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Summary
I want to taste you.
Palegun set in WWI, with a romance befitting Pale Guy’s in-game behavior.
Or:
The year was 1917, and the Marne department of France struggled under the weight of a seemingly endless conflict. The fields of Cormicy laid scarred and fallow, littered with the remnants of barbed wire and forgotten trenches.
Dimitri lived on the outskirts, in a weathered farmhouse inherited from his father. Born to Russian immigrants who’d fled their home in the east only to find new hardships in the west, he found comfort in solitude.
His diagnosis of dementia praecox (schizophrenia) spared him from the front lines, but it also left him with the shame of being labeled réformé, fully exempt from service.
Now, haunted by hallucinations and grief, he finds his solitude disrupted by a sudden influx of refugees and a strange creature who seems to have developed a taste for him.
Bookmarked by Giblet
23 Feb 2026
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During one of many lonely nights, at a particularly low point, a shadow outside the window shows up with an offer. One that should be easy to refuse… Right?
(A palegun comic! A NSFW, sketchy, and self-indulgent one at that!)
Bookmarked by Giblet
23 Feb 2026
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“He’d said it himself. Dogs rule the world now. And only dogs survive here.”
In which the homeowner’s purpose, what he was chosen for, the reason why all visitors are so drawn to him, is made blindingly and irreversibly clear.
Whether he wants it or not.
Bookmarked by Giblet
09 Feb 2026
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Outside, the world burns. A thousand suns rise and set. People become visitors, and visitors become people.
Inside, a man sits, living the same handful of days over and over again. He wonders how many times he'll have to die before he stays that way.
Or,
The protagonist gets a second chance. And another, and another, and…
Bookmarked by Giblet
21 Jan 2026
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EDIT: this fic is getting a chapter 2, thank you for your support!!
Boarding yourself inside your home, trying to cling on to the last of your ‘normal’ life before the claws of the apocalypse set in is harder said than done when Death comes knocking on your door.—
An unfortunate case of events where you (the protagonist) ‘accidentally’ let the Intruder in, in more ways than one.Bookmarked by Giblet
19 Jan 2026
