#*flees*]]

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

looked through my old art and found this

The second guy is Faramir from the lotr books btw

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Blood of the Hero Ch 14 (Link's Parents Play BotW)

Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.

(AO3 link)

Ch 14: Fallen Knight - Carnage

Abel hadn’t slept. The night crawled agonizingly along, leaving the former knight tossing and turning. Tilieth rested peacefully in the grass beside him, the tattered, half rotted wooden stall protected them from the mild drizzle. He stared between wood planks, eyes tracing the etches of jagged edges, noticing scorch marks from when the place burned.

When it was destroyed. In the Calamity.

It was stupid, really, how much it was sinking in lately. It wasn’t like Abel hadn’t been a firsthand witness to it. But lately… everything seemed to be wrong, and it drilled into his head. Perhaps it was the thought of separating from Tilieth, the idea that once they reached the Gerudo Desert he would continue on without his family in search of solutions. The anxiety and dread of it made him sick to his stomach.

You had promised, all those years ago, to protect your family. You swore in your knighting that you would protect Hyrule.

Yet here he was, lying in dirt, shivering in the chilly night, protected by the bones of what used to be one of the most vibrant stables in the country. Here he was, with his wife starving and shivering beside him, broken and terrified and alone. Here he was, his daughter dead, his son near to it, the latter’s state being entirely his fault.

He’d separated from the boy. He’d told him to take the princess to Fort Hateno. He’d promised to be there.

He’d been unable to protect the king. Link was the only one who managed to keep the princess safe when Abel was unable to do so.

His daughter was dead.

Abel’s entire life was flashing before his eyes. His mother died of grief over the loss of his father (why wasn’t I good enough? Why weren’t my sisters and I good enough for her to stay?). His younger sister never listened to him, had said he wasn’t their father, had accused him of pretending to know more than he did (she was right). His twin sister had settled in Castle Town, had been there when it had burned (I never even looked for a body, did I? Goddess, I didn’t even look for a body—) He had been given the highest honor by becoming a knight in the royal guard, had served as the captain, a trusted protector of the king and yet he’d been unable to do his duty (the ceiling had collapsed, I tried to protect him, I tried!). He’d sworn to take care of his family, to be there as a father, and—

Abel sat up, filled with energy, chest aching, blood racing. He stood, walking to the river, wanting to run, to fight something, to scream.

He stared up at the sky, breaths rapid and shallow, and asked, Farore, why did you make me? Why did you make me??

What was he even here for, if not to repeatedly screw everything up?! Even when Link had been given a fighting chance, Abel’s stupidity had ruined it - if it hadn’t been for him disturbing that hinox, this wouldn’t even be an issue! Link would still be safe in the Shrine of Resurrection, and—

Why did you make me?! What was the purpose?! I do nothing but cause problems, I can’t get it right, I can never get it right!

It was sacrilegious to even contemplate what thought came next, but Abel already knew he was a worthless, faithless fool anyway.

You made a mistake when you made me.

The drizzle continued to fall, slowly soaking him to his core. It was a splash of reality as he shivered and fell to his knees, a cold consolation in an empty world.

Wallowing in self pity won’t help them, he reminded himself. Slowly, he dragged himself back to the stall, trying to push the intrusive thoughts out, trying to ignore the berating. He was so damn tired.

The next day brought a heavy rainfall, and though the couple would have preferred to wait it out, anxieties drove them both forward. They didn’t dare bathe in the river – it was far too close to Central Hyrule for either of their liking. Instead, they barely ate breakfast, woke Link to drink some broth, and hastily made their way back to Kakariko.

As they passed through the half-barren marsh, the tower for Lanayru teased them with its proximity. Tilieth glanced at Abel with a shrug. “It’s practically on the way. We might as well activate it; maybe it could give us some helpful information.”

Abel doubted that was the case, but he didn’t argue; he himself had suggested going to the tower as a distraction yesterday. The pair cantered across the marsh, signs of life catching Abel’s eye as they went along. The marsh was slowly coming back, the rain bringing life as puddles formed amidst the mud and debris. Pieces of guardians were slowly washed away, and much more had probably already been removed over the last decade. He tried to take comfort in that.

When the pair reached the beach, Abel saw that the tower was on the other side, which was mildly problematic. This was becoming more involved than he wished it to be, but they were too far invested in it to turn back now.

Tilieth offered to cross, but Abel didn’t trust that the other side would be safe. He’d already surveyed the beach they were on and didn’t see any threats, so he asked her to stay behind instead, taking the slate and utilizing its runes to get across with little effort on his part. Meanwhile, Tilieth bathed herself and Link.

Abel hadn’t expected to find a person on the other side of the beach.

They both stood there in the sand for a moment, frozen in time. Abel felt his body stiffen, electricity firing through his muscles. The Hylian looked equally on edge, skin and bones, dark circles under his eyes, clothes ill fitting and half rotted off him. He jerked his body, reaching for something in an instant.

Abel grabbed his bow and arrow and shot true.

The Hylian grunted as the arrow sank into his chest, his sword that had been half drawn collapsing into the sand beside him. Abel remained motionless for a moment, his mind catching up to what his body had just done. The Hylian let out a gurgling breath and then grew still.

Abel released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and slowly lowered his arms.

The world was silent, save for water lapping on the shore. Abel couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything.

Swallowing, the former knight hesitantly walked towards the fallen Hylian. When he saw lifeless eyes staring off at nothing, he finally put his bow away.

The world came crashing back down on him an instant.

You just killed a man.

Well, he was clearly going to attack first!

You’re a knight. Your job is to defend the people of Hyrule. And you just killed one.

This wasn’t the first time he’d killed someone. It was ridiculous to let it bother him. Besides, he wasn’t a knight anymore.

At least check him for supplies.

Abel recoiled at the thought. He wasn’t going to defile the dead like that. He refused.

Taking a shaky step away, he started to head towards the Sheikah tower as if nothing had happened.

A gasp sounded, and Abel whirled, reaching for his bow and arrows yet again. He readied himself, but caught sight of a woman, a young Zora female who was watching him in horror.

“P-please!” She hastily said as she raised her hands. “I’m not even a warrior, I don’t mean any harm! I—I just came down here to find some fish, I—I promise I’m n-not a threat!”

Abel took in the sight of the Zora, memories flooding his mind of his time he’d spent in the Domain with Link. He recalled their princess, and his chest ached at the loss. The girl had been sweet and a strong warrior. She had also been the best healer in the kingdom.

Nevertheless, he didn’t lower his bow.

“P-please,” the Zora begged, beginning to cry. “I—you c-can even have my catch of the m-morning. I b-bet you’re hungry, right? You look it. Just—just please don’t hurt me.”

Abel’s gaze flicked across the river. He could vaguely see Tilieth and Link from here. If the Zora turned around and caught sight of them…

Abel. Stop. She even said she wasn’t a fighter.

Abel took another shaky breath, the adrenaline still fresh from his previous kill, paranoia heightened by the threat, blood rushing through his ears, deafening him to the rest of the world, silencing the woman’s whimpers. What difference did that make? The world had ended. Everyone was a fighter now.

“I-I’m—I’m just g-gonna put the fish down now, okay?” The Zora said shakily, hiccuping through her words, hands still held in the air. She carefully moved to reach for a net she’d been carrying, easing it to the ground.

Abel took a threatening step closer, arrow still fixed on her head, but he didn’t release it. The Zora practically scampered into the water, hands held high again as she told him over and over she wasn’t a threat, that she wasn’t going to hurt him. When she was half submerged into the water, he narrowed his eyes, motioning upstream with his head. The woman caught his meaning and quickly fled.

As he lowered his bow, Abel grew dizzy. He stumbled forward, picking up the net of fish, and slung it over his shoulder. The balance and the way the world spun made him nearly collapse into the sand, his stomach churning. He blinked once, twice, thrice to clear his head, shaking it so he could actually hear the world again, but it was still just his heart pounding.

A chirp caught his attention next, nearly making him draw his sword, when he realized it was the slate.

A shrine was nearby?

Focusing, Abel shook his head one last time, following the slate’s guidance until he neared the entrance to the Zora trail that led to the Domain. It was blocked by fallen rocks, a piece of half decayed guardian machinery squashed underneath. The shrine was just off to the left, uphill a ways.

How could he possibly bring Link over here after what had just happened? He needed to get back, to check on Tilieth! He’d just wandered off, they were out of sight now!

But the tower was right there too. He could see everything from the tower, including threats.

The area was clearly too dangerous, though. But he’d ensured there were no monsters on the other side before leaving his family.

But the threats over here hadn’t been monsters. What if there were Zora near his family?

Abel took another shaky breath, rushing back to the beach. He could still see Tilieth, who waved cheerily at him, clearly having completely missed everything that had transpired. She looked to be dressed now, sitting on the shore with Link.

Abel heard the water lapping. He heard the flapping of bird wings, the trickle as the rain settled into a lazy sprinkling. The world came back, and he tried to take a full breath.

The tower. Just get to the tower.

Thankfully it wasn’t hard to actually reach the tower. He had to rush across the bridge and scale the cliffside, but there were very few monsters around. He picked off a few lizalfos, a moblin, and a handful of bokoblins before reaching the top.

From the top of the tower, once activated, Abel could see a good portion of the region. Zora’s Domain was just beyond his range of vision, hidden in sparkling mountains laden with luminous stones. He remembered the festivals, the nights where those cliffs would practically glow. He remembered the giggles of children as Link played with his friends.

Looking away, Abel pushed at his pant legs, which had ridden up a little since they’d shortened in length from fraying over the years, and tucked them back into his boots. He squinted at the river, catching sight of Tilieth and Link, who were still relaxing on the beach. He couldn’t see any other shrines aside from the one he’d found. He wasn’t sure if that should make him feel better or worse.

Sighing, Abel grabbed the paraglider, took a deep breath, and jumped. He wondered, for the instant before his feet left the tower, if he was beginning to overcome his fear of heights. As soon as the sensation of weightlessness hit, as soon as he was in the air, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as an unpleasant reminder that was not, in fact, the case. The adrenaline still lingering in his system, paired with the vertigo he felt at gliding through the air this high up, nearly made him let go of the paraglider entirely. Abel squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, and then shifted his weight, tilting the glider to aim for the beach across the water. Dully, he grumbled internally that he hadn’t always been this afraid of heights, and that it was a terrible time for it to manifest so badly.

Despite not wanting to look down, Abel managed to make it across the river, but his knees gave out the instant his feet touched the sand, and he face planted. He heard Tilieth call out to him and rush over, and he slowly pushed himself up, spitting out sand.

“Are you okay?” his wife asked, dropping down beside him.

Abel swallowed, not entirely capable of speaking, and nodded with a grunt. He sat on his legs for a moment, catching his breath, and then managed to say hoarsely, “There’s a shrine over there.”

“Oh! Really? Let me see.” Tilieth reached forward, taking the slate off Abel’s hip and glancing at it. The new information provided by the tower allowed her to survey the area, and she quickly found the shrine that was marked on it. “Oh, that’s not far at all! We can cross right here—”

“No,” Abel interrupted, remembering the body. He probably should have done something with it. Buried it? He should bury it, right? Show respect for the dead?

They didn’t have time for that.

“We’ll cross further upstream,” he finally muttered.

“Upstream…” Tilieth repeated as she peered at the map before gasping. “We’re close to the Zora!”

Abel spat out some more sand, rubbing his face. “Yes. And?”

“Sheik had said something about the Zora being hostile,” Tilieth said uncertainly, lowering the slate. “Why, though? They were allies to Hyrule. And… after all the effort you and that delegation put in…and the… the princess…”

Hostile? That woman he’d encountered hadn’t been. But what if she’d told her people, and they were coming here now?

After all the effort you and that delegation put in…

Abel bit back the bitterness of yet another failure, the pain and loss of the sweet princess who had been such dear friends with his son.

The point was that apparently the Zora were enemies now.

“We need to move quickly,” he surmised, finally standing and heading towards Link. “Start working on the pillars, please.”

Tilieth nodded, walking towards the water. The family made their way across as quickly as was feasible before Abel directed them towards the shrine.

However, once they entered, they did not receive the usual greeting.

“In the name of the Goddess Hylia, I offer this combat trial.”

“A combat trial?” Tilieth repeated worriedly.

Abel smiled, remembering the tutorial trial in Kakariko. Honestly, he was a little eager to get some energy out. He carefully lowered Link to the ground and headed into the large room. He figured he would test out the guardian weapon he’d taken from the last combat trial, alongside the Sheikah shield.

The tiny guardian was surprisingly easy to defeat. It telegraphed its moves so easily it was almost laughable. Abel was again, bitterly, reminded that these things had be designed to aid the people of Hyrule and its Hero. This little machine was here to train Link.

Instead, his boy was covered in wounds from its larger counterparts, near comatose and helpless.

Abel shook his head, finishing off the little guardian and trying to focus. He’d been far too morose lately. He had a mission to complete.

Goddess, he’d kill for some sleep, though.

The expression hitched in his mind, and he shook his head again. He turned and waved to Tilieth, signaling the all clear, before belatedly remembering he should go back to carry Link. Til, however, tried to carry the boy herself, dragging her feet into the arena while huffing and puffing a little.

Abel took pity on his wife, heart warmed at her attempt, and walked over to her. “Let me carry him, love.”

“No, I’ve got this,” Tilieth argued through a strained voice. “I have to be able to do this.”

I have to be able to do this if you’re going to leave me, was the unspoken sentiment. Abel felt his stomach crawl. He followed his wife silently, worries eating him alive. The couple retrieved a knight’s bow (how long had this been down here? Why was it designed similarly to their bows from ten years ago? Wasn’t this shrine ancient? Who else had accessed it, anyway? Why were there so many modern trinkets hidden down here?) and Link received the spirit orb, and they were transported outside.

Naturally, it was pouring. Abel shivered and quickly took Link in his arms to give Tilieth a break. He noticed the boy had little braids in his hair now, along the sides, before it was pulled back into the usual ponytail he wore. He supposed Tilieth had been enjoying herself on the beach. Link scrunched his face against the rain, clearly uncomfortable with the cold, and Abel looked around quickly to ascertain if it was wise to use the shrine for shelter until the rain let up.

Tilieth took the opportunity to look at the map. “I guess the best way to get to the desert would be going back through Kakariko? We could get one last respite in before the journey begins.”

Technically, the best path would be taking the road to the Riverside Stable, but that required going into Central Hyrule, which was out of the question. Not to mention the bridge leading there from the Wetlands Stable was destroyed, anyway.

No, Tilieth was right. The surest path was back through Kakariko.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, carefully sliding down slick stone with Link in his arms. He didn’t want to linger.

When they reached the water, Tilieth hastened forward, grabbing Abel by the arm and shushing him. Abel looked at her, alarmed, wondering what she’d seen, watching as she crept forward. When he followed her line of sight, though, he saw some ducks waddling ahead on the shore.

“Really?” he whispered. “Right now? We’re about to go back into town, we don’t need to hunt.”

“Oh, I’m not hunting them, I just want to watch them,” Tilieth said lightly, a sweet smile pulling at her lips.

Abel bit back an exasperated reply. He’d already snapped at her yesterday. He wasn’t going to do it again. But they needed to move. He kept his mouth shut, watching his wife creep forward before talking briefly to the ducks, who quacked in response, eliciting giggles from Til. He tried to enjoy watching it. He really did.

“Til,” he finally said, unable to bear it any longer. “Link’s going to get cold.”

This snapped her out of her distraction, and Tilieth apologized worriedly as she started to create ice pillars. Abel let her place the harness on him before he positioned Link and strapped him in. The couple slid across the river, occasionally nearly toppling over with as slippery as it was, but they managed to make it to the beach and their horses. Abel thought they were finally in the clear when something else seemed to catch Tilieth’s eye (after she’d already snagged some dragonflies), and she pulled Epona in circles. Abel let Ama slow to a halt, watching his wife aimlessly ride in a dizzying pattern. At least the rain had stopped, but…

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered.

“There’s—there’s this—oh, I almost had it!” Tilieth huffed, pushing Epona to move faster and reaching down until she was halfway off the saddle. His wife was a good rider, so he wasn’t particularly concerned, but her behavior still made no sense. Link sneezed, distracting Abel, who tried to remember if they’d fed the boy or not (they did, right? They had to, right?), and he jostled the teenager and coaxed him to drink some broth while Tilieth still rode in a circle.

“Til—”

“I know, I’ll be quick!”

“Til, this is ridiculous, what are you even doing?”

“There’s a light!”

“There’s literally nothing.”

Til huffed, jumping off Epona entirely, making Abel tense up, and she pounced on something. “Got you!”

Abel stared as his wife, breathless, laughed giddily and reached out her hand and said thank you and then rose, looking triumphant.

Scrunching his nose, he surmised, “This is another one of those koroks, isn’t it?”

Tilieth nodded, cheeks flushed with cheer. Abel had to smile at her in reply, even though he felt that familiar helplessness. Not that he cared about collecting seeds, but it seemed in this avenue he was fairly useless. What if these magical creatures could help them somehow, and he was making himself a liability by not being able to see them? Why could Tilieth see them?

Sighing, Abel nudged Ama with his legs. “All finished?”

“Yes,” Tilieth said, satisfied, as she climbed back into Epona’s saddle. “Let’s get to the village. We should be able to get there by midafternoon, right?”

“Correct.”

At least, that would have been the plan, except Tilieth wanted to pick some herbs, and the slate started chirping that another shrine was nearby, leading them to a little sandbar with a shrine innocently sitting at its center. Abel stared, bemused, wondering if they’d somehow missed this one, as they had to have passed it, right?

No matter. Another shrine was another shrine. At least this one was close to the village.

“Ah, the soil is so fertile here,” Tilieth noted, and Abel had to agree as he nearly sank ankle deep into the earth. A few chus led to enough damage to the guardian blade that the ancient relic shattered, and Abel irritably switched weapons, grumbling about faulty Sheikah tech as he did so.

The shrine was fairly straightforward, leaping across driftwood to make it to the other side. The final part involved destroying bomb barrels at the right time to eliminate a wall (Abel did have to wonder at the efficacy of such a thing as the bombs were floating in the water, but he supposed they would find out). Tilieth found great pleasure in retrieving every treasure chest she could find, though, according to her, none could beat the one that contained the headband Abel wore.

“It’s too bad there aren’t more clothes,” she commented as Abel aimed at the barrels with a fire arrow. “Or at least materials to make some. Your clothes are a little tattered.”

Abel paused, glancing down at his attire. He wore what his wife had managed to patch together from fabric and clothes they’d found on the plateau, fashioning a warm doublet. The trousers he wore used to nearly fit him perfectly, but time and use had made them threadbare, riding up to nearly midway up his calf. His wife, on the other hand, wore an oversized green tunic that was practically a dress that went to her knees with a white undershirt, and the trousers she wore were made from the tattered remains of her dress she’d been wearing the day of the Calamity. Honestly, they both could use some new clothes, Abel supposed. He was at least grateful Tilieth had made some for Link. The boy was warmer and more protected in the Hylian tunic she’d fashioned. If only they could get the boy some shoes…

Tilieth built ice columns for them to stand on so Abel could aim better, but after three tries of missing lifting the barrels out of the water at the right time, his wife was clearly growing frustrated.

“Here,” Abel suggested gently, holding out his hand. “You’re a decent shot. I’ll make the column, you fire the arrow.”

Tilieth bit her lip uncertainly and then nodded. When Abel successfully timed the ice column, leaving the bomb barrel innocently waiting at its peak, Tilieth fired true with a fire arrow.

Link flinched at the ensuing explosion, sniffling, blinking his eyes open, but he settled back to sleep quickly.

“How did you get it?” Tilieth asked, obviously a little annoyed.

Abel smiled. “Because I’m more patient than you.”

His wife rolled her eyes exasperatedly, and the pair acquired the spirit orb. As they exited, Abel saw a familiar sight – the Riverside Stable, its framework splintering up towards the sky. That was definitely the stable he’d seen on their way to the Dueling Peaks. They’d… gotten a little off track with this other shrine.

“Which way back to Kakariko?” Tilieth questioned a little confusedly before gasping. “Abel, there’s another shrine over there!”

Abel glanced up at the sky. The sun was still high. They had time. “Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Eagus Bridge was somehow still intact, though most of the protective siding was gone. But Abel realized something, almost too late, horribly, and he immediately blocked Tilieth’s path as they neared the next bridge.

“What?” Tilieth asked.

“This leads to Central Hyrule. The Riverside Stable is in Central Hyrule.” Abel emphasized. “We’re not going there.”

Tilieth looked torn, but also very clearly petrified.

Abel motioned with his head. “We need to get to the village.”

He was not risking his family for this. He would come later, without them, to ensure it was safe. Not that he was going to tell Tilieth that.

The smell of smoke scorched his nostrils, burned his lungs—

Abel shook his head, ridding himself of the memory, the sensation. He guided Epona and Ama ahead, holding Link more tightly.

The couple moved in silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic clomping of their steeds’ hooves. Thankfully it was an uneventful trek back to Kakariko. Their arrival caught everyone's attention, and Lady Impa moved towards them quickly.

“Any luck with the shrines?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Tilieth assured her with a smile. “We just need to pass through again to head for the—”

“Next destination,” Abel interrupted. He… didn’t want anyone to know where they were going. Not even the princess’ royal advisor. “We’ll stay here tonight. If that’s fine with you.”

“Of course,” Lady Impa acknowledged, her tone implying that it was obvious. Abel felt a little guilty at it, at her hesitancy and uncertainty as she looked at him. He’d never interacted with the woman much in the past, but a little voice in his mind did whisper that they were all on the same side. It sounded annoyingly like Tilieth.

Abel gently lowered Link from Ama, letting Tilieth take him and hobble over to a nearby cooking pot. He glanced towards the mountain pass once more.

He’d wait until nightfall to explore. The less fuss, the better.

Tilieth’s off-tune humming filled the air, making the former knight smile. His wife rocked back and forth where she sat, taking Link with her as he was settled on her lap. Abel took comfort in the gentle, warm cheer, watching as Tilieth started to chat aimlessly with the Sheikah chief.

“Where’s Sheik?” Tilieth asked. “I saw nearly everyone else. Oh, and how’s the little one and her mother? Mellie and Jummo, right?”

“They’re both doing great,” Lady Impa answered happily. “The plum trees we planted seem to be surviving too. This rain is certainly helping. As for Sheik, she left around the same time you two did.”

“Where did she go?”

“She’s… on a pilgrimage. She’s visiting all the sacred springs that Princess Zelda visited.”

Abel tuned out the rest of the conversation, simply watching Tilieth and Link. He sat on the stairs to the inn, leaning against a crate and feeling himself nod off. He supposed not sleeping was catching up to him. He shook his head to try and stay awake – he had to investigate Central Hyrule tonight, after all.

“Honey? You okay?”

Abel blinked again, and—when had the sun set so much? When had Tilieth moved to stand in front of him?

“Oh, Abel,” Tilieth said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. He reached up, letting his hand rest over hers to reassure her, eyes searching for Link as he confusedly tried to piece together what had just happened. “Honey, why don’t you get some sleep?”

Sleep? No, not yet. He’d just slept a little anyway, right? Time had passed.

“’m alright,” he slurred, not sounding convincing in the slightest. Damn it.

Tilieth’s eyes grew glassy with worry and unshed tears, and Abel felt even worse for it. Damn it.

Reaching forward, he pulled her close, letting her sit on his lap a moment as they held each other, and he kissed her just under her eyes, catching the tears as they fell. “I’m okay, love. I promise.”

Tilieth trembled in his arms, sniffling. “Abel, I just… it’s okay. Please, just rest. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, holding her more tightly, willing all of his love and assurance into it. Please don’t worry. She had enough to worry about. He’d caused his wife enough problems lately. “I promise I’ll sleep later tonight, okay? I just… want to pray at the statue before bed.”

Tilieth perked up, and her expression was hard to read. His wife was naturally far more trusting than him, so he hoped the lie would work (and oh how he despised having to lie to her, but she’d never let him go if he said what he was planning on doing). However, Tilieth was not a fool – she knew Abel didn’t really pray anymore. Perhaps, once in a while, in the middle of the night, in desperation or loneliness, Abel would wander to the Temple of Time before this new journey had begun, but it had been rare.

It was hard to believe in the love of goddesses who would allow this to happen, after all.

His wife watched him silently, her brown eyes piercing into him in a way that reminded him of Link, searching for answers unspoken. Abel broke the spell, though, by leaning in and kissing her on the forehead, brushing curls away from her face.

That night, he ate in silence. He didn’t dare speak, he didn’t dare try to reassure her any more, he didn’t wish to lie any further. Tilieth seemed to gain some of her earlier cheer back as she woke Link to feed him, as she cleaned him and tucked him in. Abel watched the pair, heart heavy, wondering if this was a mistake.

What if… what if he failed again? What if he got himself killed out there, in that goddess forsaken land? What if there were guardians out there as there had been ten years ago?

What would he find? What if he didn’t return?

What would happen to his family?

You’re being paranoid. There was no way Central Hyrule was that dangerous, or Lady Impa would have warned them about it. Right? Besides, Blatchery Plain was riddled with guardians and they were all harmless. So it had to be fine. Right?

Right?

There was a shrine there, though. He had to try.

For Link.

Abel watched Tilieth settle into the bed beside Link, leaving space for him to join her. He went outside, heading for the goddess statue.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel stared darkly back.

He didn’t pray. He couldn’t. Even if he recognized the gift that Epona was, the miracle that Link was actually improving, he couldn’t pray. How could he, after what he’d done today?

How could he, after all his failures? He blamed Hylia for the destruction of Hyrule, but he hadn’t done any better to protect it.

He’d killed a man today.

Could he have avoided it?

It didn’t matter. Whether he could’ve avoided it or not, it didn’t matter. That person would never be a threat again.

But what if he was just scared? What if you could’ve talked him down, as you had with those siblings at Proxim Bridge?

Am I a murderer?

He supposed he didn’t deserve to pray. He wasn’t a knight; he wasn’t even a good man anymore. He was just a survivor. And he would do anything to protect his family.

Besides, that Hylian had clearly been starving. He’d likely been desperate and would’ve been willing to do anything too. He’d been a threat.

Abel still didn’t think he was a good man anymore, though. He wasn’t sure he’d been one since the Calamity.

He didn’t need to be a good man. Just a good fighter.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel turned away.

He paused as he passed the inn. Almost went inside to see his wife and his son. But then he kept going. He didn’t want to risk catching Tilieth’s attention. Quietly, he guided Ama out of the village before mounting her and riding into the night.

A keese or two tried to interfere as he rode, but he eliminated them easily.

Eagus Bridge seemed infinitely more foreboding as he crossed it now. Horwell Bridge even more so.

Ama’s hoofs tapped rhythmically, a familiar, comforting cadence to the pounding in his heart. His skin felt cold, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Was he being watched? He didn’t hear the sound of the earth tearing under clawed metal feet, he didn’t hear the claps of thunder that followed the firing of lasers, he didn’t hear the ticking as the mechanical monsters prepared to destroy whatever was in their path.

His heart raced even faster. Ama nickered nervously, picking up on his energy, pausing at the edge of the bridge.

Central Hyrule stood before him.

It was hard to really see it with as dark as it was. The moon was crescent tonight, barely spilling any of its blessed light. Abel’s eyes were wide, desperate to take in every piece of information he possibly could. The wind blew innocently, bringing the scent of soil and water.

No flowers. No leaves. No trees. Dirt was carried in the breeze, loose, eroding, barren.

It was all barren.

Abel carefully bade Ama forward, and as her hooves crunched into the soil, he felt his body tense further.

What little light was available from the moon vanished, hidden behind clouds heavy laden with rain. Ama’s black hair made her practically disappear into the darkness, and thunder rumbled not too far away.

Abel urged his steed ahead, slowly and carefully. Thunder rumbled again.

Thunder. Thunder.

The sky burned.

The bells in the temple rang repeatedly, a warning and a petition, a prayer and a guide. It punctuated the screams, it harmonized the ticking of lasers as they charged and fired, shooting through the air with such intensity that it created miniature claps of thunder as the heat separated the air harshly before it returned together with a snap.

Abel’s breath caught in his throat.

The world around him was deafening.

There was so much noise, and his ears were ringing so much, he honestly couldn't tell what sound came from what source anymore. Was it a scream? Was it a guardian? Was that a child wailing or a gear grinding? Was that his heart pounding in his ears or was it a thunderclap from another beam firing?

Ama whinnied, moving in place anxiously.

Abel stared ahead, watching troops march together, some limping, others helping their comrades. Many had wagons and horses to help them.

He heard whirring. He heard gears. He heard claws, and ticking, and thunder.

Thunder rumbled again. The earth shook. Ama neighed, growing skittish, jostling him in his saddle, it was raining, when had it started raining, something was moving, something was moving—

Abel heard horse hooves galloping, he heard a battle cry, he saw mud splashing in the barren wasteland around him—

Bokoblin!

Abel gasped, coming to reality, spurring Ama into motion, and she ran ahead. He drew his sword, catching sight of the enemy, recognizing faintly the familiar motion of aiming a bow and arrow. He jerked his horse to the side as an arrow flew by his ear, and he redirected her to charge once more, stabbing the bokoblin. His blood was racing, his body soaked, his hands trembling—

His horse whinnied with panic as flames spread too close, licking at its hooves and his heels. He steered the mare around the flames as she almost bucked him off, and then the flames were abruptly disrupted by a clawed foot tearing into the earth and squelching them.

In the haze and smoke, Abel recognized the pink mechanical eye transfixed on him. He sucked in a sharp inhale, coughing harshly on the smoke in his lungs, and urged his mount to move.

Metal glinted. Lightning flashed, reflecting on a blank eye, a mirror to a past of fire and smoke.

Abel froze in his saddle. Ama ran harder, petrified, out of control.

The guardian was hot on his heels, charging its laser as he once again pushed the horse to run faster. His steed neighed in protest, her stamina draining out of her faster than it could replenish, and the guardian fired.

Go! Go, run!!!!

Abel pulled on the reins hard, making Ama neigh in protest as she tried to obey, as her hooves slipped, she lost her balance in such a sharp turn, and both horse and rider fell into the mud.

Thunder rumbled.

Thunder clapped as lasers fired.

It was pouring.

The sky was aflame as people screamed.

It was deafening it was deafening.

Movement stirred nearby, screams—screams of civilians—thunder thunder guardian fire, they were everywhere—

Abel whirled, sword at the ready, a snarl at his lips as Ama tried to right herself. His hilt made contact, slamming something, and he looked around with crazed, terrified eyes.

Where was it where was it—

Ama finally stood. Thunder rumbled again. Lightning flashed.

Lightning flashed. Shining a light. A light. On the barren wasteland. There was—there were—what was—

Blonde curls, stained with red. A figure, lying still in the mud. Green tunic smattered in brown, the only green as far as the eye could see—

Abel felt his heart stop.

This wasn’t—this wasn’t real this wasn’t real nononononono—

Abel ran, heart racing once more. The world shook as lighting struck again. The figure remained still on the ground.

“TILIETH!”

He collapsed into the mud, shaking her shaking her begging, pleading, goddess no please no—

The still fingers. The still feet. The still body. The paleness, the redness, the black and blue and—

“NO!”

Thunder roared. The rain was deafening. But nothing could outweigh the sobs, nothing could cover the screams, nothing could stave the panic as the former knight shook his wife over and over and over and over and over.

[trashyvanillabean]

👀

*looks left and right*

Ahem…

*inhales*

…Xilonen’s probably strong enough to benchpress you—

[nando161mando]

[blueskittlesart]

TOTK - Eternal (part 1)

part 2 here

[vamprisms]

lesbians enjoy pathetic male characters because we have an instinctive prey drive

[kanonbea]

get ursslf a machine that goes ''''kyaaaaa!!!!!!.' when they get their arm wrestled off them

[kokodrawings]

It's ok, Minato asked for permission first

[fwipination]

I think in response to Twitter, Tumblr should make it so that you can't open any other apps on your phone until you've seen at least 600 posts for the day.

[porcelainbirdss]

paper heart

summary: you thought he was just kind. everyone did. what you failed to discern, however, was the visage of something darker lurking underneath the man’s grinning face. such a pity, it was.

cw: fem!reader, yandere Phainon, mentions of death, descriptions of violence (not towards reader), grief, manipulation, stalking, obsessive and unhealthy behaviors, emotional dependency, hinted depression, open ending. ||wc: 13k

a sorrowful melody filled the air as your fingertips slowly dragged across white and black tiles. they were covered in a sheen layer of dust, probably because you abandoned your small hobby some time ago. you don’t know why your instincts told you to sit there, and play when you obviously should be doing something else — but they did. it was only logical, in a way — people upon meeting with peril often freeze. their reason fails them, and instead of acting rational, they begin to work their most favored instrument, for example.

once you reached the end of notations, tune abruptly stopping, you flipped the music sheet, and a very brief thought passed your disarrayed thoughts.

you needed to run.

it all began so long ago — the horrors, hidden below veils upon veils of primitive happiness and joy. all the dangers and pain, tucked away under the cloth depicting a face of your beloved (well, perhaps you should be using a past tense when referring to him in such an affectionate way).

you don’t know where the line between normalcy and insanity began to blur. where the borders separating an ordinary feeling and something much more unsettling crashed, becoming one. no matter how perceptive you were, it slipped past your notice.

maybe mulling over your demise was never the point — you could have been as well as doomed the second your eyes first met.

it has been thirteen months since the death of your mother.

a year and one month, then. you didn’t like counting the time in such a trivial way, though. a mere numer 'one' could never possibly depict the sorrow dragging your whole body down. numbers of a bigger scale were suitable — thirteen may be a large quantity. it surely was, considering the context of your current situation. thirteen months, so three hundred ninety six days filled with woe. enough to showcase all the seconds you spent on practically falling asleep within yourself.

your day to day life was the same, always following a routine you didn’t have the strength to change. it’s not like you were particularly crushed under the weight of your experiences, no, you just… got used to it. the silence. the dust gathering on the shelves. unused cups, and too many utensils in your drawers. abandoned music sheets, sitting obediently on your piano, opened in the middle — their melody never to be finished by the original musician.

it wasn’t well, nor good, and your existence seemed to lack in any rhythm — but it was bearable.

and, truth be told, you wholeheartedly believed it would continue to stay like so for the unforeseen future. except it didn’t.

as your shoes clacked over the cobblestone road, eyes trailing after all the cracks under your feet, you began to think about dinner. another feeble attempt at composing your life together, and it would probably end up in vain as any other — but hey, everything starts with something, and food was the most fundamental part of staying on your legs (at least in the physical sense).

the market spread widely before you, stalls upon stalls standing next to each other, filled up with various fruit and meat. people were yelling over the clamor, exchanging goods for currency. if that wasn’t the prime example of a beating heart, then you don���t know what is.

you stepped forwards, vision taking in your possible options. money was never a problem for you — except you took far too little this time, so perhaps it would be good to stick to something on the cheaper side. strong wing carried over the intense scent of peaches, instantly making your mouth water. huh, you hadn’t had them in a long time. they were always your favorite. maybe not the most suitable for dinner, but still satiating enough.

as you dragged your feet over to the stall, a group of children ran by your side, one of them accidentally knocking against your hip. they didn’t even turn to apologize, too absorbed within their fun. you could briefly discern the nursery rhyme they were singing, happily prancing around and skipping by multitudes of people.

"one for sorrow, two for mirth,"

you meekly greeted the vendor, gently grasping a singular peach within your fingers, and inspecting it with your keen gaze.

"three for a wedding, four for a birth,"

the colors were intense, orange and red seeping together into a flury of shades, creating appealing streaks. you almost smiled to yourself.

"five for silver, six for gold,"

once you pressed your joints, the fruit easily caved in. ah, on the other hand, perhaps it was overripe? considering how strongly it smelled, it was a possibility.

"seven for a secret ne’er to be told,"

you asked the seller for the cost — and seriously, was he a lunatic? who in their right mind would spend so much on peaches, especially when they were mere days away from practically rotting?

"eight for a wish, nine for a kiss,"

you scoffed under your breath, complaining about how unreasonable the price was. the man told you to take it or leave it.

"ten for a bird you must not miss,"

still, you kind of wanted those peaches — from what you deduced, no one else in the closest proximity was selling them. you either bid goodbye to all the money in your wallet, or…

"eleven for hope, twelve for health,"

with that, you offered to bargain. the vendor agreed. it of course didn’t go as you would have liked it to, and now you were getting irritated. soon your conversation changed into something resembling a barking match, with you yelling at the man and saying he was a scammer. he snarled back at you every time. people were staring. at some point you wanted to back out from the pitiful charade you caused, but your honor didn’t let you.

"thirteen beware of the devil himself!”

as you opened your mouth to spit another insult at the seller, a hand gently gripped your shoulder. you jolted up, startled. your head whipped towards the one who decided to interrupt you, ready to snap at them too — and you’d probably do so, if not for who that was.

a familiar face with that ever-present kind smile. one of the Chrysos Heirs. the fair, tousled locks and rather outstanding garments left no question within you — Lord Phainon. you swallowed thickly, eyebrows narrowing.

"my, i’m sorry. did i startle you, miss?" he immediately jumped to apologies, confusing you even further. "i just wanted to see if everything was alright with you two. of course, i didn’t mean to pry, however…" he chuckled, taking a small pause, "well. it seems there’s trouble?"

you simultaneously wanted to shake and nod your head. for whatever reason, you felt slightly stunted — his voice sounded nice. it reminded you of the way mourning doves chirp in the morning, all soothing and sweet. then, there was his smile, maybe capable of competing with the very sun hanging above your heads. a row of white teeth along with twins of blue crinkling in the corners. a picture of perfection. how come you never payed any attention to him?

upon your lack of reaction, a hand waved in front of your eyes. "…iss. miss? you still with me?"

you blinked twice, rapidly pulled out of your temporary stupor. oh. it would seem he was talking to you, and you remained unresponsive. what a way to make a fool out of yourself.

"ah, yeah, sorry." you forced out awkwardly, scratching the nape of your neck. "just got lost in thought."

at that, Phainon snickered. his attention returned to the vendor, and he pointed towards the peaches — cursed objects of your dismay. "alright! kind sir, i’d like to buy a few." he smiled politely at the man.

you observed him purchase your desired fruit with the slightest of disappointment, paying without any complaints or hesitation. then, he turned to you, and practically pushed the paper bag into your arms. "i’m— is that for me?" you stammered, eyes widening.

"of course." the corners of his lips lifted even further upwards, forming into a grin. "i just hope you don’t mind?"

how could you possibly mind? even if he felt like doing charity work out of pity, it still meant a lot to you. for quite some time, you hardly received any sort of kindness. perhaps that’s what you’ve lacked for all this time.

when you noticed some other people lining up behind you, you stepped to the side, Phainon following in tow. "i don’t mind. thank you, Lord—"

"let’s not use the honorifics, hm?" he chimed in before you could even finish your sentence, swaying his hand dismissively.

you nodded, a somewhat bashful smile forming on your face. you felt kind of perplexed by the whole exchange, but nevertheless, it was a nice change of pace. "fine with me. oh, by the way, my name’s—"

he cut in again. "[name], am i right?"

upon hearing that, you let out a clipped laugh. how did he even know? well, it’s not like you’re alienating yourself from the rest of citizens, but hey. Phainon was at least a few ranks above you, and from what you could discern, people of higher status rarely concerned themselves with identities of the commoners.

you itched to ask: how’d you know?, but held your tongue — that would be surely impolite. "yes, you got that right."

"well, it was nice to meet you, [name]." he said, tone remaining light and jovial, mouth still stretched into a grin. you wondered how is it possible his cheeks didn’t hurt from the constant strain. "enjoy your peaches!"

Phainon was halfway swiveling on his heel, ready to walk away — and you, upon some godforsaken impulse, gripped his wrist. he stopped in his tracks, turning to you with a quizzical expression.

"uh— maybe you’d like one?" you queried, hastily reaching into the bag, and pulling the fruit out. "i mean… you bought them for me, so it’s only fair."

his irises took your face in (maybe a bit too intently for your liking), and he looked seconds away from bursting into a triumphant laughter. for what reason, you honestly didn’t know. "sure, thank you." he nodded, grasping the peach from your palm.

you followed in tow, because — why not? you were hungry, and the sight of his teeth sinking into the tender flesh caused your stomach to rumble, reminding of its discomfort. "oh, my! these are great." you remarked casually, wondering whether you should be acting so easy-going with a Chrysos Heir. anyway, you’re not the one to blame, are you?

"they are." he affirmed, smiling when he took another bite. juice seeped down his hand, slipping under the sleeve, which caused him to let out a dismayed yelp.

you laughed at the sight. he laughed harder.

the sun shone brightly, and you didn’t even know him, but felt a sting of familiarity in your chest. Phainon’s strands of hair billowed straight in his face, tousled by the strong gusts of wind, and nothing seemed to matter at that moment. thoughts of any morose kind left your exhausted brain, leaving you with that blissful emptiness. there was only him, you, and those damned peaches.

after that, your friendship with Phainon unfortunately only grew in its size. to this day, you aren’t sure what tempted you to let him practically snake his way into your life. perhaps it was the fact you were lonely, and grief-shaken — upon your mother’s passing, none was the same, and everyone seemed to turn their backs at you. it hurt like hell, so any kind of company satiated you. well, Phainon wasn’t just any kind. he was incredibly sweet, and helpful, and sometimes you caught yourself thinking he was everything you needed and more.

at first, your meetings were coincidental (but from the retrospective, they probably weren’t). you were doing some shopping, and he just happened to stumble across you on the street. the man was sitting in that lovely garden, surrounded by prancing chimeras, and you’d accidentally cross ways. things were falling into place, and fate seemed to be tethering you both — so you only got closer, and closer.

the bond between you tightened with every passing month, until you found out it’s already been a year, and your cursed brain decided to bestow you with its worst gift. a crush. an infatuation, of sorts.

sharing your sorrows came easier, and Phainon was only more eager to hear you out. it placated the thunderstorm in your heart enough to let the gates down — you invited him in, completely willingly. you initiated the acts that would later prove to be your doom, and now you couldn’t even find a suitable excuse. after all, no one forced you to spend most of your free time with him. not a single person gripped you by the shoulders, shaking, and commanding you: stick with him, and ignore all the times when that borderline manic smile failed to reach his eyes.

you think you’ll regret not backing out when you still had the chance forever.

air in the antique bookstore was thick, making your lungs heavy as you accidentally inhaled another portion of dust, the little speckles seating themselves uncomfortably in your nostrils. you wanted to sneeze, however held the insistent urge back, mindful of every other patron — there weren’t many people here, but still, you’d rather not startle anyone.

you flipped to another page of that certain memoir which managed to catch your attention. the paper seemed fragile and yellowed, already damaged by years of sun exposure, and the spine was pretty much cracked in half. that didn’t matter, though — a thing bearing so many profound memories will remain beautiful, even if it was to be tossed into a fiery pit.

memoirs and biographies alike were always your favorite. you don’t know why, but they carried a certain sense of comfort — death was inevitable in human existence, but if you write your life down, you’ll stay alive in the minds of others (at least to some extent). books, unlike people, do not have a lifespan. they will not perish, unless someone burns or destroys them.

that was soothing. literature won’t leave, nor will it abandon you. it is definitive. it is attested. it is a certainty which cannot be guaranteed in every case. memories will not slip you away, as long as you tuck them onto a piece of paper — be it a simple notebook, or a diary. human brain is unable of perceiving the recollections properly after some amount of time — it will mix everything up, having you debate whether it truly happened or not. books weren’t like that. they won’t fail you nor bend the reality.

you turned to another page when a doorbell rang through the space, the sound of silent greeting gracing your ears. somebody new came in. you decided to ignore them for now, intently reading through the sentences to discern if this specific lecture was genuinely up to your taste (because you didn’t feel like spending another sum of money on something you’ll drop sooner than later).

and as you were busying yourself with that, a pair of palms suddenly obscured your vision — you’d probably jump up in fright if not for the fact your nervous system was already used to such endeavors. you giggled meekly under your breath, gently shutting the book.

"guess who." rang the sing-song voice, so familiar and saccharine.

you rolled your eyes, a weak smile tugging the corners of your lips upwards. "hm, i’m not sure. who could it be?" you huffed, swiftly tugging the hands away from your face, and turning to see who decided on surprising you.

obviously, it was no revelation when your irises locked with the radiant pools of blue, already grinning at you so widely. or perhaps it was? you honestly didn’t expect to see Phainon here out of all places — sure, judging people by a stereotypical lens was wrong, but you would have never thought he took any interest in literature.

Phainon pouted at your words, the corners of his lips curling downwards in a pitiful expression. he honestly reminded you of a kicked puppy. "ah, [name], i’m so hurt. it’s me, obviously!" the man whined, one of his arms attempting to sneak around your shoulders. you eluded the touch.

"well, hello there." you sighed, wry amusement lacing your tone. then, you thought to ask: "what are you doing here?"

a silly question it was, because obviously he didn’t visit an antique bookstore to pick strawberries.

your friend hummed under his breath, eyes briefly flickering over the books, finally locking on the one you were holding. "i like reading from time to time. by the way, is that another memoir?" he inquired innocently.

you nodded. “yeah. why?"

"nothing, nothing." he waved his hand dismissively, a chuckle slipping past his lips. "you just read so much of them. don’t you ever get bored?"

your mouth opened to grant him with a response, but then your brain lagged. a very silent, practically non-existent alarm rang in the back of your mind, causing you to pause. when did you ever tell him about your fondness for this specific genre? well, it’s not like you were actively trying to keep it a secret, but still. you both rarely conversed about such things, especially your reading hobby.

anyway, you’re probably acting irrational right now. you must have told him before, and it simply escaped your memory.

you cleared your throat, putting the book back on the shelf. for whatever reason, you didn’t feel like purchasing it anymore. "no, not really. they’re interesting." you answered without much commitment.

Phainon gave a noise of acknowledgment, his smile growing into a grin. "is that so? well actually, i like them too."

"i have plenty at my house." you said, irises avoiding his face. the expression he donned was practically blinding. "if you want to, i can lend you some."

the fact he also enjoyed memoirs didn’t seem particularly believable to you, but you decided to indulge him nonetheless. after all, he was your friend. your only one.

(not to mention you may have been crushing on him).

"that would be nice!” he replied instantly, and you thought if you squinted enough, you’d manage to spot the tail wagging behind him excitedly. "do you have the time?"

"as in… right now?" you queried, but before you even affirmed, Phainon was already dragging you out of the store. you didn’t protest. whenever you did, saying something that didn’t especially please the man, the look on his face always fell so somberly. you hated that sight.

with that, the both of you went to your home. to be fair, you visited him more often than he actually visited you — so as you opened the door, you immediately began apologizing about the mess (which wasn’t overly prominent, but a lot of dust gather around, and you didn’t have the strength to clean up).

"again, sorry. i just didn’t really have the time to tidy recently.” you let the white lie easily slip off of your tongue, slowly putting your shoes away.

Phainon looked at you as if you were crazy. "[name], i already told you i don’t mind. my place isn’t the most perfect either." he laughed merrily, patting your back.

you reciprocated his smile, internally grateful for how understanding the man was. his gaze was always relentlessly kind (spare for the times when he stared blankly into the distance, blue irises completely dull), and never once you thought he appeared anyhow judgmental.

"well, anyway. about the books…" you began, stepping closer to the shelf in your living room, stuffed to the brim with lectures. "anything specific you’d like to read about?" you asked, knowing the memoirs spread across a rather wide range of topics.

"your favorite ones." Phainon chimed, following in tow.

you huffed out a hushed chuckle, quickly taking out at least five of your beloved titles. he was really sweet if he wanted to read your favorites, and it made your heart clench happily. "here you go." you handed him the books, carefully balancing them on the man’s palms.

you wholeheartedly believed he’d at least check out their backs, interested in the contents — but his intense gaze remained glued to yours. now that you think about it, this occurrence was somewhat common. one time you went to a restaurant, and Phainon, instead of seeing what the menu had to offer, continued to stare at you with a dumb grin. he ended up ordering the same dish as you. or, for example, when you visited him, and asked whether he could pour you some juice — that day was beyond scorching hot, so you were parched. Phainon immediately agreed, but as he was filling up your glass, he seemed to get distracted. the juice overflowed, spilling all across his lap, and he only stopped when you yelled at him.

the man either loved daydreaming, or analyzing your face contours in depth. you surely hoped it wasn’t the latter option (not because you’d mind — it simply made you feel overly exposed).

"don’t hurry with reading them all." you offered him a wry smile, receiving a nod of understanding in return. "anyway, maybe you’d like some tea?”

Phainon sat by the table, placing the books on its surface. "sure, why not." he replied, lazily opening one of them, and skimming through the pages without actually processing the words. if not for the fact his leg was bouncing, you’d think he was the perfect picture of peace now — light gently illuminating the galant features, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

when he found you staring (even though you just internally berated him for doing the same thing), he sent you a knowing smile, eyebrows arching upwards. you cleared your throat awkwardly, hastily disappearing into the kitchen without a further comment.

once the tea was done, you settled it on the table, seating yourself as well. to no surprise, Phainon was distracted again, vision focused on your piano standing under one of the windows. it has seen better days — previously taken care of, its jet-black surface shone, reflecting all the light. now it was a mere imitation of its earlier glory, covered in dust and wilted petals of that flower you were too exhausted to water, and too unmotivated to throw away.

"something caught your eye?" you questioned, taking a small sip of the herbal drink.

he turned to face you, shrugging. "i was just wondering if you ever play this piano. i visited you multiple times, and it always stands…" he paused, as if weighting the words, "abandoned."

that much was true. you rarely concerned yourself with your hobby — after the passing of your mother, nothing seemed to draw your interest anymore. she was the one who taught you how to play, and now she was gone. no longer were the duets, or mirthful tunes resonating early in the morning.

she was much more talented and skilled than you could ever be, winning award after award. still, you cherished your shared passion for music — you learnt a lot, embedding the notes deep inside your mind. and she was proud. even if you failed, your mother would always cheer you on, patiently explaining what you could fix. life was good, back then.

but it was no more.

"i don’t play." you replied, voice a bit sterner than you’d like it to be.

Phainon didn’t seem anyhow deterred by your tone, sending you an encouraging smile. "really? that’s a pity. i’d love to hear you."

it wasn’t hard to deduce what he was insinuating. even though you swore to never touch that instrument again, your resolve chipped off at his words. "well… i suppose i could try for you."

your friend’s expression melted into a subtle triumph. "great!" he clasped his hands together, shifting on the chair to watch as you got up from your place, seating yourself by the piano.

you ran your palm over the dust and withered petals, shoving everything on the ground. you’ll swipe it later. then, you took a breath, attempting to recall anything familiar — it would seem you got rusty, because as you flipped through the music sheets, only one melody came to mind. why’re you so worried, anyway? you’re not here to impress Phainon (even if you’d like to, terribly).

with that, you positioned your fingertips on the tiles, shoulders tense from how his insistent gaze kept boring into your back. you winced upon the first sound, trying to remember how to play, and how to push back the memories haunting your sorrow-worn brain.

after a while of uncertainty, you finally fell into the right rhythm, smiling dimly at the forlorn tune. it was slow, and calm. all the world surrounding you seemed to cease in its existence, and now it was only you, and the piano. no Phainon, no birds flying outside of the window, no overcast skies, no memories of your late mother.

with each press on the tile, you felt as if you were discovering pieces of yourself anew, like a sacred ritual — playing made you happy. it truly did. how were you able of forgetting about such a simple fact?

as you regained the confidence, you worked your joints with more fervor. everything was going well, until two palms fell onto your shoulders, startling you.

a strained, prolonged sound filled the air as you accidentally hit the tiles, messing up the melody. your head quickly whipped towards Phainon, who was now looking at you with a surprised expression painted on his face. when did he even come up here? you hardly heard any footfall.

"i’m so sorry, did i scare you?” he chuckled, obviously without any remorse.

you sighed, fingers reaching over to touch his hands. "a little."

a smirk stretched his lips upwards as he leaned a bit closer, twins of blue flickering between your form and the instrument. "i didn’t mean to." he responded coyly, no matter if you didn’t sense any guilt coming from him. well, it’s not like you’d hold a grudge for giving you a brief spook. "i just wanted to look from up close. you played so beautifully."

you felt his joints interlock around yours, and now you were slightly hot, something summery itching at your cheeks. Phainon was way too near, and the worst part is — you wished to render the distance completely.

he appeared so pretty from up close. you could discern the faint dimples in his cheeks as he smiled at you tenderly, and how light coming from the window illuminated his radiant irises. if you were able to, you’d immediately snap a picture with your own eyes, because there was no way any sort of lens could ever truly mirror his prepossessing features.

"i can teach you." you blurted out on impulse, wanting to sink into the chair from embarrassment at your silly proposal.

you expected Phainon to laugh — except he didn’t. his face pulled even closer, effectively knocking the air out from your lungs. assuming your heart had legs of it own, it surely would bolt straight out of your throat.

"i’d like that." he murmured.

your breath hitched, and then his lips brushed against yours. you barely stopped yourself from digging your nails into his hands. upon some sprout of boldness, you moved to close your mouths together — but Phainon inched away. that caused your mind to lag, blinking twice at him in confusion — did you even kiss? it was so brief, and chaste in its nature. more like just… pressing your lips against each other, as if to exchange oxygen.

his palms left your shoulders, and he straightened out, stepping back. your thoughts spurred, wondering whether you did something wrong, or if you offended him — however, there was no trace of dismay on the man’s face. he kept smiling sweetly at you, slowly gathering the memoirs into his arms like nothing ever happened.

"well, teach, can i see you tomorrow for a quick lesson?" he asked amusedly, eyebrows arching upwards.

no matter how perplexed you felt, you still forced the corners of your lips to stretch. "s-sure." you stammered out, fingers clenching around the material of your attire.

perhaps you imagined it, after all.

with that, time continued to pass, and for whatever reason you never again touched upon the topic of that barely-kiss. you remember being frustrated then, for pretty obvious reasons. still, Phainon didn’t seem to be in need of talking about that, so you kept silent.

now, from the perspective of time, it might have actually saved you from a fate much worse than what you had presented before you at this moment. your chance to escape Okhema remains unshaken, but what if you pushed Phainon earlier on? surely, the man’s fangs would clench around your neck, refusing to let you go.

he continued to visit you after that, and you taught him how to play. it was no revelation when he grasped the concept rather quickly — he seemed to be some kind of an omnibus, catching on everything naturally.

those shared moments were so precious to you, back then. when Phainon became confident in his somewhat stable skills, you both would sit by the piano, playing a duet. your sides touched as you slowly pressed on the tiles, sometimes even humming along to the tune. whenever one of you messed up, you’d laugh, bickering quietly.

you were enjoying yourself — more than you probably should. all the red flags and alarming behaviors slipped past your notice, and you genuinely thought you regained a long-lost part of yourself.

the dust was now gone from your home, wilted plants and trash thrown away. the piano shone like it used to, and the sun seemed to peek out from behind the clouds more often. your fridge was never empty, because Phainon always brought you some fresh food, and the bed in which you could lie for hours on end didn’t appear as alluring.

it’s not that you miraculously recovered from the grief and burdens of your doleful mind, however, it was progress. the heart remained heavy still — but the man’s fingers curled under its beating form, lifting it up. it was easier to function with him.

at some point, you thought a life without Phainon would be impossible.

everything was going well, and you no longer were carrying so much sorrow. previously, your brain practically drowned into a state of paranoia — every single person appeared as if they wanted to harm or betray you in some way. you scowled at the passersby, a bitter frown painted across your face. but now it was gone. all the wariness and disdain and chagrin lulled into something softer, more amiable.

alas, you should have kept it with you.

you stirred awake, pressing your eyelids shut at the dim light of early morning uncomfortably irritating your eyes. you don’t know why, but your stomach churned, and you felt unsettled by the thought that something was not right.

your room was way too cold. of course, it was chilly in the mornings, but this? this was beyond normalcy. you finally looked around the space, trying to control your trembling limbs. nothing was amiss. every single thing lied in its destined place, all of the windows closed.

still, the temperature made you wonder. with an uneasy feeling, you slowly dragged yourself off the bed, treading downstairs to check it out as well.

it’s a good thing you didn’t go back to sleep, because the sight there made you gasp out loud. your doors were opened — not widely, just slightly ajar — but they were, and it made your guts clench.

under any other circumstances, you would have blamed it on your forgetfulness, however right now that was simply impossible. you never once forgot to close the door, always making sure at least two times the locks were secure and tightly shut.

when you were little, you and your mother fell victim to a robbery — your whole home got practically destroyed, every single furniture toppled over once the thieves were satisfied with their search for any valuables. ever since then, your mother got paranoid about stuff like that. she instilled utmost awareness in you, and so, you adapted. the habit stuck with you to this day, and you took extra precautions just to make sure everything was locked.

wind flew through the gap, lapping at your bare ankles with its frigid tongue. someone broke into your house — and the worst part is, you don’t know whether that person was still inside.

untamed panic attempted to squeeze your heart, but you steeled your resolve, taking a deep breath. no, you mustn’t fall into a hole of fright. your eyes quickly jumped across the space of your living room, scanning everything up and down — nothing.

you took a step forward, jumping up at the low creak your floor made. you cursed under your breath, placing a shaky palm over your pounding chest. you tentatively dragged your feet over to the middle of the room, trying to gather your disarrayed thoughts. as you somehow managed to calm your nervous system down, you hastily turned back for your teleslate, gripping it in your hand as if your life depended on it.

you glanced around yourself precariously, too afraid of even checking out other rooms — after all, if that intruder were there, what would you do? you couldn’t fight. one hit from behind, and you’d be gone.

as carefully as possible, you started walking down the stairs, already dialing a familiar number. you needed him — he was way more capable than you. you were absolutely sure if that person who broke into your house would see him, they’d pass out.

you stood frozen on the cold floorboards, counting down the signals. one. two. three—

"hello, [name]?" resonated the slightly dazed voice, still half-asleep. you must have woken him up.

"Phainon," you began, trying to maintain your tone stable, "can you come to my place?"

you heard a noise of something on the other side, muffled and static. "you mean… as in right now?"

"yes, right now. i know it’s barely four in the morning, but—"

a loud thud on the window cut in the middle of your sentence, causing you to practically shriek in horror. it was a bird — you saw it so clearly, its small silhouette bumping against the glass — and yet, you bolted out of your house as if you were hunted by a pack of fiends.

you almost tripped over your own legs, bare feet falling onto the cold grass, freshly covered in dew. you heard Phainon’s voice calling from your teleslate, asking if you were alright, so you pressed it back to your ear.

"what in the hell happened, [name]?" he asked, probably for the fifth time now.

you took a shaky breath, running a palm over your face. "nothing, i just— just please, come here. i think…" you stammered, clumsily stumbling over your words in haze of trepidation, "i think someone broke into my house."

"wh—" the man began, immediately abandoning his track of thought, "alright. okay, i’ll be there. where are you now?"

you warily looked around, taking in the dimmed sight of your surroundings — the sky was still somewhat dark, periwinkle shyly peeking through the grayish firmament. "in my garden."

Phainon affirmed he’ll come as soon as possible, and you hung up, anxiously pacing around the patch of grass. you were torn between staying outside, and coming back home — but ultimately decided to remain in place.

you fidgeted with your fingers, eyes flickering to the door you forgot to even close as you sprinted out. you mulled over all the dark scenarios, clenching your hands into fists, imagining what you’d do if that intruder were to suddenly emerge, and attack you. their motives surely were odd — nothing was missing, your furniture unmoved, all the possibly valuable things untouched. it was different from what you had experienced as a young girl. if not for the money, then…

the grim realization struck you, and you breathed meekly, feeling your knees get wobblier. how is it you came out of this completely unscathed? as you continued to drown in morose reveries, you heard the fast footfall, head whipping to see who was coming your way.

Phainon, in all of his glory — ivory locks tousled in ever single possible direction, still donning his sleepwear and combat shoes that totally didn’t match. perhaps under different circumstances, you would laugh at the sight.

"[name]." he called, swiftly rendering the distance between you. his facial expression seemed somewhat distraught, but he didn’t take his sword with him, which was… well, somewhat weird. maybe he simply forgot it.

you stepped towards him, grabbing his palms into yours. "thank gods you’re here…" you muttered, feeling at his joints tensing. "why don’t you have a weapon? what if— what if that intruder is still—"

"everything is going to be just fine, alright?" he responded, interrupting your waterfall of hardly-coherent words. "i’ll go search through your place. you should, uh… perhaps stick to me."

you nodded eagerly, sighing with relief at the security Phainon’s presence brought you. with that, you trailed after the man, glued to his hip like a stray animal begging for a scrap of meat.

both of you carefully checked out every single corner of your house, and the more you looked, the more unsettled you became. the thief was not there, but a few things were missing. first of all — your pens. as you stepped into the study, you briefly noticed the disarray on your desk, soon finding out half of your utensils were gone. then, there was that handkerchief you spent so much time embroidering with intricate floral patterns — also no sight of it.

the disappearances were so inconspicuous, it terrified you way more than the vision of losing your jewelry or money. what person casually decides to break in, only to steal somebody’s pens and a piece of cloth? those things were not valuable whatsoever — the fact that this intruder took them was beyond off.

when you pointed it out, Phainon’s eyebrows narrowed with concern — and then his expression shifted into almost dismissal. he said not to worry, after all none of your actually precious stuff was gone, and that must be a good sign, no?

you were consternated at his suddenly carefree attitude, but didn’t point it out. since your friend told you everything was fine, then who were you to undermine his words? certainly, he knew better than you — even if something deep in your gut told you otherwise.

you pushed back the feelings of unease and ambivalent emotions, soon changing the locks and making sure all of your windows were secure. this accident has shaken you, and now your sleep was restless — but life goes on, and Phainon promised he’d never let any harm come your way, so at least you had an ounce of comfort to cling to.

you don’t know why you were so blind, back then. the signs were there for all of this time — you simply decided to turn a blind eye on them.

perhaps it was because you repressed the grief deep inside, but it still dragged you down. silently, innocently. it resurfaced only when you were alone, staring pointlessly at your own feet or a half-empty cup of water. you began to fear it, and so, you tethered yourself to the source of your consolation.

it has been twenty six months since your mother’s death, and thirteen months since your "friendship" with Phainon first bloomed. a number big enough to show the amount of conflict brewing within your heart — torn between everything your instincts were telling you, and ignoring them.

sometimes you wondered: if you kept your curiosity at bay, would anything ever resurface? would the ugly things finally appear, seated in your lap like an obedient lamb? he was an intelligent man, so perhaps not.

anyway, there’s no use mourning over spilled milk.

Phainon, being one of the Chrysos Heirs, was often sent out on missions of various kind. they never took him too long — he always came back in time, maybe a bit battered, but still in one piece. today, however, seemed to be different.

everything started out smoothly — you knew he was out of town, so you arranged to meet with one of your newly-formed friend. you got ready, actually putting effort in how you looked, and waited patiently for the hour of your little get-together to finally arrive.

when your teleslate vibrated next to your thigh, you believed it was your friend, letting you know to come out now — so once your eyes met with Phainon’s vague message, you blinked in surprise.

he asked you to come to the infirmary, only stating that he wanted to see you. naturally, you texted back — did something happen? — but the silence that followed was maddening. an utterly unreasonable flood of worry surged through your mind, each passing second stirring it into a thunderstorm. without wasting another moment, you grabbed your bag and hurried out.

by the time you arrived, every nerve in your body felt like it was set in flames. stress relentlessly gnawed at your thoughts, and a thousand of dark scenarios bloomed intrusively in your imagination. you barely managed to ask one of the nurses where he was, and she responded with a door numer — it already managed to dissolve in your thoughts. you walked upstairs, heart pounding with a single morose question: was Phainon truly in such a state that he’d ask for you? gods, you hoped he was just being dramatic.

you shoved the door open and exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. there he was — alive, upright, and breathing. he sat on the bed with a slight recline, supported by a multitude of pillows, his gaze fixed on something outside the window. when he heard you come in, he turned, expression almost instantly shifting into a cheerful smile.

"[name], you came." he hummed happily, briefly running his fingers through the fair locks, maybe a bit self-conscious by how messy they were.

Phainon’s left cheek was covered by a piece of gauze, and you managed to spot a few bandages sticking from under his loose robes — but fortunately, nothing else caught your attention. he was all well, and now you were wondering why did he sent you such an ominous message in the first place. maybe he simply wanted to mess with you.

you nodded, rendering the space between you two. "of course i did." you spoke meekly, deciding to seat yourself on the small chair, standing just right next to the bed. "anyway, are you… okay?"

the blue irises studied you for good, prolonged three seconds before he thought answer. "could have been worse. accidents happen from time to time, even to me." he chuckled, a cough ripping from his chest abruptly.

you winced, fiddling with your fingers. you did not know what to do. "why don’t you lie down?" you asked, sending him a wry smile. comforting others was never your strongest forte, and now it was evidently showing.

he obediently took up on your offer, the corners of his lips remaining lifted. "[name], don’t frown so much. it’s not like i’m dying, or something."

you laughed at that comment, and he laughed along. whenever you as much as voiced any sound of joy, he always followed suit — at first it wasn’t very noticeable to you, but after some time, you recognized it as a habit of sorts. an unconditioned reflex.

"sorry. i didn’t mean to, i just…" you trailed off, eyes falling to your lap.

a short beat of silence passed between you before Phainon spoke again. "you look especially pretty today. any occasion?" he mused, a teasing lilt to his voice.

at that, you almost choked on your own spit. your relationship with the man was… well, somewhat questionable — but whenever he complimented you in such a straightforward way, you always felt as if somebody smacked you across the face with an electric wire.

you cleared your throat, trying to fight off the blush steadily creeping onto your cheeks. "maybe? i’m not sure. i was supposed to meet up with my friend today." you explained.

Phainon’s smile widened, and you didn’t fail to spot how the corner of his lips twitched. "sounds great."

you nodded, unsure of what to reply with. sometimes he responded with such vague sentences, it was hard to even come up with an answer. still, you forced your mind to muster up anything to keep the conversation going.

you talked for quite a while now, and you definitely lost the track of time — the sky darkened slightly, and you continued to ignore the buzzing of your teleslate. whenever you reached into your bag, your friend always began asking you some barely sensible questions, demanding your attention to stay focused solely on him.

you indulged him, naturally, but when you heard the sound of a ringtone, you could no longer pretend. what you were doing was hardly polite — looking at the hour, you were already fifteen minutes late to your meeting. even if Phainon was battered, he surely would understand, right? after all, he is the prime example of kindness, constantly gracing everyone with that cordial smile of his.

with a sigh, you grasped the device, ready to pick up. "sorry, i really have to—"

before your fingertip managed to even do as much as graze the teleslate’s screen, a hand suddenly locked around your wrist. you let out a mixture of surprise and confusion from your throat, vision returning to Phainon. he was smiling — alas, it didn’t encompass his eyes anymore. the man’s grip wasn’t hard, but it caused you to accidentally drop your teleslate, the thing slipping from your palm and hitting the ground with a clatter. it was still ringing a merry tune, so notorious and loud.

you swallowed, consternation painting itself across your face. "hey, what are—"

a vivid picture of sudden change grew in front of you, dull irises snapping back into their lively forms — he hastily let go of your limb, retracting his hand. did Phainon suffer some head trauma while he was away on a mission? he never once acted so erratically before, so you wouldn’t be surprised to find out his brain was in a concussed state.

"sorry. is your teleslate alright?" he spoke calmly, easing back into the stack of pillows.

you bend down to pick it up, briefly inspecting it. "yes, it is." you nodded, eyes avoiding him. when you glanced at the screen, you saw at least ten delivered messages, waiting for you to read. you felt guilty.

"anyway," he started, that lighthearted lace returning to his tone, "who were you supposed to meet up with?"

you sighed at the innocent question, turning the device off. "Phaoriseus. you remember him, don’t you?"

to be completely honest, you expected another burst of bitterness from your friend (and you wouldn’t blame him for it) — so it was a surprise when Phainon gave a hum of understanding, still smiling at you without a single waver. "i do remember him."

(you didn’t spot how terribly hard his fingers curled around the covers, nor the tight clench of his jaws).

"so, uhh, i guess i should…" you began, wondering why were you feeling so unsure, "i should go now. he’ll get mad if i just ditch him like that."

Phainon’s expression remained frozen for a good second — but soon the blank page of his face twisted into a pitiful frown, eyebrows knitting together. "really? but you just got there!" he protested, and you thought he looked like a mistreated dog. injured face, stitches, locks tousled messily — and those big eyes, practically begging.

he was not right. you didn’t just get there. it has been two hours since you stepped into infirmary, and perhaps it would be better to go now — but Phainon had this irresistible ability of tugging on your poor heartstrings. you felt torn, and when your teleslate began ringing again, you knew it was the high time you finally decide.

and the worst part is — it came so easily to you. just like that. without much hesitancy, you turned on the silent mode, tossing the thing back into your bag.

sure, you wanted to maintain friendships, and whatnot — but the man lying now in front of you was simply more important. you chuckled dryly under your breath, wondering how could you ever possibly leave his side — and when he heard the sound coming from your mouth, he laughed along. sweetly, like pure saccharine or sugarcoated apples.

"so you’ll stay, i presume?" he inquired, fingertips reaching over to yours. you squeezed his hand immediately, smiling at the warmth of his joints.

"of course i’ll stay." you affirmed, all remnants of internal conflict seeping away. it was good this way. you didn’t need much in life — as long as you had Phainon, everything would be just fine.

you could mock your past self for remaining so oblivious, but it would lack in any sense anyway. it’s not as if berating yourself for putting trust in somebody else could fix the old mistakes — none can undo the past.

now that you think about it, Phainon always was… somewhat quirky. beloved by everyone, cherished and praised highly in the general community of Okhema, he stayed as a picture-perfect golden boy. no one would ever suspect there was something more to him — not even you, at least back then.

however, sometimes his usually radiant eyes lost their glow, boring pointedly into the distance with dullness you couldn’t put your finger on, or discern where it was coming from. it was eerie in a way, seeing how the very life seemed to practically disappear from him — but you never thought to judge him. you understood better than anyone else that a human’s existence is filled with various hardships and grief. maybe Phainon experienced something akin to your loss, and simply attempted to smother the sorrow instead of letting it dissolve naturally.

then, there were his mood swings. they weren’t overly prominent, but it was quite apparent the emotions within him were in a constant state of swirl. for example, how quickly and rapidly he could burst into laughter at something mildly funny you said — you always wondered whether he seriously found your dry jokes so amusing.

not to mention, you perceived Phainon as someone relentlessly kind, but he just had that odd habit of glaring at whoever was talking to you. no matter if you were acquainted with them, or not — he’d stand a little behind you, eyebrows narrowing together lowly. when you caught him scowling like so, his look always shifted into a docile smile, innocently asking what was wrong — as if he never did anything in the first place. you let that slide, too.

perhaps this was not a very obvious sign, but from time to time, you noticed the slip-ups in his masterfully crafted masks. well, maybe not masterfully, because Phainon wasn’t all that great at controlling his facial expressions — but the fact he could hold them up with such a hell in his mind remained impressive. you stated something against his wishes — his eyebrow twitched. you did specifically what he told you not to do — his lower eyelid quivered, as if he was seconds away from losing it.

and finally, the vague responses Phainon offered you. previously, you had no clue why he got so mopey sometimes, but now you know it stemmed from pure, barely contained jealousy. the short "okay-s" and "fine-s" often sounded as if he practically forced them out. almost like there was something in his throat — obscuring the man’s windpipe, refusing him from mustering up anything more.

earlier on, when you were still so blissfully oblivious, you could live with that. you could swallow down all the doubts and questions, cherishing the company of your beloved friend — or something more. you ignored all the cracks, and wavers, pretending not to see the sharp eyes of a predator lurking from underneath sheep’s clothing.

you were so hung-up on the vision of remaining by Phainon’s side, you ignored the warnings — not only originating from your own intuition, but other’s as well.

the weather seemed a bit unstable today — you agreed to come out on a walk with Phainon, bumping into Mydei along the way, and dragging him with you too — and the sun shone brightly from one part of the sky, while the other remained darkened by the rain clouds. it was a little unsettling, watching as the gloom spread relentlessly fast towards your way.

still, you couldn’t exactly complain. you were having fun with both of the men, giggling under your breath as they bickered over the dumbest things. you already had to work as a mediator, and a judge — when their debates remained unsolved, they instantly turned towards you, demanding you decide which one of them was right.

and as you strolled through the main square, your eyes met with an ice cream stall. the temperature was quite hot, so you offered to buy some — Phainon agreed with you, saying that he can go wait in the line, since it was pretty long. you sent him a grateful nod, hiding with Mydei in the shade meanwhile he had to stand in the scorching sun, already appearing somewhat dazed by the hotness.

you leaned on the cool pillar, sighing with relief. the man next to you followed suit, glancing at you with the corner of his piercingly sharp iris. "[name], i have to ask you about something." he began, perhaps a bit tentatively.

to hear him speak up first was a slight surprise, especially since you weren’t particularly close, nor did Mydei seem to be overly social. still, you didn’t point it out — it’s not like it was a bad thing he attempted to strike up a conversation with you.

"go ahead." you sent him an encouraging smile, quickly reaching to wipe the sweat off of your brow. the high temperature was seriously getting to you — any longer in the sun, and you’d probably faint.

he cleared his throat, letting out a prolonged sigh. "what do you think of Phainon?” he questioned, the tone of his voice more gravely than usual.

confused, you blinked twice, mulling over his words. what’s that supposed to mean? "well, i think he’s a… good person. i enjoy his company.” you replied, wondering if that’s the answer Mydei was looking for.

the man shook his head, eyebrows narrowing together. "is that all? don’t you think he’s been acting off?"

the more he talked, the more perplexed you got. "what?"

Mydei clicked his tongue in irritation, probably barely holding back a scoff at your obliviousness. "[name], i’m sure you are more intelligent than you let on. don’t tell me you can’t see how he looks at you?"

a nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you scratched the nape of your neck. where was he even going with all this? "sorry, are you—" you took a pause, weighting your words, "are you insinuating Phainon has a crush on me?"

this of course wouldn’t be any sort of revelation, considering the things you both have done before, however hearing it from somebody else’s mouth was certainly weird.

he huffed out a humorless chuckle, leaning in a bit closer, as if his sentence was some kind of top-secret. "more than just infatuation. there’s… there’s something uncanny to his gaze." Mydei murmured with a hint of cautiousness in his voice. "i really hate to talk of him in such a way, but i know him longer than you, and—"

your brain almost — almost connected all the circumstances and dots you were pushing back for a long time already, living in denial — but then a familiar voice caused you both to jump back, straightening out.

"i’m back!" you turned to look at Phainon who held up three cones, a triumphant grin stretching his lips upwards. "now, what were the two of you talking about, hm?" he laughed inconspicuously, handing out the ice cream.

Mydei sent you a glare so stern, you’d never dream of admitting the truth. "just… discussing our favorite chimeras." you forced out, making up some hardly-authentic excuse on the spot. you saw the blonde man cringe at your dumb lie.

Phainon’s eyebrows lifted, and he nodded slowly, as if silently messaging he didn’t believe a single word. "is that so? well, Mydei was frowning so much i thought you were conversing about the very death." he joked lightheartedly, licking at the already dripping ice cream.

"it doesn’t matter, Deliverer. [name]’s telling the truth." he retorted, and you winced when he took a formidable bite out of the cold food.

you observed them exchange heated looks, but neither said anything further. with that, you took a small step back, hunching your shoulders inwards as you slowly licked on the ice cream — for whatever reason, you lost your appetite.

funnily enough, no matter how ominous Mydei’s words were, you soon forgot them. an awful decision on your side, but hey — at least you’re aware now that he remained completely truthful, then. you could be almost grateful at his high perception, though it didn’t help much at that time.

you were never close with the crown prince of Kremnos — he always seemed a bit distant, and detached from the rest. the only reason you had any contact with him was because of Phainon. perhaps that’s the reason why his warning dissipated so quickly from your mind — assuming you were better friends, you’d surely take everything he told you under consideration.

as you slowly reached towards the end of your favored piece, fingers falling rhythmically on the tiles, you began to think you should have listened. you should have taken it all to heart, ridding yourself of the blindness, and accepting the truth.

alas, you didn’t do so, and the longer you sit by the piano, playing and mulling over events of the past year, the more evident your demise starts to appear. every single sound resonates like the oh-so familiar footsteps, and singing of the night birds outside reminds you of his voice.

maybe he’s standing right behind you, and you just don’t know it yet. a silly, paranoid vision that was — you made sure to lock the doors, barricading them with additional furniture. you’d certainly hear it, if he were to force his way inside — but still, you feared to turn your head.

after all, when it came to Phainon, your cognitive functions always seemed a bit faulty.

the storm season began, and you shining with utter intelligence, forgot to take your umbrella. again. you swear, at this point you’ll have to write it on your forehead in big, bold letters — remember about the rain!, or something of the sort.

fortunately or unfortunately, you were close to Phainon’s place, so you quickly ran to his door, almost slipping on the mud. with a huff of exasperation, you knocked energetically, hoping he was home. your limbs were trembling from the cold, and clothes stuck uncomfortably to your frame, encompassing you in their heavy wetness. you barely stopped the chattering of your teeth.

after a few seconds, the man finally opened the door, obviously taken aback to see you. "oh, [name]!" he called out in surprise, immediately ushering you inside with a kind smile.

once he shut the entrance, you sighed in relief, drinking in the tranquil silence. loud rainfall was no more, muffed out by the walls surrounding you — and the air definitely got warmer, a soothing balm to your shaky joints. then, you turned to look at Phainon.

"i got caught up in the rain." you stated the obvious, a humorous snicker slipping past your lips as you quickly shook off the water-filled shoes.

your friend’s expression turned fond, and he cocked one eyebrow up at you. "really? i never would have noticed." he chuckled, reaching for your soaked hair — he raked his fingers through the strands, and you swatted his teasing touch away.

"anyway, i’m cold and i want something to drink." you stated, hurriedly dragging your feet towards the living room. Phainon followed in your tracks, just a few steps behind.

you sat on the leather couch, barely containing the shaky breath threatening to escape you. he stood in front of you, clasping his hands. "alright, how about this— self-service today, and while you’re preparing yourself tea, i’ll run you a bath." he offered, before quickly adding: "oh, and maybe i’ll find some fitting garments for you…"

the vision of a hot bath and dry clothes was better than ever — you nodded earnestly, jumping up from the couch like a wind-up toy. "sounds good. thank you, Phainon." you smiled, grateful for such a considerate companion. whatever ethereal being was looking after you, they certainly made sure to bless you with an angel.

he reciprocated the gesture, saying he’ll try to be as quick as possible, soon emerging upstairs. you already took a step forward the kitchen — but then something caught your eye.

door, slightly ajar, just in the corner of the room — of course, you were aware of their existence, but didn’t know where they actually led to. they always remained tightly shut, and Phainon never seemed to use them (at least in your presence).

upon some tinge of uncontainable curiosity, you walked towards the source of your interest. it was extremely rude to pry and search through one’s home while they remained unaware — but your friend wouldn’t get mad even if he found out, right? sure, maybe he’d scold you, but it would end at that.

you opened the door a bit wider, studying the space — it was rather claustrophobic, to be honest. it looked like a larder, except it lacked in any sort of food. a rather obscure wall unit stretched on your left, devoid of anything useful in particular — empty jars, some scrolls, everything covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. the only thing that didn’t seem abandoned was a carton box, situated atop a feeble chair.

you stepped forwards, prying its flaps open with the slightest of guilt — alas, the freshly ignited marvel won, and you couldn’t hold yourself back. at first it didn’t seem to harbor anything special, just a few books along with an innocent-looking wooden casket. you almost laughed, a bit disappointed to find nothing interesting — but then you saw it.

those were your books, the same ones you lent to him some time ago, and pretty much forgot about.

why would Phainon store them inside some dusty cellar instead of just giving them back to you? it was perplexing. you slowly reached for them, lifting the books up — everything seemed fine, and they lacked in any damage. you put them away, focus relocating towards the unfamiliar object lying at the bottom — a… diary?

you gently grasped it, your instincts screaming at you to abandon your task and go make yourself that damned tea. unfortunately, you decided to stay curious.

as you slowly opened it, you immediately got greeted with the familiar handwriting — it was loopy, and nice to the eye. you always envied Phainon because of it.

with a shaky exhale of thrill, you began to scan through the contents.

i finally spoke to [name] today. after all my hesitation, i can’t believe how gentle and kind she turned out to be. what was i so afraid of? i waited for the perfect moment, wanting to make a good impression — and i think it was worth it.

i bought her peaches, though i’m not quite sure why she was so hellbent on bargaining for them. she’s never lacked in money, at least from what i’ve managed to deduce. still, i bought them, and she surprised me by offering one back. such a small thing, and yet it meant so much. i nearly cheered out loud with joy.

it feels like a good beginning. earning her trust will take time, i know — but perhaps i can dare to believe i’ve already taken the first step. i dearly hope i’m not wrong.

your eyebrows narrowed together, and the air gone heavy in your lungs. what? just… just what the hell was he even writing about? yes, the piece of text seemed innocent enough, but it wasn’t hard to discern Phainon thought of speaking to you long before you personally met him. maybe you were simply exaggerating, and the man’s intentions remained pure — but still, you hurriedly shuffled through the pages, stopping on another one.

today was thankfully free from any obligations, leaving me with much time to devote to what truly matters: learning more about [name]. it’s not difficult to trace someone’s steps, honestly. i’ve always found it quite easy — some may say it’s somewhat unethical, but i never thought of it that way. ah, i digress, don’t i?

she doesn’t work — not surprising, really, considering her late mother’s fortune. if memory serves me right, that woman was once a pianist of some renown. still, i do wish [name] ventured out more often — her long absences complicate things unnecessarily. but i endure.

when she does take a walk, she moves as if without a particular purpose — never talking to anyone, never daring to look up from her feet. it fascinates me. what thoughts fill her head during those quiet strolls?

she has some sort of a fondness for that antique bookstore, near the main square. i paid a visit myself, naturally. the clerk, eager to please a Heir, shared the details of her last purchase — a memoir. i’ve never cared much for them, but if my [name] finds value in such lectures, then i shall too. it’s only logical, after all.

as always, i was careful today. our paths crossed — seemingly by chance, of course. i’ve gone to great lengths to ensure that every encounter feels like a mere coincidence. she likely thinks of them as such. there’s a certain naivete in her logic and understanding, a quality i find utterly disarming. it will certainly make things easier for me to ████ ██.

all in all, today was successful. i hope the following days will remain equally bountiful.

your hands shook now, jaw hanging slack as you barely stopped yourself from dropping the diary and bolting out of that man’s house. was this supposed to be a joke? if so, then it surely wasn’t funny.

he was a lunatic. Phainon — the one you considered your most beloved and only friend — was insane. he followed after you, tracking you down, as if you weren’t a real person with their own emotions, but a mere animal to hunt, shoot down, and put on display.

you were terrified. no, that was an understatement. you were terror-stricken. everything you took for granted suddenly crumbled over your head, rendering you frozen — but, perhaps, this really was only a joke? some… some kind of a fictional story Phainon decided to make up out of morbid boredom?

with that, you turned another few pages forward, hoping to see a revelation which could ease your anxiety, and finally clear up the misunderstanding. you had to squint your eyes a little, observing as the elegant handwriting suddenly took a sharper turn, erratic and barely able of discerning.

my hands tremble as i write this, the ink already smudging in places. it’s strange — i’ve faced peril more times than i can count — and yet nothing has shaken me quite like what happened today.

i met [name] at the bookstore again. i nearly commited a gravely mistake — i made a remark about her taste in memoirs, something she’s never confessed to me directly. for a moment, i thought i completely messed up everything i worked so hard for. i could see the faintest flicker of suspicion in her eyes, but she said nothing. thank gods for that. i had no excuse prepared, so i suppose i would’ve been doomed.

she invited me to her home to lend me some memoirs. as if the books mattered. of course i accepted — not out of my interest for the literature, but because the offer was simply too enticing to turn down. time with her, and [name]’s own beloved volumes in my hands. a chance like that cannot be missed out on.

i tried not to show it, but my eyes were drawn to her piano (i thought it looked quite proud and imposing). it stood abandoned in the corner, as if she completely forgot about it. i asked if she could play for me. [name] hesitated, but ultimately agreed.

what followed was something beyond music. her fingers moved with such grace, her posture so painfully poised. the room dissipated away. i watched, completely mesmerized. why did she not follow in her late mother’s footsteps? well, perhaps it’s better this way. the world doesn’t deserve her. not like i do.

as she played, i stepped towards her, putting my hands on her shoulders. she jolted up, stopping rapidly — startled, maybe. i should have felt guilty, but i didn’t. [name]’s surprise, her breath catching in her throat — it was alluring, in a way.

and then, i kissed her. not fully — just the brief touch of lips. but it happened. she didn’t pull away. if anything, i thought i felt her coveting for more. i backed out, though. if i haven’t, then i ████ ███████ ██.

[name] is driving me to the edge of reason. she doesn’t even know it, not truly. i am already hers. completely, helplessly hers. how could i not be? when i met her, i realized she was unavoidably special. ████ ██ i am sick with desire. she makes me ████ █████████.

so it wasn’t a jest, then.

you turned to another page.

what i did tonight would, by most standards, be considered shameful — depraved of any morality, even. but i feel no remorse.

ever since i first tasted the warmth of [name]’s kindness, i have found it impossible to resist my longing. could you believe it? she offered to teach me the piano. imagine that — her delicate hands guiding mine, her voice so close i could feel it brush against my cheek. we’ve started to play duets together. to be fair, it’s hard for me to contain myself with her sitting so close, side pressed into mine.

tonight, the ache became unbearable.

i broke into her house while she was asleep, and i observed her for quite some time. i wanted to take something from her — to soothe the torturous ache in my chest when she’s not near. i cut a lock of her hair. it smelled faintly of lavender and something sweeter i couldn’t name. i held it to my lips. it felt like worship.

i searched her study next — not to violate, or anything of the sort. i simply needed more. i settled on a few of her pens and a handkerchief, enthralled by the intricate embroidery. just little things, nothing valuable.

you couldn’t read it anymore. if there was a feeling comparable to being continuously stabbed into the heart, you certainly felt it now. shocked, you dropped the diary to the floor, practically throwing yourself at the innocent-looking box — your shaking hands reached for the wooden casket, prying it open without much finesse.

knowing what you would see at the bottom was more awful than remaining oblivious, and it caused your stomach to churn. exactly as it was written — a piece of your hair, tightly embedded with a ribbon of sorts. then, the pens you lost, along with the handkerchief.

you slowly put it away, careful not to make any sounds. Phainon was taking quite a long time preparing you this bath, or whatever the hell was he doing. running would be the wisest option — but something pushed you to bend down for the diary, and read another entry. you had to get some closure.

as you flipped towards the end of the filled pages, you noticed how messy it was — smudged ink, splatters of… something? on the paper, scratches so hard they ripped through. still, you forced yourself to decipher the following text.

i caved.

the restraint i fought to maintain finally tore. i’ve done something irredeemable, and yet i ████ █. perhaps that makes me ██. but if loving [name] this fiercely is madness, then let me descend into it without apology.

it began with my injury. she came to the infirmary, just as i hoped. the sight of her standing by my bed — so gentle, so beautiful — was almost too much to bear. i asked where she was headed, because obviously, she dolled herself up. i believed she’d say nowhere.

but no. she mentioned a meeting. a friend.

a friend.

████ █████████ ██ █████.

something cracked inside me then. who gave her permission to give her time — my time — to someone else? ████ ███ who was that man, to think he could occupy the thoughts and laughter that should belong to me alone? ████ █████████ ██ █████

i found him. of course i did. people like him are easy to track — even easier to silence.

i don’t remember much — the moment is a blur, as if my mind repressed it from the sheer disgust for that intruder. only the sound remains: a dull, heavy thud as his body hit the ground. after that, there was stillness.

he’s gone now. that’s all that matters. [name] is safe — untouched, unspoiled by others. ████ █████████ ██. she is mine.

i love her with a force i can’t contain. it consumes me. it burns like fire. but if she ever learned the truth — if she knew what i’ve done — i know she would hate me. she would curse my name. that, i cannot allow.

she must never see that side of me. no one must.

i’ll keep my secret buried deeper than that man i laid few meters underneath the ground. ████ █████████ ██ ████. and i will keep smiling when i see her. i will kiss her hands. [name] doesn’t need to know what i’ve done — only that i love her. more than anyone else ever could.

there was more — much more text to go through — an unhinged rant about whatever that maniac’s mind managed to come up with. unfortunately, you didn’t have the strength to read it. your stomach churned mercilessly, bile threatening to gather in your mouth. then, you heard the footsteps.

if not for that terrifying sound, you’d probably curl up on the floor and start wailing. you didn’t even have the time to process anything as you rapidly began to put everything back into the box, desperately attempting to recreate how the objects were laid out.

you began to count the steps. one, two, three, four, five.

he wasn’t in a hurry. you quickly put the casket back, placing the diary along with your books above it, wondering if you did that right — your vision obscured by tears, you fought tooth and nail to hold the waterworks back. if that man saw you crying, then he’d surely guess what you just found out.

six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

you shut the flaps of the box, stepping away to give that bedlam a last glance. you then turned, trepidation squeezing at your hammering heart.

eleven, twelve, thirteen.

as you opened the door, ready to walk out casually as if nothing ever happened, your face bumped straight into Phainon’s chest, causing you to stumble backwards. oh no. no, no, no—!

your eyes rose towards him, and you forced your expression to remain as neutral as possible. no matter for your heavy breaths, or the wet tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. at first, he looked equally surprised as you felt — but then, he smiled. a grin, more teeth than cheer, hardly reaching his blue irises.

"what are you doing here, [name]?" he asked calmly, the completely stoic tone of his voice causing your limbs to freeze.

Phainon’s eyes bore into your form as if he was a starving animal — a panting wolf, barely holding itself back from sinking its marred fangs into the hare’s nape.

you swallowed thickly. "nothing. i-i mean…" you stumbled over your own words, sweat dripping profusely down your temples. "i was just curious about this room, so i—"

"don’t worry, i’m not mad at you." he spoke, taking a step forward. "i’ve already prepared the bath, so why don’t you go and take it?"

against all your reason, you nodded obediently, trying your hardest to force your legs to move forwards. the man’s gaze refused to leave you as you dragged your feet over. then, a brief realization passed through your exhausted brain:

he’s not a poor dog, like i thought — he’s a full-fledged pack of rabid hounds, stuffed into a singular being.

you could only pray your sprint was fast enough.

[honeyhobbs]

Heat Stroke photoshoot but it's Gaz ☀️💦

[crazygnomenclature]

Pretty sure eating poutine is a requirement for Canadian citizenship.

Webtoon | Insta | Bluesky

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[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, mech!ghost x pilot!reader, scifi, noncon/dubcon elements, guided masturbation, temperature play, voyeurism - 1.6K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Another long night in the cockpit.

You could only grin and bear it at this point. Reaching compatibility with your assigned vessel was slowly eating away at your psyche- and worst of all, you couldn’t even leave; not when your prospected affinity levels with the infamous machine had been deemed unprecedented, and certainly not when you knew what happened to deserters.

Conscription was non-negotiable these days; the large colony you had grown up in now ravaged by some otherworldly force and desperately bleeding out resources in response, be it weaponry, rations, or bodies.

The faction had been gifted the GH-05t Mech as an act of goodwill, but ask any official and you’d be informed that the powerful, unused machine would serve better as scrap parts- the real kicker being that they were no longer equipped with the resources or the manpower to dismantle the damned thing. 

GH-05t was a battle vessel; had been lauded as a ground-breaker and a boundary-pusher with the integration of an intelligent battle protocol system, all trained posthumously off the stored memories of some long-dead pilot, surely without his consent- Simon, they had named it in an attempt to make it more user friendly and assistant-like in nature.

Hubris. The system failed to run, turning the fully-functional mech into a glorified mountainous paperweight due to all of the instrumental functions being locked behind unresponsive intelligence. You speculated that the machine had passed hands to save face- to keep the public hopeful despite the system refusing to wake up.

-Wake up. You groaned, slapping lightly at your face.

You hated it here, longing for lazy days on the bleak outer walls, surrounded by the buzz of cicadas and rustling long grass as you waited for your father to get back from the drillsite. Your parents had been so proud when officials showed up at your dilapidated front porch, neat suits, shining eyes, and big smiles blissfully ignoring the very same surroundings they had left to rot;  all while you reeled internally- shaken by the worst news you had received in your life. It was a death sentence. 

It had been years since that day, and you were absolutely sure you had only been given a position like this because of some made-up numbers all while they tried to remind you that you were special, somehow different from your peers.

All damned to the same fate in your eyes.

“-load of shit.” you hissed, rubbing at the uncomfortable neuro-valve hooked into the back of your flight suit. Frustrated, you kicked at the mechanical console snug against your leg, the low rumbling whirr of the machine staying the same in response- apathetic to your misdirected rage. 

A moment passed before you finally leaned back in your seat with a grimace.

You still weren’t used to the flight suits in the mech pilot regs. You almost missed the starchy cargo pants that were worn throughout training- both had been unbearably stiff, but at least the latter hadn’t been so form-fitting.It always freaked you out a bit; the pilot suits were more akin to sleek exodermis, responsive and shock absorbent- It felt wrong to have something so foreign covering your entire body; unnatural. 

Your hips squirmed in the seat, friction suddenly becoming apparent the more you thought about it. The low tone of your monitored vitals raised gradually with the fuzzy heat beginning to shamefully pool in your gut; making you all too glad these late night bonding-sessions were done in an all but abandoned mech bay- your observed progress dwindling along with your prospects as time went on without result. 

Grinding into the seat, you swallowed back the thick saliva coating your mouth, teeth catching on your dry bottom lip as you held back a low, audible shudder; eyes fluttering shut. 

The bulky panel separating your legs became all too appealing as you acknowledged the press of it at your sealed cunt, nudging your apex into the blunt peak while your gloved hands curled around the padding of the built-in armrests.

Then, there was a pulse at your core. 

Eyes snapping open, you became all too aware that the sensation hadn’t come from your body. Straightening up in your seat you were met with a dull blinking text on the panel that had never been there before- 

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: LOADING’

You were rooted in place as you witnessed the glowing, digital bar slowly fill.

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: ONLINE’

You scrambled to pull at the neuro-valve connecting your suit to the mech, only for the small port’s flight locks to engage; a stark hiss emitting from the cockpit door’s airlock.

“Disengage locks.” you commanded, completely lost on what was happening. 

There was a low, fractured robotic groan directly in your comms “-Fuck…” the voice was deep, aggressively masculine and breathy in your ear- the sound holding more human emotion than you were prepared to rationalize. “Where am I?”

“-Disengage locks.” you repeated firmly. 

“The fuck is this?” he snarled, apparently coming to as he barked out questions, disoriented. “-Who are you- why are you in m’head- Fuck, why can’t I see?” 

Your suit was flexing and constricting, going haywire in the confusion. “C-calm down!” you stuttered, a pendulum in your head swinging between gripping dread and the low, heady heat of unmet needs. “Just-Just let me see if I can fix this.” 

Panting shakily, you swiped at the flight panel’s screen- spotting something containing the words ‘optical’ and ‘sensors’, you tapped frantically.

There was an audible wince deep in your ear, then a growling hum met with silence.

“M'dead, aren’t I?”

“-You’re a memory bank- not a person.” you asserted, clarification necessary when it came to a massive mobile death machine. ”C-Can you lay off the suit, please?”

A pulsing wave passed the length of your suit as he listened to your embarrassed response over the comms, the sound of his voice bouncing around in your head. “Fuck, bet tha’ feels nice, yeah?”

A whine bubbled at your lips before you could stop it. “I- You’re not l-listening, Simon.” 

There was a long silence following your plea- air electric and tense.

“Tha’ name- How do you know it?”

“N-not the point!” you argued, only to be met with a full body squeeze- a threat. “-It’s the name of the o-operating system! P-please!”

He relented, your chest heaving as your muscles released tension.

“Well, if you an'I are so close...”

The screen flashed with a notice. 

‘[Main Cockpit Camera Feed - Status: Active]’

Followed by another

‘[Manual Override - Feed Transmission Blocked]’

“-Keep things between us, yeah?” 

Your head swivelled around to look for a camera, landing on a lackadaisical red blink coming from right above the reinforced windshield.

“You're a sight, aren’t you?" listening closely, you could hear the audible scroll of the lens focusing.

You frowned. “Let me out-”

You gasped as a cold heat focused at your core, reminding you that your suit’s temperature regulating measures were completely under his control. “-No need for fuss, we were just getting t’know each other.”

“Th…” you paused, panting softly. “-This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What’s not to get, Love?” there was a pause as your seat adjusted forward, bumping your cunt into the console. “Give us a show, yeah?”

You whimpered in response, pressure unbearable.

“Look at you.” he snarled, the deep sound goading your rocking hips onward. “Fuck- Wish I could taste you…”

There was a small noise from the screen that had your heavy lids pulling upwards- database bringing up the low-res file of a soldier. 

“-Look at the man doing this to you, love.” 

Your lips parted, eyebrows drawing downwards in confusion as you looked at the attached image; a masked man with voids for pupils staring back at you.

“Y-You’re not-” you gasped as a concentrated cold rushed your breast, nipples pearling up uncomfortably at the sensation- the friction of your undergarments and the newly dropping temperatures sending your head soaring as your hips worked at grinding into the blunt metal. ”-not r-real.”

“-I am.” His voice was a sharp, humorous growl that threatened you to challenge his word, followed by a single deep laugh. “Eyes up- on me, love.”

Your head bobbed as you glanced lazily at the file, unable to make any sense of the written data- not that it mattered anyway.

“Think you can finish for me?”

The suit pulsed rhythmically as you practically humped your seat with eyes screwed shut, the humiliation of your current position itching at something unfamiliar deep in your abdomen. With flushed cheeks, you chased the bubbling pot that made a home in your gut; willing it to boil over.

 “Look at me.” he ordered. “Need y'to look at me.” 

Glancing at the screen in a haze, the exomuscles of your suit flexed in response.

“No- Up.”

your head shot towards the camera, holding contact with the whirring lens as the overstimulation finally became too much- pussy fluttering in euphoria with elbows bracing you, hips pathetically grinding out the high. 

Struggling to catch your breath, you slumped back into the chair- gears adjusting your seat back into a comfortable position.

“Good.” the voice in your ear barked, before lowering incrementally. “-Good…”

The screen lit up with a notice that compatibility requirements had been met- although it didn't mean much to you in your state; chest heaving slowly while you tried to make sense of what happened. 

“Gonna’ let you out- but this has got to stay our secret, yeah?” 

You swallowed, eyelids tugging open as your suit tensed in warning.

“How copy?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good,” he paused. “-don't need anyone but you poking around up here.”

[so-i-did-this-thing]

I saw your post about bugout bags and like ... bracketing the Gestapo Doorknock thing, when did the "correct" response to a natural disaster become to immediately flee and go into refugee mode? The negative fantasy here is heroically saving yourself while your idiot neighbors die, instead of making the kinds of community connections that people actually use to survive and respond to disasters.

I get what you are saying about community connections being the best path to resiliency, but you should very much flee from floods and wildfires when at risk, to name a few. Ideally while making sure your neighbors are also getting out of Dodge, all assuming there has been ample warning for this particular disaster. But sometimes, there are scenarios where you just have to go that very moment.

For all their talk of bugouts bags, I don't think the capital-P Preppers actually want to leave their home bunkers.

The same American Exceptionalism that causes people here to have Lone Wolf apocalypse fantasies also makes them think they can survive a hurricane in a coastal flood zone.

There is an element of humility required to leave one's home possibly permanently. But that's the key difference, here -- the Preppers aren't as interested in survival as they are in ushering in some kind of new World Order.

You see this type pop up every now and then as a hurricane sets its sights on a town -- the people who make it a big point to talk about what they'd do to a looter, should the Big One hit. These are folks who are not interested in becoming a refugee amd are fine with the risk of staying home, if it means they can shoot people from their little castles.

I also saw more mundane selfishness when I did hurricane rideouts for emergency operations in my old Florida city job -- part of our comms was to remind people that we could *not* send anyone out to help them peak-storm. Sometimes, fleeing (aka, saving yourself) is what keeps other people alive -- they don't have to risk their lives saving you because of your stubbornness.

So, I'm a bit skeptical of fleeing being a power fantasy. What's more likely to happen in a lot of natural disasters (especially those with lead times) is you either get renegade fools in clear danger refusing to leave, or uninformed folks not at risk who panic and think they need to evacuate when they should just hunker down. (And then there are the unfortunates who should evacuate and want to, but cannot because the system has failed them in some way.)

That said, for a longterm crisis, community absolutely is key. And even in a short-term crisis that requires an evacuation, one is presumably fleeing *to* some place that will have other refugees, and it's in one's best interests to build community even in these temporary conditions.

[franksfishies]

boyfriend treating you like an afterthought? get yourself a closeted necrophile

[zarla-s]

I found...an issue with your skeletons.

And the font thing that kind of contradicts...yeah

I've had this drafted for a while and today is the NINTH ANNIVERSARY OF HANDPLATES (!!!!) so you're going to get... lore!!

Anyway this is correct, Sans speaks in more than one font! MS Sans Serif if I remember right, or at least that's what people thought at the time. I wanted to work that into Handplates somewhere (I was thinking here) but I just couldn't find a good place for it. It ended up in a Mercyplates script that I never ended up actually doing UNTIL NOW!

Anyway, my thoughts are skeletons can speak in different fonts if they want or learn how (except skeletons with a cipher) and some are just born with multiple font styles, but they have a primary font they prefer to speak in. Sans has a bit of MS Sans Serif in him but he likes Comic Sans more, haha. Papyrus might have a touch of Parchment MF in him but it's so similar to Papyrus that you probably wouldn't even be able to tell. Gaster only has Wingdings though, most cipher skeletons only have the one font.

Nine years... it doesn't feel like it's been that long. It's hard to believe...

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