moineauz

[moineauz]

based on your most recent anaxa post... would he be sad if he found reader's journal entries, full of their misery but unwilling love for him, and in the last one they just write: "he is the knife i turn inside myself." and stop there

(anaxa mental breakdown?)

love mail — 🍒 ⨾ IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY WHEN PEOPLE READ THAT HC POST AND ASK ME TO ELABORATE FURTHER ON IT! not exactly the request but i still feel like it's gut wrenching,, this was acc v personal to me cause that diary entry came from my own poetry lol

after another late night, anaxagoras is finally walking out of the jail cell that is his lab. he wasn't doing anything interesting either, just grading a couple of papers, which brings more dread as he comes to a conclusion that some of his students will definitely be seeing him over the summer break.

but nevermind that, he just wants to be in bed, and by your side. because if he stands for any longer or has to think about another grammatical error, he's going to start pulling his hair out. and at this rate he really doesn't want to die young, and also bald.

as he opens the door, he calls out to you. "dove?" he also just wants to see if you're awake, and considering the fact it's 3am, he's glad to not get a response. quietly walking into the room and towards the closet, he passes by your desk that still has the lamp on and an open notebook. noting that it's probably research or something personal, he makes sure to close it after changing.

when he had already slipped into much comfier clothing, anaxa walks back to flip off the light, when a page from the notebook caught his attention.

the handwriting is messier, seemingly written during an unfocused state of mind. but then he notices his name, and how it seems to be a diary entry written about him.

the date of entry catches his eye and makes him shiver, this was written three years ago. and to sugarcoat it with a bucket of sucrose, anaxa was not a good man. hell, he could barely consider himself one for how he treated you. he was immature, cruel, and worst of all—undeserving. he didn't deserve your kindness or patience with him, for all the nights he knew you cried as you slept alone in a cold, empty bed.

the curiosity is eating away at him, you had forgiven him for his horrible attitude and he had learned to forgive himself, but he just.. he can't explain it. to understand just how much he hurt you will feel like the punishment he deserves, and so he brings the diary close and begins to read.

"ask me about anaxagoras and i'll tell you that the very same lips that kiss my head goodnight would argue with me for hours, that his hatred for the world ran deeper than the love he had for me—that the person he chose, he wouldn't dare to lay in the same bed with.

ask me about anaxagoras and i'll tell you that I know he can be good, that I can see the love he tries to bury so deep inside. but then he'll blow up, his anger gets the better of him, and suddenly we are strangers again. that our time together, our progress, becomes nothing. and his need to be right consumes the caring, loving part of him. even if he doesn't think it's there, i see it. but i'm starting to think that our conversations don't work because he's just a nicer person in my head.

but if you asked me to truly be honest about him, i would say he is the knife that i turn inside myself. i deeply crave his love, but the closer i try to get, the further the blade pierces through my heart.

i admit that i'm soft, but i don't want to have to bleed in order to love you. i need you to admit that you're too rough."

the room is quiet, and anaxa turns to your sleeping form with tears in his eyes. you were always so much stronger than him, and would say you are more deserving of the flamechaser title but he would never want you to suffer the fate he will.

to think that he could have died making you feel so unloved, it makes him sick. though he knows that you, in all your kindness, had forgiven him completely.

but how many nights have you cried for arms that never held you? how many conversations became simple exchanges of hello because you could never speak to him?

how much guilt must he carry for it to purify him?

and so he walks to the bed, quietly. he can't wake you now, not after he's done enough wrongdoings.

"my sweet dove." he mumbles, barely above a whisper. "please do not wake, don't stir. just sleep and let me carry the weight of the world for you for once."

he cups your face into his hands and press gentle kisses to your temple, your nose, your cheeks, the corners of your lips—muttering promises and apologies that you deserve to hear, but have also heard a thousand times.

he must reassure himself quietly, that his hatred will not last forever. that he is above the high that comes in indulging in these bad habits.

and that you will still be there when he comes back down.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various ! pt two

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: boothill, aventurine

side comments: my first voice line fic was well received and for that I thank you all <3 so of course this is for all my boothill and aventurine lovers out there! (including myself for boothill...)

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, I genuinely loved writing boothill's, minor spoilers for both favourites: boothill word count: roughly 1000+

care to see the first part? includes dr. ratio, jing yuan, & blade!

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

WHO ARE THEY? I "Out here askin' question huh? Well if you're that curious... then you better listen close."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Met them on a bullet train in a neighbouring star system. Turns out we were chasing after the same fudge-heads. You could've seen them- a sly creature that's who they were, whipping out the most slick sniper I've ever seen. I'd reckon that was one of the most thrilling fights I've ever had: came out with dents all over my arms and a broken gun. Their bullets nearly punched a hole through my cheek... hah!"

GREETINGS? "They may be a load of dormant gunpowder, but they sure are sweet! Full of laughter and courtesy. But I'll let you in on a little secret... ( Name ) likes to walk in, pretty as always- and plant kisses all over my cheek before they even say a word."

PARTINGS? "Being a Galaxy Ranger means never staying in one place. ( Name ) is no Galaxy Ranger... I'd reckon it's better that way."

ABOUT US: SHOES IN THE HOUSE "I can't exactly 'take off my shoes' now can I? But ( Name ) likes to keep the house tidy and I best not anger them... like that one time- anyways, we came up with this whole fudging system just to keep the bottom of my damn boots clean! It's fudging ridiculous! *Chuckles* I can't help it, but ( Name ) is understanding. Even if I trudged through all the grime in the universe- they'd still wipe it all off."

ABOUT US: FAMILY "You see, ( Name ) has this big family. Siblings, cousins, extended cousins, aunts and uncles, you name it. We were on their home planet once, and I finally understood where ( Name's ) knack for puttin' a real good home together came from. Their family lives in the countryside where all you can see are open fields, lush hillsides, free-roaming animals and wildflowers. Consider it a quiet paradise. They even grow their own food for fudging sake! Everythin' made by hand and land. Darlin' nearly coaxed me into joining them for dinner once, but I knew better. Best not spoil the family get-together."

CHAT: HATS N' POSES "Personally, I like my hat and flare the way it damn is. How would fightin' be without it? But of course, your partner has to be a cheeky tease about it."

CHAT: WARMTH " I've seen it in the movies- those fudging 'romcoms'- and read it in books. When it gets cold... I'm no help. Can't do much except reach for a blanket and wrap them up. But even then, metal and skin don't fudging work."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Count me in on a dance sugar plum! Have to admit, darlin' has a fair share of good dance moves. Nothin' like a hard-earned victory being celebrated with a cool glass of whisky and a smooth dance."

ARGUMENTS: "Bitter things that's all they are. Leaves you knocked out cold. Reminds you of all the things you can't take back."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Following the hunt ain't an easy task. But someone has to punish the wretched. That's the thing about the hunt- you get cold, hard. Sugar follows another path that doesn't make any fudging sense to me. But that doesn't matter. None of that ever mattered, not to them, not to me or even the hunt. Call it selfish, but I'd like to one day settle down... Just like their family. Out where no one could find us."

WHO ARE THEY? II "They call me their 'sweet lover'. But really it should be me saying that. If anything I am the sweat of their brow- a nuisance at times. But they still love me. They still fudging love me."

EXTRA: IPC ENTRY "Normally, Galaxy Rangers travel alone. However, we have seen the wanted Galaxy ranger- Boothill- be accompanied by someone who appears to be a vagabond follower of Xipe. Despite the information we possess, the relationship between Boothill and his supposed 'partner' is very limited."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Fancy meeting you here- oh? A rumor you say? Rumours do have peculiar ways of reaching the ears..."

FIRST MEETINGS? "All business ventures possess their gains and losses. However, I did not expect my pockets- alongside others- to be picked on a night meant to celebrate the Strategic Investment Department. The person who did it played their cards exceptionally well. I applauded them and the subtlety of their skills."

GREETINGS? "Despite their rather cunning nature, ( Name ) is quite kind... shockingly so. I thought their smile was a chip they played for their own meticulous advantage. *Chuckles* I was wrong, there was simply nothing to understand behind that smile."

PARTINGS? "One transaction after another, the universe keeps spinning. Don't keep up, you fall behind. Simple. I don't have to worry about that around them, or at least, for a while, until another wager must be made. Until the peck on the cheek is over."

ABOUT US: LOCKET "( Name ) has a keen eye for trinkets and bought- well stole- a locket for the two of us to share. I keep it with me, a lucky charm if you may."

ABOUT US: NAPPING "Personally, I don't nap. But, ( Name ) is a terrible influence and says I should. I must admit, waking up to them in the afternoon is not a bad way to spend my time."

CHAT: THEVERY "( Name ) is a thief... a good one at that. Oh don't worry, they struck a deal with the IPC. Primarily on their terms because they have been such a nuisance to the IPC. It's rather amusing seeing the IPC chase their own tail. We've definitely shared laughs over it."

CHAT: CONFESSIONS "Who could possibly love something so broken? It's like keeping a clock that won't tick or a deck of cards missing a queen. Sometimes, I wish they didn't care so much. It would be... easier."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Of course, a good game of cards is a fun way to pass the time. *Chuckles* Though, ( Name ) is a terrible player. Not that I mind, I'll guess I'll play the role of 'loser' this time around- best you not tell them."

ARGUMENTS: "What else is there to say? Nothing. That part is the worst."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: HEART OF GOLD "( Name ) steals to give to the poor. It's their motto... I saw them once with a group of kids on a planet in a distant star system. They were giving back to the orphanage- the smiles on the children's faces when given toys, marbles to be exact, were so bright."

WHO ARE THEY? II "In all honesty, I'm not quite sure. However, what I do know is that luck finally worked in my favour... I'll hold onto that for as long as I can."

EXTRA: DR RATIO'S OPINION "The gambler- without hesitation- will bet 'all in' even if it means his own life hangs in the balance. However, amongst the chaos of his bets, there is one person who will drag him back to reality... ( Name ). Aventurine will never gamble nor forfeit the one person who truly understands him. Even I don't fully understand the gambler's crafty nature. I suppose a thief is the only one who can and more importantly, will."

masterlist.

[moineauz]

SUNDAY is beautiful like… the ringing sound of church bells, chiming in the distance. preened wings, with not a single feather out of place. morning dew glistening over freshly cut grass. a flock of charmony doves. perfectly sliced figs and pears that have begun to spoil. sweet rot. tiny, glistening droplets of blood spilling onto polished tiles. the sun rising, allowing for a new day to break across the horizon. harmony. a lie, a secret, and a promise, passed through the screen of a confessional. the soft kind of love, as fragile and shaky as his own heartbeat.

ROBIN is beautiful like a flurry of songbirds harmonizing in the early hours of the morning. piano tiles and violin strings. pure, unrestrained laughter ringing through the air. dawn. a string of pearls clasped around a slender neck. the smell of fruit lingering in the air, so sweet you can practically taste it. one lone charmony dove, singing to distract itself from the solitude. camera flashes. hushed chatter. eyes, so many eyes, all focused on you. fallen feathers under your feet. stolen kisses in the rain, like a scene stolen right from a movie. a symphony, one note short of being complete.

AVENTURINE is beautiful like glinting gold and silver jewelry, inlaid with the most precious jewels. the deep blacks and vibrant reds of a roulette wheel, spinning so dizzyingly fast the colours blur into one. peacock feathers. tattered scraps of memories too faded to be recognizable. empty promises and sweet talk. a voice so charming, you can practically taste the false sincerities dripping from his tongue. fool’s gold. money, incomprehensible amounts of money at your fingertips. the tantalizing smell of victory at your feet, before it is swiftly pulled away.

MOZE is beautiful like a full moon rising over a quiet and clear night. a spotless, newly cleaned house. silence; glorious, uninterrupted silence. the gilded hilt of a blade, moments before it slices your throat. feathers as dark as ink and smooth as silk. a frenzied heartbeat pounding in your throat. two shadows walking perfectly in sync. the illusion of solitude. resolution that can’t be wavered; will that can’t be broken. a glint of silver blinking in the darkness. sickness, suffering, in the most poetic sort of way. the comforting, yet vaguely unsettling realization that you aren’t alone anymore.

MYDEI is beautiful like a blazing fire, spitting and crackling with sparks. freshly squeezed pomegranate juice. a roar of triumph after a vicious battle. the sun dipping low in the sky once more, allowing another day to pass despite it all. blood. gladioluses and chrysanthemums. victory, sweet, wretched victory with a cost so high, few would ever deign to call it such. blood, lining the sharpened edge of a sword. a crown of laurels set atop your head. blood, dark as wine and seeping through the folds of your clothing. all that is fair and just.

CASTORICE is beautiful like delicate butterfly wings. roses blooming under the feeble glow of moonlight. sweet relief. flower petals spilling out under bandages, sprouting in the warmth of open wounds. the loving embrace of death closing its arms around you. fresh linen. shades of purple, of white, and of pink. hands hovering close, but never touching. the intimacy of closeness without words. scattered pomegranate seeds and evenly sliced fruits. the signs of age—wrinkles, and cracks, and wear. bittersweet loneliness. the careless sigh of a long life well-lived.

©c1phra 2025 : do not copy, translate, repost, redistribute, or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <33

[moineauz]

Amphoreus

[moineauz]

can nanook burn me alive. please. please please please can they just like. do u think their blood burns. god i hope it does. god i hope it makes you go insane when you touch it. or maybe its peaceful. maybe its quiet. maybe it's rest. burns at first but once you get used to the pain, it's calm.

please nanook one chance please

[moineauz]

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋

synopsis: you've learned a lot being dr. ratio's assistant and had to wrestle with your ever conflicting feelings. just when you thought you knew all about your boss, he proves you wrong.

side comments: kinda just let myself go free style with this one. is every piece meant to make sense? not really lol.

extra: gn reader, arguments, angst to fluff

IF LOOKS COULD KILL, THEN YOU WERE SURE VERITAS WOULD BE CROWNED YOUR MURDERER with how the rings of his auburn eyes shot arrows of pure disdain.

The two of you clashed at every given moment. His blunt nature and imperious side comments made your spine coil and fume. It didn't help that he loomed over you- his broad princely shoulders leaving you little room to breathe.

Aeons, you despised him. Utterly abhorred his patronizing demeanor and flawless eloquence. This man could trip on his own sandals and the universe would turn it into a Renaissance painting. Passion and pursuit were the drive of his world and the astute gaze of his eyes punctured through ignorance like a blade. His hands drafted words into colosseums: persuasive essays to keep knowledge public and education free.

The limelight fell onto him and Veritas never faltered. Never wavering in his resolve, loyal to his values and word all while clinging onto his very namesake- the truth.

It made you quiver slightly- it made you linger upon his visage like how you'd stare up at an altar.

How could a man like him bother to gaze down at you?

"You think I despise you?"

Your lips part, and you fold your arms across your chest, stepping back slightly, "Well, I- I am merely deducing your actions as such."

Veritas scoffs, exhaling slowly as he rubbed his temples, eyebrows furrowing, "Then clearly you lack the deductive skills. You're my assistant for Aeons sake, I hired you for a reason-"

"Yes, to file your papers, clear your schedule, accompany you to lectures and debates," you heave, grinding your teeth, "I know my responsibilities well doctor. But surely you don't think you've been- been so-"

You pause, searching for words until they get lost in your throat. Lost in his troubled complexion and hues of softening auburn. He steps forward, arms reaching and lips parted.

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't understand," you seethe, his face grows blurry and the blood underneath your skin boils, "I've been your assistant for a year! And still the same look of scorn."

"Scorn?" he mutter, a mixture of confusion and irritation rising in his eyes, "I never-"

"And yet you did!"

You point your finger at him, the tension hangs taut above you two. Like a ribbon coiled around your wrist, leading down to your fingertips, linking with his. Your chest rises up and down, you could hear his heartbeat thundering like rain. Veritas looks down at you, eyes never departing, never retreating in shame.

At that moment- with your finger pointed at him, faces barely apart- Veritas feels, for the first time in years, a fool.

"( Name ), I never-" he fumbles, pressing his lips together before resuming, "Scorn is the last impression I-"

"Really now?" you scoff, "Backing out now? Come on Veritas I'm not a idiot-"

"I know!" he exclaims, raising his hands, "You're the farthest from being a fool. You're-"

You're breath hitches.

"You're brilliant."

You pause, heat diffusing, "Brilliant? Veritas what are you-"

"You're brilliant because of your words, for the life you choose to pursue," he cuts through, in your peripheral vision you see his hands quiver, "You're brilliant because at the end of the day, you render me a fool. Stupid because I can't confront my own truth."

"Veritas..."

"My logic be dammed," he muttered, gingerly stepping forward, heart racing, "Not once did I hate you. Even during our heated debates."

“On the contrary, I left feeling properly defeated.”

You blink, anger now stripped away and exchanged for something inexplicably possible: amusement.

And a tinge of quiet frisson.

"I really thought you hated me."

Veritas tilts his head, "Oh? What happened to that-"

You lean forward, placing your lips on his cheek with the gentleness of an angel. The motion is prompt but strangely familiar. As if done like clockwork when a new dawn begins.

It shuts Veritas up effectively.

"If you wanted me so bad," you muse, slipping past his shoulders, "You could've just invited me to dinner."

His response is immediate, like instinct, "Consider it done."

You're long behind him now, hand grazing the doorknob. That's when you smile. You're shoulders felt lighter, arms more supple. As if you were springing into an invisible tomorrow: an unknowable future, the kind you craved fervently.

"I was wrong too, Veritas."

You open the door, truth spilling behind you in ripples, a familiar, salty wetness pushing you forward.

"I never could bring myself to hate you."

masterlist.

[moineauz]

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋

synopsis: you've learned a lot being dr. ratio's assistant and had to wrestle with your ever conflicting feelings. just when you thought you knew all about your boss, he proves you wrong.

side comments: kinda just let myself go free style with this one. is every piece meant to make sense? not really lol.

extra: gn reader, arguments, angst to fluff

IF LOOKS COULD KILL, THEN YOU WERE SURE VERITAS WOULD BE CROWNED YOUR MURDERER with how the rings of his auburn eyes shot arrows of pure disdain.

The two of you clashed at every given moment. His blunt nature and imperious side comments made your spine coil and fume. It didn't help that he loomed over you- his broad princely shoulders leaving you little room to breathe.

Aeons, you despised him. Utterly abhorred his patronizing demeanor and flawless eloquence. This man could trip on his own sandals and the universe would turn it into a Renaissance painting. Passion and pursuit were the drive of his world and the astute gaze of his eyes punctured through ignorance like a blade. His hands drafted words into colosseums: persuasive essays to keep knowledge public and education free.

The limelight fell onto him and Veritas never faltered. Never wavering in his resolve, loyal to his values and word all while clinging onto his very namesake- the truth.

It made you quiver slightly- it made you linger upon his visage like how you'd stare up at an altar.

How could a man like him bother to gaze down at you?

"You think I despise you?"

Your lips part, and you fold your arms across your chest, stepping back slightly, "Well, I- I am merely deducing your actions as such."

Veritas scoffs, exhaling slowly as he rubbed his temples, eyebrows furrowing, "Then clearly you lack the deductive skills. You're my assistant for Aeons sake, I hired you for a reason-"

"Yes, to file your papers, clear your schedule, accompany you to lectures and debates," you heave, grinding your teeth, "I know my responsibilities well doctor. But surely you don't think you've been- been so-"

You pause, searching for words until they get lost in your throat. Lost in his troubled complexion and hues of softening auburn. He steps forward, arms reaching and lips parted.

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't understand," you seethe, his face grows blurry and the blood underneath your skin boils, "I've been your assistant for a year! And still the same look of scorn."

"Scorn?" he mutter, a mixture of confusion and irritation rising in his eyes, "I never-"

"And yet you did!"

You point your finger at him, the tension hangs taut above you two. Like a ribbon coiled around your wrist, leading down to your fingertips, linking with his. Your chest rises up and down, you could hear his heartbeat thundering like rain. Veritas looks down at you, eyes never departing, never retreating in shame.

At that moment- with your finger pointed at him, faces barely apart- Veritas feels, for the first time in years, a fool.

"( Name ), I never-" he fumbles, pressing his lips together before resuming, "Scorn is the last impression I-"

"Really now?" you scoff, "Backing out now? Come on Veritas I'm not a idiot-"

"I know!" he exclaims, raising his hands, "You're the farthest from being a fool. You're-"

You're breath hitches.

"You're brilliant."

You pause, heat diffusing, "Brilliant? Veritas what are you-"

"You're brilliant because of your words, for the life you choose to pursue," he cuts through, in your peripheral vision you see his hands quiver, "You're brilliant because at the end of the day, you render me a fool. Stupid because I can't confront my own truth."

"Veritas..."

"My logic be dammed," he muttered, gingerly stepping forward, heart racing, "Not once did I hate you. Even during our heated debates."

“On the contrary, I left feeling properly defeated.”

You blink, anger now stripped away and exchanged for something inexplicably possible: amusement.

And a tinge of quiet frisson.

"I really thought you hated me."

Veritas tilts his head, "Oh? What happened to that-"

You lean forward, placing your lips on his cheek with the gentleness of an angel. The motion is prompt but strangely familiar. As if done like clockwork when a new dawn begins.

It shuts Veritas up effectively.

"If you wanted me so bad," you muse, slipping past his shoulders, "You could've just invited me to dinner."

His response is immediate, like instinct, "Consider it done."

You're long behind him now, hand grazing the doorknob. That's when you smile. You're shoulders felt lighter, arms more supple. As if you were springing into an invisible tomorrow: an unknowable future, the kind you craved fervently.

"I was wrong too, Veritas."

You open the door, truth spilling behind you in ripples, a familiar, salty wetness pushing you forward.

"I never could bring myself to hate you."

masterlist.

[moineauz]

MYDEIMOS had turned the corners of Amphoreus, led battalions with unfettered might and drew himself a new portrait of strife bearing his face. Mydeimos did not walk upon the lands- he thundered with unrequested zeal and brute force. Force known only by a man who is lined with golden blood and a bears a crown worthy of a thousand lifetimes: lifetimes that cycle between victory, anguish, and death. Yet, in between his next strike and his looming victory, he'd still find you in that battlefield, in that wreak, in between bloodshed and glory.

It would be you. It's always been you.

You rendered the all mighty Mydeimos weak. You made him grow soft like the skin of a peach or as light as billowing clouds in the distant horizon. You were the song after the battle: the lyre that played out of tune.

Even Phanion- who has never met you personally- could discern the ease that washed over Mydei's eyes and a tinge of softness unbefitting of warrior of Kremnos when he dare mention your name.

It was a name- noted Phanion- that was spoke like a prayer. Whispered in the dead of night, fleeting like sand between your fingers. It lingered too. It lingered with a passion and drive as remarkable as a coreflame. No wonder it sounded so fierce when placed aside Mydei's name- in records Phanion stumbled upon.

Yet, it was spoken with tenderness, with awe, with blazing admiration. Not regret. Not even the wistfulness of death.

So then, when Phanion finds the date of your final breath and witness his friend lower himself to the ground; holding a single flower in the palms of his calloused hands- Phanion knew.

You never departed. Only a temporary goodbye until the next battle commences- until Mydei's grasps onto a sliver of you with blazing fury.

masterlist.

notes: god the new hsr storyline has a grip on me. but enough with the puzzles. anyways, never thought i'd be back and writing again... this is a bit like a warm up piece(?) I look forward to writing again!

[moineauz]

xanny's backyard rn:

the cats are crashing out with me

[moineauz]

I AM A WITNESS. THE FAMILY OF CATS IS IN MY TREE

HOW THE FUCK IS IT ALREADY EXPIRED

ITS NOT MY FAULT THAT I WORK 6 JOBS HAVE 3 KIDS TO FEED A HUSBAND A WIFE NUMEROUS GACHA GAMES TO PLAY TWO DIVORCES PENDING GRASS TO TOUCH AND AN ENTIRE FAMILY OF CATS TO RESCUE FROM A BURNING TREE pls i need this

[moineauz]

Oops March cut his hair too short (Sunday looks even cuter)

[moineauz]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅

synopsis: how he experiences the five stages of grief

including: veritas, jing yuan, sunday

side comments: live laugh love angst… anyways, these are all my own renditions of how i think they’ll experience grief. just keep in mind these ‘stages’ are not the same for everyone and can move in order etr. I was going to do blade and boothill but i think I'll do a separate post for that.

extra: gn except for jing yuan, mentions of marriage in jing yuan's, angst, a bit of substance use if you blink, established relationship, can you tell it's my first time writing sunday? favourites: jing yuan word count: 2000+

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

STAGE ONE: DENIAL

Dr. Ratio is a man who took pride in being factual. His entire life was in the efforts of purging the world of ignorance; replacing it with truth. Yet, the hospital's fluorescent lights seemed to push his shoulders down- false. The flurry of movement merged and buzzed until Veritas could feel his ear drum shatter, false. Veritas's throat burned in silence- false. When your pale figure came into view: dressed in that hospital gown you despised, the heartbeat monitor's line flat- Veritas only thought was false.

STAGE TWO: ANGER

Veritas knew anger was the next stage. He was a doctor after all. The doctor who should have brushed his hands over your pale forehead. The doctor who should have heard your final words escape the lips he once traced. The doctor who should have raced to the defibrillator. The doctor who should have counselled and administered your medicine hand by hand, line by line. The doctor who shouldn't have trusted you're tender words and dotting smile. The doctor who should have held you're hand in public when you still could walk. The doctor who should have loved his spouse more.

STAGE THREE: BARGAINING

Margaret was no longer Dr. Ratio's assistant. Nevertheless, she found herself knocking at his office door, a loaf of homemade bread in tow and a small card bearing her sincerest empathy. Margaret recalled how Dr. Ratio's stoic expression twitched and busted into a radiant smile when you teased him. Similarly, Margaret recalled the coolness of your hands and the frequent coughs muffled in the dark corners of his office where you thought no soul could hear you.

"Dr. Ratio?" calls Margaret; knocking on the office door. "I baked some bread for you, is it possible for you to open the door?"

Margaret waits, however, there is no response. She sighs, gingerly placing the basket on the floor. "( Name ) would not want this of you, Dr. Ratio. Please-" she pauses, searching for the 'right' words, "Please take care of yourself."

Several hours pass, Margaret long gone. Dr. Ratio gradually opens the door, the bread gone cold. He sets the basket on a stack of books as the letter flutters to the ground unnoticed. Veritas resumes his ceaseless work.

STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION

The world seems strangely slow yet incredibly fast. Tangible yet fickle. Veritas blinks; staring at the paper he has been writing for several months, the silence of his office serene. Veritas blinks again, however, his handwriting is a foreign entity in his mind like: a map of unnamed stars. The kind he fails to understand. What was he writing about? Veritas glances into the disorder of his office: papers strewn across the floor littered with empty mugs. What did drink again?

Veritas' eyes return back to his paper. However, the lines seem to blur and the black ink stains his hands. Something wet plummets onto the paper: droplets of salty rain.

For the first time in a year, Veritas wept and shuddered: his broad shoulders quivering.

STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE

For the first time in years, the night is quiet. Nothing stirs him within the boundless expanse of his dreams. Your side of the bed- the one in which the indent of your body still impresses, fossilized until the end of eternity- remains empty. Yet, when the Doctor’s eyes flutter open- pieces of moonlight streaming into the bedroom- a tender smile, under the fragments of yet another year, gaze at your pillow. The place where your head- the one which bore your mind, the mind he praised and eventually sought after in deep ardency- would have been.

Veritas stretches his hand out and sighs, allowing the receding tide of moonlight to consume him.

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍

STAGE ONE: DENIAL

Each century blossoms and unfolds like a leaf; curling in on itself, one after another. Jing Yuan- the longest serving general, an immutable stream amongst jagged cliffs and tedious droughts- has navigated each trial and satisfaction with a placid smile and deep-set composure. Steadfast as the strike of thunder. Thus, as your body came to him- wrapped up in silk and satin, dressed for a place he could not reach- he did not waver, did not crumble, did not teeter on the tenacious line of undoing or succumb to an onslaught of hot, burning tears. No, he stood firm, feet planted into the ground, a series of complex roots. A system built from the movement of each dynasty; sailing into infinity.

None of those perdurable systems tumbled down at your cold, pale feet in either great armies of dust or strings of sorrowful defeat. In truth, the arbiter general was struck by another breed of anguish. A demand within himself that drowned in waters of tranquillity.

Why would his eyes not let him weep?

STAGE TWO: ANGER

Rumours are feisty beings, strangely tenacious until extinguished, lighting a spark under every tongue.

"Did you hear? The General's spouse-"

"If the Arbiter General can not ensure the safety of his own spouse, then perhaps it is time he retires-"

"Oh such sad news! I suppose even those with such strength are not privy to tragedy."

"I heard the order was under his command-"

Jing Yuan claws at the various papers strewn across his desk, his fingers twitching, chest heaving, the cord of his spine rattling-

He then breathes and settles into his chair, the whispers still reverberating in his head. The murmurs of others, though, most of his own.

STAGE THREE: BARGAINING

The infamous name- the Dozing General- could no longer be applied to Jing Yuan it seemed. Even Fu Xuan- in all of her astute and assiduous nature- observed how he toiled senselessly at the Seat of Divine Foresight; attempting to foresee fate and cut its wings before it could fly.

Nevertheless, the cadence of his voice reverberated the same. The winsome smile and regal prudence still lingered when addressing each official.

Yet, underneath- noted Fu Xuan- was a layer of unspoken words and evenings spent with wine and paperwork. While the twinkle, nestled within the golden brilliance of his eyes, dimmed ever so slightly. And perhaps, if seen under the silent beam of moonlight and incense, that same twinkle, vanished.

STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION

A general has no time to weep.

"Are you the General Jing Yuan?"

Jing Yuan gazes down near his feet. There, a child- perhaps no older than seven- stands. Her eyes were large marbles of vast azure: wide, open, hungrily consuming the world around her.

A finite smile reaches his lips. "Yes, I am-" he crouches down to her height- "and you?"

The child giggles, a loud grin stretching across her face. "Do you know where Ms. (Name) is?"

Jing Yuan stops and his throat grows tight. His smile remains. "No, why do you ask?"

"She is going to teach me more about flowers!" bursts the child, stretching her arms out, revealing a small bouquet of chrysanthemums.

"Ms. (Name) said chrysanthemums mean happiness!" she chirps, "These ones are for you. Ms. (Name) often says giving flowers makes people feel good."

'She mixed them up,' muses Jing Yuan, his eyes depressing slightly, 'They are related to sadness.'

"Well... why thank you."

Jing Yuan observes the child run off, a gentle wind brushing against his hair. The bouquet of chrysanthemums clenched firmly in his fist

It is then, does Jing Yuan weeps.

The General is not seen at the Seat of Divine Foresight the following day.

STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE

All existence reaches finality.

And yet, as Jing Yuan stood amongst rocking flowers and a grave of fireflies- their light illuminating the vast expanse of the valley- he heaves a languid, heavy sigh. Thus, muttering a string of inaudible sentences, whisking them away on a foreign planet only known by your flesh and tender bruised heart. Only known by the curve of your smile: as delicate as a moonbeam. And the air of your laughter: rich and gritty. Filled with sanguine songs and velvet kisses pressing and unfurling like the wings of a sparrow.

You took a flight to a distant star while Jing Yuan marked your coming and going. Wrote it on his calendar and etched it onto the tablet of his heart. For he was the dust behind your trailblaze, the chain of your necklace, the wind to your flight, the pause between your sentences. A visitor to your unfettered brilliance: a museum he spent hours enthralled with.

He'll meet you anew, as all existence reaches finality.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

STAGE ONE: DENIAL

Sunday does not experience denial.

He spares no time for denial, for moments in which the world spins on its axis, when there is a loss for words, or a deep enlarging numbness yet to be felt. Not a minute is untouched, not a stride wasted. Sunday will peel Penacony apart like the skin of an orange- the kind you delighted yourself in until he silenced the voices and brought justice down at your frigid feet. A mission, a goal, a veil, an excuse to not falter nor sway.

Maybe then- when the curtains close- will he succumb to the gelid embrace of denial.

STAGE TWO: ANGER

Sunday does not experience anger.

Anger- notes Sunday- is a vile entity: flashes of red and spurs of desire and whim. It is neither planned, calculated, or bound by probity and accord nor coiled around the neck: firm and unyielding.

Anger gives birth to chaos, destruction; painting the sky with the distinct strikes of mortal failure.

And yet, the white satin of Sunday’s gloves itch and kindle; rubbing against his skin, akin to burning flesh. He stands alone in the solitude of his office, the door fastened shut, he quivers, shakes, the chair tumbles to the floor, it cracks, shatters, breaks.

It is not Sunday- not the polished reputable image- for this Sunday could crush the Penacony he born from his bare hands, snap its spine in half, and observe it crash and burn: a raging lighthouse to the darkened universe. He’ll paint himself the image of destruction: a portrait bearing his features.

However, Sunday- the visage of a man known by the throng- will never bind himself to such acts.

Perhaps in a dream- within his innermost subconscious- he will.

STAGE THREE: BARGAINING

Sunday does not bargain.

Sunday is faithful. Streamlined with virtue and prose, his head held a touch higher than the rest; allowing him to dwell beyond the scope of a singular moment. For he peers into the valley of an endless dream.

Yet, does the Order taunt him? Does the Harmony know of his sweet dream? Perhaps it is punishment, a game, a test, a question.

Was that dream- born from a chance encounter, raised by long languid nights, cherished between the crevices of his chest- never destined to be his? Could not a sliver of joy- he pleaded- be made for him?

A selfish pursuit, he noted, even to the Aeons.

STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION

Sunday does not experience depression.

However, Robin deduces otherwise.

The Sunday she knows will not linger around a room- your office to be exact- and trace the bumps and texture of the wall until it becomes embedded into the flesh.

The Sunday she knows will not gaze blankly at portraits, chairs, paperwork, people, the bottom of his glass cup where a hue of auburn glimmers before him. His feathers sulking in the bar's limelight.

The Sunday she knows will not be the image she knew last: not when you swept across Penacony's chess board, shoved pieces aside and allowed the lingering fragrance of freedom to overtake every knight and king. Not when you drew the corners of her brother's lips up into a kaleidoscopic smile; she viewed Sunday in colours she thought he could never be equipped to express. You were enigmatic, riddled with an unbound spirit, the kind which took you farther than any halo or set of wings. Therefore, bewildering Sunday in ribbons of muted laughter and fluttering wings.

It is no wonder she observed her brother- basking in soulglad- whispering your name, muttered in the solemn cadence of prayer.

STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE

Sunday hopes, that he'll reach acceptance.

Nestled within the ladder of his chest, he still longs for the curves of your body and the shadow of your figure to emerge behind that doorway. For your voice to reverberate across the halls; a string of melodies and bygone memory. That, perhaps, you'll wrap the supple length of your arms across his chest and tilt your head in the manner it had been replayed in his head. While whispering those same terms: your warmth translates from every syllable and sentence.

When the dream has receded, he'll emerge anew. Strike his foot down onto the blanket of the universe, a city of stars and wait patiently, working meticulously, to capture your glowing visage in the golden hue of his iris.

masterlist.

[moineauz]

JUST IMAGINE JING YUAN who has a picture of you— bright brilliant smile, glancing off at the passing starskiffs— in his chest pocket, right above his heart.

SO WHENEVER THE SEAT OF DIVINE FORESIGHT TIRES HIM… he reach’s into his pocket and stares deeply into that photograph: his eyes impossibly mellow matched only by a besotted smile.

The Master Diviner can only reprimand him so many times before even she grows tired from his antics! And that giddy teenage affection he holds only for you…

ITS WIDESPREAD KNOWLEDGE IN THE LUOFU (AND EVEN BEYOND) that the esteemed General of the Luofu can’t help but mention his wife at any given moment:

“Well you see, my wife is quite adept at-”

“Oh? Yes, all compliments go to my wife. She helped arrange the-”

“I have my wife to thank for-”

“She’s just lovely isn’t she?”

AND YOU… CAN’T MAKE HIM SHUT UP.

Jing Yuan smile, resting his elbows on the table, the Seat of Divine Foresight now empty. Pardon him and his wife.

You were seated by the other table, reading paperwork.

“Jing Yuan,” you call, eyes not leaving the paper.

“Hm? Yes love?”

“You should stop praising me in public,” you murmur, burying your subtly tinted cheeks in sheets of white paper, “It’s-”

“Embarrassing?” finishes Jing Yuan, who was now found behind your chair, his breath grazing the shell of your ear, “What is there to be embarrassed of dearest?”

You nearly jump, heaving a sigh as you continue to gaze ahead, ignoring his mischievous smile- the one you knew all too well. “Well, it’s unnecessary-”

“You’re not answering my question.”

He leans forward, gingerly reaching for your shoulders; gently rubbing each muscle with finite tenderness. The warmth of his breath matching your own.

You stay silent.

Jing Yuan’s eyebrows furrow, carefully, he guides your head to turn to him, his hand placed gently on your left cheek.

You surrender into his hand, heaving a deep tender sigh.

Your eyes flutter close, silence envelopes, your mouth opens, the words the emerge, quiet and slow.

“I don’t know how I can possibly be-” you stammer, your eyes, now open, gaze at your glimmering wedding ring, “The General’s wife.”

“You’re right.”

Your eyes widen.

He gingerly tilts your chin up, eyes now interlocked in bright golden hues, “I don’t know how you can possibly stay by my side… as insufferable and stubborn of a man I can be.”

Jing yuan continues, his voice lowering, “How you console and charm me,” he chuckles, leaning impossibly closer, “Come, let’s not waste the night here.”

Your lips part slightly, a tender smile forming, all your doubt withers away. “Alright. Home it is then.”

Jing Yuan sends a teasing smile, yet, his eyes betray him: mellow, soft, brimming with tender ardency and unfurling devotion.

He guides you to your feet, wrapping his arms around your waist, his warmth not departing from you. His eyes forever tracing the curves and edges of your visage.

“Yes. Home.”

note: i made this before bed sooo don’t mind me :)

[moineauz]

hello everyone!! happy to say i’ll be resume writing for my album fic event: “burry me at makeout creek” for hsr. if your interested in being part of the taglist let me know! happy to be back again 🫶🏼

[moineauz]

in site of the houses return— i’ll be continuing this event once more. more songs may be added…

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ノ SONG INSPIRED WRITINGS 🎼

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ welcome once more to the house ! to usher in the colder months and time spent in solitude, we suggest you stop by and play this record and perhaps read our collection that comes with. we hope this resonates with you dearly.

𓍢ִ໋ however, do note that this collection is one ridden with sorrow and angst. if you are expecting to find sparks of joy, then we kindly suggest our other operettas and articles instead.

𓍢ִ໋ please read further to preview the following 10 works that comprise this collection. this collection is limited to honkai star rail and is sfw.

directors note ノ hello everyone!! I am really excited to be doing this mini event, I hope you enjoy the fics as much as I do. all the fics here are loosely based/inspired off of each of mitski's songs from the album 'bury me at makeout creek'. thus, song credit goes all to her! i highly suggest you listen to her album as well. make sure to read to he bottom for spoilers and an important disclaimer.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 & 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒

01. TEXAS REZNIKOFF WITH BOOTHILL ノ in which the memory of those bygone nights; smoking with grass and sowing seeds in wild prairies, haunts him in his waking hours. especially when your shadow warps around him. a home locked down only in memory.

02. TOWNIE WITH AVENTURINE ノin which the two of you chase after the skeleton of love through sparkling champagne and the ubiquitous flash of rolling dice. forever fleeing the hollow cavity of unaddressed nightmares; clinging onto desire. ravenous for that kind of ardency which throws you off balconices.

03. FIRST LOVE / LATE SPRING WITH YINGXING ノ you should of known that when he came home to you- bearing a new name- he was not the same man. nor the same boy who pressed kisses on your cheek, dressed under ancient peach trees. no, he is an old name, as fleeting as spring.

04. FRANCIS FOREVER WITH SUNDAY ノ his image still creates dances in your head. times spent under the shadow of his office and the golden hue of his iris. you thought you were better off now. nevertheless, forever still means forever.

05. I DON'T SMOKE WITH VERITAS RATIO ノdr. veritas ratio does not smoke. he is a doctor after all. yet, why then, does his lighter spark a flame? plumes of smoke drawing out with each breath as regret rises from his soul; seeping through the cracks of his visage, your smile the root of it all.

06. JOBLESS MONDAY WITH LUOCHA ノa traveling merchant- perpetually wandering the stars- saunters into your shop. a charmer, honest, deep. all the finite qualities you thirsted for. he took you out, spined you about and took the breath from your lungs; taking it with him.

07. DRUNK WALK HOME WITH GHALLAGHER ノin which you find yourself sitting on the curb side- dressed to attract the stars at your fingertips- waiting for a man who taught you how to laugh and tucked you deep into a dream. who understood your nature as you never understood his. who vanished and never came to pick you up for that date.

08. I WILL WITH DAN HENG ノ dan heng never longed for your care: to be held, possessed and desired. frightened as he may, he sealed up those nights in his chest. buried those nightmares and searched for the warmth of your chest; hiding those awful secrets, trying to be brave.

09. CARRY ME OUT WITH JING YUAN ノ jing yuan carried out your sentence with an unwavering resolve. now you are shackled to a prison in the depths of a land you once called home. yet, as time continues to bend and warp into nothing, you still whisper his name in chains, in the dark, at night. in hopes, that one day, it will be carried on.

10. LAST WORD OF A SHOOTING STAR WITH BLADE ノ death couldn’t come fast enough for blade; waiting long and perpetual years. eternity did not touch you and thus, you beamed like moon rays in early dusk even as a stelleron hunter yourself. yet, as blade held you in his arm, not knowing why you left your room so tidy and spoken like it was your last days, he realized something. it was all part of the script and you never told him your part.

𓍢ִ໋ an important disclaimer from the house! the director and our staff do not condone, support or intend to romanticize toxic relationships or any subject matter that is deemed sensitive to some viewers. please be advised and take care of yourself. 🫶🏼

𓍢ִ໋ spoilers for hsr plot and characters . heavy angst . little to no comfort . smoking . betrayal . trust issues . lying . vanishing partners . a bit is substance use/mentions of alcohol . long to medium fic length . more might be added .

𓍢ִ໋ if you’d like to be added to the taglist then please send an ask!

updates ノ will be sporadic and periodic due to scheduling. updates will be in the order of the song.

taglist ノ @vxnuslogy . @tetrachrxmacy . @https-sourlimes . @tamikahoshiko .

[moineauz]

finals are over 😖🙏

[moineauz]

hey guys...