i write, draw, and play TTRPGs sometimes. maybe all of the time. nice to meet you! ₍₍⚞(˶˃ ꒳ ˂˶)⚟⁾⁾

this page is under construction! tread carefully!

this is a digital archive for my stories, some polished up and most beyond neglected. a directory for my stories can be found on the right, with each hyperlink corresponding to a character or pair of characters from the TTRPG campaigns i play.

written 20/11/2025. CW: references to alcoholism.

Inside Ina and Pa’s bedroom, there is a small shrine dedicated to a woman Dimayuga cannot remember. It sits on their bedside table, an illustration of a woman with moonlit eyes like Dimayuga’s own, surrounded by candles of sweet and sickly incense.

Pa prays to her in the silent, still hours of nightfall, before he drags himself into bed. Dimayuga has heard him speak to her, in soft tones and harsh tones. She has seen him wipe away his tears with a dirty sleeve, and soothe himself into dreamless sleep with liquor and poisonous flowers at the shrine’s feet. When that happens, she lies through her teeth to reassure Ina of his health, and brings him to bed herself.

These days, Pa carries a flask with him. It numbs his hunger as much as it numbs his grief, although his appetite has always been small, since he was defanged. So, when he does not eat or sleep, he works. Or he is not himself at all.

Still, in the rare moments when Pa truly rests, he slurs his words as he teaches Dimayuga to pray.

He has memorized the scriptures and the tenants, recites them with ease despite his inebriation. He does not mention the Gods unless necessary. He has no faith in them; he has no faith in himself.

So, Dimayuga prays for both of them.