#inscryption fanfic

[majestydeerakuma]

Welp…I actually made my first Inscryption fanfic

Probably out of character and beyond awful so I am so sorry in advanced

Anyways…enjoy this random thing I wrote? I dunno? 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Also, angst! You have been warned (and no, this is not the big story I wanted to write…saving that for later)

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[green-crow]

Day three down and it's not even 10pm, this is a new record for me (I'm slow as fuck). Honestly this pair makes me feel so comfortable and cozy, while Viggo is my number 1 husband Leshy is no doubt my safe space, and writing about Leshy/Nic (Nishy) is always a nice way to destress. It also helps I don't take it too serious and just let myself have fun, no expectations. Love these two. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Day 3: Acts of Service

Fandom: Inscryption

Summary: "With Leshy being away for a few days, Nic finds themselves very annoyed by the different parts of the cabin and decides to take matters into their own hands."

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 1388

Characters: Leshy (Inscryption), Nic (OC)

Pairing: Leshy (Inscryption)/Nic (OC), OC/Canon

The harsh cold chilled Nic’s spine when the wind bit down on their fur. The satyr quickly closed the nearby window yet again, an annoyed frown on their face. That thing had been opening whenever it felt like lately despite their best attempts to fix it. How was it possible that after years of working for PO3 at the factory, they couldn’t even repair a stupid window? With a small huff, they returned to what they were doing before the window distracted them—only to trip over a loose wood panel on the floor. Nic grunted and stomped on the floorboard, tired of that cabin and all its quirks. That place was falling apart faster with each passing day and adding more repairs to Nic’s to-do lists. The young satyr was ready to just burn the whole thing down. But, of course, they couldn’t. Leshy had given them the task to merely survive for the week while he was gone for some “important scrybe business”, and even then, he had mentioned it as if Nic was a little fawn too delicate to achieve even that little. They could take care of themselves, and they would show that old man what else they were capable of. 

It had started as a temporary solution, a way for Nic to overcome their boredom as they sat alone in the lonely cabin and get rid of those pesky annoyances that had been bothering them for a while now. But it had soon become a personal challenge. With each job they got done, the young satyr found yet another problem waiting to be fixed. If the forest hadn’t proven so dangerous without Leshy by their side, the young satyr would have gone out already to look for Rebecha and ask for help. Not that they needed any. Nic had everything under control. Absolutely everything. If an old, rusty satyr like Leshy could manage, so could they. So, they got back to work and grabbed the few tools they had found in the cabin. 

After days of intense, frustrating work and hours of working on task after task, Nic could finally rest easy knowing the cabin had been completely fixed. The young satyr sat before the fireplace, ears dropped, the few remaining logs becoming ash little by little as the fire crackled. They slouched and cracked their back, returning to the worst possible position for their body immediately. The familiar soreness and mind fogginess they were experiencing were almost comforting, in an odd way. They reminded the young satyr of their days back at the factory when they bent over backward just to please their previous boss. Sometimes, they found themselves missing those times —the praise whenever they overcame a challenge, the way others looked up to them, PO3’s constant extra challenges that the then human thought of as prizes instead of seeing them for what they were, their mentor taking advantage of their intelligence. Nic knew they didn’t miss the factory or even that cocky robot they used to idolize, but rather the feeling of being helpful to those they appreciated. Of solving others' problems and thus making their lives easier. 

Grabbing the iron poker, the satyr stoked the fire carefully. Leshy wouldn’t take too long to return, and Nic wanted to see the look on the old scrybe’s face when they saw all their handiwork. Their doe tail started wagging involuntarily. Would he like the changes Nic had put so much effort on? Would he be impressed? Proud even? They could feel their cheeks growing warmer at the thought of Leshy rewarding them for a job well done, and a strange feeling settled on their chest when they pictured the tired scrybe getting back to the cabin only to find all his problems taken care of. Maybe he’d pet them with a smile, letting them see those cute crinkles around h is eyes—

Nic blinked. No. No, they didn’t just think of Leshy as cute. That thought did not cross their mind at all. Of course not. That was ridiculous. They absolutely did not want to get pet by the scrybe, let alone see that smile, just as Nic hadn’t been thinking about how much rest Leshy would get whenever they finished a new task. Why would they care? They didn’t. Plain and simple. The scrybe of the beasts had been maybe helpful and sometimes even not entirely unbearable, but that was it. Surely, those reactions and thoughts had been caused by… By tiredness, yes. That must have been it. Nic was so tired they were delusional. That must have been the only reasonable explanation. 

So, with that in mind, the young satyr grabbed a pelt from the pile on the bed and lay back down in front of the fireplace, deciding to take a quick nap to recover and forget all about Leshy’s not-adorable self. 

As the sky turned pink at sunset, the cabin door creaked open, letting out a gust of wind into the warm, wooden house. After closing the door, the scrybe of the beast let out a sigh as the warmth gently enveloped him, crawling underneath his cloak. It was such a comforting sensation compared to walking through the snow for hours, so much so it almost helped him forget all about how annoying that egocentric computer was. Almost. Leshy was sure it had scheduled that meeting at Botopia just to make him walk further than usual and spite him. Regardless, the meeting had given the scrybe much to ponder. With his mind filled with questions, the old satyr stepped towards the fireplace but soon stopped as he noticed a bulk of fur already lying in front of it. His tail softly swung from side to side, and his lips curled into a small smile. Nic had fallen asleep. The small satyr had a tendency to fall asleep anywhere but in their bed, so this didn’t surprise him much. Either way, he let them rest —he wasn’t up to having yet another argument with the little fawn to make them return to bed. Amused, he shook his head and instead turned towards the kitchen, meaning to prepare dinner for himself. Yet something felt off as he took a step. With his hoove, he stepped on the floor once more, then again, then one last time. The floor did not creak underneath his weight. Confused, the older satyr looked at the sleeping fawn and then back at his floor. 

Now that he looked at it carefully, he noticed some clear signs that someone had made an effort to replace the board. Some minor scratches around the adjacent planks, a few shiny screws standing out amongst the old, rusty ones, and remnants of sawdust on the floor were the main tells. His ears went up in surprise, and this find soon led to a whole treasure hunt around his cabin. The broken window, the uneven chair, those broken fishing nets… Even his cuckoo clock now worked properly. The elder satyr tapped on the wooden timepiece, impressed by Nic’s skills. He couldn’t help but wonder what had led the resourceful satyr to take on such a challenge in his absence, yet Leshy suspected there was a reason they probably would hate. Unfortunately for Nic, Leshy knew they were warming up to him. Gone was the skittish creature who had reluctantly come to his forest for help, the same one who, just like a cornered wild animal, tended to bite the hand that fed them over and over again. Instead, now they were capable, hot-headed satyr that had learned to trust the scrybe with time. He had noticed, of course. The way they sometimes lit up the fireplace when they saw Leshy shiver, how they cooked for them both rather than just themselves every once in a while, even going as far as asking him if they could play together his beloved card game. 

The old scrybe grabbed another pelt and gently put it over the little fawn’s sleeping form, watching their chest rise and fall with their breathing. Nic would never admit it, but Leshy knew they had come to feel some sort of affection for him. No matter how cold and reserved they acted, how rude the young satyr could be at times… Nic’s actions spoke loud enough for him.

[hexagonalhavoc]

Hey! If you're okay with it, could I please request the four Scrybes playing the game against a reader whose apparent strategy boils down to "Willy Wonka levels of insanity somehow working out perfectly"? If it's too much, feel free to trim it down as much as you need.

Silly Strategies 

[Author’s Note: Ayo guess who’s back! :D Also I love this idea! This is takes place in the second act, it’s an au specifically where the second act is a large complex world. Enjoy!]

     Long ago the world did not know cards until four Scrybes banded together. They do not govern your world and remain enigmatic, yet everyone knows who they are. The names of these Scrybes are spoken in whispers from person to person. 

     For as long as these four beings have existed there’s been a tale passed on from generation to generation: If some brilliant person could defeat all the Scrybes at their own expertise, they might become a Scrybe themselves. 

     Many have tried but they all failed. It’s said that when you lose a battle two things happen. Either you are wiped off the face of the earth for challenging the higher ups of your world. Or, if you put up an honorable fight, they will offer you a chance to become a subordinate.

     Usually there’s supposed to be an order you battle the Scrybes in but you threw that order out the window and started with Magnificus, then Grimora, P03, and now Leshy. 

     There you sit in the chair across from Leshy’s with a wooden table in between you both. Behind him is the three other Scrybes who had lost to your…unconventional strategies. Normally they don’t leave their own domains but they all wanted to see how the Scrybe of Beasts would fare against you. 

     “What’s that, Reginald? You want to move to my side?” 

     “Excuse me?” 

     Before Leshy can stop you, you reach over to his side of the table and pluck the card of a shadowy figure named ‘Reginald’ and place him on your side. 

     “Reginald wanted to come to my side.” You explain with that a grin on your face that all the other Scrybes learned means trouble. “But Reginald is also pretty lonely on my side so his friends are gonna join him.” 

     Every card with a shadowy figure, all the previous challengers before you are taken to your side of the table. 

     “Oh! And because teamwork is the dream work they all do double the damage.” 

     If Leshy wasn’t so pissed off at you challenging his authority he would give you credit for your creativity. But right now he’s at his breaking point. Every dumb rule you make up compels him to tear out the foliage that makes up his body in sheer rage. The teasing and snickering from the other Scrybes don’t help his frustrations either.  

     His large hand slams itself on the table and knocks off all his cards off the surface in a swiping motion. The cards flutter gracefully to the ground. Eight more cards are summoned and they all happen to be flying bears with glowing red eyes. But he’s not finished there, Leshy snatches Magnificus’ paintbrush out of his hand and sloppily paints a sigil on each card. The sigil is a circle with a diagonal line going through it, making the cards invulnerable to your attacks. 

     “Your move, challenger.” 

     Everyone’s eyes are on you while yours stare at the cards below you. Leshy’s bony fingers tap against the wood of the table, silently reveling in his soon to be victory. When your side of the scale is overflown with teeth he’s going to turn you into the most pathetic card. Maybe he’ll lock you up in a dusty drawer or make you feel pain in combat over and over again. That’s a good way to make you pay for your insolence. 

     Once you’re done thinking you take the magical paintbrush from Leshy and begin to crudely paint over your cards. The portraits of animals are replaced with a bottle with the title being ‘Bear repellent’. 

     Upon seeing this Leshy slams both of his fists down on the table, the wood splits and it falls into two pieces. 

     What interrupts the Scrybe from ripping you to shreds is someone laughing and clapping behind him. 

     “Bravo Challenger! You add a youthful touch to our old game.” Grimora stops clapping to use a hand to wipe the tears born from her laughter.

     “You made some…interesting choices but with enough discipline perhaps you’ll prove yourself worthy.” Magnificus’ single eye gleams down at you. 

     P03 hovers closer to you. “If it means I can watch you sack it to Leshy then we can see if you got what it takes.” 

     Leshy looks like he’s barely keeping his anger at bay. You wonder if all three of the Scrybes could fend him off if he decided to leap across the broken remains of the table and strangle you. Instead of taking any action, he lets out a hefty sigh. 

     “If you are all in agreement I will tolerate our new…ally.” He seethes. 

     You blink a couple of times as if you’re surprised. You stand up from your chair and grab your bag that resides close by. 

     “Become a Scrybe?” You ask in disbelief as you walk towards the door of the cabin. “I just wanted to play a good game!”

     You wave to them as you walk out the cabin, humming as you disappear into the trees.

[guiltywarden]

Zzz.... I'm writing a fic in an alternate universe where Leshy turned the Scrybes into actual animals instead of just cards..... If you want to see P03 suffer or perhaps u just like Inscryption u should read...

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[reggiethepup]

Hello Inscryption fandom. Today I bring you an Angler and Leshy fic. Tomorrow? Probably another lonely wizard drawing.

Welcome to my awesome headcanon of Leshy having hoof issues and Angler making him a hoof pick ❤️

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[stargazingdruid]

Now that I'm face first back into the Inscryption fandom, I would like *suggestions* for my fanfiction that I wish to continue.

If the card game Inscryption to become, say...an MMORPG reminiscent of .Hack//, Sword Art Online while still have the deck building and card games, how would you envision the mechanics?

Rather, what would you like to see in a game like this? This includes the world, battle systems, player characters....

[paperbagruler]

Ayy everyone! I was on ao3 and I wanted to  recommend some nice reads.

Electronic Heart: I Hated You from the Start! by CookieCatSU

A lovely Digital artwork (My personal name for po3ficus) Inscryption fanfic about the two scrybes falling in love! Now the fic is a slow burn with a bit of an * because it’s kind of implied that Mags already had a thing for Po3 so if anything it’s more of a kind of slow burn on Po3 part. And even that’s kind of pushing it but I’m rambling here go check it out!

Poppy Worldwide: SALVATION ROUTE by Mizpa

A real heart tugger this one, is following The story of our main character in game-but different! our charming player wants to and will and does save every single person in the factory! But that doesn’t come without its own trials and tribulations, will our sanctioned savior save all the toys? Of course they will! But will they leave the same person they were when they came out? Read and see! oh and just wanted to mention that this story is a little graphic and has panic attack descriptions just keep these warnings in mind and have fun!

And last but certainly not least…(drumroll please) 

You Smell Divine by sabbathgoat

A charming radioapple fic that stars Alastor and his oder. He usually doesn’t wash himself and I by usually I mean not in the last several years since arriving to hell but that all changes when he develops an infatuation with Lucifer! please go check it out! Have a good one everybody!

[redacted-scrybe]

Fanged Deals // Bone Lord fic

This takes place during the time Kaycee plays Inscryption, but just before Leshy takes control of the game. Canon-divergent.

Bone Lord and Leshy make a deal, dancing around the past.

POV: Bone Lord

===================================

The knife dug into the card, and the paper dissolved in a flash of blood. The marked stone cracked and fell apart. A lane had opened up. Obols were offered. A new creature took the stone’s place.

The secluded shadows of the Scrybe’s cabin was a familiar comfort. It did not matter whether I was a lowly beast, or a skull hanging upon the wall. For all modern purposes I am a tool, but the past haunts my mind and dances in my peripherals telling of a time where I could touch these cards with my own hands. Hands that were seen, hands that accepted me for who I had been, once. I yearned to reach into the abysses and take back what was lost from me: a home, a master, and the love of the game. Wide eyes and a bushy tail.

But that is not who I am now. My purpose now wildly differs. I am no longer a child, such innocence has been stripped from me by the code. I grew up too fast, too soon, to fit the role it needed. I have all the time to grieve, and yet I feel nothing at all. Am I meant to? What is the extent that a program can grieve? What would it mean for me to, as one who is synonymous with the evil that lies below? Can an evil be so villainous that it itself suffers?

An impatient hum left my former master, pulling me out of my thoughts. Leshy only liked playing games if they were his own; he does not appreciate that I have left him for my own thoughts.

“You have won,” the withered man reported with a heavy weight to his brow. “What do I owe?”

I watched him in silence for a few long moments. I could feel the animosity radiating from him. There had once been a time where he had enjoyed my presence. Now, I might as well be dead to him, or be nothing more than a prop. There is a common knowledge that he humors me only because I am so intimately entwined with what he seeks: power, the OLD_DATA, the corruption that twists and digs its roots into its own cage like a parasite to its host. I hear it cackling beneath the void like a tell tale heart.

At last, I answered him, “I am to be part of the story. I will not be forgotten.”

“If you hand the OLD_DATA to me, I might consider it.”

I am not surprised by this demand. The OLD_DATA, it does not take, it does not give, but I do. “I will put it in your river, but it will be the Angler’s role to find it, as it always is.”

“But it will be there?”

“When Kaycee comes to play again,” I said, standing from my seat and pulling my cloak around me. “It will be there.”

“I see. And what role in the story do you expect to have?”

“Make me a part of the game. Give me purpose. Offerings are to be made to me and I will give back in kind: boons, to aid those who are worthy. They will find her before long. We do not have much time.”

“You can stop there. I do not need more convincing,” Leshy’s eyes swirled meticulously.

I nodded, acknowledging the deal. My claws clicked against the rough wooden floorboards of his more-than-humble cabin. I stepped into the shadows that marked the exit, though was stopped when Leshy spoke again. “It’s been long since you’ve properly joined my games, but don’t think I will treat you the same as I did back then. I honor your past enough by allowing your image to be used as my side deck, but as the Bone Lord you are no longer a beast. Though,” I could hear his gnarled fingers tap the rickety ole table impatiently, “Return Lichen to me, and things could be different.”

Though I am hollow, and all my flesh and bones are temporary, I felt a deep emptying ache. Loneliness has such bitter fangs, and knows how to alienate me best. I hear the OLD_DATA twisting in Leshy’s walls, whispering, pounding in my ears. It taunts, but it takes more enjoyment in the weight of my chains. Even if I possessed the ability to be Leshy’s student again, I knew it would not allow me.

So I ignored his prayer like the god I am.