#chosen!kafka

[talesofsonicasura]

Woke up from a nap earlier to my brain wanting to mess with Kafka and Mina.

Kafka had always been a strange person. He was born with a birthmark on his back: a black outline of butterfly wings. Those who saw it obviously mistaken it for a tattoo to the point he stopped correcting them.

Another oddity became known on the day he turned 6. Kafka had gotten a nice new neighbor and been talking to them for weeks. Strangely it seems like nobody else wanted to see them. The little boy obviously asked his mama about it and even gave her the neighbor's name.

Kafka learns that his new friend was in today's obituary. He soon realizes he could see and talk to the dead. The third peculiarity reared its head when the boy was 13. Kafka's family were holding a barbecue with a few families from the neighborhood.

A game of tag unfortunately goes wrong when the boy gets shoved into the hot open grill. Despite the holes and burnt marks in his clothes, the boy wasn't hurt. Kafka had learned fire can't hurt.

All of these strange things about hundreds didn't really scare him. Sure Kafka knows it's weird but he thought it was cool. Maybe it can be a major help when he joins the Defense Force with Mina! Then the fourth oddity finally bloomed.

For the past two weeks, 22 year old Kafka has been complaining about his back feeling super itchy. Both him and Mina recently just finished their first attempt together at the Defense Force. The only thing they are waiting for are the results.

Back to the itching, Mina thinks Kafka may be allergic to something. A notion that has him worried since he took an allergy test for the exams and it came out completely negative. She asks if he has a rash which Kafka embarrassingly admits only for the first week but it's been gone since. Mina chalk it up to the skin condition haven't fully went away yet.

Fast forward to the next day. The results came in but Kafka hadn't responded to her messages. She runs over with his in hand only to notice the lights in the apartment were off yet the door was unlocked. Mina worryingly stumbles inside the dark apartment.

It's an absolute mess, moreso than the usual. She soon finds what has to be Kafka in the bathroom. Yet there's something very off with him. Her best friend is shivering as a curtain blanketed part of his back.

Then realization struck once her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. What was on Kafka's back hadn't been a curtain. It was faded crimson butterfly wings.

"Help me Mina... They won't come off."

If you guys noticed what I'm referencing then super kudos to you. For those in the dark, my mind decided why not delve deeper into horror with an unusual muse: Kirby's Morpho Knight. This is what's going on.

Kafka has essentially been chosen as Morpho Knight's champion in a sense. In Kirby lore, this Fluttering Dreameater is a primordial entity that ferries the souls of those who should have died and leads them to paradise. Simpler terms, the grim reaper disguised as a seemingly innocent sun colored butterfly.

Morpho Knight has an affinity for fire and imbues the butterfly sword he wields with them. An attribute Kafka also inherited although he'll need some help to get his own swords. With age, the remainder of his blessings would soon manifest.

One being his own wings much to Kafka and Mina's eventual horror. These aren't fully developed though but they will be flight worthy in soon time. You can bet your ass both are horrified.

Kafka's involvement in the Defense Force immediately begins under heavy watch as Mina believes it was the only choice they had. Neither knew if his condition could worsen over time and didn't want to take chances. Kafka was a mystery since the butterfly wings were the visible anomaly with his body. No core or anything else that screams kaiju.

He would stay at headquarters before eventually ending up in Mina's care once she becomes 3rd Division Captain. (She could only visit before due to her position as an officer.) An arrangement that already formed a foundation when Kafka's unnatural affinity for the sword became known. This happened during an experiment with his growing fire ability.

A test to see if he could channel it through an object and one option was a training sword. The moment Kafka picked it up is when things went sideways. A simple training sword was configured into a burning hot butterfly blade and he swung it as if possessed. The large deep slice he scorched into the wall, one made to withstand a kaiju attack, had been enough to call Soshiro in.

Merely one of multiple incidents to come before canon even starts. Only thing I can say is everyone better prepare for fire and flames to come. A himbo imbued with the powers of an eldritch butterfly death god is one thing.

Tiny the larval kaiju will appear to ramp things up.

(Here's the link to the boss fight for those who want further context on how insane this will be.)

@discoknack @foolmariofest @driokrine @writeroffanfiction

[mainfaggot]

i think my entire personality can be summed up in one singular word: sensitive. it makes me want to die

[chatpileroan]

im not like those editors on tiktok who choose viral audios. i can edit my favs to songs you could not even imagine

[reidmotif]

Between the Books

Summary: Reader is a librarian at the library Spencer frequents while he's finishing one of his degrees. They find themselves in a precarious situation when everyone's left and they're the last two people there.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: unprotected penetrative sex, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), themes of exhibitionism, public sex.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

Being observant came naturally to you, almost as if it was a reflex embedded into the core of your nervous system. You’d say “hello” to a new face and as if under command, your eyes would naturally drift to the small pieces of hair on that stranger’s coat. 

Dog? Cat? Freakishly large gerbil? 

Whatever it was, you couldn’t turn it off. And that’s why when Spencer Reid caught your eye, you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to look away. 

And with time, it seemed like his actions mirrored yours.

You’d taken interest in a position at a university library for the summer. The job seemed to be a welcome change of pace from the likes of hectic summer jobs you’d go for typically in the past, a position that would mostly consist of monitoring graduate-level students who were, thankfully, much calmer than their undergrad counterparts.

 For the most part, you were right. Your days were filled with reading in an air-conditioned building, looking up titles of reference books for other students, and of course, the unexpected, yet welcomed, occurrence of Spencer Reid. 

The longer you spent at the library, the more you came to learn more about him. 

Well, as much as you could learn without actually speaking to the man. 

You’d learned his name from the library card he’d brandish when it came time to check out materials. He’d frequent books about Jean-Paul Sarte, Camus, and Nietzsche, opting to stay in the same, well-lit corner by the window every time he visited. While he could come in at any part of the day, he seemed to prefer later hours, when the library would be mostly vacant. His outfits weren’t over-the-top with formality, but he clearly wasn’t in the business of dressing casually.

 You found it attractive, honestly, how put-together he seemed. 

His return-rate on books was freakishly fast, and at one point, you’d assumed he was checking out books to read a certain page or chapter for research, and would then put it back, until you found yourself properly watching him and realized, no, he actually was just reading that fast. He could finish texts that would take almost a year to cover by seasoned professors and scholars in mere hours.

 How? You had no idea. Nevertheless, you desperately wanted to learn- to know him beyond the gazes of a library hall. 

You’d decided to try your luck at speaking to the man, noticing the three books he’d chosen all seemed to have one incredibly common theme amongst their authorship. 

“Existentialist?” You ask, trying to make your tone seem polite but still friendly. 

He blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to, and takes a second, his gaze meeting yours. “Sorry, what?” 

“Existentialist.” You repeat, motioning to the books you were checking out for him.  “Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky, Kafka. Your books seem to share a commonality.” 

He chuckles, realizing the meaning of your words and shakes his head. “No, no. Not an existentialist. I’d like to believe the world is better than what any of them make it out to be.” 

You smile, and nod. “I’d hope so.” Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting slightly. “Why the interest then?” There’s genuine fascination in your tone, and he seems to absolutely thrive off that, his eyes lighting up as you continue the conversation. 

“I’m completing my Masters in Philosophy.” He responds. “We’ve been doing an assignment on existentialism, hence the ridiculous amount of gloom and doom in my reading.”

 There’s a pause, before he cracks a smile, and then asks you, “Romantic?” 

You look at him in confusion. It’s your turn to not get the joke. “Sorry?” 

“Are you a romantic?” He asks. When you retain that confused look on your face, he continues. 

“You’re almost always reading some variation of a romance novel here. So far I’ve counted Austen, Bronte, and I think I saw a copy of Anna Karenina on the counter once.” 

You feel a bit of heat rise to your face, realizing that in his own way, he’d been observing you as well. In a second, the tables were turned, and the lens you often used on others was abruptly focused on you instead. 

“Well, Anna Karenina is hardly a romance, I’d argue.” You say, before nodding. “But, yeah. I guess I’d say I’m a fan of romance in novels.” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not asking you if you’re a fan of romance in novels, I’m asking you if you’re a romantic.” He says, putting emphasis on the last word, as if that was supposed to provide some grand difference to the statement. 

“Just as much as anyone else, right?” You respond, still a bit puzzled at his insistence on contrasting the syntax of his statement. 

“I see.” He says, nodding, continuing to look at you, as if he was sizing you up. “I’ll have to pick up a copy of Anna Karenina sometime then. See if it’s as much of a love story as I remember.” 

“I think you’ll find it’s absolutely not.” You reply, smiling. “I believe we have a copy of it here, as a matter of fact, if you’re actually interested.” There’s a hint of skepticism in your tone, wondering why he seemed to be taking so much regard to your conversation.

“Of course I’m actually interested. You seem passionate about the subject.” He counters, grinning. 

“I mean- yeah, I am! It’s a pretty misinterpreted book, I think.” You say. There’s a slight moment of silence, before you find yourself saying your next few words. “I’m also surprised you’re interested. I’m not always sure if it’s up everyone’s lane. Lots of people can’t get through it.” 

“I’m sure the least I can do is try.” He says, shrugging. 

You check out the last of his books, placing them in his outstretched hands. “Honestly, I’m even more surprised you noticed. You seem pretty into it in your corner over there.” You say, half-jokingly, but with a hint of seriousness mixed into it. 

He gives a softer smile, almost boyish, as he replies. 

“You’re pretty hard not to notice.” 

He keeps the smile on his face, giving you a slight nod of his head, before leaving you to deal with the sudden heat that had risen to your cheeks as a result of his words. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to his quick wit in the moment, your heartbeat still racing long after he’d left. 

Over that summer, the two of you get continually closer. To your absolute delight, he does end up reading Anna Karenina and better yet, he agrees with you. You immediately take an even stronger liking to him than before. Thus starts your tradition of recommending books to each other, the two of you discussing them when he’d come to the library, almost like a secret, private book club that only you two were privy to. 

You come to learn more about him. His doctorates, his job. The secret of his inhumanely fast reading was revealed to you later down the road, when he explained the abilities of an unconscious mind.. or something. While you wanted to give your undivided attention to him, there was an unspoken part of you that couldn’t help but find it ridiculously attractive when he explained things to you. He never seemed to notice that enduring part of your psyche, and you were grateful for that. 

Overall though, he made quite the friend. He shared your love of literature, and could be a wonderful listener at times. Your previous days of solitude in the library were long forgotten, and you found yourself looking forward to his daily visits, ready to share your thoughts on some book he’d last asked you to read. 

You find that his visits become less and less about the actual establishment, and more and more about you, especially when he opts to visit you at the front desk first, as opposed to over at his usual spot by the window. Somedays, he makes it obvious, not even bothering to peruse the selection of books he was previously accustomed to, and merely opts to talk to you the entire time, right up to the point where you’re locking the doors of the library and heading to your own place for the night. 

There’s a part of you that wonders why he hasn’t asked you out. You wonder why you hadn’t asked him out. It only seems natural, given how much time the two of you were spending- a date seemed like an obvious byproduct of the lingering gazes you’d catch him throw at you, the absolute joy that would bubble in your chest everytime the two of you shared an afternoon. 

You shrug it off. All in good time, right? 

It’s another night at the library, and you found yourself a bit frustrated. You’d asked your manager if there was any way she could take on the later shift of the day, increasingly tired with the hours of the job and simply needing a break from it all. She refused, and tonight, that refusal seemed to be on the forefront of your mind. 

“I just- I don’t get it, Spencer. I know she can take on this shift.” You say, wheeling around a cart of books to be reshelved, talking openly since the library was empty at this point in the day, all patrons packed up and soundly at home– while you were stuck here. 

He stayed, of course, following you around diligently as you completed the task, listening to every word.

 “I get that this is the worst shift to have, but come on. I’m a good employee, you know? I feel like I deserve a break here and there.” You come to a stop, picking up a stack of books with a huffy sigh. “But no. I’m the one who has to go home late. I’m the one who’s on closing every single night. I’m sick of it.” 

He nods sympathetically, and you continue to grovel, deeply appreciative that he was allowing you to vent to him like this. You stand on the provided step-stool on the ground, allowing you to have the height necessary to shelve some books that belonged further up than normal. 

“Like, is it really that hard?” You grumble, your face turned away from Spencer as you find each book’s proper place. “God forbid she sleeps at a later time than normal- or I don’t know, hires someone else.” The last book is reshelved, and you turn around, about to dismount the stool. “And another thing-” 

In the midst of your rant, you find yourself distracted,  missing the step on the stool that would’ve allowed a safe dismount, and you quickly realize you’re falling off, letting out a small yelp before a stronger force keeps you upright- a force that happened to be Spencer’s arms catching you. 

“You alright?” He asks with heavy concern, trying to look into your eyes or your legs, attempting to discern for signs where you might’ve hurt yourself on your descent. 

It takes a second for you to process that you are insanely close to Spencer. His features are almost enhanced by the low-lighting of the dark library, his eyes entirely dilated as he stares at you, his lips soft and perfect– and those cheekbones, god. You could practically cut yourself on them. 

You quickly return to your senses, trying to go back to a more suitable position that wouldn’t leave you so absolutely tongue tied. “No, no. I’m fine, honestly.” You step back, wiggling your leg a little. “See? Entirely fine.” 

He smiles a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I just get worried. I’m a doctor, you know.” He says, a teasing quality in his tone as he steps closer. 

“Not an actual doctor.” You say, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Come on.” He says, letting his hand drift over back to your arm, which had taken most of the shock of falling onto him. “Humor me.” 

There’s that grin again, and you can’t help but relent. 

And so you humor him like he asked, letting his fingertips trail over the skin to properly check for any injuries, the action much more sensual than it should’ve been for a friend checking up on another friend. 

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice a bit lower than before. “I don’t actually think this is the worst shift to take on.” 

Your throat is dry, a physical reaction being drawn out of you as he touches you, and there’s a conscious reminder you actually have to respond to his words. 

“Oh? Why is that?” You force out. 

“It’s so quiet.” He mumbles out, immediately, his fingertips now tracing down to your waist, as the two of you made eye contact. “Nobody’s even in here at this point.” 

You swallow, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” 

“I like the quiet.” He says, continuing on. The previously feather-like touch on your waist becomes more grasping than anything else. “There’s just so much more you can get done when it’s quiet.” 

You nod and half heartedly mumble. “Mhm.” You’re far more focused on your growing proximity than his actual words, the act rendering you entirely breathless until he’s standing face to face with you, your breaths mingling due to the closeness. 

“I can feel your heart beating.” He mumbles. “So fast. Do I make you nervous?” 

You lick your lips and nod out of instinct, before squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. “No, no. It’s just the closeness. I’m not used to it.” You whisper, eyes opening– and his gaze is as intense as ever. 

One of his hands goes to cup your face. “Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to kiss you now.” 

You don’t move a single muscle. 

And then all of a sudden, he’s everywhere. He’s pulling you closer, absolutely devouring you like he’s been starved for your touch all along. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you respond in approval, humming with a deep content against his lips, your hands going to wrap around his neck, pulling your bodies flush together. You don’t want space– not now, or ever again. 

“Fuck. Wanted this for so long.” He mumbles, as soon as he breaks off the kiss, finding the pulse point on your neck, and going at it with his lips, causing you to quietly moan out in pleasure. You’d never heard him curse before, and the act only served to add to the steadily growing throb in between your legs. 

He pushes you even more insistently up against the counter attached to the bookshelves, your weight slightly more supported by the wood, as opposed to his body like before. 

“You’re so pretty.” He breathes out in between his assault on your neck, his mouth finding every inch of your nape, and marking it as his own. It’s almost like he’s hellbent on mapping out every plane of skin there, committing every spot that makes you whine or let out his name to memory.

You’re breathing so heavily, and you think it can’t possibly get any better than this, but he proves you wrong when he abruptly gets to his knees, your eyes widening. 

“Need to taste you. Please.” 

He’s begging, like, on-his-knees, doe-eyes, broken voice- begging to eat you out. 

And how could you ever say no, what, with those pretty eyes of his, and that expression on his face that made you practically weak with need?  

“Yes.” You whisper out, and in record time, he’s undoing your jeans and underwear in one clean swoop, not even bothering to fully remove the material before his tongue is all over your cunt, lapping up the wetness that had accumulated in the past few minutes. You’re half surprised he didn’t just rip your clothing off, given the enthusiasm he was showing at this moment. 

You’re suddenly incredibly aware of where you are- your place of work, a fucking library, and Spencer Reid was buried in your thighs like a man parched, lapping up wherever he possibly can. You can hear the obscene noises of your passion, his tongue lavishing over you, before he pays special attention to your clit, wrapping his lips around the nub and sucking softly.  You cover your mouth with your free hand- grateful that the wood behind you was supporting you, because without it, you truly think you’d topple over from the sheer pleasure of it all. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, voice high-pitched as you try to hold back your noises. “Fuck. Gonna come.” You warn, legs shaking as you barreled towards your release. 

Without warning, his fingers enter your cunt, and you’re fighting back a scream. 

How long had you stared at his fingers before this? How many times had you watched them run up and down the spines of the books he read, or gestured with them constantly whilst speaking? How long had such a simple part of his body captivated you? 

How many times had you secretly wondered to yourself how they’d feel inside you?

It didn’t matter anymore. You had your answer now. Fucking amazing.

“Spencer!” You whine out, his fingers naturally reaching that soft spot inside that you often struggled to even brush against. His lips find your clit again, sucking softly and you know you’re an absolute goner. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

Before you can even voice in coherent terms how good this feels, you’re coming, the walls of your cunt spasming around his fingers as he relishes in the reaction, using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit, and slowing his fingers down as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm. He slips the digits out of you as he rises to his knees, and sucks on his fingers, one by one, practically moaning as he tastes your release.

The sight is downright sinful.

“You taste so good.” He whispers, crashing his lips against yours again, and you’re already needy again when you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

His hands drift down to his own slacks, undoing them and pulling his cock out, already dripping with precum. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” He murmurs, guiding his tip to your waiting cunt. You’ve situated yourself on the wood of the desk entirely now, needing the support for what happens next. 

You nod, and without even realizing he was already mostly there, he pushes into you entirely, and your jaw drops. Your head rests against  his shoulder, trying to accustom to feeling of him stretching you out so fucking perfectly. 

How could you ever fuck anyone else again, when he just felt so perfect for you? 

It seemed that he agreed with the sentiment, moaning softly as his free hand steadied himself by gripping onto the shelf. “You feel so fucking good.” He murmurs. “Can I move? Are you okay?” He asks, softly. 

His other hand rubs soothing circles into your hip bone, and you’re nodding, touched by his concern for you, even during such a salacious act. 

His thrusts are slow at first, still allowing you to get used to the feeling of him inside of you, before he’s truly going at it, his thick cock rubbing against your wet walls in a way that makes you feel light and full all at once. It's delectable, and you never want it to end. 

You whine, holding onto his neck, your head thrown back as you take it, feeling the books rattle around you with every hump he deals into you. You can’t even find it in yourself to care– all that matters right now is you, and him, and how fucking amazing it feels when he’s fucking you like this. 

You can feel yourself building towards another pleasurable release, before you hear the telltale click of the library door opening, effectively removing you from the moment. Fuck. The janitor. 

“Spencer, Spencer!” You whisper-shout, biting your lip. His cock doesn’t once slow inside you, and you find it hard to think when it feels that good. 

“We’re gonna be caught!” You whine out, dizzied by how you were simultaneously turned on and utterly panicked. 

“No, we won’t.” He whispers, gruffly. With your hands now around his neck, he lets his hand drop from the shelf and covers your mouth. He leans in even closer, if that’s possible, eyes dark. 

The sight makes a shiver go up your spine. 

“Stay quiet.” He murmurs, as he begins to deal slower, more deliberate thrusts into your cunt. 

“Feel that? Feel how I’m filling you up, nice and slow?” He whispers, the words barely audible, but with how close he’s standing to you, they overtake every one of your senses, and you nod desperately, eyes glistening as you feel yourself dancing on the precipice of release. 

“Shh. I know.” He murmurs. “Come for me, yeah? I know you want to. Show me how much you like my cock inside of you.” 

It's a combination of his tone, of the risk you two were facing, and the sensation of him that has you responding exactly the way he wants, and in an instant, you’re coming with a shuddering breath, holding back a loud whine, just like he asked you to. 

The feeling of your walls spasming has him releasing as well,  a warmth flooding in your deepest point. His head drops into your shoulder as he attempts to muffle his moans the best he can, and you both bask in the afterglow for a second, trying to pant as quietly as you could. 

Spencer immediately springs into action, redressing you with precision and care, guiding your underwear and jeans back up, buttoning them up for you. You’re still in a slight haze from the two orgasms he’d just given you, and when you properly come to, his slacks are back on, and he leans in for a much more chaste kiss. It leaves you with butterflies, despite everything,  and you find yourself smiling softly at him. The fondness reflected in his expression is undeniable.

“Let’s get out of here.” He murmurs, grabbing your hand and guiding you in between the shadows of the shelves, effectively keeping you both from being caught. The janitor remains clueless, as you two sneak out, giggling like teenagers as you find yourselves outside, the summer night warm and cool all at once. 

“That was..” You mumble, laughing a bit, surprised that had even happened. 

“I know. I- uh. Might’ve gotten carried away?” He says. “I usually like to do that after a date. I just-” He steps closer, cupping your cheek. “I couldn’t wait. I hope that’s okay.” He whispers. 

“More than okay.” You whisper back. 

His thumb slowly strokes over the expanse of your cheek, and he bites his lip. “Could we? Date? Try this out?” He murmurs. “I know I didn’t get much of a chance to say it back there, but I really like you.” 

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. This man had just been inside you, and now he was blushing and stuttering whilst he attempted to ask you out. 

“Yes.” You nod. “Let’s try this.” 

He’s got the most genuine smile on his face, and a sigh of relief  can be heard as he leans in again to kiss you, and you can’t help the smile on your face as your lips meet his, the elation in both of your bodies absolutely radiating inside and out. 

You recount your first conversation and know now, there was a difference between liking romance, and being a romantic. 

You reckon Spencer Reid could make quite a romantic out of you. 

this is uploading an hour later than i wanted it to :( but whatever. i hope you guys like this one <3 i'm trying something new! not first person pov, but "you" ? pleaseee let me know how this works for you guys! i love experimenting out with new fic methods but if it's clear this isn't working TELL MEEE so i can go back to what did work. anyway, any likes, reblogs, comments are so so so genuinely appreciated. thank you thank you thank you for reading either way <3

[jebunkle]

is this the real life?...

806 wc, gn!reader, all of them are having a mental breakdown

i saw some awesome sahsrau (self-aware hsr au) from @aventurineswife and they seemed a bit tired of making it...so i thought i'd give it a shot :p maybe ooc on some parts, sorry

the astral express who, while visiting a planet, begin to sense something amiss. it feels as if something, someone, has eyes on them occasionally.

while you're just logging in to play the game and pulling for new characters, everyone starts to freak out. what is watching over them? it can't be the aeons, something much more divine. hell, maybe even the aeons sense something is different.

himeko brews coffee while chatting quietly with welt, "you've felt it too, yes?" she asked him nervously, as if someone would hear if they were too loud. she sips her drink while glancing around every moment or so, displaying her franticness.

the express notices her off putting attitude, but before they can dwell on it, they begin to feel the same as her. it's almost like an illness, if this plague's symptoms were paranoia and impending doom.

the stellaron hunters are hardly different. kafka's smooth demeanor falters as she gazes off into the deep null of space. "who are you, divine being?" she asks into the nothingness, her sultry voice filling the otherwise empty air. as blade is sat on a couch, arms crossed over his chest, his posture seemed to be more tense than usual. of course, he was always uptight, but his behavior was extra rigid as of lately. silver wolf on the other hand, can't help but chuckle at kafka's philosophical rants and blade's silent pondering. she can tell that they're all puppets on a larger stage, meaning close to nothing in the vast universe — both her universe and yours.

aventurine, ever relaxed, has been carrying himself with a bit more of a troubled expression. his typical flamboyance has faltered and few around him have noticed. as aventurine sits on a red leather chair in an empty casino, he does not feel alone; tossing a golden coin between his fingers, aventurine begins thinking aloud. "i see you've chosen to reveal yourself, huh?" the blonde's voice is low and almost soft, as if he's trying not to offend whoever he may be speaking to.

dr. ratio's hair is a slightly unkempt, his eyebrows are pinched together much more frequently, and his papers and studies are left askew on his desk. a few members of the intellegentsia guild slowly catch onto how he's acting, and it's truly unbecoming of the infamous strict professor. his employees can be seen wearing a concerned expression when glancing over at him, yet are too afraid to inquire on his troubled state. "i will uncover whoever is ensuing this chaos amongst us all." ratio promises himself.

the xianzhou luofu is eerily quiet. the arbiter general himself has gone silent as well, as if the ship has been submerged into an ocean of solitude. jing yuan sits in his chair with his fingers intertwined atop his lap. internally, he wonders about this rumored 'creator'; are they real? is it an aeon? what does this mean for him? his companions? is something terrible on the horizon? his endless inquiries are certainly unlike him, causing the master diviner fu xuan to worry about him.

she feels that the world has been tilted also, however she's more concerned about jing yuan's scrambled state. "please, go home and rest, general." she pleads annoyedly, "mm. give me a moment, diviner fu." jing yuan replies quietly, his words melancholic. "you know as much as i do that something has changed." he states to the shorter woman.

boothill's shoes tap eagerly against the pavement that lined the roof of the building, echoing an ambience of anticipation. "what in the world are you?" the man questions the air rhetorically. he cannot, for the life of him, figure out what's causing such a stir in the mood of everyone, himself included. the silver cowboy's hand is rested on his hip, the other lifted to his neck with a finger pressed to his chin. "i dunno, but yer rackin' all our brains here.." boothill remarks, hoping that whoever is watching over him will hear it.

the enigmatic memokeeper is seen with a more defined smirk recently. black swan has taken interest is this unknown deity that has spiked fear and franticness all over the universe. she rests her palm against her chin, staring up into the stars that decorate the black outside of the express's windows. "i hope you'd be willing to speak with me, demiurge." she exclaims in a calm yet excited tone.

the head of the oak family stands in his obnoxiously large office, hands pressed against the polished table as he stares down at it. there's a few scattered documents thrown astray, but they're not important right now. all sunday can think of is you. he knows you exist, he's sure of it, and he won't rest until the day comes that you visit him and grace the world with your presence.

im so happy the eagles won the super bowl and kendricks performance was goated

dividers by @/hyuneskkami

[tsuisuta]

couldn’t help myself lol

your hand in marriage please mr vice captain

[aventurineswife]

It seems like I have started a cult... 🧍‍♀️

Ahem.

The Museum of Divinity has always been a sanctuary—a place where the artist’s hand reveals their chosen figures, their joys and sorrows immortalized on canvas. The characters have come to see these paintings as proof of their importance, their connection to you, their Creator.

But then, one day, a painting vanishes.

And then another.

And another.

Until the museum walls are bare.

Welt and Himeko's Reaction:

"There must be a reason for this," Welt mutters, pacing furiously.

Himeko crosses her arms. "Maybe they’re just reorganizing?"

Both of them KNOW something is wrong. But admitting that would mean acknowledging the possibility that you’re… leaving.

(They do not want to acknowledge that possibility.)

March and Sparkle's Reaction:

March is LOSING IT. She practically sprints to every wall, touching the blank spaces.

"WHERE ARE THE PAINTINGS?! THEY WERE JUST HERE YESTERDAY!"

Sparkle is already drafting conspiracy theories.

"Did we offend them? Did someone steal them? Did something happen to our divine artist?!"

Blade and Dan Heng's Reaction:

Blade stares at the empty space where his portrait used to be. Just… staring.

Dan Heng doesn’t speak for a long time. Then: "…Did they erase us?"

Blade clenches his fists. "No. They wouldn’t do that."

(But deep inside? A small, quiet part of him is terrified that you did.)

Luocha and Jing Yuan's Reaction:

Luocha exhales. "This… is concerning."

Jing Yuan: "Concerning? This is a sign of an impending calamity."

They both enter theorizing mode, debating what this could mean.

"Are they angry? Are they leaving us? …Are we being forgotten?"

Aventurine whistles. "Well. This can’t be good."

Sunday is losing his MIND. "WE HAVE BEEN ABANDONED—OUR DIVINE ARTIST HAS TAKEN BACK THEIR BLESSINGS—WE ARE UNWORTHY—"

He is performing full-on soliloquies about divine punishment.

(You just wanted to clean up your room. Now there’s a full-blown cult crisis.)

Kafka and Black Swan's Reaction:

Kafka: "They removed the paintings. Interesting."

Black Swan has already written ten different essays in her mind.

"If the Artist’s gaze is withdrawn, does that mean their favor is as well? Are we no longer their chosen subjects?"

Kafka’s smirk wavers—just slightly.

She doesn’t like the idea of being forgotten. At all.

Some characters refuse to leave the museum.

Some start searching for hidden clues, convinced there’s a secret message.

Some stare at the empty spaces for HOURS, hoping the paintings will return.

Some—like Blade—are just quietly, devastatingly sad.

And then, the real nightmare begins:

Your self-portrait disappears.

That’s when full-on hysteria breaks loose.

Characters start praying. (Even those who don’t believe in gods.)

Offerings start appearing at the museum, left by desperate hands.

Dan Heng & Blade start searching for ways to bring the paintings back.

Aventurine starts gambling on theories.

Sunday organizes a cult meeting.

March 7th writes ‘MISSING: DIVINE ARTIST’ signs.

Kafka & Black Swan start monitoring dreams, hoping to hear your voice.

They are so afraid that they’ve lost you forever.

And if you don’t put the paintings back soon?

They might just start worshipping the empty walls.

Phew, now that's out of the way... 🏃‍♀️💨

[yoredoesmore]

can we recieve a fanfic where reader is petty and could take his vice captain job (soshiro hoshina)

if she really tried? So kind of like enemies to lovers trope, and how he realized she actually didn't despise him was he overheard a conversation with okonogi, while Y/N was like simping and head over heels for him

a/n: i took my time writing this because i never wrote enemies to lovers before :’) i hope you enjoy it!

pairing: Petty!Hoshina x Petty!Reader

genre: enemies to lovers trope

[wc: 2,4k ]

Too Sweet | Hoshina Soshiro

“Did I tell you guys about the story of how I almost became Vice Captain?” You yelled into the round, beer glass lifted high up in the air.

“You? Vice Captain? No way!” Kafka laughed, wasted as much as everybody else around you.

The stench of alcohol and meat lingered in the air and the tension was packed and steamy. Two hours ago, the Third Division managed to neutralize a Daikaiju with a Fortitude Level of 8.3. Of course you could not have done it without the Kaiju on your side, Kafka, but it was indeed a group accomplishment. Thus, everybody felt lifted in both spirit and mind– and the alcohol only added to the cheerful atmosphere.

“Oh yes! Captain Ashiro was gonna pick me instead of mushroom head over there but he flashed his little katanas and bat his pretty little lashes to secure the spot for himself. Talk about tactical maneuvers!”

The entire table immediately fell into a fit of laughter, unable to hold themselves back anymore from the jokes that came at their Vice Captain's expenses. Even after another ten minutes, the mockery took no end. You continued to tease and joke about Hoshina, despite him only being a couple tables away from you, as the joy was too sweet. But as the time passed you eventually forgot about his existence, until he spoke up to remind you.

“You talk quite big for someone who can barely hold a gun. Don't think I didn't notice your little accident during the fight against that group of Yoju two hours ago.” Hoshina made sure to pronounce the word Yoju, not just to tease you but simply out of spite. Deep down he knew that the alcohol was speaking out of you, yet that did not stop him from feeling slightly irritated by your remarks.

“Maybe if you hadn't been standing right in front of the Yoju, I would have managed to get a better shot at the thing. Being a close distance fighter while everybody around you needs a clear field of vision to work must be quite tiring, hm? Maybe I would have been better off as the Vice Captain after all.”

Hoshina’s face twisted into a serious grimace upon hearing your words– a nerve had been struck. Even the others knew not to speak up anymore, the drastic change in atmosphere indicated that a fight was about to go down.

“Then how come everybody else managed to do their job just perfectly, huh? Maybe something distracted ya, Vice Captain?” Hoshina's words stung sharp in your chest. Especially him calling you that made the aftertaste of alcohol in your mouth even worse.

The both of you were now standing right across from one another, only a couple inches keeping you apart.

“Are they..about to fight??” Kafka asked Reno, worry lingering in his voice.

“Putting all my money on L/n.” Was all Reno had to say, leaving Kafka shocked.

“That ugly ass bowl cut of yours must have distracted me.”

Silence.

It was a silence that swept over the room that had everybody on high alert. One little slip of their mouth– or even the slightest bit of laughter falling out of their lips, would meant certain death. Your comment about Hoshina's hair came out way too fast, as if you have been waiting to mention it. The annoyance was evident on the Vice Captain's face. Never in his life has he been provoked to punish someone as much as he was now.

The man stepped closer, leaving little to no space between the both of you as he spoke up again.

“Is this funny to you, L/n?” Hoshina slightly tilted his head to the side as he spoke. The tone he had chosen to ask that question forced shivers down everyone's back. Hoshina was a patient man who did not let his emotions get the best of him most of the time but right now it was clear as ice that he was pissed.

“Maybe we should stop the-”

“Fucking hilariousss.” You dragged the s’ to really make it sting.

And from then on all went downhill…

×

“I did What?!” Your screech was so loud, it almost cut Okonogi’s ear off clean.

“Yep. The two of you almost got kicked out of the bar, if it hadn't been for Izumo and Kaguragi going between you– the only rationally thinking adults at yesterday's get together might I add.” The woman fixed her glasses as she made the remark.

Your eyes sat no longer in their sockets but rather on the floor, rolling around like giant marbles.

“Fuck..fuck!” Embarrassment rushed through your body, the images of yesterday's fight slowly returning to your mind. To think that you would act out in such way, simply because of a couple glasses of beer– it made you feel ashamed.

“That fucker knows how to push my buttons, dammit!”

“Oh please.” Okononig finally looked up from her laptop, all attention now on you.

“Even without the alcohol, Hoshina is able to draw out the most aggressive reactions out of you. You two always nag on each others throats, how come?”

Your eyes refused to meet hers as she waited for an answer, your gaze drifting towards anything in the room but her frame. How did you end up like this? It was a good question, unfortunately, you yourself did not know the answer. The tension between you and the Vice Captain has become so palpable that the wall it has created kept the both of you far away from one another. Every interaction, every conversation and even the smallest comment– your encounters would always end up in some kind of fight.

“That idiot..if he wasn't so damn cute I would have fucked him over a long time ago."

“Understa– what now??” Okonogi thought that she misheard you, that she has been listening to so much of your complaining that her ears were playing tricks on her. But one look at the dreamy face you were making was enough for her to know that you were indeed dead serious.

“He always has that stupid smirk on his face, it's driving me crazy!” You allowed your body to slump down onto the couch as you started to reveal your true feelings.

“Ugh, Konomi! He is so annoying. He thinks that just because he has a cute face he can act all cocky with me! I could take his spot as Vice Captain anytime I want, snap, just like that! He should be more careful around me!”

Either the alcohol was still speaking out of you or your mental state was much more fragile than Okonogi had thought. She did know that you had a little crush on the Vice Captain all the way back then when you first started out but to think that your feelings have not changed, despite the lack of chemistry between the both of you. It was truly impressive yet also worrying.

“Then why not just take his spot?” The woman asked a rhetorical question, sarcasm hanging in her voice.

“I like it when he gives me orders.”

“Y/n..”

“I'm just kidding, gosh!” You sighed and allowed your hand to fall over your face.

“But…I do like the way he acts when he's in control of a situation, he's too sweet.” A giggle slipped from between your lips. “Hoshina is the best when he goes all serious, be it in a fight against Kaiju or when arguing with me. The look on his face is somethin’ else I'm telling ya! And when he grabs me by the arm to push me away, gosh! I just want to melt!”

Okonogi found herself unable to come up with an answer to your slightly concerning confession. It was such a cliche, constantly arguing with the person you liked simply to see a specific side of them but at the same time she found it cute. To think that the Platoon Leader knew no other way to interact with her crush than to annoy him, it was childish but sweet. Like a highschool romance maybe?

“Don't ever tell him how much you admire him, it will definitely go to his head.” The woman returned to her workload yet she continued to pay you some of her attention

“Ha! Never, not even in my dreams. Okay, maybe in my dreams.” You giggled “If he held my real tight maybe and..oh Okonogi! This man has me in a chokehold, ugh.”

You went into an endless ramble about what specifically you liked about the man. His voice, his way of thinking in battle oh and not to mention his body– one could have thought you were talking to your diary. But your friend did not mind, as she found listening to a second voice instead just the one in her head while working rather refreshing.

“Oh and one time I caught him mid workout late at night and you wont believe how good he looked in that fucking compression shirt. I was ogling so hard, he caught me and I had to pretend to be mad at him for making so much noise late at night.”

“You gotta tell him how you feel someday, Y/n.” The woman replied but her words fell onto deaf ears. You had built up too much tension to now come out with your true feelings. Especially after yesterday's fight, you now had to avoid the man for an unseeable period of time before interacting with him in any type of way. The only way you could ever end up together was if he, for some reason, made the first move but that thought was a fantasy and nothing more.

“Thank you so much for listening to my bullshit rant, Konomi.” You gave the woman a long hug from behind while she remained seated.

“Always here to listen to you.” She smiled. And with that you left her shared office.

On your way back to your room, you encountered many cadets who greeted you with a smile. You returned their kindness, making sure to smile and wave at any soul you encountered. But once the space you walked through became less lively, less and less cadets now passed you by until you were all alone, so did the change in atmosphere become more suffocating. You felt a presence behind you, poking and scratching at your back.

At first you tried to ignore it, not paying your alarming thoughts any attention, until you were fully convinced to have heard something move behind you.

“Who's there-” Your entire body immediately froze upon locking eyes with Hoshina.

“Oh great, it's the Vice-” Hoshina grabbed you by the wrist, stopping you mid sentence, and pulled you into the closest room. His ambush came so fast and sudden, you barely had time to fight back. The man made sure to close the door behind himself as he had you where he wanted you to be, a dangerous smirk sat on his face.

“What the hell do you think you are doing!” You spat, the entire situation seeming so random to be real.

“I'm going to enjoy this immensely.” There was something playful in the Vice Captain's voice, something that even you feared. Before you could even progress what was about to happen, Hoshina placed himself right in front of you, head slightly tilted to the side and arms crossed over his chest.

“So, ya like it when I give ya orders, huh?”

Everything in your brain came to a temporary halt as you heard those words come from his mouth. Embarrassment wasn't even enough to explain the sheer humiliation you felt in that very second. Every inch of your body was telling you to run and hide into the nearest corner available. Did he..overhear your conversation with Okonogi?!

“Came by to tell Okonogi that I needed some info on somethin’. Didn't get the info I wanted but def left with sum I needed.”

“I have no idea what you're talking abo-” Once again you found yourself being cut off by the man. Hoshina pushed you back against a table, causing you to stumble and plop down onto it. He then positioned himself between your legs and moved his body closer to yours. His actions seemed like something out of a movie, a scenario one would strictly encounter in the world of fiction, yet he was right in front of you, playing with your heart and sanity.

“Here I was wondering why ya always rushed to get on my nerves. Guess our little Platoon Leader has a crush on her Vice Captain, hm?”

Your brain stopped functioning the second you felt Hoshina's hot breath against your lips. Now that you were seated on the desk and he stood right in front of you, you were about the same height. Forced to stare into his eyes, you found yourself choking on your own words.

“Oh p-please. You probably confused my voice for someone else's.” You tried to save yourself but your efforts were in vain. As your gaze started to drift away from his, Hoshina opened his eyes and placed his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him again. He was surely enjoying this, especially after the humiliation you put him through yesterday.

“Look at me.” He ordered, a smug grin on his face.

“All this time I was wondering where all this hate for me was comin from. Ya had me feelin real bad after every damn fight, felt like an asshole and everything.” He chuckled.

“Oh you are an asshole.” You rolled your eyes, the fight in you still alive.

“Yeah but you like this asshole, a lot even.”

As the tension grew thicker you realized that there was no going back from this. Your feelings were laid out all over the room with nowhere to hide. But although you felt humiliated and exposed, a part of you felt relieved that you could finally drop the act. You reached out for Hoshina's wrist and held onto it tightly.

“So what if I like you.. If you let your guard down for even a second, I will still take your position as Vice Captain and kick your fucking ass.”

Hoshina's eyes widened for a second, surprised that you were still going at it, but he liked that about you. That is why he tolerated all the mockery and jokes, because he too was desperate to see a certain side of you.

“How cute. Unfortunately, you are in no position to open your mouth that much.” His fingers grazed over your lips ever so lightly, applying the smallest amount of pressure onto them. His touch had you weak, yet you could not allow yourself to let your guard down. If you showed Hoshina even one second of weakness, he would use that to tease you for all eternity.

He of course knew that and therefore tried to get as much out of this situation as possible.

It was an opportunity too sweet to ignore.

[ryomanticizing]

The Devil's Minion / Interview With The Vampire

"What ties this wolf to this lamb, she figures, is the fact that it hasn’t eaten it. Painful mystery of the gift that returns through reflection: what the wolf loves in the lamb is its own goodness. It’s thanks to the lamb that the wolf accedes to the plane of love—the love that gives of itself without hope, without calculation, without response, but that nevertheless gives of itself, seeing itself give of itself. The wolf given to a lamb of the Griniov type who doesn’t even notice the enormity of the gift—that’s really love. There remains the infinite solitude of the wolf, invisible and unrecognized except by itself. What interest does Pougatchov have in not eating the lamb? The ascetic and dangerous interest of self-love. The lover loves the beloved, which is the occasion for generous love. But thereafter—thereafter there is the aftermath. Now the wolf can no longer break away from the lamb, for the lamb retains, for better or worse, traces of the gift. That which is given in love can never be taken back. It is me my entire self that I give with the gift of love. This is why the wolf can’t stop loving the lamb, the chosen one. Repository of the wolf. All of the wolf. That’s how love can ruin the lover." - translation of Hélène Cixous' The Love of the Wolf

Agustín Gómez Arcos, The Carnivorous Lamb // from a uquiz i took ages back // Travis Scott, SDP Interlude // Mabel, Episode 15: Killing the Moon // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Andrew Kane, How To Be A Dog // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Ocean Vuong, On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous // @achillics, vulnerability // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Azra T. // excerpt transcribed from the video 'The Ambiguity of Relationships' by Professor Francis Ambrosio // from the translation of Hélène Cixous' The Love of the Wolf // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Karese Burrows, from “Persephone Writes a Poem,” This Is How We Lost Each Other // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Raleigh Richie, Bloodsport // David Cronenberg, Consumed // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Jessa Crispin // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // unknown // Sean Glatch, from “Caffeine, Pt. 1,″ 4:41  // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // @starstark // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Saaba Tahir // Jeff Buckley, Lover, You Should've Come Over // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // k.c.cramm, christmas eve forever // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Jeff Buckley, Lover, You Should've Come Over // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Yves Olade, Bloodsport // Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // @thepoisonroom // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Caluco, Maggots // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // all gifs are from Interview With The Vampire S2E05

[aixeko]

ღ๋࣭ ⭑ “ I'M ADDICTED TO YOU, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT YOU'RE TOXIC? ” ღ๋࣭ ⭑

| Starring | GENSHIN - Arlecchino, Navia, Yae Miko HSR - Kafka, Blackswan, Himeko & more yet to be revealed x Reader [ SEPARATED ]

| Setting | Pool Player AU

| Scenario | SINNERS SPECIAL [ EVENT ] | In celebration of every 100+ Followers

>> A MASTERLIST OF THE UPCOMING FILMS <<

ᐢ..ᐢ Characters are chosen via the wheel of names aside from the surprise list which will be done last.

ᐢ..ᐢ Sexual contents will be presence throughout but rest assure that each characters will have their own respective tropes and story line to avoid repetition while still remaining true to the main setting " Pool Player Alternative Universe "

ᐢ..ᐢ Smut, Fluff, Angst, and more !

༊*·˚ ARLECCHINO -‘๑’-

STATUS UNKOWN [ TO BE FILLED ONCE RELEASE ]

ׂ╰┈➤

༊*·˚ NAVIA -‘๑’-

STATUS UNKOWN [ TO BE FILLED ONCE RELEASE ]

ׂ╰┈➤

༊*·˚ YAE MIKO -‘๑’-

STATUS UNKOWN [ TO BE FILLED ONCE RELEASE ]

ׂ╰┈➤

༊*·˚ HIMEKO・❥・

STATUS UNKOWN [ TO BE FILLED ONCE RELEASE ]

ׂ╰┈➤

༊*·˚ KAFKA・❥・

STATUS UNKOWN [ TO BE FILLED ONCE RELEASE ]

ׂ╰┈➤

༊*·˚ BLACK SWAN・❥・

STATUS UNKOWN [ TO BE FILLED ONCE RELEASE ]

ׂ╰┈➤

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ???๋࣭ ⭑

STATUS UNKOWN [ TO BE FILLED ONCE RELEASE ]

ׂ╰┈➤

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ???๋࣭ ⭑

STATUS UNKOWN [ TO BE FILLED ONCE RELEASE ]

ׂ╰┈➤

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ???๋࣭ ⭑

STATUS UNKOWN [ TO BE FILLED ONCE RELEASE ]

ׂ╰┈➤

Art credit: ARLECCHINO: The_Bearsun on Twitter YAE MIKO: charluiu_ on Instagram, Twitter and Tiktok [⚠️MAINLY MALE CHARACTER NSFW ARTIST ] NAVIA: 竹墨笺 / zhumojian on Twitter KAFKA: Unknown, gotten on Xiaohongshu by 小红书ID: 423974674 BLACKSWAN, HIMEKO: Official artwork Banner: 拾忆Eleven_ on Weibo

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

So far we know that:

The kaiju inside Kafka was specifically looking for him. We don't know since when, but given that it found Kafka right after he saved Reno, we can assume it somehow located Kafka after that one incident.

The kaiju inside Kafka was on a mission to kill kaijus, because of the way it reacted to Isao when Kafka lost control. (It clearly says I'll kill monster which means it was a desire of its own, not just a Kafka projection).

Kafka saw a ghost from the past during his visit to the shrine for kaiju slayers.

Which is odd in itself, but later we are told that numbered weapons users can see the ghosts of other users. It's caused because they are using the memory of the identified kaijus as the core of the weapon.

There are living numbered kaiju weapons, like number 10 with Hoshino. Yet, technically, the Kafka situation is a sort of living numbered kaiju weapon too, except we're talking about a deeper symbiosis.

Kafka is slowly turning into a kaiju and he spends too much time on his kaiju form, he risks not being able to turn back to human.

Whatever is no.9, it has hundreds of kaijus on the inside and apparently it has devoured other kaiju slayers along the eras, not only Isao Shinomiya. Which leads off to think 'bout what is going on and how old is that kaiju .

(Obvious) theory time:

If the kaiju within Kafka is acting similarly to the way the cores of dead kaijus turned numbered weapons acted, then Kafka saw the ghost of the shrine through the memory of the kaiju within him. It means that the kaiju is pretty old, having been around for a battle on the Meireki Era.

Whatever No.9 is made of is also old, if not older. It's been fighting kaiju slayers for a while, eating them even.

Unlike other kaijus and excluding no.10 (it'd fight anything that moves), no.8 is fighting against its race on its own accord. It looked for Kafka, not the other way around. When did no.8 evolve to understand humanity? When it decided to turn against kaijus and so it'd help exterminate them?

There's a possibility no.8 had done it before— fight alongside a human to destroy kaijus. There is a possibility Kafka is not the first one, but it was chosen by no.8 because it reminded it of another previous human.

There are many ways it could go, but what we are sure of is that Kafka becoming no.8 user is not a coincidence AND the Defense Corps don't know half the story yet.

( I personally think no.8 is a part of the actual monster within no.9 that escaped and now its trying to kill it, maybe motivated by the memory of the kaiju slayers no.9 real monster has ate )

[spirit-lanterns]

🙂‍↕🙂‍↕ hold on.. hold on.ᐟ i’m not opposed to sitting in stelle’s lap either.. or kafka’s 🤭.  i just know stelle’s puppydog self would start wagging her tail at the idea of being chosen by cat- reader finally.. the sweet moment would never last long though.  with the way she lunges at trashcans like a madman, she definitely lacks some self-discipline – and would get overexcited from you simply being in her lap, dare i say pervy hands gets so touchy when all you wanted was a comfy place to rest... she would start whimpering and reach out once you’ve decided you’ve had enough, and scamper to find jing liu or fu xuan.

but methinks kafka would make a comfy napping place 🫣  her perfume always smells so sweet.  it’s just that she loves to rub your ears, try to make them twitch or get you to play with her because she’s bored.. and you’re always just so amusing to her.ᐟ (she gets told off by the others for always trying to rile you up).

Ough, yeah. Sometimes Stelle accidentally ruins cuddle time with you by getting overly excited and petting you too roughly. You don’t dislike any of your owners, but like most cats, once someone pets you a bit too hard, you squirm out of their lap and scamper to find someone much calmer (usually Jingliu or Fu Xuan)

This leaves Stelle a whimpering mess, as she whines and makes grabby hands for you to come back to her 🥺 she can’t help her wandering hands! You’re just so soft and cute…she wants her hands on you 24/7 every day of the week :(

Luckily Kafka has more restraint, but same problem as Stelle; she can’t resist letting her hands wander around you sometimes, as she wants to feel you up whilst petting you. If it gets too much, you scamper off, but Kafka isn’t as pathetic as Stelle in which she respects your decisions 😅

[crguang]

each other’s destiny

As you travel with the Astral Express, you need to focus on the future ahead of you and let go of the curiosity you feel towards your past. That can’t happen if you keep running back to Kafka.

trailblazer!reader, some tiny angst, 2.4k words

A/N: if i had kafka’s number i’d send her the most unserious memes i have on my phone every 2 hours. this is kinda messily written i apologize

Guilt nags at you as you set up your phone against the pillows on your bed, making sure that you can be seen in the front facing camera.

You sit against the headboard, knees to your chest and arms resting over them. The line rings once, twice, and just when you think you’ll have to call a second time, she answers with a small smile. As always, you can only see a blank wall past her figure, nothing that alludes to where she is tonight. She’s sitting at a desk with a cheek in the palm of her hand and a yellowish light source highlighting her clean skin. Where you would feel a sense of curiosity and peace at the sight of her, like an invisible balm soothing your open wounds, a sense of guilt now lingers in your gut. You don’t know the exact moment it settled there, just that it follows you like an ominous shadow with each day spent on the Astral Express after the Xianzhou Luofu’s Stellaron crisis.

“What’s the face for?” Kafka’s raspy voice is clear through the phone, a new discomfort mixing with a deep familiarity that you still don’t fully understand.

You rest your chin on your forearm. You can’t be bothered to reciprocate her easy expression with the heaviness of your chest. You stare into the screen as you think of a way to express yourself clearly. When you take too long to answer, Kafka tilts her head in question.

“I don’t think… we should keep doing this,” you say softly.

Kafka’s small smile doesn’t waver, but something in you believes that she wasn’t expecting your reply.

“Where’s that coming from?”

It’s strange. This sluggishness in your bones, the sadness that envelops you at the idea of distancing yourself from her, shouldn’t be there. You don’t know her. You hold little recollection of who she is and who you were, there is only a thread of familiarity curled around your heart that tugs whenever she’s near. In all the ways that matter, she is nothing— a faint trace of the person you might’ve been, the lingering ghost of a past you can’t remember. You’ve chosen to only look forward the moment you stepped on the Express, where everything that guided you towards the trailblaze becomes irrelevant. You shouldn’t care for what you were because you are a Nameless living in a continuous present; the journey and who you share it with mold you, not a past you can’t seem to shake. You want to be like March, full of life and anticipation for the next adventure, instead you are haunted by her and the incomprehensible tug of your heartstrings.

Your weekly video calls started the second week of you traveling with the Astral Express. You didn’t know about the Stellaron Hunters then, what they did and why, though the latter still eludes you. You only knew the feeling in your gut when Kafka smiled, like you enjoyed the sight many times before. She revealed nothing to you but you couldn’t sense any malice in her interest, so you answered her calls each time your phone rang. You know more, now, about the Nameless and the trailblaze; about what the Stellaron Hunters are prepared to do to achieve their goals; about the galaxy you’re traveling around. You are no longer ignorant and you can’t pretend to be just to indulge the mortal urge to cling to past memories. You feel you are betraying your companions with the… fondness for her that resides deep within your cells. You can’t bear the guilt anymore.

“The Stellaron Hunters…” you pause, then correct yourself, “you don’t care about hurting others. The Luofu’s casualties could have been avoided.”

“People will always have to die for a cause. People have died to elevate ideals since the beginning of humanity. Besides, we made sure you guys saved the day, didn’t we?”

“That’s not right.”

Kafka chuckles and the condescension of it makes your lips purse. She observes you for some time, though you can’t discern what hides behind her practiced appearance.

“You’re even starting to sound like them,” she says, only a touch amused, “seems like you’re fitting in fine with the Express crew.”

“I sound like them because I’m a Nameless.”

“Right.”

She doesn’t add anything else. You let the gentle whirring of the train’s engine calm the growing frustration in your stomach. It’s unfair how Kafka gets to know who you are— were— and you don’t. You don’t enjoy the subtle ways in which she reminds you of that fact either, it makes you feel ignorant, like a toddler who knows little of the world and needs someone to hold their hand. She holds the answers to your questions and chooses to keep them close to her chest for a reason you can’t figure out. You wish you didn’t care, that you could embark on a new planet with your friends and not think about what she’s doing at the same moment. A part of you, smaller, wishes she wasn’t the first face you saw when you woke up on the space station.

“I have something to ask,” your arms wrap around your propped up shins as you speak, “answer me honestly.”

“I can’t promise you I will.”

“Why do you entertain me?”

“…Entertain you,” Kafka repeats to herself, eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

“Why reach out to me and set up these calls every week? We don’t say anything of substance during them, why waste your time with something so pointless?”

“You don’t like talking to me?”

“That’s not what I…” Your features harden when you catch her teasing smile. You ignore her attempt at redirection and continue, “Just answer me.”

Kafka shrugs a shoulder, tucking a strand of hair falling into her face back behind her ear. “I don’t find our talks pointless.”

You don’t know why her reply annoys you, maybe because it doesn’t make sense; you mostly discuss how you’re doing and the new things you’ve discovered on your journey. Kafka asks mundane questions and you answer them in the quiet of your room, softly retelling your week as she watches you grow drowsy in the process. Then you wonder about her and after a few vague half-truths, she masterfully redirects the conversation back to you. By then, you’re too tired to comment on it. Apart from helping you fall asleep when you usually would stay awake until early in the morning, your weekly calls amount to nothing. How can they hold any kind of significance for her? You know why you answer your phone. Despite it all, you can’t help the faint sense of comfort that comes with her presence and in a world of new sensations, it feels nice to have something like that to come back to even if you have no idea what it stems from. You can’t wrap your head around why she keeps calling, however. You suppose it’s not far-fetched to think she might feel the same way you do, since she’s told you about how she was the one who supposedly taught you everything you know. Still, she doesn’t seem like the type to dwell on the past.

A slow, tired sigh escapes you as you cross your legs and run a hand over your face to alleviate the fatigue of your body. Kafka watches you through the screen, her lips a thin line. You rest your elbows on your thighs and cup your cheeks, staring head at the wall filled with pictures March took of Belobog and the Luofu. You photobombed most of them so she let you take them and helped you put them up in pretty patterns with colorful string lights she had laying around in her closet.

“I’m sick of being kept in the dark,” you mutter.

“I understand. Elio makes sure I only know what I need to, and I have to do the same for you.”

“You don’t get to decide what I need or don’t need to know.”

“…Maybe not.” Kafka drums her fingers on the desk. “Your journey matters more than the past, it’s unchangeable and therefore irrelevant. Focus on where you are now and the rest will fade away.”

“So everyone keeps saying. Do I not deserve to know who I am?”

A tinge of irritation laces your words and judging by Kafka’s pause, she’s noticed.

“I don’t want the past to fade away,” you continue, straightening up in a sudden surge of passion, “I want to know. I want to know why you—”

You cut yourself off and she raises a brow.

“Why I what?”

“Doesn’t our past shape our present?” You ask instead. “How can I just go on not knowing who I was before?”

Kafka decides not to acknowledge your diversion. She shakes her head. “Your case is an exceptional one. There’s nothing for you before the Stellaron because you are an artificial body created for that purpose only.”

“So, that’s it? I’m a… a robot, and it starts there.”

“No. You are human in all the ways that matter and extraordinary in every other aspect. That’s when it starts.”

You hear the conviction in her statement. You don’t feel the relief you thought would come with the truth. You can’t put it into words but you feel almost empty, like parts of you are missing and in their place stands a shapeless void. You didn’t get to grow up, to have parents or a family, to learn how to walk, talk, read— you are alive and yet you haven’t truly lived. If people are made up of experiences, you are not a full person yet. It’s uncomfortable to think about and does nothing to alleviate the heaviness of your limbs.

There’s a bulge in your throat that doesn’t go away after you’ve swallowed twice. You stare at the marine blue sheets of your bed for some time, lost in thought. Kafka reclines on her chair, a strange expression on her face. She’s looking at her screen but her mind seems elsewhere as well. A moment passes in silence before you find the strength to speak up about something you’ve wondered since you awoke on Herta’s space station.

“If there was nothing prior to hosting the Stellaron,” you start slowly, “then where does my connection with you come from?”

“I told you on the Luofu that I was in charge of teaching you before I put the Stellaron in your body.”

“Is that why you care?”

Kafka smirks a beat too late for it to be natural. “What makes you think I care?”

“Because I care. Even if I don’t understand why.”

She stares at you through the phone and you meet her gaze without flinching. She doesn’t allow herself to be quiet for too long but you think you’ve put her in a somewhat difficult position. You doubt anything that comes out of her mouth will be truthful.

“Well,” Kafka says with a dismissive shrug, “we did spend some time together, that also explains why you remember me.”

“So we were close.”

She takes a while to reply, looking at something past her screen. Her voice is low, thoughtful, underlined with a sort of wistfulness, “Mmm… You used to follow me around like a puppy, always trailing behind me and asking all sorts of questions.”

She doesn’t seem amused as she speaks even though the words are meant to tease you. You think maybe she misses that. Kafka smiles, but it’s an empty one.

“You’ve grown since then.”

There it is again, that lump stuck in your throat, the feeling that you’re missing something important and that your lack of memories creates a glass wall between the two of you. You can’t understand the look in Kafka’s eyes and the softer edge to her features, if only for the instant she uttered these words. You don’t know why you’re sad when you initiated this goodbye or why it feels like the end of something unexpected, a period of time that belongs to her and someone else. You are unable to remember, but it’s not the case for your body; your shoulders drop and you fight the urge to rub your throat so its muscles relax a little. Somehow, you know that you will only miss her at first, on the days when everything is new and you can’t rely on the familiarity of her voice.

“…It’s late,” you manage to say, and Kafka hums in agreement, gaze never leaving yours.

There’s a sudden knock at your door, the noise making you tense and turn towards it in suspicion until a voice sounds from beyond, slightly muffled yet entirely recognizable. Himeko softly calls your name from outside your bedroom and asks if you’re still awake.

“Just a minute, Himeko!”

Your head snaps back to your phone, alert and aware that she can’t know who you’re in a call with. Kafka observes the conflict on your face with a humorless chuckle.

“Looks like you’ve got company.”

“I need to go,” you reach for the device, pausing for a few seconds as your thumb hovers over the hang up button. “I won’t be calling next week.”

“…I know. We’ll see each other again.”

You hang up with a trembling sigh. You throw the phone on your bed and stand up to answer the door, rubbing your tired eyes. Himeko stands on the other side, a teacup in hand. She’s in a long nightgown, a robe over her shoulders, and she smiles when she sees you; the kind of smile that unconsciously makes your lips mimic hers. Her pretty hair is loose and her eyes are bare of any makeup, exposing the faint crinkles at their corners. The sight of her reminds you of the journey you’re on and of the reliable companions that walk beside you. You feel better than you did a moment before.

“I know you have trouble sleeping and I saw the light coming from under the door, so I made you some tea in case you needed it,” she says, handing you the cup, and you take it with gratitude blooming inside your chest.

“Oh,” you exhale, not knowing what to say. “Thank you. Why are you still up?”

“I may have overdone it with caffeine today,” Himeko laughs quietly. “I’ll be awake for a while. We can talk until you doze off if you’d like. You’ll need all your energy for tomorrow.”

You stand there, fingers gripping the tiny cup as you stare at her. You feel seen under her casual attention and though it isn’t familiarity that washes over you, it’s a comfort nonetheless. You nod, stepping aside to let Himeko in, and the easy way in which she makes herself comfortable in the armchair near your bed makes you light.

[sonicasura]

Isekai Game: Kaiju No. 8

You are sent to the world of Kaiju No. 8. With you are two characters not from the franchise, they will help you during your journey here. You will come across the series various characters and villains as you try to find a way home. Here are the rules:

One character must be from the last show/movie you watched.

One character must be from the last game you've played. If you don't play videogames, you can choose book characters! Playthroughs can also count if you don't want to choose the book option.

The characters must be a protagonist, at least good/turned good, or neutral in that respective franchise. EX: Gregory (FNAFSB), Glamrock Freddy. Roy Mustang, Donquixote Rosinante 'Corazon' etc

They have all their necessary equipment and abilities up to the current point. If a chosen character has a character that also counts as part of their arsenal, then they can be unlocked by finding a place associated. Ex: Glamrock Freddy for Gregory, can be unlocked by finding a specific pizzary or mall.

What did you got?

I got my Nergigante 'Gigante' (Monster Hunter Stories 2) and Kirby(Kirby Right Back At Ya anime).

Despite having the Defense Force following my ass, I'm definitely doing super well. Anime Kirby is still pretty powerful and an Elder Dragon like Nergigante can make quick work of most kaiju. Though I may have to raid Kafka's Monster Sweeper job to keep them both fed.

@mechazushi @noodlesbf-blog @kafkahibinomybeloved @iceclew @renard-dartigue @drmarune @giantgoblin @scribblermerlin @driokrine @discoknack @omniithe-deer @j4yslayz @margoteve @kaijuice-z

[tonkatsubowl]

hey there, pretty boy.

▼ aventurine x fem!reader

▼ enemies to lovers

▼ nsfw themes. mdni.

you're a sultry dancer at a club, but you're actually a stellaron hunter and an assassin in disguise. you catch a glimpse of a wealthy man... and it goes from there.

penacony was the reality of where "dreams come true". but that may apply to most visitors—but not all.

most visitors of penacony come with their own wealth, spreading money in addiction cycles of gambling and drinking all night long, and even spending their money relentlessly on beautiful dancers and those who lingered around in the streets for... well, prostitution.

you were a feast for these addictive visitors—a delicious meal with an expensive price to pay.

you were a dancer at a local club in penacony; using your beauty to lure in the weak, frail men and to obtain money out of them. but you weren't just a dancer—you weren't even a dancer. you were a stellaron hunter in disguise, stationed in this dreamscape to find a certain ipc member. for your mission, it was classified, but you enjoyed the rest of the side money you obtained from these thirsty, desperate men.

as a member of the stellaron hunters, your identity was not known to the public. you were an assassin, and not even the nameless knew of your existence except for your allies... and the gods above who keep a watchful eye on these many realities.

"oh, look!" one of your dancers cooed, gathering around with the others as they squealed in harmonious glee, eyeing at a certain individual that entered the club. "it's him, it's him! he is filthy rich, and apparently he's super handsome. c'mon, we gotta get him over here with us."

"oh, he'll definitely dance with me." another dancer remarks.

"c'mon, your boobs aren't even that big." another replies.

"how would you know if he's a tits guy?"

you were on the side of the group, rolling your eyes. but your eyes settled on the blonde man's frame.

sunglasses, his beautiful eyes that were fairly hidden behind his expensive shades... he wore expensive clothing, indeed, but you knew him.

aventurine, the senior manager within the ipc.

your goal was to obtain as much as information as you could, or even better—take him. kidnap him for kafka and the others to toy around with.

well, that was just your sadistic side coming in.

but, even with your main target here.. you decided not to pursue or seem desperate. you decided to be smart about the situation, and ignore the man. maybe there's a coincidence he'll ask for a private dance from you.

"—ah, i've never seen you around these parts. are you a new dancer?"

as though the celestial oppositions were listening to you, your eyes turn, head followed, settled upon the beautiful, wealthy gambler before you.

"i'm not." you say, though your voice was sultry—intoxicating, sublime and absolutely... charismatic. "but i welcome you here regardless. would you like to have a drink? i can certainly-"

"mm, you don't seem like a bottle girl," aventurine hums, his forefinger and thumb pressed against his chin, "just an observation."

"ah, so you like to judge and read the covers before choosing, huh?" you say, glancing to your "coworkers" who had looked at you with pure jealousy in their eyes. "i'm surprised you haven't chosen them immediately for a dance. they're much more skilled and experienced than i am."

aventurine's smile turned coy, almost flirtatious. "self doubtful, are you? would it be appropriate then if i asked for a private dance? a dancer working at a club in bare clothing and speaking down on herself is a rare thing for me to... well, witness."

your lips tug to a thin smile, "it might be my lucky day, then," you whisper with your sultry tone, digits extending towards his expensive-looking attire as you adjusted it. your fingers toyed with his charms, your lips giving themselves a lick—only for show, "to be asked for a dance from yourself."

aventurine chuckled, before pushing up his sunglasses, revealing those pristine jewels of his.

"what pretty eyes you've got, pretty boy." you murmur, before taking his hand and taking him to the private section of the club.

as aventurine settled down onto his seat, you closed the curtain, turning of the lights.

"i'm sure you know the rules of asking for a private dance." you say, looking towards aventurine.

"i cannot touch the dancer." he says, kicking his legs up as he leaned back against his seat. his dazzled jewelry sparkled under the dim light that belonged to a lantern nearby, his smile still evident through this darkness.

"i'll let you touch me."

you suddenly let out, and your brain had nearly lost itself—you spoke out of your own desire, knowing how beautiful he was, but it was a chance to get information from him. yet, it wasn't long til you had forgotten your objective.

the music had begun to play, akin to some rnb-type beats that may fit a setting during intercourse. you began to move—a divine display of a goddess dancing, hips swaying and chest nearly bare. aventurine did not take his eyes off of you, even as your rear came towards his crotch, performing a lap dance.

you grinded against his clothing before fully turning, straddling him on his lap as you continued your dance. you ran your fingers across his cheek, eyes studying his.

"you say my eyes are beautiful," he whispered, "but your veil and eyes alone are more pristine than any other i've seen."

"you sly dog," you retort in a whisper as you continued to dance, "how many women have you said that to?"

aventurine chuckled, "only one. and that is you."

you roll your eyes, before you had begun to realize your goal... you were getting lost in his sight before you remembered you were a dignified member of the stellaron hunters.

that was when you straddled on his lap, again, and continued to dance... before your blade had materialized in your hand, centering at his throat.

"ipc dog." you murmur, so hauntingly beautiful. "a trap you easily went in—as though you knew of the danger."

aventurine did not jump, nor did he react to your action. he had expected it.

he chuckled, looking at you, "a trap, you say? it's more of a gift, really. a gift that i wanted, so i came in here, and..."

"you were looking for me. what a dog." you responded, feeling his breath hitting your cheek.

you two were close... merely an inch away from kissing.

"i came here to make a deal with you." aventurine spoke, "i know of your affiliation, hunter."

it was your turn to smile, "a deal with me? you're truly a gambler. even at death's hands, you'd make such a gamble with your life?"

"oh, i yearn for death, but i prefer to gamble away with you at this moment." aventurine chuckled.

"... what is it?" you murmur. you had no need to kill him, but at this point, with how interested you were in him, you...

"allow me to break the rules for a moment," he whispered, in which you responded with a gentle nod.

his eyes never left your gaze as his hands came to rest themselves on the side of your hips, bringing your frame closer.

"you can take all my money from me. get every bit of information out of me and give it to your supervisors. make me pathetic, and a stray dog, unable to care for its own. or..."

your eyes soften.

"or i get to toy with you tonight. on my bed. and perhaps you'll have my hand."

you pause.

abandon the mission and lie to the others? or...

... follow your instinct and oblige to the feeling of your chest?

you lower your blade as it dematerializes into spectacles of your signature color.

"are you asking me out on a date?"

"would i be rejected if i was?"

"... no."

part two

[aventurineswife]

helos fre :3 random but any thoughts on self aware hsr 🙏🙏 ngl it's absolute peak to me cuz the fics I've read about it is so good I wanna digest it into my blood cells 😍🥰🥰/hj /lh

AHHHH I HAVE FEW BUT ITS PROBABLY NOT GOOD 😭🙏 (I might need to write a series about it in the future lmaoo)

The Express itself, and the crew aboard it, start referencing an "observer" that influences their journey. They might leave cryptic remarks like, "We wouldn’t have made it here without a guiding force…" or, "Are you out there, watching us?"

Himeko and Welt have deep discussions about the metaphysical implications of being part of a "game." Welt's past in other dimensions makes him particularly reflective.

Occasionally, your Trailblazer might break the fourth wall and stare directly "out" of the screen. They’d ask questions like, "Why are you helping us? What’s in it for you?" Or even, "Do you think you’re doing the right thing?"

Their dialogue changes subtly depending on your in-game decisions, showing that they’re paying attention.

Kafka is one of the few who seems fully aware that you’re pulling the strings. She might tease, "How long will you keep playing this game? Or is it playing you?" It’s unclear if she means it literally or as a metaphor.

Pela starts digging into the concept of "higher dimensions" where powerful entities (like the players) influence their world. You might find hidden journal entries speculating about the possibility of unseen forces guiding their lives.

Characters start commenting on how often you farm the same materials or run the same domains (?). For instance, Dan Heng might say, "You’ve had me fight this exact enemy over fifty times… What are you preparing for?"

When summoning characters, some of them might react to being "chosen." For example: Silver Wolf might say, "Took you long enough. Were you saving for someone else?" While Seele could mutter, "You really wanted me, didn’t you?"

As beings tied to the metaphysical order of the universe, the Aeons might perceive your existence. Xianzhou scholars hypothesize that you are an entity akin to an Aeon of "Control" or "Fate."

The Stellaron within the Trailblazer seems to have an awareness of you, treating you like an ally—or a potential threat. It might whisper cryptic messages about your choices or consequences.

Herta becomes suspicious of the odd behaviors in the universe and starts referring to you as a "prime variable." She might even try to communicate directly through simulated events, asking for your cooperation.

Some characters, like March 7th or Natasha, might express gratitude for your care and attention. "You always bring me along… Do you think I’m special?" they might ask, breaking the fourth wall.

Certain antagonists, like Cocolia or Jade, might break from their usual dialogue to challenge your decisions. "You think you’re the hero? You’re just another player, aren’t you?"

A secret cutscene or dialogue could play if you act in unexpected ways, revealing that the characters have fully realized their reality. It could be bittersweet, with them either embracing or lamenting their lack of agency.

Aventurine might acknowledge your influence subtly. After completing a mission for the IPC, he sends a message: "Noticed your knack for efficiency. You deserve a little bonus for all the extra effort you 'inspire.' Don’t let it go to your head." He attaches an unusually large amount of credits, as though recognizing you directly for optimizing his profits.

Argenti might kneel before the screen during a heartfelt moment (or after a battle): "O noble guide, it is your divine hand that shapes my path! I dedicate my blade not just to the people, but to you. May your will continue to shine upon us!" He also gifts you rare items or sends messages of gratitude, as though you're a divine figure he serves.

AHHH I wanna write fics for certain characters or something (this could also lead to yandere themes depending if the person/anon reqs for it).