting the wild vegetables on the small kitchen’table.
She headed out, soap and cleaning oil in hand, and walked under the warm fall sun until she found a secluded spot. Once there, she rushed to strip, dumping her clothes and armour on the soft sludge unceremoniously. She entered the water and scrubbed the blood, oil, and grime off her body.
On the other side of the lake, where she couldn’t see, the goblin undressed. He took off his stained, smelly garments, and washed them in the clear water. Once they were spread out to dry on a nearby rock, he stepped inside, and he focused on cleaning his own body.
His wet hair, slicked back, reached his shoulder blades. He traced the scar tissue in his ribs, checking for tenderness. As he rubbed his tired eyes, his mind drifted back to the encounter with the boar.
“My name is Lilie. I am a Knight. I will kill you in your sleep. I know you want to taste me.”
The words echoed in his mind, spoken in both her voice and his own.
“My name is Lilie.”
“I know you want to taste me.”
He felt heat pooling in his lower abdomen. His mind wandered to her warm hands on his face. He tested the name, saying it out loud. “Lilie.”
It came out breathier than expected, deep and raspy.
He walked out and sat atop a particularly soft patch of grass, combing his dark locks with his fingers. Lying down, he smoothed down the soft hair on his ventral line with his right hand before acknowledging his erection.
It had been a while since he had had the chance to tend to himself in comfort. He had hoped to rest once he reached the tower, but he found no respite there. After that, he became a prisoner and he’d been travelling since. He had had short moments to relieve himself, but it had barely been enough. The hunger for carnal pleasure had steadily accumulated within him.
While he avoided the line of thought, not to complicate his situation further, he found the human mesmerising, from her soft light locks, to her mean demeanour and semi-permanent scowl. He noted how her chainmail clung to her curves, how soft her lips were, how skilled her hands.
He took himself in his hand, wincing from the cold of his fingers around the warm shaft. His other arm rested behind his head and with a sharp inhale, he slowly slid his hand down and up his cock.
He brought his hand to his mouth, pooling spit on it. Once the tip had been generously covered in his drool, he picked up in rhythm and strength, stimulating his dick until it was almost too much. His member was thick, already leaking with slick precum, and he spread it using his thumb. He dragged his long nail softly across the tip, momentarily seeking the uncomfortable sensation. His panting became gasps and soft grunts as he resumed a faster pace, gripping his length tightly.
“I know you want to taste me.”
His imagination ran wild, picturing the sight of her bare form. Her chest, glistening in the sunlight. The soft curls between her legs, how he’d taste her wetness, drawing lascivious sounds from her lips. How she’d pull his face closer to her cunt, grabbing him by his hair.
He was close, eyes shut tight and back arching. He pictured her in his mind’s eye, looking down to him with half-lidded eyes and blushing cheeks, bouncing on his cock.
He came hard, suppressing the volume of his feral grunts. Thick, pearly come gushed out, spilling near his navel as he jerked and trembled. He moaned and panted, deep and frenzied, not slowing down until it became too much. His calloused hand was covered in the sticky seed as he pumped his overstimulated dick lazily.
He took a deep breath, riding the last waves of pleasure, and his heavy heart throbbed in his chest. He’d have to enter the lake once more.
The knight returned to the small temple after tending to her equipment. Dressed in her simple chemise, she hung the rest of her clothing out to dry. As she drew closer to the kitchen, a wonderful smell filled the air. Inside, stew bubbled, and the goblin filled two bowls.
They sat in silence, blowing on their spoons, not having yet spoken more than a few words since the encounter with the fae boar.
In her bowl, pieces of the pig’s heart, liver, and ribs floated among small pieces of various herbs and roots. When she was convinced it wouldn’t burn her tongue, she took a tentative bite. She did not expect the tenderness of the meat, slow-cooked for hours, nor the fragrance of the broth, savoury and well spiced.
A delighted hum escaped her. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. Crumbs chuckled lightly, proud of his work.
I love this fan fic so much! @cleaveandbite has an amazing take on Crumbs and Lilie. Highly suggest taking a look at it while waiting for me to slowly make my comic. Its awesome! It makes me want to draw fan art of this fan fic.
Is the fact that they haven't told each other their names a coincidence?
What's the religion situation where they live?
Does latin as a language make sense in this world?
I have many more questions but for now I've freestyled most.
Thank you so much!! 🖤
Is the fact that they haven't told each other their names a coincidence?
They honestly regard each other so little at this point that neither of them have bothered to ask. It's like when you're paired up with someone new at a team building event. You heard their name once but wont remember it, you know you won't talk to them again after this and are just trying to get through this activity.
What's the religion situation where they live?
Lilie was raised in a Catholic-esk setting. She does not practice but is fearful.
Crumbs only believes in himself. His background would be something closer to Polytheism.
Does Latin as a language make sense in this world?
Yes. Lilie was never taught to read it but can recognise it. Can understand some of the meaning that she's heard at sermons. Crumbs can read and write it some. He regards it as archaic but might just be saying that because he doesn't know it well.
Hi!!! I was wondering if you're okay with fanfiction being written about your comic? If so, I have a couple of questions about the world they live in :)
I'm down to answer some questions about the story. Ask away!
theartofmadeline
origamiaround
kianamaiart
turnnoffyourmind
