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ai does not belong in creative spaces. period.

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Hello lovely people,

Here's my preview for the @chaeyafanzine that you can now Pre-Order for 2 more days!! Get your hands on your copy today, if you so wish!!

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🌹 Is anybody listening? This may be our best kept (not so) open secret yet. Listeners and secret-keepers alike, join us in peering at our full contributor lineup. As they take care of us, we trust you'll take care of them too. Link to our site and more active socials.

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₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Welcome to my blog! ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ — I'm Marts. Sometimes I write silly little things. ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ You can check out my fanfiction at AO3 ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

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Conviction

Il Dottore knew a thing or two about the flames and their effect on human skin. He had scars to tell the story for him. Intricate mask, the gloves; he made sure these covered his body just enough for the rosy marked skin to peek from beneath the cloth on his body. He let everyone guess and fantasise about what was under the cover-up he carefully put on every day.

“What monster lives under that mask, Zandik?” Signora had very little tact when stuck alone in the room with him. She lifted the tips of his sleeves with her long nail. “Ash is all we are,” she told him. This segment knew no relent before the things that fascinated him, even if it led to self-destruction.

Dottore avoided her comments, only responding with a soft smile every time. “Well, look at us, burning away for this world,” not many would understand her, but he did, at least to an extent of his scars.

The man in front of him now was only on the path to resurrection. Diluc’s flames burned hot and bright, his grief yet to consume him.

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Way Back

“We are made by the path we walk, aren’t we?” Aventurine read through his thoughts.

How stupid , Ratio disagreed. Everyone deserved a gentler life to live.

“In a fair world the path we walk would be only filled with joy,” Ratio locked his fingers around Aventurine’s.

“Weren’t you supposed to be the cynical one?” He was well aware such terms did not apply to Dr. Ratio. He was far from being a cynic and valued life above anything else.

Ratio stayed silent, a tight grip on Aventurine’s hands, not willing to let go so easily.

“Ah, doctor, lend me your plaster head, will you?” He shook his head, looking away from the benign eyes of his companion. Aventurine had no will to cry. Perhaps his tears were all taken by that rain that blessed his birth, or so he thought. But every time he came face-to-face with Veritas Ratio, his castle of schemes and restraint crumbled apart. 

“Aeons and its followers know no benevolence, Aventurine,” Ratio ignored the remark behind which the gambler tried to hide, “but we do know it, people know it.”

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Pas de Deux

“It would be nice to stay here longer,” he smiled, happy that his somewhat regretful gaze was hidden behind the mask, “if only work did not require me to go back.”

It was a complicated array of threads that attached him to Mondstadt. Strings of fate, strings of life, strings of relationships he built over the years. There was love, care, pain and regrets that pulled him back. Yet the seed of yearning called out to  him to move forward and explore the world free of the titles that restricted him.

“There are always open positions at Palais Mermonia,” Leviathan did not try to hide his identity, even while playing by the Masquerades rules, “from the sound of it, you would make a great fit as an ambassador.”

“Strong promises, Monsieur Neuvillette,” he turned to face him, regret masked by the smirk.

“I make no promises,” he walked a bit further into the garden, tilting his  head backwards to stargaze, “just stating what’s already a fact.”

written for @neukae server event! 🐉🦚 ✨ with illustration from kerokerokeropekopon ✨

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Arbiter of Upside Down Hearts

“Aventurine,” he murmured, “you’ve never been so wrong,” and grabbed his hands. Aventurine had yet to accept that being ahead meant exposing his back to both foes and friends. 

Ratio had an advantage of size and strength, and in a moment their positions were flipped. Aventurine hit his head against the backrest, but did not attempt to move away.

“You stopped being a suspect the moment I saw you in that casino’s hall,” he continued, “stumbling over your own feet,” he pulled on Aventurine’s arms, exposing his palms, “pupils dilated and hands shaking.” 

“What do you know, doctor?” Aventurine faltered for a second, his heartbeat rapid. “I mean,” he tried to regain his cool, “what do you know about the casino?”

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Tatters of Thought

“This wasteland used to be a home,” Boothill’s smile was so wide you could not tell there was a hint of pain in his voice. His pearly-white shark teeth shined in the sun as he went on about the beauty his world used to be.

The path of Trailblaze meant anyone could be your friend, even someone who was meant to be an enemy. No relations in the world were simple, there was no black and white. By this time, Sunday learned well, kindness started where prejudice ended. He felt for Boothill’s words, even if they were somewhat imprudent and often foul. He was sincere and Sunday had the most respect for it.

He kneeled down to touch the crumbled dirt, sand mixed with soil. Sunday took off his glove and felt the dry elements, they stained his skin, yet all he could see in it was potential for life. 

“A drop of water could change everything,” where others saw the desolation, he searched for a chance.

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The Bidding

It’s not that Kaeya didn’t want a family. It was that he wouldn’t know what to do with it if he really had one. Were Knights his family? Maybe, in some way. He had a lot of people around that he considered to have bonds with that others might see as almost familial. But it was mostly because the others considered it to be such. He himself? He didn’t have an answer to that. He was close to people, but no one was really close to him. A one-sided relationship is what he was afraid of the most, and yet it was something that dominated his life for the most part of it. 

“Tell me more about yours.” A quiet and unexpected request. Perhaps because Kaeya was on the brink of consciousness that he spoke what was on his mind, somewhere deep and hidden. 

Whatever story was to come next, he barely listened to it. 

But the voice slowly lured him into a deep sleep. Like a gentle flicker of the fire.

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I need to write ten billion things today.

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write

it

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In the winter Seth slipped on ice three times a day: when he went to work, when he got his noodles take-out and when he walked back home. Today, due to unforeseen circumstances of Wise taking him on a tour around the city, he tripped five hundred thirty two times. Fairy counted each occurrence, causing Wise to gradually lose his sanity and burst into a laughing fit at the fall #347, just as Seth was about to open the doors of the Bardic Needle. There was only a long and quiet “ouch” coming out of his mouth, as he had no more in him to express any emotion other than acceptance of this tragic day.

“Shouldn’t they sprinkle salt or something?” Seth stared at his companion with a solemn contemplation, as if that would help his predicament.

“It should be your job as a police officer,” Wise helped him up, still wiping away tears in the corner of his eyes, “something about the civil protection act number twenty-eight”.

He stared at Wise again, this time with a more questioning firm look. It was an embarrassing situation, as Seth did not remember if such a rule existed, but Wise would not lie to him, right?

“Ice got your tongue, Seth?” Wise crossed arms on his chest, pushing the doors to the store with his foot.

“I-I think we should go to the grocery store instead.” Seth swiftly turned around, fully prepared to get a few packages of salt, but that had to wait as his counter went up.

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Maybe I should do that.

If I ever post everything I have in relation of Paradox, Placido and Antinomy here, half of ygo community will just hate me for ooc probably. Spam tags with all gay shit that does not make sense to people.