#again …..

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Partner is re-replaying KCD2 and just reached the part where they're saying that Henry has a hole he needs to fill after killing Istvan

and let me tell you he did not appreciate me yelling "I KNOW WHAT HE CAN FILL HIS HOLE WITH" across the room

[snderist]

surprise surprise! | prev | next *bonus social bunny post under the cut

[lolmanthecat]

Did he at least say "if you scratch my back I will scratch yours?"

Fucking corporate.

hey so uh the consuls asked me to talk to you about your divination techniques and uh. no yeah i get that you've been a great asset and successfully predicted the favor of the gods over the proposal to construct a new aqueduct. that was great, you're great. just uh. well we were wondering if maybe you could speed it up a little bit next time- yes i know the omens can't be rushed. but you did take like 30 minutes to read the entrails? and uh. to be perfectly honest we were all a little creeped out by the way you kept saying things like "oh that's a SLIPPERY one" and "come to papa little kidney." no no we're not asking you to switch over to augury, you're a great haruspex, really. if you could just not dig around in the entrails with a look of unbridled glee on your face quite as much that would be great. thanks.

[chickenraw]

Shattered Reflection

⤷ synopsisノBehind the glass’s shining stream, a quiet heart holds to its dream.

They trained him to be perfect.

Not in the way scholars are perfect, nor poets. Not in the manner of generals or sons. No; perfection for him meant vanishing inside another man’s skin. A reflection. A ghost in royal silk.

He was not born a prince. He was not born to be seen.

But you saw him.

Not at first. Not clearly. Only in the way a mirror trembles when candlelight shifts, a shadow at the edge of something known, almost real.

The first time, you mistook him for the Emperor.

Of course you did. He moved the same. Wore the same cologne, spoke in the same weighted pauses. Even the lines of his wrist, the shape of his throat; every detail carved to mimic.

He entered your chambers late, unannounced, and you received him with dutiful grace. The Emperor had grown bored of you lately, but perhaps boredom bends like a reed in the wind. You poured wine, knelt with elegance, let your silk fall just enough.

Then he looked at you.

And the illusion cracked.

The gaze was wrong; not cold, not appraising, not impatient. It lingered. Too long. Too gently. As if trying to remember something that had never belonged to him.

You tilted your head.

“Did you forget the way?” you asked, voice soft.

He said nothing.

Only reached for your hand and held it; not with desire, but with trembling.

It was then you understood. The mirror had shifted. The reflection had slipped.

And the man standing before you was not the one you belonged to.

His name, when you learned it, was Liuxiang.

He told you on the fourth night he came, voice hushed and almost reverent, as though afraid to claim it aloud.

“A name means very little,” he said. “When your face belongs to someone else.”

But it did mean something. Because when he touched you; slowly, like memorizing warmth; he never spoke like the Emperor did. He never ordered. Never assumed. His fingers asked before his mouth ever did.

You let him touch your cheek.

“You’re not him,” you whispered.

He swallowed.

“I know.”

Liuxiang had once been the son of a scribe. Ordinary. Until the court found him. Until his face was measured, weighed, matched. Until he was taught to disappear.

“Mirrors do not speak,” he told you once. “Only reflect.”

That night, you lit no candles. You let the room remain wrapped in gauze and moonlight. When he arrived, he did not speak. He simply stood at the edge of your bed, hesitant.

You extended your hand.

He took it slowly, almost reverently, as though you might vanish with touch.

His fingers were colder than you expected. A man not used to being warm.

You guided him down beside you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His breath was shallow. Yours softer still.

"May I…?" he asked.

You silenced him with a look.

No titles. No lies.

He leaned close, and when he kissed you, it was not with hunger. It was with grief.

As though he knew this would not last. As though every moment was a betrayal of the silence he was built from.

His mouth lingered at your neck, then your collarbone. Your hands slid beneath his robes, not to claim, but to remind yourself that he was real — flesh and breath and wanting.

In the hush of that night, there was no Emperor; no mirror, no reflection. Only Liuxiang. And you.

They say mirrors crack not when they are dropped; but when they are asked to show too much.

The court began to whisper. Servants noticed patterns. Wine left untasted. Petals disturbed in the gardens. A concubine, once neglected, now blushing without cause.

And Liuxiang?

He began to look too long. Walk too slowly. Speak in his own voice, soft though it was.

One night, you found him at your window before the guards changed.

“I should go,” he said.

“Then why are you here?”

His reply was a breath, barely formed.

“Because only here… am I not a reflection.”

You let him inside. The candle stayed unlit.

His kiss that night was not reverent. It was breaking.

You planned to run. Not far, not forever — only far enough to breathe where no one’s face belonged to someone else. To find a world where mirrors were just glass, and not prisons for men like him.

But the Emperor saw first. Mirrors, after all, reflect everything; even betrayal.

Liuxiang was dragged into court, not in silk, but in chains. His hair was shorn like a splintered frame. His lip split, the mirror cracked. And still, he stood; wearing ruin like a final robe.

You were forced to attend the tribunal; not as a concubine, not as a witness, but as a warning. The Emperor stood tall, his expression unreadable and eyes cold as polished silver.

His voice rang out.

"This one mistook reflection for substance. He forgot the face does not own the frame."

Liuxiang looked at you across the courtyard. Blood at the corner of his mouth. Knees bent. Back straight.

He did not speak your name. But you saw it reflected in him, as you always had.

And for the first time, the mirror was not empty. Only breaking.

Three days passed. No mourning rites. No name spoken.

No one asked where the mirror had gone.

But the emptiness in your chamber was louder than any decree. The candle by your bed, once trimmed carefully, burned down to the base and curled into black.

The screen he used to step behind swayed at night, though no wind stirred it. The silence he had once filled lingered like breath on cold glass; fading, but not yet gone.

You did not weep. Not before others. You were still a concubine. You still belonged to another man. Your tears were not yours to spend.

But on the third night, you found something waiting.

Beneath your pillow — where the lacquer was worn thin from years of unseen weight — a slip of silk had been tucked so delicately it could only have been left by hands that memorized the shape of your sleep.

You unfolded it slowly.

If I were born anew, let it be with a face of my own. No crown, no name, no borrowed throne; only to be yours alone.

Your hands trembled, not because of the words; but because the ink had smudged at the corner.

As if someone had hesitated before folding it. As if someone had wanted to keep it.

You pressed the cloth to your chest and closed your eyes.

In your mind, his reflection was still there; standing just beyond the silk screen, waiting quietly, hoping to be seen again.

END.

chickenraw notes .ᐟ

beware, there ARE some errors

comments and criticisms are highly appreciated

stay hydrated!

[silly-sugar]

If I'll see one more ai generated cat or 'nature' video in For you tab on this app I swEAr to GOD WHY

W H Y do you need an ai generated picture of a CAT

IT IS INTERNET

IT IS FULL OF CATS

[vaniins]

I feel like he is coming back from the jail

[bad-pirate]

Something I didn't know I needed till I got it 😭

SHE NEVER SAID NO!

oh my god peri-

[exit-stentialist]

jerking off to eachother.

that is it that's . the post okay byeee

[lonelysa1lor]

you cant be divorced if you took a phone call and went 'missing' before you could propose

[heyitsnaardi]

now it's Jayce's turn to blush haha oopsie

part 1??

[sharkkiio]

"I would do everything to save you."

[lavender-rroses]

i’m back in the fucking building AGAIN

[yolbert]

this reminds me of my dog: once i fed him a wild blackberry, from a blackberry bush nearby, and im pretty sure he liked it because 27 seconds later the blackberry bush was just a bush. I dont know how he ate them so fast.

you might've heard the sory before

You are appearing in my For You like a fatalistic vision of what I’m to become (I have no idea what you are but you give off third-eye lesbian sage whose seat is in a place concealed to look busy but is quite subliminal and has the white noise of old air conditioner and sterile wood flooring). Enjoying your posts 😭

I'm a 30-something white man eating watermelon in his underwear.

[shigeoreum]

fem mcspirk but the motion picture

[0oxxo]

Doomed yuri

something something between working on the comms