#just joking but ive had some time to enjoy them lately

[dayurno]

pacing around my room motioning widely towards my pinboard and when you look at it its just this chart of me trying to figure out the kerejean dynamics of the fic im planning

[bedoballoons]

GENSHIN BOYS WITH A FEM!THIN/UNDERWEIGHT READER???? ive always been rlly thin, so it’s not eating disorder related just a scrawny fem!reader

OOOOOO OKIE!! I've always been thicker myself so I hope I wrote this well! Thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy the characters I picked!!

─⊰💕𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤💕⊰─

{༻~Scrawny and cute~༺}

CW: Fem! Reader described as being very thin!, fluffy and sweet!

A/n: First time writing Gaming!! EEE so excited!! Hope I did him justice!!

(Includes: Lyney, Gaming, and Venti!)

𑁍༄Lyney:

You tried to stay perfectly still as Lynette measured you...how had you gotten in this position? You weren't really sure, all you knew was that Lyney was special ordering you a outfit for his next show and he'd asked his sister to measure you, only she seemed a little perplexed with the results. "You're eating right? You make sure to have three meals a day? Maybe even some snacks?"

You raised a eyebrow at her, "Yes of course. Why do you ask?"

She paused for a second, her features not giving any hint to what she was feeling, "Your measurements are just very small, for a second I was worried you might need to eat more."

"Nope, I was actually worried about that at first as well, but I always make food and she eats it. She's just naturally thin, which is exactly why I'm thinking you'll be perfect for the trick I have in mind...if that's alright of course?"

You and Lynette turned your attention to Lyney as he walked up to you, his eyes sparkling with inspiration as you contemplated his request. "Hmm do I get a kiss after the show?"

"As if you wouldn't mon amour~"

𑁍༄Gaming:

"Woah here let me get that for ya!"

"Watch your step, don't want you to fall!"

"Get to safety I'll take care of them!"

You'd heard them a few to many times lately, you knew Gaming was only looking out for you, he was a caring guy and he truly just wanted to make sure you were okay all the time...even if he was being a little to...over protective. Yes you were a bit scrawnier than he was...his claymore probably weighed more then you did, but that didn't mean he had to do everything for you..., "Hey Gaming? You know you don't have to do all that stuff for me right? I can do it just fine I swea-"

"Oh I have no doubts you could, I just figured when I'm with you, you shouldn't have to. Hmm how do I put this...you're one of the most precious things to me, so I want to take care of you." He scratched the back of his neck, a blush creeping onto his cheeks, "Maybe I was over doing it though...sorry. Promise i'll remember that for next time, for now lets enjoy some dim sum!"

𑁍༄Venti:

Venti wrapped his arms around your waist tightly and rested his chin on your shoulder, watching as ran your fingers over the details engraved in his lyre. He'd been teaching you how to play little by little everyday and now you could almost strum a whole song...but it still just didn't sound as good as when he played it, "Venti do you think one day my music will induce feelings like yours does? I want to play you a melody that leaves you feeling calm and happy, just like you do to me."

He smiled softly and kissed your cheek, his embrace growing slightly tighter around your slim waist, "I think one day you will make music that leaves everyone feeling calm and free, you have talent and a beauty even crystal flies would be jealous of."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and butterflies fill your stomach...one day. One day you'd play him a tune that explained every feeling just right and then when he held you tightly after, chuckling happily and making a joke about how he hopes he doesn't break you with his hugs...you'd tell him just how much you loved him and it would be the most perfect of days.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

[wonwoosthetic]

when will we get a new chapter for minnie 🫶🏼

a/n: now! ˙ᵕ˙ this was a request sent to me through my Google form, so thank you to whoever wrote it🤗 I hope you guys like the quick little chapter!

series masterlist

warnings – pregnancy scare, short mention and implications of infertility, jokes and mentions about sex

word count – 4.6k

summary – minnie gets a little scare and there’s only one member she can think of to call

pairing – minnie & vernon (mentions of wonwoo x minnie x mingyu)

Better Safe Than Sorry 🌷 Minnie

Minne was in a panic. For the past two hours, the girl hadn't found a second of rest, pacing around the apartment, trying to keep herself busy before the thoughts running through her brain could catch up with her. Vernon was supposed to be here 10 minutes ago, only adding to her anxious state. Wonwoo and Mingyu were at the gym, thank God, she thought to herself.

The past few days, or more so even two weeks, had been... interesting. It started with a headache spanning over multiple days, only for it to turn into a migraine. Or so she thought. Throwing up, going to bed as early as possible, and sleeping in for as long as she could. Something was not right. Add the random heat flashes she had experienced the week before and Minnie started speculating. The moment she realised that her period had been a few days late made her shut down.

It was so secret that women in the industry encountered irregularities with their cycles as stress and diets dominated their lives. But Minnie and the entirety of Seventeen were in a good place. None of them was totally overworked at that point, thanks to their new contract. Diets were, thanks to the need to fit into the impossible beauty standards, still a topic of discussion but they were doing fine. Right?

It was one night out that made her mind spiral. Rapidly.

-

Minnie was enjoying a dinner with her closest friends from school, having made a reservation in one of their favourite restaurants a week ahead to make sure they'd get a private room. Food and drinks were passed around the table, discussions and conversations were flowing and laughter filled the room. Everyone was having a good time. When it hit that point of the night where people were slowly starting to leave, say their goodbyes and make promises to meet up again soon, the female singer was left with her two closest friends from that group. 

Léon, once a boy too afraid to show his true colours, is now a proud man with a husband waiting for him back in their new hometown in Spain. And Hana, the legend of a best friend who had gifted Minnie her first vibrator, and now the owner of one of the most-visited clubs in the nightlife of Hongdae.

The two were well tipsy while Minnie had held herself back a bit. They were still giggling at one of their friends who had stumbled through the door as he exited, the multiple shots of liquor clearly taking over his body.

"You look a little paler than usual," Léon suddenly commented, glancing at the idol with a slight frown, "Are you okay?"

"She probably just got a new IV infusion for extra light skin," the other girl joked, getting a chuckle out of the singer. Hana had never been a fan of the idol life.

Minnie shrugged, her finger circling the rim of her glass, "I've been feeling kinda off."

Her friend downed the last shot on the table before turning to her in confusion, "How off?"

Minnie sighed, "I've had a headache for like... a week now. And two days ago I was throwing up all day. Even yesterday and today when I woke up I felt like I had to puke..." The two friends were eyeing her carefully, letting her speak freely. "And then I had some random, like... heat flashes?" She glanced up to meet their eyes, "I don't know what the hell that was, but... yeah... something's going on, I don't know. But I don't want to provoke it with alcohol."

"That," the guy of the group leaned back, eyes now wide, "does not sound good."

"Yeah, but it must be something with my immune system. My period's also God knows where."

"You missed your period?!" Hana gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Girl-" Léon eyed her with a surprised expression, but Minnie was quick to stop them.

"No, no, no," she waved her hands, "It's not like that. I've missed it before, but it... it's a weird coincidence."

"What do you mean 'not like that'? That sounds a lot like being pregnant to me!" The tattooed girl hissed at her.

That was the first time she had heard the word out loud. Of course, it had crossed her mind. Just like every other woman. The moment her period was late, the first thought to come to her was 'shit, what if I'm pregnant', only to dismiss it a second later at how ridiculous it sounded.

"No, I-... we have the tour and we're preparing for a new album, and it's just... stress or something."

"But you've been stressed before. Way more stressed," the guy in front of her commented. "I don't want to scare you, but... you know..."

"If there's anyone that could be pregnant, it's you, Min," Hana casually told her, leaning back against the cushioned seats.

Minnie frowned as she glanced at her. "What the fuck do you mean?"

"No one's getting laid like you," she laughed, making the other two at the table chuckle and Léon threw his head back in glee.

"Oh, shut up!" The idol exclaimed, "You've got a line of men waiting for you to call them back after leaving their apartment in the middle of the night. And that's just from last week."

"That's not true!" Hana pointed her finger at the girl. "You get two dicks on a regular! Every day, I bet!"

"It's not every day!"

"Every other day then," the only guy quickly commented before their discussion could get any louder.

Minnie shrugged, "Yeah... so what?"

"My God," he chuckled with a shake of his head, "I'm jealous. Honestly." Making the girl laugh out loud.

"No, but seriously," Hana stopped the two, letting silence wash over the table once again. "Have you thought of it?"

"No! Because..." Minnie went quiet.

"They're not using condoms. Don't lie to us," Léon glared at her, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Hana faked a gasp, "You slut."

"You're not even using them on strangers!" Minnie pointed out, only for her friend to slap her hand away.

"This isn't about me!"

"Whatever..." the singer mumbled, her eyes back on the glass. It was still half filled with the mix of Soju and beer she decided not to finish.

"Okay, but seriously," Léon started again, "Could there... be a possibility?"

"For one, I'm on the pill," she explained, noticing her friends opening their mouths to argue, so she continued, "I know! I know that's not 100% safe, but it's... very safe-"

"I don't know about very safe, to be honest," Hana went back to nursing a glass of water. "My mom was on the pill and look at me now," pointed at herself with a proud grin.

"Don't make me scared," Minnie mumbled as she fell back onto her chair with a sigh.

"We don't want to scare you," her guyfriend explained, letting the other girl continue,

"But take a test, just in case," Hana shrugged. "You know how many pregnancy scares I've had? Still, better safe than sorry." She ended her speech by finishing her water.

Minnie's gaze had landed on her lap, where her thumbs had already started fidgeting with each other. "I...," she started with a sigh but stopped herself again right away.

"What?" Léon wondered, keeping a close eye on the singer, but she just shook her head and brought the glass of alcohol up to her lips.

"Nothing." And downed the last bit.

-

Four days later Minnie was still fighting her stomach each day, going out of her way to try and get as little food and water into her system as possible, knowing it would only trigger her and make her run to the toilet. On the other hand, the lack of nutrition was most definitely also adding to the nausea. There seemed to be no way out for the female singer.

On the verge of tears, overwhelmed with emotions, she had texted Hana in the morning, begging her to go to the store to buy her a pregnancy test. She was still very much in denial of the possibility of her being knocked up, but there were too many signs... But then again, she remembered the conversation she had with her gynaecologist two years ago. The doctor had only let a few words fall from her mouth before Minnie realised what she was trying to tell her.

At the sound of the front door's bell, the idol's head perked up, a second before she was rushing to the door. Once she pressed the camera button, she came to face with the young rapper she had called and pressed to open the door downstairs.

"Thanks!" Came through the speakers as Vernon disappeared into the building.

For the next minutes it would take him to come up, Minnie tried to pretend to have to do something, just praying the time would pass by quicker. The tests, yes multiple, were already placed on the counter of the main bathroom's sink. Hana had arrived with two in her bag, along with chocolate and prosecco to celebrate in case they'd be negative. The alcohol was chilling in the fridge while the sweet treat was waiting for her in the cabinet, with her definitely enjoying it either way of how the tests would come out.

Another doorbell sound rang through the apartment, notifying the female member of his arrival. With a few big steps, she stopped in front of the door, pulling it open in a swift motion. A wide-eyed Vernon standing right in front of her.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know," she mumbled, catching him off-guard as she pulled him in.

With a frown, the younger member stood right in front of her, shuffling his feet out of his shoes before he followed her down the hall.

"What's going on?"

She continued to walk in silence, only coming to a halt in the middle of the living room. Vernon stopped at the corner into the hallway, leaning against the wall.

"Alright," Minnie sighed, bringing her hands up in front of her, "Look..."

"Oh," the '98 Liner nodded, understanding this was going to be even more serious than he had expected. As if her call, asking him 'Can you come over? Like now? Just for a bit?' with zero explanation didn't alert him enough already, her stance certainly brought his heartbeat up.

"Are you okay?" He repeated his question, taking a seat on the edge of the couch, not daring to lean back in comfort.

The girl pressed her lips together, nodding as she avoided his gaze. "I-... I think so, yeah."

"That's not a yes, so that's alarming."

"No, wait-" she stopped him, "Just-... listen, okay?" Making him nod, so she could continue. "I called you because I know- or, at least I hope, you... won't judge me," his frown made her rush her words out even quicker. "And you won't overreact, because I- I don't even know if I really should be concerned, and honestly, I don't think I should be and if you ask me, I think it's impossible, and I'm overreacting, but some other people have made me think otherwise."

"Oh...kay?" Pure confusion was still written across his face. A beat of silence washed over the two as Minnie thought about what to say next. She was looking around the room, knowing there was no way out and she had brought herself into this situation.

She took one deep breath before blurting out, "I need to take a pregnancy test," pressing her lips tightly together again as she waited for a reaction.

Vernon's eyebrows shot up the moment the words tumbled from her lips. He closed his eyes for a split second, trying to take in what she had just said to him.

"Ehm... for... what?"

Minnie looked at him perplexed, "What do you think people take pregnancy tests for?" She knew sex ED in South Korea wasn't good, but she had hoped it wasn't that horrible.

"Well, I hope you're not gonna take it for the reason I think you might be taking it," he glanced up at her. 

He called himself lucky to get to have her as an older sister despite only being born two months apart. Vernon and Minnie had been close ever since he became a trainee under Pledis, the older girl taking him in as a little brother in an instant. Over the years, she had realised that the lack of an age gap was starting to show as she found herself looking up at him more and more, mentally and literally physically as he had shot up in height. She had found herself looking for comfort in him, asking him for advice or even just listening to him. While some members were more physical when it came to showing their appreciation and love, Vernon kept himself in the background, choosing quiet acts of kindness as his love language, which she sometimes appreciated even more than anything else. But even with all the love the two had for each other, their sibling-like relationship was no secret and not kept behind closed doors.

"And what is the reason you're not hoping for?" She had crossed her arms in front of her chest, her eyes still unsure of whether or not to lock with his.

Vernon sighed and shook his head before glancing back up at her, now finding her gaze. "Do you seriously think you're pregnant?"

"No," she was quick to answer.

The '98 Liner rose from his seat. "Then why take the test?"

"Because!" Minnie started pacing around the room again, fixing her hair along the way.

"Because?" He nagged her.

The girl to a stop. "Better safe than sorry."

Vernon couldn't help but sigh again, "Minnie..."

"There's a 0.01 per cent chance-"

"Don't say 0.01 because if it really was 0.01 you wouldn't even think of taking one!" He pointed a finger at her, quickly realising the rude gesture and putting his hand down again. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Okay, then maybe a slightly bigger chance... I don't know..." the female member bit down on her lip as her voice quieted down. Her gaze was back on the floor. "I'm scared."

Her confession made the rapper look back at her. He understood the seriousness of the situation, yet he had never seen the girl that way before. On a night out with the group, they had found out about the first pregnancy scare she had had years before, but she acted differently about it then. Took it with a lot more humour. But now, the woman in front of him just confessed to being scared. And he was the one she had trusted to confront about it.

Vernon glanced around the room. He couldn't freak out. He was supposed to help her here.

"Don't be scared," he tried to assure her, getting up from the sofa to take a step closer to her. "Are you serious though?"

Fallen silent, the girl just nodded. After not getting a verbal response back, she spoke up to explain, "I just... I've been feeling kinda... off. It's weird," she brushed it off, "and I really- I don't think I am, but... what if I am?"

Vernon accepted her answer, taking a second to himself. "Okay," he took a deep breath in and out. "It's okay. You have a test?" He asked her.

Minnie nodded.

"You went out and bought one?" Not even trying to conceal the concern in his voice.

"No," she told him, passing him as she made her way to the bathroom. "Hana got two for me."

"Where's she?" The younger member was hot on her feet.

"At work," Minnie explained. "She bought them on her lunch break." She stopped in front of the door, turning around to come to face with the rapper.

Vernon lowered his voice. "Why did you call me?"

The female idol shrugged.

He was desperate at this point. It felt like the wrong situation to be in for him. "Why not... Minghao... or... Shua, or Coups-"

"Coups would have me on a leash and drag me to get me castrated the moment he heard the words 'pregnancy test'!" She defended herself, getting a slight chuckle from him in return.

"Don't know how that would work but you're probably right. He'd do it at the word 'pregnancy' already," he mumbled.

"And... Shua would be way too emotional and... I don't know... Hao too. They'd be so... careful around me and try to comfort me-"

"You don't want to be comforted?"

"Not right now," she shook her head and gulped as he met his eyes. "I called you because you're the only person I know who can just sit there and be there for someone. Without overreacting... or... freaking out. And I'm kinda freaking out, so I need someone with a cool head right now."

"Not gonna lie," Vernon confessed, "I'm freaking out a little though."

"But you're hiding it well."

"Ditto," he nodded at the female member.

Another moment of silence washed over the apartment. Minnie took a quick look into the bathroom, her eyes immediately on the two pink packages by the sink.

"It's basically impossible that I'm pregnant," she admitted. The wheels in Vernon's head started turning, thinking that it was never truly impossible, unless... but he decided not to question her further.

"But I had weird... signs, I guess. And Hana and Léon made me scared. I just wanna make sure."

The '98 Liner nodded along to her words, shaking his head even harder the moment she looked back at him. "Do that. Take the test. Or tests," he dramatically pronounced the plural form.

Minnie nudged her head after a second to take a breath. "Can you come with me?"

Vernon immediately frowned. "Wh- Into the bathroom?"

The girl nodded.

"Ew, no! I'm not gonna watch you piss, bro."

She rolled her eyes, "Don't watch me pee. Just sit next to me," pointing to a stool they had in the bathroom for whatever reason. "Hold my hand?" She batted her eyes at him, mostly to lighten up the situation, while holding a bit of seriousness behind her ask.

"Absolutely fucking not," he shook his head. "Go. I'll be right here."

She eyed him up and down, scrunching up her face. "You're not a real one."

Vernon's eyebrows shot up. "If that's the requirement, I'm good," brushing her off and pushing her to finally get into the bathroom. "Weirdo," he mumbled, getting a last glare. At least she hasn't completely lost her spark, he thought to himself.

The moment she disappeared into the room, Vernon was met with the silence of being by himself. It was only then he realised that he hadn't even asked her about Wonwoo and/or Mingyu. Thinking, if anyone should be there, it would be the two men in question. He passed the thought after a moment of debating, coming to the conclusion that she'd have her reasons. Even after her explanation, he was still slightly confused as to why she'd rather have him than them here with her. He decided he'd rather stay in the unknown rather than pester her with more questions. Right now, she needed a friend, not an interrogator, by her side.

-

Vernon cleared his throat awkwardly.

The duo had found their way onto the couch with the two tests placed neatly on the coffee table ahead of them, facing down so neither one of them could even dare to get a glimpse of the results before the timer went off.

"And... ehm...," he tried to pass the time, hoping to somehow soothe the nerves rushing between both of them. "So... if you were though, like... pregnant," he carefully wondered, seeing her almost flinch at his words. He turned to look fully at her, finding her already staring at him. "Would you... w-would you... you know...," Vernon let out a chunk of air, "know whose it is?"

The time he had to himself let his mind wander to places he didn't even want it to go, but he couldn't help it.

Minnie stayed quiet for a few seconds, the words hitting her clearly hard as her eyes drifted off him.

"Ehm...," she took a deep breath. "I... I- eh... I... no?" Lowering her head, her gaze was back on her hands intertwined in her lap. She gulped, "I don't- I don't think so, n-no..." The confession appeared in the form of a big lump in her throat. 

While she was able to have her fun with the two men in her life, it was only now that she came across an obstacle like this. Of course, they had had conversations about protection, being careful instead of mindless, and consent. Yet, the topic of a possible pregnancy while still taking precautions seemed to have passed them.

Vernon nodded, his lips tightly pressed together. "Alright... damn...," he raised his eyebrows. "That- that's... wow, impressive... I mean- g-good for you. That's... good for you. And I- I mean not good good for you if you're pregnant, but, you know... good as in good for-"

"Vernon?"

"Yeah, I'm shutting up."

Not the time or place for a conversation like that, nor did she want to go into more detail about the couple's constellation in the bedroom with one of her closest friends, whom she considered her little brother. Neither did Vernon. But the silence had become dreadful.

Any other day, the duo would have no issue sitting next to each other in complete silence, yet, at that very moment, both wanted anything but to stay quiet. And finding a topic of conversation seemed more challenging than ever before.

The '98 Liner could see her shaking leg in the corner of his eye, unsure of how to comfort her well enough since it was the first time in a situation like that for him too. In an attempt to help her, he reached out and placed his hand on her knee, hoping it would calm her.

"It's okay," he quietly told her, turning his head to meet her clearly frightened gaze.

"Is it though?" She kept the conversation going.

He retrieved his hand again to turn the rest of his body to face her more clearly.

"You said it's... very unlikely." He continued to choose his words carefully, not trying to overstep and drag her into a hole she might not get out of.

Minnie nodded. "Yeah...," she whispered, hugging herself as if she was freezing. "Very unlikely, but... never impossible, right?"

Vernon shrugged his shoulder, "I think only you'd know that. If it's possible or not."

Whether they were talking about the act of conception or possibly rather the chances of her fertility would stay between the two.

The girl gulped. "It's unlikely. Very, very unlikely." 

A quiet pat on her back gave her the validation and comfort she craved and asked for.

"That's why I called you," Minnie confessed after a short few seconds of quietness.

"Hm?" Vernon glanced back at her after his eyes had been fixed on his phone.

"You can just sit here. Accept it, without a big reaction. And I still feel comforted. You... your presence is very comforting."

The question as to why him and not the men that lived with her was still burning his tongue, yet he didn't even dare to let it fall from his lips. Maybe another time.

"I still don't think I'm the right person for something like this-"

"You are," she quickly reassured him. "I didn't even think of anyone else."

The truth was, were the first people to pop into her head her lovers? Yes, of course. But in a moment of panic, in a situation that could affect either one of their lives immensely, she didn't want to confront them. Not with 100% certainty of a result. She wanted to avoid the unnecessary anxiety and hysteria spreading to other people involved in this. Not if there's nothing to be worried about in the first place, she kept on convincing herself.

In addition, as they had talked about before, knowing the rest of her members, there was a group of them that would try to be as emotionally available as they possibly could, their arms around her during the entire process, trying to console her while she just needed someone next to her. The other part of them would turn it into the headline of their tabloid, running around frantically, trying to make sense of the situation, while freaking out, scaring her even more.

And then there was Cheol, the oldest of them all, she shook her head as she didn't even want to think of a possible reaction of his. Yes, he'd support her no matter what, but the image of disappointment on his face was something she couldn't stomach.

Silently, Vernon leaned back, a tight smile on his lips. He appreciated her honesty.

Their sweet moment of companionship was interrupted by the sound of the teeth-shattering, chill-sending sound of his alarm. Vernon didn't even think of changing the ringtone, just opting to go with the standard iPhone one, making the girl shudder as he turned it off.

"Alright," he sighed. "You ready?"

Minnie nodded, pushing herself up to sit further on the edge, her knees close to hitting the coffee table.

"I do one, you do one?"

"Dude, you peed on that, I'm not touching it!" His exclaim made her look at him dumbfounded.

"I peed on that part," she pointed at the end covered by a plastic cap. "You won't even touch it."

But Vernon just shook his head. "You do it."

"Real supportive," she mumbled at him with an amused glare and nudge of her head.

Rushing down the number from three to one in her head, with a deep breath, she turned one test around, wanting to rip the bandaid off quickly and get it over with. Carefully, she looked at the small electronic display, ready for the worst to hit her.

"Not pregnant," she read out loud with a big breath of air. With a quick move, she turned around the second one, a content smile on her lips as she found the same result.

"Not pregnant," Vernon nodded, looking at the coffee table ahead of him before turning towards the female member. "You okay?"

Minnie pressed her lips together tightly, looking at him with a somewhat smile on her face as she nodded. "Yeah..."

Her gaze fell back on the white and blue plastic, her hands still cramped up in her lap as the younger rapper let himself fall further back into the blue couch. He let a moment pass, giving her the silence to herself.

"You know," he patted her back, gaining her attention, "If you were though...," she met his eye. "I'd drive you. Check-up... or...," with a motion of his hand, he pretended to cut his neck, getting a chuckle from her in return.

"I know," she whispered, not trusting her voice to become any louder. Too many emotions were rushing through the short moment, too many for at that time after coming close to what she'd describe as a heart attack.

In the blink of an eye, she had her arms wrapped around his torso, making the younger member smile softly as he returned the embrace. A comforting hand ran up and down her arm. It wasn't often he reciprocated the show of affection from her, but he'd let her for now, knowing she most definitely needed it.

With her cheek against his shoulder, he felt her tightening her arms in a pulse as she spoke up again.

"That's why I called you."

Taglist: @waosobii @chaebb @lunarxsun @hoe4wonwoo @kimhyejin3108 @soobzao @billboard-singer @cosmicwintr @zwiehe @alixnsuperstxr @angie-x3 @smooore @allthings-fandoms @lllucere

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus IV.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Explicit not SFW, alcohol consumption, Space Politics, possessive behavior, yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 15.4k.

Nexus index.

Time plucked away at the few petals still clinging to Kafka’s roses. 

The insipid end brought an inexplicable sense of relief. An irrational foreboding cast suspicion upon the bouquet; you considered it an ill-omen. You observed it religiously as one would an upside-down hourglass. Waiting, anticipating, dreading. When the last petal fell, you breathed a sigh of relief. It was late by then, so you decided to throw the remains away in the morning. 

Presently, you examine the vase. 

The once wilted stems stand tall, pridefully lifting its crowning gem on a green pedestal. Ruby-colored petals burst forth, wickedly beautiful and fragrant. 

Is this a practical joke? Some little parlor trick intended to unnerve you? 

The latest developments in holograms include olfactory stimulation. Consider this, you decide to test its authenticity. You reach out, expecting your hands to glide through an incorporeal image. 

Your fingers meet resistance. 

You try again just to be certain — the results are the same.

You’re more determined to get rid of it now than ever.

You pick up the most vain rose by its stem. It delays its demise by pricking you, earning a temporary pardon along the white veneer of your vanity. 

Blood pools into a crimson dome on your finger. You watch it, mesmerized, taken aback by memories that emerge alongside it.

The voice of a haughty girl echoes throughout your being. 

“What’s wrong? It’s just a bit of blood. We all have it inside us, don’t we?”

The LOTUS-EATER has always been your home. 

So long as it wasn’t open for business, you were free to run amuck. Of course, you refused to run amuck — how unladylike is that — but you did enjoy roaming. There were a lot of interesting things to look at. Anything was better than spending hours in front of that dumb blue screen with its stupid made-up people with stupid made-up problems. You didn’t get it. Everyone always said you’d grow up to be a super amazing Arbiter. You’d get tons of clients, make them all happy, get mountains of credits, buy the IPC, and then fire their staff.

Miss Calliope, your teacher when mother was busy, said it took most twenty years to get to where you’ve gotten in one. This reinforced an argument you’d practiced for many cycles. You thought for sure you could convince mother.

It didn’t work out that way. 

Mother said you had to keep studying before you could make a link with an organic being. You really wanted to argue, but you chose to act like an adult and be angry in silence instead. She tried to win you over and offered a ride on the nectar guides. This bribe almost swayed you from your mission. To ensure she knew how serious you were, you said you’d pass, calmly enough for her to know you weren’t actually calm. 

She went off somewhere to discuss boring things with boring people. You seized this opportunity to further refine your strategy and paced The Lounge’s hallways. Maybe if you broke the blue screen, mother would have no choice but to let you learn through experience. This idea greatly enthused you, until you remembered they could just get another blue screen. For this mission to succeed, you needed to cause the ‘collapse of supply chains.’ This was adult for ‘we can’t get the stuff we want’ from what you could surmise. The problem was, you didn’t know where these important chains were located. There’s Thelx, the good place, Ade, the weird place, Mele, the boring place, and Arc, the scary place. 

You stood and contemplated. If you had to hide something important, you’d put it in the scariest spot. Arc it is then. 

A mission of this magnitude would be unlike anything you pulled before. You’d need a… what was that term again…? Accompanied lice…? 

Accomplice! 

That’d be the crux of the whole thing. It couldn’t be any of the adults either, they’re all snitches. You required someone who would do your bidding. You closed your eyes and concentrated. There were three people around. Two on the first floor, one on the second. You sought out the latter. 

A little boy with long blonde hair and dull blue eyes sat by himself in the break room. He hadn’t noticed you yet, he just stared off into space and halfheartedly kicked his legs. The workers sometimes brought their kids along and stuffed them in here, where there were snacks and games. He didn’t seem interested in either. 

What resolve, you thought. What fortitude! 

You walked in front of him, pointed, and loudly demanded, “What’s your name?” 

“M-Miss Phaeales?” He squeaked. 

“No, that’s my name,” you sighed. Maybe your intuition was off. “What’s your name?” 

He hung his head and frowned.

“Oh, um… I’m Vincent.” 

You squinted. “Huh? That can’t be right. Vincent’s the bartender. You can’t do that.” 

“He’s my dad. We have the same name.” 

You felt a strange feeling from tinier Vincent; the kind of strange feeling that made your stomach and head hurt. Mother said you’d be able to block it out as you grew up. You hoped you’d grow up soon.

“Well, that’s dumb. I don’t like that name,” you decided. He remained silent. “Pick a new one.” 

“I don’t think I can…?” 

“You can because I said you can. Pick a new one, or I’ll pick one for you.” 

He stared at you like you had three heads. You did the scary thing mother does when angry — you counted down from three to one in a mean voice. Not-tinier-Vincent just sat there and looked confused. You scrunched your face up when your mean counting finished. You didn’t get it, that always worked on you. He must be immune to pressure… a quality your mission required. 

Maybe he had his merits after all.

“Alright, I’ll pick one. From now on, you’re… hm… Lear.” 

You placed your hands on your hips and nodded. This is a great name, you thought. It rhymes with so many things. 

Lear tilted his head. “Uh… alright?”  

“Great. Onto the next business order — how old are you?” 

He put up five fingers. 

What luck you have!

You grinned. “I’m seven, so according to the law, you have to listen to me.” 

“The law?” He questioned. 

“Yeah, the law. It’s what you have to do or you get in trouble.” 

Lear processed this new information and nodded. “Okay. I don’t wanna get in trouble.” 

“From now on, you’ll be my ac—” 

You covered your mouth with your hands. Wait a moment, you can’t tell him he’s an accomplice!  He might not help you then. That was a close one. You considered alternative titles, but none of them sounded as cool as accomplice. What a shame, but it can’t be helped. Missions required sacrifice. 

“From now on, Lear, you’ll be my best friend.” 

…

A few cycles later, you convened on the balcony outside of mother’s office. 

You liked the balcony. No one made you use the blue screen there. Sometimes, when you weren’t monitored, you’d grab a chair, pull it to the railing, hop up, and stare. This is Eris, you’d think. A cold planet far away from the stars. Stars are big fireballs that make everything nice and warm. I don’t think I’ll ever get to see one. It’d be cool if I could. 

You displayed a vital object for the mission.

“Lear, do you know what this is?” 

Lear stood still with his hands in his pockets. “A circle?” 

“No. Well, okay, yeah, it’s a circle, but this is called a hair tie. You use it to tie your hair.” 

“That’s cool.” 

You held it out to him. “For this mission, full visibility is required. I’d cut your hair, but mother hid the scissors from me.” 

His tiny hand grabbed it. Lear regarded your gift blankly and glanced back at you, his eyebrows furrowed. Did he not know what to do with it? 

You sighed because that’s what mother did in these situations. You started to get why. You took the gift back, tied your hair up, then returned it. He managed to do it on the fourth try. Relieved that the trial was over, you clapped and smiled. Your effort has been rewarded.

“Good job, Lear.” 

Lear’s head rose at that. “What?” 

“I said good job. When someone gets something right, that’s what you say.” 

“... It is?” He murmured. You nodded. You didn’t think you needed to teach him the basics, but an accomplice must be capable. Miss Calliope said that extra effort was always worth it. She changed her mind after you grabbed a stool to mix the adult drinks. You’d like to think she still meant it. 

“Since that’s finished, we can get to the main event.” 

You pulled out a paperclip from a pocket inside your dress. The object was subjected to your immense strength, manipulated, and reforged. It went from a boring shape to a useful shape. You took a deep breath, brought the paperclip’s edge to your pointer finger, then stabbed down. Lear released a choked sound when blood surfaced. 

You cleaned the paperclip’s edge with your dress’ hem and handed it to him. This would go on to determine the rest of your life, you decided. It needed to be done well. 

“I read that doing this makes your promises stronger. Since we’re gonna make an important promise, it has to be extra strong,” you explained. The color drained from Lear’s face. “What’s wrong? It’s just a bit of blood. We all have it inside us, right?” 

Lear refused to take the paperclip. “A promise? Miss Phaeales, I don’t know if I can.” 

“You don’t have to press hard. It barely stings, anyway.” 

“B-But...” 

You pursed your lips. “Lear, we have to, or the promise will be weak.” 

Lear shook his head and took a step back. There were lots of weird feelings that came from him. They confused you, you couldn’t think of a word to describe them. It didn’t hurt, but it felt heavy on your chest. What did you do wrong? Were paper clips that scary? No, it had to be something else. Mother said you can’t focus on another person too hard because it’s unfair. If they don’t tell you it themselves, you shouldn’t know it. 

“Lear…?” 

He stood on his tiptoes and reached for the number pad. You revealed the top-secret passcode to him, since the balcony was to be your top-secret hideout. Every top-secret hideout had to have a top-secret password. The detective books you read said so. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Lear apologized. His voice sounded tiny. “I’m really sorry.” 

You didn’t know what to say to stop him or if you should try. 

Was this what people meant when they called you pushy? You wanted to complete the mission, but you also didn’t want Lear to be sad. 

The door opened and quietly closed. 

With that, the first friend you ever made was gone. 

…

The next time you were allowed on the balcony, you were curled up in a ball. 

You hugged your knees to your chest and sniffled. Mom was mad at you. Miss Calliope was mad at you. Mister Caicias had scolded you. The other Arbiters were less nice too. You don’t think they ever liked you, but at least they pretended they did. It’s okay to hate you for now so they stopped pretending. 

You could hear their thoughts. You didn’t want to, but you could anyway. 

What a spoiled child.

If anyone else had done what she did, they’d never be allowed in this line of work.

I hope the Exalted Arbiter lives a long life, if this is to be her successor. 

Your throat was sore, your eyes burned, and your chest hurt. You didn’t know you were spoiled. You never thought you were better than anyone. You hadn’t realized your attitude was awful. You just wanted to be confident like mom. That way, no one would be worried about the future. Everyone on Eris relied on mom. Everyone on Eris will have to rely on you eventually.

You looked at the black sky, the only sky you’d ever known. It always felt sad. The gray clouds were like little discolored tears. 

You wondered if Noct ever felt bad that they made a planet where everyone was unhappy. 

Someone’s coming, you realized. Is it moma? 

It isn’t. 

It’s the little boy with blue eyes and long, blonde hair. This time, it’s pulled back into a ponytail. You hadn’t changed the top-secret password, he must’ve used it to gain entry. 

You hurriedly rubbed your tears away, and he looked elsewhere until you gave up on your task. Afterward, he sat down beside you. He hugged his knees to his chest as well. 

“Are you okay?” He murmured. 

You nodded and sunk your head into your knees. 

“... Those kids are mean, anyway,” he reassured. “I dunno what they said, but it’s not true.” 

“It is too. The adults think it but they don’t say it,” you whispered. 

You know it’s true. Your mission to Arc almost caused what Miss Calliope called ‘a scandal.’ 

You snuck out of the LOTUS-EATER by yourself.

It wasn’t as difficult as you expected. You just borrowed a staff member’s lanyard, pressed it against the door, and it opened. You stuck to the shadows and navigated your way south. You could tell when an adult was close if you heard their thoughts. The thoughts were rarely happy. You pushed on until you encountered an alley, where some older kids were gathered. 

You froze; you hadn’t accounted for kids. Their thoughts weren’t as loud and terrible. You didn’t hear them.

This bunch, though… they had a kid’s build and the expression of an adult. You counted four in total. One was tall, another was scrawny, the tiniest covered in dirt, and the last kid wore a tattered shirt that reached their knees. 

The tall kid spat on the ground. 

“This is our spot,” he said. “Get lost.”  

You fidgeted. 

“Hello, um… could I just pass over that fence? I’ll be quick,” you reasoned. 

“Are you deaf or something? I said, get lost.” 

The scrawniest kid squinted at you. “Hey, wait a sec, J. I feel like I’ve seen her before.” 

“Really? When?” The tiny one squeaked.

“Y’know, during those big events for when Arc folk move over.” 

“Huh, now that you mention it…” the tall boy trailed off, “You’re [First] Phaeales, right?” 

He said your name like it was a disease. It made your heart hurt. 

“Can you read my mind? What am I thinkin’ about, huh?” The scrawny kid called out. 

“Hey, be careful. I heard those things can make your head explode with a single look,” the kid in a long shirt whispered. 

The tall boy guffawed and stepped forward. “Really? Is that true?” 

You took a step back. 

“What? You gonna run away? Can’t stand to see people like us, huh?” He remarked. “Must be nice, getting everything you ever need handed to you. Yeah. Real fuckin’ nice.” 

“I don’t—” your voice gave out. You ignored how they snickered and pressed on to finish your important sentence. “I don’t think that about you! When I grow up, I wanna help—” 

The tall boy stormed over and lifted you by your dress’ collar. “Help? Help? You can’t do shit. You people never do anything! You promise and promise and never come through!” 

You didn’t understand, there was too much to process. Anger and sadness mixed to become a storm that you were caught in the middle of. You closed your eyes and hoped the pain would go away. Maybe you prayed to Noct, maybe you cried out for your mom, you don’t really remember. 

When you reopened your eyes you saw a music box. It was simple, small, and made of wood. There was nothing else around it. No ceiling or sky, floor or ground. You couldn’t speak, so you couldn’t scream. Nothing felt normal. This wasn’t Eris. Did you float into space? Can anyone save you? Would anyone find you?

The music box’s handle creaked; the lid lifted like a yawning mouth. No song was played. Voices came out instead, though they sounded far away. There was nothing else to do but listen. 

“At this rate, she’s only going to get worse…” 

“You don’t know that. I have a few more items I can pawn off, and then…” 

“... Temperature of 102 degrees…” 

“How much longer will this embargo last? Why can’t they just give in to the IPC’s fucking demands already? We all know they’re going to, but we have to sit and suffer while they play politics!” 

“Honey, keep your voice down, the children are trying to sleep…” 

“... Temperature of 104 degrees…” 

“My wedding ring! There’s still my wedding ring! We have— we have to go fast, the pharmacy closes at 3400!” 

“Jason, your mom and I need to run a very important errand. I need you to keep an eye on Iris, okay? Can you do that for me? I know it’s scary, but it’ll all be okay, I promise. We’ll be quick.” 

“Hey… big bro?” 

“You shouldn��t get up! Here, lay back down. There you go, take it easy. Mom and dad will be back soon. They’ll get what you need, and… and… it’ll be okay. They promised.”  

“I’m sorry… for making everyone sad.” 

“No, no, that isn’t true! When you get better, we’ll be the happiest family there is. We’ll— we’ll take a trip to the entertainment district, get tons of yummy food. I’ve been saving up my allowance so I can spoil you. You can have cookies, cakes,  whatever you want, it’s yours.” 

“... Pudding too?” 

“Of course, pudding too. You’ll have so much, you’ll need an entire lifetime to eat it. A long, long lifetime. So… just wait a bit longer. They should be back any minute now.” 

“You want to hear the music box mom gave you? That’s all the way in the— no no no, don’t look at me like that, I’ll go get it. See? Keep an eye on the door, lift your head just a little bit. I’ll be quick.” 

“Hey, look what I found. Works like a charm too. Hm? Did you fall asleep? That was fast. It normally… it takes… normally takes… l-longer…?” 

The music box slammed shut. 

The tall boy — Jason — released his grip on you and staggered back. His friends ran to his aid. You squeezed your head in your hands, fell to your knees, and tried to disappear. It hurt, it hurt, oh, it hurt, a pain you’d never experienced before. It felt like your chest was stabbed over and over again with something sharper than a paperclip. This pain, his pain, it was too much. 

A few guards that’d been dispatched to search for you overheard the commotion. They ran over, worried that you were injured. Nothing was wrong with you physically. The pain came from within. You thrashed and screamed when they picked you up. You wanted to be left alone, you wanted it to go away. 

You looked at the tall boy one more time before they pulled you away.

Tears fell from his eyes and they couldn’t stop. 

You don’t think those kids were mean. They were just really sad.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” the little boy said. His voice wavered. “I was scared.” 

You felt numb. “Of me?” 

His eyes widened and he waved his hands as if he’d caught on fire. “N-No, well, kinda, but not like that. You’re nice. You don’t tell me to smile or to stop looking sad.” 

Your lower lip trembled. “But I made you tie your hair up.” 

“I see better now.” 

“And— and I said your name was dumb.” 

“... I don’t like it,” he said. The strange feeling reappeared. “That name. It is dumb. You know that I guess, ‘cause of the mind stuff.” 

“Isn’t that scary?” 

“Maybe if you did mean things with it, but… that name made me sad. So you picked a new one. Lear is cool. It rhymes with stuff.” 

You lifted your head. The little boy wasn’t lying, you could tell. 

“Why’d you leave then?” 

His little hands balled into fists by his side.

“I was scared. I was asked to make a promise before, and I lied. It was a promise I didn’t like,” he explained. 

Then, he lifted his finger. A droplet of blood dripped from it. “I shoulda said something. I’ll try, I’ll really try, so please don’t be sad. It makes me sad. I want… I want to be best friends!” 

A lump formed in your throat. Tears stung your eyes, the strength of his words pierced through your sadness like an arrow. A friend. You never had a friend before. You didn’t think you’d ever get to have one. Mom said it’d be difficult, that if you wanted it, you’d need to try harder than you’d ever tried before. 

You launched at Lear, your arms outstretched, and wailed loudly. He caught you awkwardly with a gasp. You pressed your forehead to his shoulder and hugged him tight. 

“I don’t want you as an accomplice anymore! You’re my best friend! I really mean it this time!” You exclaimed in between sobs. 

“Eh? Accom-police?” Lear struggled to repeat the new word. Then, for the first time since you met him, he laughed. “I don’t really get you, Miss Phaeales, but… I wanna.” 

That kid, Jason… is he okay? Did he ever go back home to his parents? You wonder. I used to think I could prove him wrong, that I just needed to grow up faster so I could fix everything. And yet, these past two years have been some of the worst economically. 

You grab the rose by its petals and return it to the vase. 

The crystal lotus shines beside it, its multiple surfaces flickering between brilliant hues. This gift, while beautiful, never particularly stuck out to you before. It wasn’t until Blade expressed an interest that it stood out more.

You sit in front of your vanity.

Mom… was I a good daughter? 

You brush foundation along your face. 

I always thought you never understood me, but… 

Mascara darkens and thickens your eyelashes. 

… I never tried to understand you. 

You slam the makeup drawer shut. 

It has officially been three months since the IPC instituted its travel ban on Eris with seemingly no end in sight. 

Unemployment rates have crept up from 5.3% to a staggering 15%. We reached out to a financial advisor for Metis Mining from Mele, a company that has laid off one-third of its workforce. 

“It’s an awful situation,” he said. “Essentially, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. I’ve been in this field for some 150 years — never have I seen anything like this. Thelx is our heart. If it stops pumping, we stop getting the blood we need to live. We need tourism. We need our heart to beat again.” 

An advisor for Chrysus, however, is singing a different, more upbeat tune. 

“We’re feeling optimistic. The negotiations have been going well. None of us want this to last longer than it has to. We’ve cooperated fully with the IPC’s requests, working endlessly to provide the necessary documentation for them to drop this unfounded charge. We ask that the people of Eris stand together. I will not be accepting questions at this time. Thank you.” 

“What is Chrysus doing,” you groan. “The optics on this are terrible. ‘We ask that the people of Eris stand together,’ sounds like a bumper sticker for a spaceship.” 

The comment section on the article expresses a similar sentiment. The most upvoted post is a picture of Eris on fire with bottom text that reads, ‘Don’t worry, just keep standing.’ The second is a screenshot of the advisor’s comment with the caption ‘me when i lie.’ To make matters worse, the user’s profile picture is the lead singer for Mushroom Mania but with a flower crown photoshopped onto his head. 

You squint at the tiny text beneath it. 

Your friend banona69 liked this post.

“Blade, can you cut my phone in half?” 

He throws you a disinterested glance. 

“Riveting conversation, as usual,” you lean heavily on sarcasm to reel him in.

“You’re working. I won’t interrupt,” he drawls. 

Or maybe it didn’t, who knows, he’s as easy to read as an esoteric tome in a lost language. It is true that you’re working. Keeping up with clients, overseeing reimbursements for canceled appointments, apologizing for circumstances you have no control over; the usual. Your latest torment involved your bank’s servers going down when your employees’ paychecks were due. They’re testing out a new customer service android, but yours had a bug that caused it to repeat everything you said. 

That predicament came to an end and five more popped up in its place. 

You stretch your arms above your head. “If I handed you over to the IPC, do you think they’d lift the travel ban?” 

“Find out for yourself.” 

“Huh?” You swipe your monitors away so you can gauge him better. “What do you mean by that?” 

Blade kicks himself off the wall and uncrosses his arms. “If you can subdue me, you can turn me in.” 

That’s one of the biggest ‘ifs’ to ever if. You narrow your eyes, like that’ll help your ability to discern his intentions. He’s standing there, intimidating as ever, his countenance betraying nothing. You decide he has to be joking. It’d be a major inconvenience for Kafka and her cronies to break him out of IPC holding. You know precious little about Blade, but you do know he takes his job seriously. 

Regardless, this cycle has raised your blood pressure to unprecedented levels, so you play along. A little fun never hurts. 

“Didn’t Nona tell you about my mind-liquifying technique?” 

“Screeched it, more like,” Blade dryly recalls. “It’s a bluff.” 

You swivel around on your chair and get up. He remains perfectly still as you languidly approach, his burning eyes never leaving yours. An electrifying sensation courses through your body the closer you get. It’s unfair how beautiful he is. His dark hair that shifts into a crimson shade, broad shoulders, narrow waist, his surprisingly soft lips that are almost always drawn in a straight line; the wanted posters don’t do him justice. 

You have to crane your head to look up at him, the man’s so ridiculously tall. You’ve never liked it when people look down on you — this must be the lone exception. 

“And if it isn’t?” You challenge. 

“You would never,” Blade insists. It isn’t your eyes he’s focusing on anymore, it’s your lips. “You’re too…” 

On the occasions you can get Blade talking, he’s never at a loss for words. His cadence has a quiet confidence. If he’s in the mood, he’ll have a rebuttal for every possible sentence you could concoct. It’s immediate too, as swift as his bladework. It’s unusual for him to trail off for this long. 

“Too…?” You encourage, tilting your head. 

“Forget it.” 

You don’t have the luxury of pressing the issue. He quite literally sweeps you off your feet, taking long strides to your office’s couch like he owns the place.

“You missed your chance,” Blade lays you down on the cushions and crawls over you. “Unless you’d still like to try.” 

You glare at him halfheartedly and prop yourself up on your elbows. This guy must have a thing for manhandling you, because every chance he gets, he goes for it. You splay your hand against his chest and lightly push. He gets the message and moves back, allowing you the space necessary to lift up your blouse. He’s all over you immediately after, kneading your chest and trailing hot kisses down your neck. He stops at the spots with bite marks or bruises, giving them extra attention so they don’t fade. 

“Maybe I could, who knows? Perhaps I’ve extended you mercy,” you breathe out. 

Blade pins your wrists above your head with one hand, his amusement evident. “You’d be the first.”

He leers at your cleavage like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His lips are back on your skin, starting at your collarbones and then moving down. He lavishes your chest in lovebites, his teeth practically married to your skin. Your low-cut shirts will be collecting dust in your closet at this rate, he’s seen to that. He kisses down your navel and stops shy of your skirt’s waistband. 

“Is this for me?” He plays with your skirt’s short hem, raising it to reveal your thighs. 

You did choose this risque skirt to see how he’d react, but he doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing this. 

“You’re not the only person I ever see,” is your cheeky reply. 

He doesn’t look impressed. 

“I’m the only one who can fuck you, though,” he says, as plain as someone describing the weather. 

You frown and twist your head to the side. He picked up on that, huh? You don’t know if it’s definitive, but you haven’t conducted tests to find out. It is exhilarating to lose yourself in carnality without fearing the repercussions. Still, you don’t want him to believe that gives him an exclusive claim to you. You’ll both enjoy yourselves, he’ll get recalled from this job, and that’ll be the end of it. He’ll be nothing but a story you drunkenly recall to Nona. Nothing more, nothing less.

Possessive men are a turnoff. If they wanted to own the thing they stick their dick in, they could buy a sex android. You’re not a sex android. You don’t run out of battery power in six hours or incur hilarious yet painful-sounding reasons for lawsuits. 

“Pouting again?” Blade taunts.

Long, gloved fingers lightly glide against your inner thigh. 

“I don’t pout,” you sigh as his hand dips past your waistband. “I brood.” 

“Mhm.” 

His fingers are quick to find your clit. He rubs the sensitive nub in slow motions, applying minimum pressure. Your breath hitches and you look up at him through lidded eyes. His towering form cages you in. This couch is one of the few surfaces he hasn’t taken you on yet. Your bed, your office chair, your desk, hell, even the wall; he’s fucked you on almost every object with the geometry to permit it. 

Your head tilts back as he steadily drags his fingers down the length of your pussy. His ring and middle finger barely slip in before he pulls them out, returning to their previous task of gathering your slick. There’s enough for each swipe to create audible sounds, despite the relaxed rhythm he’s set. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed by him. No, he grins at you, his eyes practically shining. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, covering your face with your forearm. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You didn’t have to, it’s written all over your— ah!” 

His fingers plunge into you without the slightest resistance, all the way up to his knuckles. You gasp at the abrupt intrusion. Normally, he takes surprising care when pushing anything inside you — whether it be his cock, tongue, or fingers — gauging how your face contorts to ensure you aren’t in pain. He couldn’t have been touching you for more than a minute and yet your body produced enough lubrication to easily suck him in. 

“My what?” He probes, lowering his face close enough for your noses to touch. His soft black locks tickle your cheeks. 

Blade curls his fingers as if beckoning you toward him, which is exactly what he gets; your back arches and you curl your arms around his neck for purchase. He’s noted this clinging tendency of yours and has taken great pleasure in pointing it out. You mewl as he carries on his ministrations, loving the contrast of the cold leather against your warm insides. He finger fucks you nice and slow. His lips find yours, kissing you in a way that can only be described as tender. You reciprocate, though the lustful haze permeating your mind desires something rougher. This is the sweet kiss of a lover, not a… whatever the two of you are. 

Blade pulls back an inch when you run your tongue over the seam of his lips. 

“Are you ever satisfied?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you huff. “Do you have any idea how much shipping Plan B to this planet costs?” 

He exhales sharply in amusement. “You like when I finish inside.” 

Your walls clamp down on him before you can protest this claim. 

“Would you look at that,” Blade hums, his voice dropping in volume as if he were sharing a secret. “I can’t even move my fingers, that made you squeeze them so tight.” 

You’d like to think he was exaggerating, but it does take a few seconds for him to comfortably slide his fingers in and out again. 

“You’re delusional. That’s… an involuntary muscle contraction.” 

He quirks an eyebrow. 

His fingers abandon their prior creed. He embraces a new tenet — one that seeks to make your lips part in pure pleasure. You writhe beneath him at the unrelenting onslaught. He angles his palm so that it rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers. You’re quick to sync up with his sharp movements. Every time his fingers glide back in, your hips rise to meet him halfway. Soft gasps and moans fill the air as your peak grows closer. 

Your walls start to tighten, promising that sweet ecstasy will soon be yours. 

The second time it squeezes down, his merciless pace relaxes. He doesn’t stop entirely, he just slows down enough that you aren’t getting the stimulation necessary to come undone. You bite down on your lower lip. He hasn’t deprived you of an orgasm since this feverish passion began; he’s been more interested in seeing how many times he can fuck you to completion. He didn’t even subject you to this cruelty when you made a jab at his age that set him out to prove he doesn’t ‘have the refractory period of an old man.’ 

You don’t bother trying to move your hips for more friction. One night, during the afterglow of sex, you inquired after his sword. Among other things, he nonchalantly revealed its weight of three thousand pounds. You called his bluff. He was in an agreeable enough mood to summon it, allowing you to test the claim’s validity yourself. 

Sure enough, you couldn’t even drag it an inch across the ground… 

His breath is hot on your ear as he whispers, “Admit it.” 

“Admit what?” 

“That you love it,” he commands, his fingers massaging your walls. “Don’t be shy.”

“I’m anything but shy.”

“Hm. Dishonesty doesn’t suit you.” 

You groan in exasperation when his fingers come to a complete halt. Is he really going to make you admit something so embarrassing…? Your face burns as hot as those faraway stars. You examine his expression, searching for some sign that he isn’t being serious. It’s a poor tactic. His countenance is stern, except for the blush on his cheeks from how aroused he is. 

“I…” you inhale shakily, your lower lip trembling, “I like… when…”

“Love,” he corrects. 

You turn your head to the side and squeeze your eyes shut. “I love when you… cum inside me.” 

His clothed cock twitches against your leg. 

“I know.”

Blade returns to the heavenly speed that has your mind all but floating away. His palm rubs down hard on your clit, his fingers searching out for that spot you love so much. Inhibitions gone, his name is the only word your tongue can form. Everything else that isn’t Blade has been erased from your lexicon. He makes you feel so good, it’s maddening. He’s addicted to your body and you couldn’t be more grateful. 

To be wanted, to be desired… what bliss this brings. 

Your muscles tighten and release as waves of pleasure devour you. 

Your insides spasm around him, demanding that he doesn’t let up until you’re satiated. He’s happy to oblige. Once your orgasm-induced daze lessons, you yank him down to your lips into an open-mouthed kiss that has you swapping saliva. He swallows a whimper from you while pulling his fingers out, leaving the area he’s become so intimately acquainted with. The arm that he was using to hold himself above you snakes behind your back. You’re made to sit on his lap as he shifts upright, your skirt flaring out. 

As always, it’s you who breaks from the heated kiss first. 

Blade raises his gloved hand for you to see. You gape at how the onyx-colored leather has lightened, thoroughly coated in you. He parts his middle and ring, allowing dewy threads of your essence to form. Those crimson eyes go from admiring his handiwork to reveling in your embarrassed expression. As if you weren’t flustered enough, he slips his fingers into his mouth. His length hardens and he groans quietly while sucking off your slick.

While savoring your taste, he starts the familiar process of pulling your drenched panties down. You set to work on undoing his belt. He then hits an area that’s difficult to pull them over. He gives it one more try before frustration surges from him, hinting at his solution.

“Stop ripping my undergarments,” you chastise, lifting your leg to make it easier for him. “I’ll have to go shopping at this rate.” 

Blade exercises a modicum of decorum and flings the scant fabric aside instead of eviscerating it. 

“Quit wearing them.”

“That dream of yours might come true if I have none left. If that happens, I’m stealing your credit card.”  

“It’s yours.” 

You roll your eyes, focusing on freeing his cock. His length is flushed red and painfully hard. You wrap your hands around the base. Pre-cum leaks from his head in steady streams that flow down, coating him enough that it’s easy to glide your hand up. He hisses out through gritted teeth. Once your hand reaches the top, you rub his smooth tip with the pad of your thumb. The way he leers at you is borderline animalistic. You keep at your task, pumping him up and down. 

“Does this count as me subduing you?” You muse, your voice taking a sickeningly sweet cadence, “Should I get handcuffs ready?” 

“Watch it, girl.” 

You would’ve if he hadn’t teased you so much earlier. But he did, and you must have some compensation. You sink onto the ground. Blade shoots you an inquisitive look, to which you flutter your eyelashes and smile. The realization of your intentions hits him when your lips place an amorous kiss on his leaking tip. The veins running along the length of his cock pulsate from the sight. Such a chaste way of going about a lustful act must do something for him. 

“You…” He growls out, clenching his hands into tight fists, “God.” 

You suck him gently, swirling your tongue along his slit. Meanwhile, your hand pumps him faster. He thrusts his pelvis forward to force more of his cock into your mouth. He isn’t immediately gratified — no, you take him in at your leisure. His gloved hand entangles itself in your hair and helps guide your head up and down. The wet sound of you sucking him off grows louder from the copious amount of saliva slathered along his cock. You reach for his balls, gently cupping and massaging them. Blade pants above you and throws his head back. 

The telltale twitching of his cock starts. 

You pull yourself off him. He glares down at you, silently fuming. 

You suppress a laugh and climb onto his lap. His hand goes to your shoulder, a sign he intends to push your body down so he can fuck you. Rather than moving aside and complying, you undo your bra’s clasp. His enchantment with your bare tits distracts him enough for your scheme to carry on undetected. You align your entrance with the head of his cock and start sinking down, taking the initiative yourself. 

Blade’s large hands fly to either side of your hips from instinct. Inch after inch slides in and stretches you. He maintains unflinching eye contact, the intensity behind his gaze is almost more embarrassing than the act of sex itself. Maybe he’s as pent-up as you are? Whatever the case, the tension in the air begs to be diffused. 

“Have I earned your forgiveness?” You ask. 

“You’re getting there.”

Your lips part in a silent moan when you fully envelop him. Blade grunts, pulling you down so he can go as deep inside you as possible. His thickness caresses your walls and sets your nerves ablaze. You gyrate your hips in one last little act of revenge. He squeezes your flesh, sending the unspoken warning that you’re truly testing his patience. Thinking it best not to test your luck any further, you rise off him and sink back down. 

The legs in your muscles are sore from overexertion but the burden barely falls to you. Blade lifts you off his cock then back down again — you could go completely limp and it wouldn’t make a difference. He must’ve wanted to know you were ready before ruthlessly maneuvering your body for his pleasure.

What a gentleman.

This position has him consistently rubbing against a spot inside you that’s mind-numbing. He fills and stretches you like your body was molded with him in mind. Your gratification isn’t his goal at the moment he’s lost in the pursuit of what you snatched away. He’s greedy because he can be; he’s greedy because you welcome it. You’ve had so much to give and no one to receive it. You aren’t sure how much he’ll take. You’ve decided it’s better to be empty than bursting at the seams with ardor no one can swallow, lest their throat get scorched. 

Maybe his premonition is right. Maybe no one will be able to fuck you but him. 

So you’ll enjoy it while you can. 

The rosy hue on his cheeks, his countenance reflecting the pleasure he derives from your body, the inhuman grip that mars your skin so beautifully; you take everything in. You want it all. You’ll gladly take from him too. You might not like possessive men, but passionate men are a different story. It’s boring if they aren’t a little frenzied. 

“Not… going to last long,” he pants out, his voice strained. 

Your nipples brush against the fabric of his shirt as you lean in to embrace him, your lips right by his ear. 

“Cum in me then,” you whisper, nibbling his earlobe. “Cause I think we both know you love it even more than I do.” 

Blade groans out a series of expletives. Some you recognize, some you don’t.

His cock throbs as he empties himself inside you. He thrusts upward in sharp movements, his pelvis hitting yours hard enough to sting. He’s drunk on the high you’ve brought him. Spurts of his cum slide out from your coated walls, an egregious act he remedies by fucking it back into you. By the time he finally stills, you’re both panting, sweat glistening along your bodies. You rest your head on his shoulder to regain yourself. His bandaged hand runs up and down your back, almost soothingly. 

In a matter of seconds, his flaccid cock steadily hardens, still snug inside you. 

“Who… who’s never satisfied again?” You breathlessly murmur. 

His hand finds your clit and lightly brushes over it. You whimper, your walls tightening enough to give you both a jolt of pleasure. The pitch you hit is high enough to stupefy you from mortification. You slap your hand over your mouth, hoping it’ll dissuade any further involuntary infractions. He gingerly grabs your hand and pulls it away. 

“Still you,” he says, grazing his lips along the pulse point of your inner wrist. 

You don’t get the chance to bite back.

A robotic voice slices through the lustful atmosphere like a scythe. 

“Miss Phaeales, incoming call, Miss Phaeales, incoming call,” it intones. 

You stifle a groan. “Alright alright, I get that, who is it from?” 

“Contact name: Lear.” 

Your eyes widen. Though your limbs feel like jelly, you lift yourself off Blade, who doesn’t give much assistance. You mouth the word ‘sorry’ to him, snatch your bra off the floor, and start wobbling over to your desk. After some quick rummaging, you find the device you need. 

“Put him through to my in-ears,” you order the virtual assistant. 

“[First]? Hello?” 

Relief surges through you upon hearing the sound of his voice. 

“Lear, it’s been so long since we talked, I started to think you were a figment of my imagination,” you say whilst securing your bra back into place. 

“I know, I’m— I’m sorry,” he sounds terribly flustered. You can picture his expression without trying. “It’s just, you’re busy, and then that happened and I—” 

“Slow down, I’m only teasing. It’s alright. I get it.” 

“Eh… you’re as bad as Nona,” he grumbles. “You just hide it better.” 

“Don’t worry, it’s out of my system.”

“I don’t believe you, but I’ll leave it at that,” he’s quiet for a moment, before adding, “You sound like you’re in high spirits, [First]. You don’t know what a relief that is.” 

You twirl a pen on your fingers. “I’ve dabbled with the alternative and found it lacking. It does help that some pesky issues have finally been resolved… which reminds me. Your paycheck came through without any issues, correct?” 

There’s indistinct murmuring from two voices. Lear’s tone sounds chastising, while the other comes off as petulant. 

“Hi Nona,” you greet, to which there’s a faint yet audible ‘Fuck!’ along with rapid footsteps retreating. “How fortunate is it that our paths have crossed like this? I noticed something very interesting. You can’t respond to my texts relating to your studies, but you can like a social media post from a few hours ago?” 

Now, rapid footsteps approach. 

“I’m taking a break from texting for my mental health,” Nona’s voice reasons. 

“... Don’t people normally take a break from social media for that reason?” 

“Check the DSM-106. It’s actually a thing.” 

“Be that as it may, you’re making good progress. Your scores are consistent enough that you can take a few clients again when we reopen. You need to keep practicing so it stays that way.” 

There’s a slight commotion. When it settles, Lear’s the one speaking again. “Sorry, she wanted me to say there’s still an issue with the paycheck coming through.” 

In the background, you hear her cry out, “Teacher’s pet!”

“Allow me to once again request that you place aside your bias. Nona, whose birth name is unknown, was born and raised in Arc’s most hostile faction. At the self-reported age of 74, she submitted a request for Thelx citizenship. Your mother, in her benevolence, granted the request due to seeing Nona’s potential as a future Arbiter. Do you deny any of this?” 

You quietly take a deep breath. 

“... How does Nona seem to you, Lear?” 

What should be such a natural question feels like speaking with glue coating your tongue.

“The same as usual. And, no matter what she says, she is studying the notes you sent. She just hates the training program. You were the same way, weren’t you?” 

“I was, yes,” A heavy smile finds its way onto your face. “Has anyone been giving her trouble?” 

The silence on the other line lasts longer than you’d prefer. 

“It hasn’t… been directly at her, per se. There’s just a general atmosphere of unease. Thelx has the highest percentage of citizens integrated from Arc, so things aren’t so bad here. Occasionally, there’ll be a confused kid pointing and asking why her eyes are different, but that’s nothing new.” 

The tension in your shoulders relaxes. “Alright, that’s reassuring. Please keep an eye out for her in my stead, okay?” 

You refuse to believe Chrysus. Everything with him is a move, some preplanned tactic to achieve a goal that advances his interests. You’ve lived life with Nona; he’s read a few paragraphs about her from a .txt file. There isn’t time to be at war with yourself. If he felt comfortable enough to make an accusation like that, there’s no chance it’ll end there. You’ll need countermeasures set in place. 

Countermeasures, countermeasures… there’s Caicias. He loathes ‘secret alliances’ and ‘bloated bureaucracy,’ preferring to keep everything as simple as possible. Depending on your approach, you might be able to sway the former principal. He’s always treated you as an uncle would their niece. While it feels infantilizing now, this soft spot could be an advantage if played correctly. 

An in-person meeting would be your best chance.

“Of course,” Lear says, breaking you from your thoughts. Then he’s quiet again. “[First]?” 

“Mhm?” 

“...” 

You hear him sigh. 

“It’s nothing. I should let you get back to your work.” 

“Hold on, you can’t ‘it’s nothing,’ me!” 

A shrill alarm chirps and pierces your unsuspecting ears. 

“Oh, shit, Nona set the fire alarm off while cooking again,” Lear sounds more exasperated than worried. “Let’s finish this another time, [First]. I… I promise that I will.” 

“Wha— again? How often does this happen?” You demand. “Hello? Hello? Ugh.” 

Irate, you tug your in-ears out and toss them on your desk. What could Lear possibly have wanted to discuss? The tone he used made your heart drop. It sounded so firm, so resolute. He’s always been on the more soft-spoken side unless provoked. He did promise that he’d pick it up ‘another time,’ an unintended callous sentencing. Your mind is going to play fill-in-the-blank with the most dreadful words possible until this burden is lifted. 

You’re about to return to your office chair when you remember your present condition. 

Tousled hair, a hastily put-on bra, a wrinkled skirt, and one of the most sought-after fugitives in the universe’s cum dripping out of you. 

Ah. And said fugitive is still behind you. 

You spin on your heels. “So, um—” 

Blade isn’t anything like when you last saw him. He’s redressed, and composed, his expression a mix between indifference and boredom. He’s returned to his favorite position too. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with one knee slightly bent. Why he favors this stance so much, you’ll never know. You’ve offered him a seat more times than you can count. He comes across as less intimidating when he isn’t at his full height. 

He stares at you.

You stare at him. 

“I’ll… be getting back to work, I guess?” 

He doesn’t so much as nod and he says you’re the pouty one?! 

You gather your clothes off the floor for what feels like the umpteenth time, your cheeks burning. It isn’t that you feel ashamed, rather, you think he could at least help instead of standing there like his portrait is getting painted. He’s not trying to hide that he’s watching you. His eyes have always had a physical presence, they weigh on you heavily. 

You briefly consider making a snarky comment, but your maturity wins out. You’re above such petty drivel. You finish collecting your garments. Next, you pull up the bra strap that decided to go awol, straighten your skirt, and fuss over your hair. Are you doing this so he knows you’re not embarrassed and in a rush to scamper off like a wounded animal? Maybe. Who could blame you?

You make for your bedroom door, head held high.

Blade speaks your name in that low, dark voice of his, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your body erupts in uncontrollable shivers. 

You stiffly turn around like a rusted cog. 

“Missed a spot,” is all he says. 

You blink. “Huh?” 

Blade nods to the lower half of your body. 

Sure enough, there’s a dribble of his cum caked against your inner left thigh. 

…

You hurl your belongings at him, which he catches without so much as batting an eyelash. 

Your very short-lived satisfaction dissipates when you recall how much you adore that blouse. The same blouse you just chucked at the immortal sword-wielding Stellaron Hunter who can kill people faster than the afterlife can claim them. He’s still holding it. You get the feeling he will continue to hold it. 

“Could I… have… that… back?” 

This appeal doesn’t move him in the slightest. 

You shift your weight between your legs. “Please?” 

“You can,” Blade starts, momentarily filling you with hope, “Come reach for it.” 

There is no hope in this universe, you decide. Nihilism is the only plausible option. 

Blade dodges all your valiant attempts. When you’re about to give up, he lowers the garment, dangling it in a silent taunt. It then ascends to the heavens the second you dive for it. 

He leaves your office that night with a blouse he hadn’t owned hours earlier.

And your cute panties.

Lear

Hello

Lear

Are you awake? 

You’ll scold me if I say I am

Lear

Historically, that is true

Lear

You focus on caring for others so much you forget to care for yourself

You make me sound like a better person than I really am I’m just doing my job

Lear

There you go with self-deprecation again… 

It isn’t self-deprecation if it’s true >:)c

Lear

That isn’t how that works

Lear

You’ve always been hard on yourself 

Lear

I know what you’re going to say so I’ll stop you preemptively 

Lear

Anyone could’ve been born in your role and decided not to take it seriously. You didn’t choose the situation but you chose your response to it

Lear

… I swear I didn’t intend for this to become a lecture

I believe you What was your original intention then? 

Lear

Our phone call 

Lear

Nona decided to try a grilled cheese ‘hack’ she saw on the internet 

Lear

She’s lost stove privileges for a week

Is it truly a punishment if she gets to eat your cooking? 

Lear

Well

Lear

It’s either that or she starves

Fair point Bring me some leftovers or I’m docking your pay >:)c

Lear

I wish Nona never taught you that face. It brings something primitive out of you

>:)c

Lear

(ง •̀_•́)ง

Oh I forgot about those They’re way better

Lear

Yeah 

Lear

ε (*´･ω･) з

Lear

… I got distracted again…

( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴

Lear

Okay okay enough with the emoticons

Lear

I wanted to ask if we could please talk one-on-one 

Pick a date and time and I’ll do my best to fit you into my schedule.  I make no promises. The current estimated wait list is five Trailblazer Years.

Lear

Do you accept bribes

Naturally. I am a government official.

Lear

I’ll bring you a slice of my galatopita

You’re in

Lear

Actually, I wanted you to pick the time

Lear

I know that person has to be around and I won’t ask about it

Lear

But there is something about him that unsettles me

Lear

Does he ever leave?

He’s always on the LOTUS-EATER’s premises He doesn’t have to be in the room though I can ask him to leave

Lear

You feel comfortable doing that?

Yeah, it’ll be fine

Lear

Even after what happened last time?

You could hit me in the head with a brick and I’d still trust your judgment If you think it’ll be okay I’ll think the same

Lear

(^◇^；)

Lear

What an extreme example

Lear

It’s very you though

I know a backhanded compliment when I see one

Lear

(;° ロ°)

Lear

Hey don’t say that

Lear

[First]? ?????

Lear

… You’re messing with me again, I take it?

>:)c I’ll send you the details

Lear

Thank you

Lear

Want to play a round of Connect Four? 

Need you even ask

Lear has invited you to play Connect Four™©®.

You have accepted Lear’s invitation to play Connect Four™©®.

The break room has changed significantly since you were little. Gone are the sterile, eggshell white walls and beige furniture. The redone interior boasts bold greens and yellows, colors that aren’t commonly seen on Eris. This bright expanse was one of the few suggestions your mother took you up on. You even convinced her to get a terrarium imported that goes through a randomly selected flora’s lifespan in twenty-four hours. A few besmirched it as ‘watching grass grow but slightly sped up,’ until certain flowers got popular. The daisy with petals that burned was a LOTUS-EATER staff favorite. So is the dahlia that spins like a pinwheel. 

“Was there something you wanted to ask?” 

Lear places his cup of ice water down. “Does it taste alright?” 

“It’s delicious,” you hum. “That’s not what I was referring to, though.” 

You finish your dessert while Lear mulls over your words. The light, creamy taste of the egg custard, the dash of cinnamon strewn across the browned top; he’d do well if he ever started a dessert business. 

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask about it, but…” Lear’s sapphire eyes flitter toward the door, the paper-thin barrier dividing you from Blade. “Has everything been alright during this… er…” 

“House arrest?” 

“That’s a way of putting it,” he sighs. “I know it’s for your safety, but being stuck in this building for weeks on end can’t be good for you.”

“It’s always been this way to an extent. Now it’s just official.” 

He grimaces.

“That doesn’t bother you?” 

This area utilizes the same technology available in your office or the private rooms. Sound waves cannot travel beyond a set point, or in this case, beyond the breakroom. This safety net allows you to comfortably speak your mind. 

“Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t stopped long enough to ask myself that. From my perspective, I have two choices — accept the current situation and carry on, or, get upset and carry on, only with less efficiency.” 

Lear struggles to maintain a neutral countenance. It’s why you always beat him at card games. 

“... Okay, that sounds a bit bleak. What I’m trying to say is that I can’t dwell on what’s out of my control. I’ll focus on what I can do and work from there.” 

“Don’t tell me you haven’t brooded at least a little.” 

“Ha, I’ve done my fair share of that. I’ve just reduced it from boiling to a nice, tolerable simmer.” 

Lear’s grip on his glass tightens. “You’ve matured a lot.” 

“Eh? You think so?” You wonder. “If anything, I should’ve been this way to begin with. I had you as the premier example to follow.” 

Lear’s smile doesn’t reach his tired eyes. 

He inhales sharply. After a moment’s consideration, he comes over, pulls out a chair, and sits facing you. This is the closest you’ve been for a long time. He never wanted you to be afflicted with those visceral headaches, so he maintained his distance. For him to cross the bulwark he painstakingly built cannot be easy. 

Slowly, he raises his palm. He stops at the halfway mark between you. You knit your eyebrows. Does he want you to…? 

“It might not be a brick, but it’s similar,” Lear says, his voice soft. 

His hand is calloused from years of cleaning dishes and tinkering with various contraptions. His fingers tremble, belying the nerves he’s trying to push out of sight. This trepidation isn’t for his sake, it’s for yours. The dire consequences that could be reaped. It’s a gamble where you’re the one forced to go all in.

Your heart pounds and pounds. 

You’ll trust him. 

You’ve always trusted him. 

Lear’s skin is cold yet clammy. His hand overshadows yours, though not by much. They fit together as well as they used to. Unlike then, your touch is more hesitant than his. His fingers sink down and clasp your hand, an action you mirror. Nothing’s happening. Nothing hurts. 

You expect a relieved exclamation or expression from Lear, only to receive heavy silence instead. 

He squeezes your hand once then pulls away. 

“Do you remember the ‘important promise’ you wanted to make when we were kids?” 

You nod. 

“I did want to make it, actually. I don’t know if I ever mentioned that.” 

“It’s been so long, it’s possible I don’t remember, but… I don’t think you ever said that, no.” 

“The promise I mentioned was one I made with my mom,” Lear lowers his head. “She made me promise that I’d forgive my father. I never planned on it, not while he was living and breathing at least. I knew that and still… I agreed for her sake. It might seem silly, but that ate at me. She never asked me for anything, and the one time she did, it was something I refused to fulfill.” 

You lean forward, hesitate to put your hand on his shoulder, yet ultimately overcome the instinct. “You were just a child, Lear.” 

“I know. The reason I’m going into this is that… even when I wasn’t a child, I’d sit there and judge my father. I thought he’d acted cowardly. Instead of acknowledging mom’s declining condition, he’d buy more equipment and supposed miracle cures. He worked nonstop. Mom didn’t want that. She just wanted to be with her family while she could.” 

You can hear the lump forming in his throat. You pass him your water, which he gulps down. He gives himself a second and then continues.

“He wasn’t delusional. He knew, and still, he tried so hard to convince himself that he didn’t. There must’ve been some moment of clarity when it hit him,” Lear’s fair eyelashes flutter shut. “What you said to Nona… that was my moment of clarity. My punishment.”

Thoughts swarm through your mind like the Propagation’s reign of terror from eras past. 

“‘Punishment?’ Why would you deserve a punishment?” You probe. 

Lear doesn’t know how to respond. His lips open and close, words escaping him. What comes out next is interwoven with anguish’s thread.

“Mrs. Phaeales approached me about our relationship. I was so worried, I don’t remember her exact words… it was something along the lines of, ‘If you truly care about her, you need to end this before she gets hurt.’ She wouldn’t go into the specifics. It didn’t come across as a threat, just… a plea, maybe. Eventually, I agreed. It hurt, but I didn’t see any other option. How could I ever willingly do something that’d make you suffer? You, the person who matters to me the most?” 

This torrential downpour soaks into your very being. 

“It should’ve ended there. I thought it ended there. Then I saw you again, and god. You’re so… so confident, beautiful, and bright; I couldn’t do it. I was at a loss, and… then I had this thought. ‘I want to keep her even if it destroys her.’ I couldn’t shake it. That isn’t love, I-I don’t know what that is.”

“Everyone has thoughts they aren’t proud of.” 

“But you didn’t know, because I was too ashamed to tell you,” Lear insists, each word growing quieter. “So instead, you thought you did something to me, right?” 

He wouldn’t look you in the eye. His arms remained limp by his side as you unbuttoned his shirt, tense and strained. You pulled back. Something felt terribly wrong. A sharp pang shot through your skull. You ignored it and beseeched him to tell you what was wrong. He wouldn’t. The sharp pang ricocheted. Being close to him hurt. It was as if you were on the same side of a magnet. He repelled you and you couldn’t fight it. You tried to preserve, tried to claw through whatever barrier he’d put up. 

… A barrier?

Had he not wanted this? Was the gravity of your desire too intense for an individual who isn’t trained to resist? 

“I…” your mouth is dry. “Yes.” 

“You didn’t. I knew you didn’t, and like my father, I tried convincing myself otherwise,” he reopens his eyes, revealing a glassy sheen. He wipes it away with his long sleeve. “I ran out of excuses.” 

You don’t know how to begin parsing through this information. It undermines the rough understanding you’ve operated on for decades. The foundations haven’t just cracked, they’ve collapsed, and the materials are damaged beyond reuse. Anything you build will require a new blueprint. 

“If it isn’t manipulation, what exactly is it?” You murmur, placing a hand on your chin. “You rightfully guessed nothing would happen if we came into contact. What made you think that?”

The direction you’ve chosen to steer this conversation toward surprises him. This must not be the response he braced himself for. Regardless, he’s quick to offer anything he can. 

“Something just felt different, I guess? I’m sorry if that isn’t helpful, I can’t think of a better way to describe it.” 

Mother must’ve known more than she let on, you think. ‘Before she gets hurt,’ she said. Shouldn’t it have been ‘before Lear gets hurt?’ She cared about him plenty too. So why…? 

You pace around the breakroom, your heels clicking throughout the otherwise silent room. 

Alister listened when he thought you were taking him to ‘Roze’, a significant other he created in past Synalinks. He tried to kill you after you took him outside and it became evident that wasn’t your intention. No link could be established past that point. Then there’s Blade. You thought you could manipulate him to rescue potential survivors. You were rushed, yes, but you made absolutely no progress. 

“My mind has a will of its own,” Blade tells you. “It’s loud. Something about you quiets it down.” 

What can psyches roughly be broken down into? Primary, unfiltered instincts; an individual’s rationality, or ability to reason; then their mortality, what lines they will or won’t cross. When properly aligned, the mind operates as a cohesive mechanism. However, if there’s friction, disharmony abounds. The resulting fissure causes strife until it’s plastered back together.

It hits you. 

What it is that makes Exalted Arbiters so paramount, why your abilities far surpass others.

You’re a living, breathing conductor, amplifying raw, often questionable instincts. A lightning rod meant to attract the attention of what reason and morality try so valiantly to suppress. 

You forgo your pacing and sit back down. “Lear.” 

“Y-Yes?” 

“All of us are stupid.” 

“Eh?” 

“Well-meaning and stupid,” you reiterate. “I know what you want from me. You’re not going to get it. You condemned yourself, I condemned myself… what good did that do? Did it change anything? Make it better?” 

You shake your head. “We like to torture ourselves; we’re adept at it. Enough. It’s finished.”

“... You don’t need to make me feel better—” 

Lear receives a flick on the forehead. 

“Idiot, half of that spiel was for me. Maybe three-quarters.” 

You grab his hand and give it a hearty squeeze. 

He squeezes back.

You both sit there, in this room that’s changed throughout the decades. Where you played make-believe (or, to be more exact, coerced Lear into playing the princess role so you could be the knight), gorged on junk food until you both got sick, plotted how to blow up the IPC with a water gun; you never thought you’d be able to do those things. The dumb, silly things you’d watch in movies or read about in books. 

Lear runs the pad of his thumb up and down your hand. “[First].” 

“Mhm?” 

“Everything you just said — I can tell you believe it.” His breath hitches. “So why… why do you look so sad?” 

You force a smile.

“I think I had my moment of clarity,” you tell him. “Like mother, like daughter.”

Whoever coined the term ‘misery loves company’ deserves the 85th spot in the Genius Society. 

Blade sits beside you on a sinfully comfortable couch in The Club. His legs are crossed and his arm finds its respite behind you; not touching yet close enough. He’s your perpetual shadow. You steal a glance at his side profile. His jaw’s set and his eyebrows crease inward enough for his otherwise unblemished skin to wrinkle. 

“Would you like to talk about your innermost feelings, Mr. 8.13 billion?” 

Nothing, not even a halfhearted grunt, which comprises 50% of his vocabulary. 

“No? Okay. Let’s focus on mine then,” you motion to the empty bar. “My innermost feelings are telling me to drink until my brain becomes a gray matter slushie. Any recommendations?” 

It’s as if you’re trying to communicate with a rock. Which, according to the latest journals published in Geo Elements Organized, might be possible thanks to an artificial intelligence translator who learned how to speak rock. Apparently, pebbles are prone to bigotry. Marble sings operatic arias but each note is flat. These cutting-edge discoveries justify your 10,000 credit monthly subscription no matter what your financial advisor says. 

You exaggerate your sigh. “Fine, I’ll pick my own poison.” 

“Baijiu,” he eventually says.

“Hm? What’s that?” 

He looks at you like you’re an idiot.

“My, my, somebody’s touchy.” 

You hop the counter and peruse your establishment’s expansive selection. Hundreds of brands slapped over uniquely shaped bottles line the wall, each displaying information about their inside contents. You squint. What if he just said a random word to get you out of his hair? Your liquor knowledge consists of the basics, you’d be none the wiser if that’s the case. 

“Where might I find this— oh, fuck.” 

Blade is right beside you in the blink of an eye. Your hand flies to your chest, and while you’re trying to process how someone can move so fast, he finds what must be his intended target. It’s a tall, green bottle with a script you recognize as belonging to the Xianzhou Alliance. How did he ever expect you to find that on your own? 

He rummages around and finds little wine-shaped shot glasses. In the meantime, you scan over the various juices and additives available. It’s been rough, but not drinking-alcohol-without-a-fruity-infusion rough. Blade notices your scheming and shakes his head. 

“Men are so pretentious about liquor,” you lament. 

“You asked.” 

“My mistake.” 

He ignores you and returns to the couch. You do the same, up until the point where you’re about to sit down. His gaze grows heavier, more concentrated. It took millions of years of evolution to develop complex language and he still chooses to opt out. What a waste. An unofficial staring contest commences. What does he take you for? A mind reader? You technically are, but still, using your abilities for this is beneath you. Especially while you’re in the midst of a crisis that you’d give anything to stop thinking about. 

Blade must have a mind-altering epiphany that he has additional motor functions at his disposal. He pats his thigh. 

He stares at you.

You stare at him. 

You examine your black pencil skirt that stops above your knees. Hopping the counter in this was more of a way to pretend you’re in your early twenties again, not an invitation to test the fabric’s limits. You’ve lost multiple pairs of panties, a nice bra, and a blouse to this bodyguard who took the occupation’s prefix very seriously. This classy skirt isn’t going to be an addition to the clothes necropolis. 

“I like this skirt,” you simply state. 

You stare at him.

He stares at you. 

Your vision undergoes an odd change. One moment, you were standing tall and assertive, looking down your nose at him. In the instant that follows, you’re facing the bar, its black marble countertop and gravity adaptive stools coming into focus. What you’re sitting on isn’t a foam cushion that’s as soft as a cloud. It’s rigid and displeases your tailbone. You struggle to balance yourself, an issue that’s solved by Blade’s left arm curving snugly around your waist. 

“Did you just—” You cut yourself off, unable to dredge up the energy necessary to get annoyed. He could throw you through the roof for all you care. Sitting you on his lap is forgivable enough. “Whatever, you’re pouring my drink then.” 

He’s already in the process of doing so. He pops the lid and fills the specially shaped shot glass with clear liquid. An aromatic fragrance of fruits and spices wafts through the air. It’s a world captured in a bottle; another place you’ll never get to see. You have to settle for admiring pictures and reading firsthand accounts. 

Does Blade have an association with the Xianzhou Alliance? It isn’t your place to ask, but you’re curious nonetheless. He’s been a silent spectator of your life for the past few months yet you know nothing about him. It should stay that way — getting involved with him physically is already questionable enough. Especially now that you fully grasp the phenomena that’s been haunting you. 

The thought makes you wince. 

You lean your head back and down the shot. 

It burns as it travels down your throat. You cough, the unexpected strength hitting you with the force of a collapsing star. Maybe you should’ve worked your way up to taking shots. It’s too late to rectify the mistake, your hubris is irreversible. The bastard chuckles at your suffering. It’s the briefest chuckle you’ve ever heard, but it still counts. 

“What is the— what is the alcohol content of that?” You rasp out. 

“Eighty.”

You crane your neck to glare at him. “If you wanted to kill me, the sword would’ve been faster.” 

He rolls his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes at you. He picks you up, sticks a little ribbon on your head, and delivers you to death’s doorstep only to disregard your valid concerns? The 8.13 billion bounty isn’t enough. They need to double it. 

“I’d like to see you drink this. Considering your prehistoric age, it might short-circuit your cardiovascular system.” 

Blade pilfers your empty shot glass. He refills it, swallows without any fanfare, and then resumes his staring regimen. 

You don’t know if you should be impressed or offended that his tolerance is better than yours.

Ultimately, your competitive nature wins out. You manage two more shots before waving the white flag. The flavor itself isn’t that bad once you get past the initial shock, it’s slightly fruity. The alcohol taste packs a punch though. A version with a lower ABV would suit you better. 

You sigh, lean into his chest, and try in vain to smooth out your bunched-up skirt.

Your inebriated daze hits fast. There’s no pleasant buzz accompanying it, only exhaustion. The kind that makes the prospect of sleeping for a few years tempting. Those cryogenic pod ads know how to sell their product. It speaks volumes how simple their marketing remains since they’re so high in demand. 

You inspect your soulless business. There aren’t any clients traveling to and fro, well-dressed ladies having their fur coats removed by valets, or businessmen celebrating a deal by clinking their glasses together. It’s eerily quiet. There’s nothing but the sound of your slow breathing and the thrum of the oxygen generator. 

This planet’s heart remains frozen with you at the epicenter.

“What’s it like to travel across the universe?” You ask. 

“It’s just work.” 

Just work. You’ve received variations of this response when you’ve used this question on clients. They’ll take your silence as a signal to prattle, complaining about jet lag, getting through customs, finding a hotel that isn’t ridiculously overpriced during busy seasons; on and on they’d go. You’d sit across from them, smiling and nodding along, verbally empathizing with their plight. If they went on too long, you’d temporarily excuse yourself before your agitation spewed forth. 

“That’s it?” You murmur. 

He’s silent. 

You kick your heels off, lay your legs across his lap and the couch, then sling your right arm around his shoulders to hold yourself in place. He observes you with no discernible emotion as you make yourself comfortable. 

“Tell me about it,” you implore. “The universe. Please.” 

Blade considers your request. You take it as a good sign he hasn’t shut you down immediately. For once, you don’t needle him. You just sit there with high hopes and a pleading expression. A peculiar emotion surges around him. It whispers to you, requesting that you lean in and hear it better. You deny the impulse and swat it away. 

This mental exertion almost causes you to miss his frown and pinched-together eyebrows.

It’s fleeting, but there’s no misinterpreting what you saw. 

Have you ever seen Blade’s face reveal so much? 

It’s a vault he doesn’t leave open long. The doors seal shut before you can catalog the contents inside.

“Nothing I’ve seen is worth telling.” 

You part your lips yet no sound comes out. You retract your arms from him and lay on your back, resting your forearm against your head. The LOTUS-EATER’s dark ceiling becomes your latest intrigue. It’s a cool shade of gray, mimicking the joyless sky that hovers outside like a specter deadset on haunting the living. You hate it. Everything’s gray, bland, depressing, an insult to the vibrancy that accompanies sentient beings. 

You close your eyes and all goes silent. 

After a while, his deep voice rumbles, “Do you want to see it?” 

“Hm?” 

“The universe,” he clarifies. 

“Oh. Of course. But…” you pause, noticing how draining an endeavor it is to string together a coherent thought, “If I could, I wouldn’t. Too much… there’s too much I hafta do… here.” 

There’s Nona. You want to help her reach her full potential, she’s brimming with it, a never-ending source of energy and zeal. Then there’s Lear. Why he idolizes you to such a degree, you’ll never understand. He should turn that starry-eyed gaze inward. It’s ironic — he considers you confident, yet you’ve always shied away from ever revealing the fathomless depths of your care. 

You were born to be an object and he made you a person. 

How can you ever repay a debt like that? Why is it so awkward and awful to express anything you feel without theatrics accompanying them? You have to tell him. You know he loves you, and while the love you hold for him is different, does he know that? How could he, if you’ve been so hesitant to say those three harrowing words? 

Man, you think. My head’s killing me.

“Tired?” 

After you grumble in the affirmative, he lifts you up. You think you might be floating. Your head lulls to the side and comes into contact with something solid, which proves you aren’t. Gravity hasn’t quit its longstanding tenure. Your blurred journey begins when you’re laid down in a spot more cozy than the couch cushions. It feels familiar and safe. Tension melts from your body, slinking off to loan you a brief solace. The interest is set high, but you’re too blissfully content to care.

That night, you dream of an ocean dutifully guarded by the sun.

The waves rise and fall along the shoreline, the breeze carries the scent of saltwater, and aquatic birds caw from above. 

Bright white sand is plentiful beneath your bare feet. It tickles your toes and tricks you into thinking you’ll sink with every tentative step. 

As you walk along this esplanade, an object hidden amongst the sand jabs into your sole. 

Blood pools from the wound, trickles down a steep slope, and infects the ocean. 

The scarlet droplet corrupts and warps it, devouring any color it comes into contact with. It's insatiable, a bloody blight that proliferates until the sea is swallowed whole. 

The moon eclipses a dying sun. Driven by vanity, it paints its likeness across red, shimmering waves. 

Unknown 

I have good news 

Unknown 

I’ll be recalling Bladie soon

Unknown 

I located the party responsible for endangering your life

Unknown 

Isn’t that great? 

If you’re being honest, then yes

Unknown

Am I not renowned for my honesty? 

Unknown 

No harm will befall you, so rest easy

Unknown

I hope we can continue our mutually beneficial partnership ♡

-

If there’s anything your mother’s passing has taught you, it’s that time isn’t guaranteed. 

You thought you’d have a lifetime to see eye to eye with her. Over centuries, the layers you cultivated would peel back. You’d then ask her the questions that have lingered on the tip of your tongue. 

Did you want to have me, or was it out of obligation? 

Is this the way you want to live? 

Am I a daughter or a burden? 

You don’t know what scared you more. The idea of asking her, or what the answers might be. 

None of your blood relations are living, but you still have a family. You refuse to treat something as fickle as time lightly again. Nona’s past, Lear’s present, your future; you can only dance around it for so long. The tempo will inevitably speed up beyond what you can follow. Lear’s confession reaffirmed how dangerous this complacency is. By believing you’re sparing one another pain, you’re only sparing yourself. 

Your tea’s gone cold. The remnants swirl down the basin’s drain. 

The true nature of your abilities, the shackles it puts you in, you’ll tell them everything. 

You shoot them a text, asking them to meet you tonight at the LOTUS-EATER. You then set your phone to Do Not Disturb and place it aside. 

Blade won’t be on Eris much longer. Your chances to help him are limited and you still haven’t fulfilled your promise. 

You’d like to try and remedy that. 

“I may have been a bit prickly when we first met, but I want to express my heartfelt gratitude for all you’ve done. I’m sure you just consider this a job, which is just as well, still, I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. I don’t even want to imagine what would become of this planet in my absence. So please give me one last opportunity to deter your mara.” 

Blade gives you a long, hard look. 

“You’re talking like that again?” 

“I’m trying to be professional.” 

He walks over and leers down at you. You return his blank stare unabashedly. Eventually, he readjusts the collar of your ivory blouse. 

“What was that for?” You ask.

“I saw something that isn’t very professional.” 

Glancing down, you pull the fabric back, revealing a prominent hickey. Your face ignites and you frantically cover it. 

You clear your throat. “Is it a contractual obligation for you Stellaron Hunters to get on my nerves?” 

The glint in his eye makes you nervous. 

“Actually, do me a favor and don’t answer that. Just tell me if you’re interested or not, I’m a busy woman.” 

He thinks it over and nods. 

Throughout the preparation and rites, you consider what you’ve learned. Individuals exposed to you become more willing to act or dwell on their subconscious desires. The exact metrics aren’t clear, but you can safely assume this effect amplifies the longer they’re around you. These desires have a wide range. It can be as innocent as causing an older brother who ran away from his grief to finally cry over his deceased sister, or fuel for justifying selfish actions. 

Blade’s case feels different. 

Unprecedented as the other examples are, you can understand them somewhat. If a person acts on their most innate wishes, their behavior will change accordingly. However, what you’re causing here extends beyond psychological — it’s physiological too. Is that even possible? What could he possibly want enough to alter the fabric of his very being? 

If you can find out, maybe the revelation will help him. 

And so you close your eyes. 

“To dream is a sacred thing. Don’t fear it. Welcome it, rejoice in it, and shed no tears when it is finished. We’ve been granted your purest blessing. As you slumber, we find rest in you. Allow us the sweetest of dreams.” 

…

Blade’s psyche has changed.

The grayscale composition is gone. Vitality has been crowned the new ruler, overthrowing the morose atmosphere in a successful rebellion. This change brings no alleviation to the undercurrents of grief that hang heavy in the air. Instead, it feels more erratic, like a heart beating wildly after waking from a coma. 

The Shackling Prison stands beyond a straight path as if it's been waiting for you. 

The first time you entered his mind, it rejected you. Now, it’s pulling you in, its gravity far-reaching. 

You hesitate to proceed.

Is it his mara that’s responsible for this? You won’t be able to tell unless you keep going. 

The invisible force that expelled you nudges you from behind. 

You recall when Blade first appeared before you. Your physical eyes showed you a man while every other sense warned he was a beast. A carnivore that would devour anything, predator or prey alike. You believed it then and you believe it now. His condition has condemned him. Where he walks, destruction follows. It’d make sense for you to abandon him to fate’s whims. 

This excruciating hunger digests him too. It’s destined to eat him alive while postponing merciful death. 

Fate can be cruel, but you have an opportunity to be kind. 

You make your way to the Shackling Prison’s gates. 

The seal that’s served as a hindrance halts you. You examine the once bold obstruction. It has faded, its strength depleted, held together by nothing. At its peak, you think it would have pushed you out instantly. Now, as your incorporeal hand presses against it, there’s little it can do. The most it can muster is the resilience to delay you a few more seconds. 

After that, it shatters and fades like weeping stardust. 

A prismatic shard forms from its ashes, coalescing into a blurred, moving image. Distorted sounds crackle from it, which you soon recognize as garbled speech. The noise becomes clearer. You hear a low thrum in the background. Its timbre matches the oxygen generator standard in Eris’ buildings. 

This must be one of Blade’s memories. 

“I know you’re impatient, but play nice a while longer,” a saccharine voice hums. “She’ll be here any minute now.” 

That voice… 

The image sharpens and unveils a grand screen plastered against a wall. It sections off into numerous squares, each dedicated to displaying financial data. It’s bright, obnoxiously so, attesting to the owner’s tacky taste. 

Chrysus’ office? 

A door creaks. Hastened footsteps approach, ringing throughout the brightly lit room. The pair of eyes you’re viewing this memory from — Blade’s — shift to locate the source. The color they arrive at is familiar. It’s the same shade you see upon viewing your reflection, although the shape differs. 

Mom? You wonder, astonishment hitting like pelting hail. What was she doing, meeting with a Stellaron Hunter in Chrysus’ office of all places…? 

“Your message surprised me, Exalted Arbiter. Getting you to agree to a face-to-face meeting is normally like pulling a tooth. What’s the occasion?” The honeyed voice, which can only belong to Kafka, greets. 

“Don’t play coy with me,” your mother replies. While her words are sharp, they aren’t warped with emotion. This is the demeanor she assumed when conducting business. Her sagacity is a trait you’ve never been able to fully emulate. “That thing’s leaving baubles on my daughter’s balcony. How many times have I told you to tighten your dog’s leash?”

“Oh? I thought I had.” 

Your mother smiles thinly. “Should I add incompetent leadership to your list of defects? Deals are meant to be followed. Otherwise, why make them at all?”

“We draw lines to test them. So long as they aren’t crossed, there’s no harm.” 

“Spare me your casuistry. I don’t want that thing anywhere near her.” 

Your head feels like it’s being stretched in multiple directions at once. This sequence unfolding before you has a dizzying effect. Why is your mother so outwardly hostile to Kafka? The Stellaron Hunter isn’t your favorite person either, but this transcends simple dislike. It’s personal, raw. She’s maneuvered through diatribes that’d make anyone else go red in the face, her poise unruffled. Kafka’s little provocations pale in comparison.

Not to your mother, though. She’s a thinning thread close to snapping. 

“As per our original agreement, there’s no harm as long as she doesn’t notice him,” Kafka dismisses. She leisurely sits on Chrysus’ desk, not bothering to move his papers aside. She then crosses her legs and smiles. Her eyes emit an unnatural glow. “On the topic of testing lines… let’s not pretend you’re innocent either.” 

Your mother doesn’t so much as flinch. “If you’re going to make accusations, at least have the confidence to be forthright.”

“You’re fascinating to deal with, Exalted Arbiter,” Kafka croons. “This is why I look forward to our chats. You don’t cower or plead for mercy like our friend outside did. It’s a welcome change.” 

“I’d rather you don’t compare me to Ophídion.” 

Kafka drums her fingers against the table’s surface. For such a simple sound, it’s deeply grating. “Forgive me in advance, then, because I intend to one more time.” 

Your mother remains silent, her lips taut. 

“Still not afraid, hm? Let’s see if we can change that,” Kafka’s smile widens, which crinkles the skin beneath her eyes. “Chrysus’ shipments of ichor are exact, down to the milliliter. Always delivered on time as well. Comparatively, your end of the bargain is far simpler. You just have to grant Bladie ready access to Miss Phaeales’ vicinity. But, I heard something regrettable through the grapevine.” 

Your mother’s eye twitches. 

“You’ve been shopping around for a way to sneak [First] off Eris, correct? Tsk, tsk.” 

All falls silent save for the generator’s dedicated hum. 

Your mother stands unflinching, folding her hands in front of her. The two openly scrutinize each other. Calculating, strategizing. Her posture betrays nothing. There’s no guilt or apprehension, making it impossible for you to determine the credibility of Kafka’s words. 

“It’s fear you devils can’t experience, correct?” Your mother queries. “Here’s a suggestion — try having a daughter yourself. You praise me for not caving to intimidation; that’s because I’ve experienced far worse. From their conception to our death, fear is the only thing we mothers know. Fear that they won’t become like us, or, even worse, that they will. What a funny juncture we occupy.” 

Mom’s voice doesn’t sound right. It’s so… forlorn. 

You don’t want to keep watching. 

You can’t pull yourself away — the memory’s weight is heavy enough to pull you back in. 

“Is that maternal dedication enough to condemn an entire planet?” Kafka ponders. “I’m not a judge who is eager to sentence. I’ve been lenient with you and would love to keep it that way. Leave Miss Phaeales in my care, no harm will befall her.” 

For the first time since entering the room, your mother acknowledges Blade’s existence. Her eyes turn to slits as she scowls at him. Disgust, reprehension, and wrath; it converges in a maelstrom that could sink fleets of ships. You hone in on the emotions Blade experienced at that instant. There’s nothing. It’s hollow, save for blots of mild impatience. 

“It wouldn’t be your care, it’d be his.” 

Your soul convulses. 

“Is that so terrible?” Kafka hums. “Separated, they’re essentially cursed, the poor things. They complement each other well, the more you think about it. One who incites madness and another who has the means to resist it. You of all people should understand that, hm? Or is Mr. Phaeales available to voice his dissent?” 

Dad?

Darkness passes over her countenance. 

You don’t understand and you’re afraid to. Kafka freely tosses around the most taboo topics as if twirling a poisoned dagger on her fingers. 

One who incites madness. Is that what you are? A catastrophe patiently waiting for its chance? That can’t always be the case, but, more often than not, what a person covets most should never be fully realized. There’s a reason the sensible and moral components of one’s psyche stuff this risk down as deep as it’ll go. If everyone did what they wanted, whenever they wanted, civilization itself would cease to exist. 

As for Blade’s role in this… Kafka must know whatever he wants would have a value that outweighs the potential drawbacks. 

“I won’t let her be reduced to a retractable leash for your attack dog,” she seethes. “Let your Cancer of All Worlds do what it will. My decision is final.” 

Electricity crackles in the air. 

“It’s this script, then,” Kafka murmurs, more to herself than anything. “So many diverging paths, so many possibilities. To think that out of all futures you’d get to pick out specially for [First]...” 

Kafka motions toward Blade, who readies his weapon. 

“You chose one of the worst ones.” 

some misc author notes for this one:

regarding the reader's condition, i didn't want to include a sigmund freud jumpscare in the story itself, so it gets to be down here instead. for those unfamiliar with his theories, what reader is referring to here:

'What can psyches roughly be broken down into? Primary, unfiltered instincts; an individual’s rationality, or ability to reason; then their mortality, what lines they will or won’t cross. When properly aligned, the mind operates as a cohesive mechanism. However, if there’s friction, disharmony abounds. The resulting fissure causes strife until it’s plastered back together.'

is a more abstract version of freud's concept of the id, ego, and superego respectively. originally, i used this exact terminology, but something about it just felt very immersion breaking to me 😭 all i could do was think about mr freud floating about in the honkai universe. consequently, the unreliable narration of reader trying to understand her condition + not using the widely known terminology made me worry it'd be a bit confusing...

so, in freudian terms, being continually exposed to reader's presence causes an individual's id to dominate their thoughts/actions instead of their ego and superego.

[nebbyy]

Random question. Do you think Baldwin would like puppies or kittens better

King Baldwin - Cats or dogs?

A/N: Mmmmh hard one, took me almost half a day to think about it😭😭 Loved the idea though, I think that this question and the reasoning behind its answer tell a lot about a person.

Couldn't find the name of the painting this time but the painter is by Henriette Ronner-Knip!!

Warning: puppies, but mostly kitties. Jokes aside I took the liberty of adding some historical inaccurate facts about cats' presence in medieval castles just to make the story more fit to my taste (not like historical accuracy is really the point of a fanfic but you get my point).

I'm still really torn but I'd say that it depends on which time of his life that question is asked

If it's during his childhood and first youth, he'd say dogs with no hesitation. They're great companions and so full of life, he'd love to bring a few with him during his hunting trips. He would see his own sprout of energy mirrored in his pawed companions! I see him as owning at least two of them, maybe even more (having almost a pack of dogs was pretty much the norm in noble families)

Dogs are also perceived better by Christian society, as there were quite a few theologists who believed that cats where somehow tied to unholiness or even the devil himself

But as time goes by and his condition worsens, he can't bring himself to stand for so long, let alone play with the dogs or take them out while he rides his horse

He feels bad, though, at the sound of their whines as his servants shoo them out of his bedroom, while he lays motionlessly on his huge bed (in which he usually let them lay while he rested, much to his servants' dismay)

And it is right as he's left laying there, alone and with an aching heart at the loss of his dear friends, that he for the first time notices the gentle meow of his physician's cat. He never really acknowledged his existence, for he always seemed to make it his mission to be as invisible to the people in the room as possible

The cat looked him with mil interest: of course, he knew him, but Baldwin couldn't say the same. He had been silently studying the young king, as his master tended to his everlasting wounds, or as he distracted himself form his duties with a game of chess. All while Baldwin didn't even know that the cat was in the room in the first place

Their exchanged stare didn't last long, because soon the cat jumped swiftly on the bed, waggling his tail like an enchanted snake as he made a few steps on top of the covers

He inspects the space, undisturbed by Baldwin who can't bring himself to make even the slightest movement because of how exhausted his sickness makes him

Finally, the cat seems to find a spot to his liking, right on the spot between Baldwin's side and arm, which is splayed on the side of the bed

The cat makes a few circles before snuggling close to his clothed side, resting his head on his own tail and quietly purring himself to sleep, soon followed by the king himself

That was their first official encounter, one that changed Baldwin's answer at the question "cats or dogs"

He also came to find that apparently there were far more cats in palace

In his late years, he found in those cats a silent and delicate company, it created a space in which he could let go of everything and just bask into the presence of those little balls of fur

And they are so agile and elegant in their movements, he enjoys watching them move around his room, jumping from a surface to the other like it's nothing; he feels like he can move and live through them

And he misses them oh so badly when they leave his chamber to go hunt for food or to simply explore the palace, but as they happily walk back in his room and curl up to rest all over his bed and desk, he almost feels like they're telling him all they've seen during the day simply through their eyes

And that is how Baldwin IV was born a dog person, only to die surrounding his death bed with cats

[acrux-jr]

Okay Im rusty with my writing, and ive only seen like 512 episodes of one piece, but I do know some of the spoliers pls go easy on me 😭

NSFW/ 18+ ONLY

MINORS PLS DO NOT INTERACT-

Aokiji has been on my mind lately. ngl mans is fine as hell. The characters are not as canon as I would like, but 🤷🏻‍♀️ I am working on a 2nd chapter pls lmk if you guys want it.

Not beta read- hope you enjoy!

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

You sighed as the man you love started to freeze you. The past memories came back.

-

You started off as his subordinate. On your first meeting with the rest of your crew that was transferred, he waved and left to take a nap. He infuriated you. To you he was lazy.

Somehow that same day you bumped into you falling as the 7ft man towered over you.

"Arara, my bad Miss …"

You glared at him and started to pick up the paperwork, "Last name is _ Admiral Aokiji." He hummed and picked up 2 documents by his feet.

He handed them to you and gave a quick wave. By the grace of god you were promoted to Vice Admiral. Picking up his slack, which was almost always.

The relationship between you turned teasing somehow. It started with sarcastic remarks under your breath and him smirking when he heard them.

He would sleep at his desk while you did his paperwork, something that was the normal routine for the two of you.

Kizaru always jokes when he invites you for a night cap, that there was more between you two, which you would laugh off. "The thought couldn't be more unfathomable." Was your reply. He shrugged and muttered to himself, "Wouldn't be surprising." His wife and him would share a look but left it at that.

Kuzan would be little more in your presence when he caught wind every time you went to Kizaru. Clingy in a way but you never thought much of it.

"So Dove let's go have a nightcap together." Oh that infuriating nickname got on your nerves but you kept calm. Moreover you were shocked, but nodded yes.

Well Kizaru wasn't wrong about that there was something more you felt you never would have imagined that Kuzan liked you back.

Aokiji was lazy, a smartass, and so fucking hot. His sarcastic remarks and playful banter, when he would have energy, made you fall for him a little more. When he had a shit eating grin leaving his work to you to leave and nap made you tingle.

"Arara you're so wet for me already F/N." He looked you over with lust filled eyes. You bit your lip and looked away with your cheeks stained. He grabbed your chin and kissed you. He kissed your neck and trailed down. He cooled tongue and battled against your heat slicked pussy. You groaned and bucked your hips.

"Ad- Admiral-"

"None of that now, no need for titles in bed Dove."

"Aokiji! Please."

"Hmm Kuzan my little dove. You're so desperate to have my cock inside you huh?" You nodded feverishly.

"I want you to fuck me Kuzan."

"Arara there's the spitfire I know. So demanding."

You gave a grin at that. He picked you up easily and leaned on the headboard. "I want you to work for it."

You rolled your eyes, "You're just too lazy to continue." He huffed out a laugh.

You slowly eased on his cock. He watched you hungrily as you inch by inch took him. He groaned once you bottomed out. "Fuck tight." Was all he was able to utter and you rose up and slammed down. You fucked yourself on his dick, feeling the the pressure in you lower stomach. Your pace quickened but he held you still.

"So impatient F/N. Enjoy the ride a little more." You looked down at him through half lidded eyes.

"Please Kuzan, make me cum. Then fill me up with yours." In the moment Aokiji wanted to have you face down and ass up as he rearranged your guts. He kept cool though, his dick twitched inside you.

"Hmm you sure know how to make a man weak." You gigled.

The time you two fought after fighting with the white beard. Unbeknownst to him, you had encountered the strawhats before him, letting them go but you were close to one particular straw hat before joining the marines.

"It was wrong!" You hissed.

"It is my job."

"Your job is to help maintain justice! Not make up rules of what you think is justice."

"You should know better than anyone that that is what we do."

"Like killing your best friend for trying to save a child? Or killing an entire island because of ancient text reading abilities?"

He froze, his aloofness gone. "How do you know that?"

You turned away. "The fight was gruesome and all the casualties were unnecessary. And you wanted it to continue to catch straw hat."

You had agreed with Coby, it was too much death and the "justice" was out of control.

"I'm an Admiral L/N." You stiffen at the usage of your last name.

"Of course, your duty comes before actual justice." With that you slammed the door of his office and left, to hell with the rest of work. What were they gonna do? Demote you? Good riddance.

Your relationship was tense after that. It started to thaw and blossom again until the fight with Admiral Akuinu. When he awoke you cried in relief. That night he wanted you to ride him in his hospital bed. You were, of course, appalled but complied nonetheless when everyone went home.

The week after that he was gone. He left a letter saying he couldn't do it anymore, your relationship, the new fleet Admiral, and his wayward justice.

Kizaru was there to help you pick up the pieces. Him and his wife would check on you on your days off, she would constantly fuzz over you. You and Kizaru had a friendship of silence and understanding.

Coby was there for you too. He was a sweet boy who would do great things. You hoped that his sense of justice and understanding never changed.

When you gave birth 9 months later you gave birth to a beautiful little girl. She has light brown skin and light brown curly hair. She was perfect.

You requested more time off and raised her, with the help of Kizaru's wife and Kizaru of course. Coby was her uncle. And Robin knew who her father was upon seeing her. But she did not cast her fathers sins upon her. You had helped Robin as a young girl running. Giving her a place to stay and eat before she got up and left again, it was too dangerous.

By some miracle you met again again as a rookie in the marines. You were off duty. You talked and talked. It was nice to hear she was alive.

By that time you kept in frequent touch.

You were appointed to the new world for a mission. It was quick, to get intel and after that it would be your last mission.

Smoker called you into his office. "Kuzan will be the enemy for this mission F/N. He saved me during the Doflamingo incident, he's still alive and with the Black Beard pirates." Your heart stopped.

You were silent. But nodded your head.

"Be careful please. Kiki still needs at least one parent."

"I have the calm calm fruit. I'll be quick and silent. Not engaging Smoker." He nodded. You two grew closer in the past months.

"Be careful F/N."

You gave a small smile and left.

"You shouldn't have come."

"You got this Aokiji?" Black beard laughed. He nodded and his "crew" started to leave. "Hurry up, we'll be on the ship."

The two of you were left on the snowy island.

-

"Her name is Kiki." He slowed down the ice. He saw the tears streaming down. "Goodbye Aokiji Kuzan." She accepted her fate. And the ice fully enclosed her.

He cursed. He got her transponder snail. "Smoker."

"Kuzan?"

"I have F/N here frozen. She took too many injuries so I froze her to stop the bleeding. Thaw her out and have a doctor on stand by."

"YOU COWARD! YOU MIGHT HAVE SAVED MY ASS BACK THEN BUT I SWEAR- TASHIGI HEAD BACK TO THE ISLAND F/N ON."

The responder clicked. He left it on her shoulder and froze it. He replayed one of last words. 'Kiki. Well fuck.'

You gasped as you woke up. "F/N." Koby was there with Kiki who was fast asleep. Koby's yelling did nothing to wake her. Your head was pounding and your body ached. You fell right back to an unconscious state.

After a month-long recovery, you resigned. You had enough money saved since you were just taking care of yourself till recently. All you did was save.

You went and bought a home for you and your daughter. Kizaru and his wife Takako would often come on by, as well as Koby, and Smoker, with Tashigi every now and then.

Two years had passed after. Kuzan spotted the light blue house on the shore. There were blue salvias around the house, kind of like a fence.

He saw a little girl running outside with her doll. He slowly walked up the hill. The little girl had her into 2 little puffs. She looked up at the man walking on the road towards their house.

She furrowed her eyebrows and ran inside. "Mama ! There's a man on the road to the house!"

She ran up to you, who was on the phone with Kizaru.

She faintly heard him say "time."

"I gotta go Kizaru, you and Takako can come visit whenever."

You rushed to Kili, "Stay here sweetie. I'll be back." The three year old nodded. You rushed to the door, only to be met with the man that broke your heart, the father of your child, your former Admiral, Aokiji Kuzan.

You activated your bubble. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You think after making me fall in love with you, breaking my heart and leaving me, breaking my heart again and almost KILLING ME you get to waltz over here as if it didn't happen?"

He hung his head. You were fuming. Upon looking at him you noticed he had a black eye and his arm was in a cast. You furrowed your eyebrows, who was strong enough to kick his ass?

"F/n. I know. I am sorry. I left to protect you. I had to do this mission my own way with my own sense of justice, and in order for me to do that I had to leave everything, in-including you, the person I loved."

Your eyes watered but you didn't want to waste anymore tears on this man.

"So that makes it okay?"

"No, of course not."

"Why are you here?"

"To apologize. To see our daughter."

"Our daughter? The one you left before she was born?"

"I didn't know she existed Dove."

"Oh don't you fucking call me that Aokiji." You said his name mockingly. He winced, wrong move.

"F/n. Please, I didn't-I know I fucked up. But I came to you to beg for forgiveness. You are the love of my life and we made a child together. I needed to do this, to keep you safe."

You felt like you were shaking with anger, you probably were. "Aokiji Kuzan you are a heartless man incapable of loving. You left me and then you almost killed me. I will not let you near my child. You have shown your goals were more important and I will not have my daughter be second to a fucking construct. Leave."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I am not going to leave a second time."

The bubble around you started to harden. Kuzan stepped back to be met to the end of your bubble. You stepped back and the bubble let you out. Kuzan on the other hand was stuck.

He tried to freeze the bubble to break it, but it seemed like that just made it more durable.

You went and picked up the responder snail. "Mama who is that?" You stiffened. You scooped her up and took her to her bedroom.

"Stay right here little Dovey I'll be right back. That's mamas old friend."

"Okay mama."

You gave her a kiss on her head. And walked down to the end of the stairs. You sat on them and you realized Kuzan gave up and was laying down.

Fucking typical.

"Moshi moshi!"

"Why the fucking is Kuzan at my door step?"

Kuzan winced, he gave a weak chuckle. "While after I broke the arm that he used to freeze you with and then after Smoker suckered punch him. We um gave him your address."

"Why?"

You could hear his shrug,"He wanted to apologize, and with him weakened by us we knew he wouldn't try anything. Plus Smoker is on your island just in case." You went to the window and saw him and someone else on the shore.

"So you broke his arm for me?"

"Of course. I would've broken the other one too but the man is also down a leg if you haven't noticed so…"

You huffed out an inappropriate laugh. "Well thanks, I'll call you later. Oh and I'm calling Takako to kill you." You heard the groan and hung up. You sighed.

The bubble popped and Kuzan fell on his back. He hit it with a soft thud and grunted.

"Okay you've apologized can you leave." You've made the bubble again.

"No."

"Oh you stubborn, lazy, jackass!" He wanted to grin, you riled up was always so cute and sexy. But he knew if he did you would somehow kill him.

"I know."

"Oh you know? And yet here you are still lazy, stubborn, and a spoiled pain in my ass!"

He just nodded. "Ugh say something you asshat!"

He huffed out a laugh, "Asshat?"

You gave him a blank stare. "Sorry, never heard it like that. It was quite funny "

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah I'm quite the fucking comedian."

Okay, this could go either 2 ways for Kuzan. Him on the floor dead or him on the floor close to death as you ride him and suxk the life out of him.

He was jack shit wrong, but he could dream.

"Did you finish whatever goal that was so important to leave everything and everyone behind?"

"Yes."

You hummed.

"How old is she?"

"3 years and 3 months."

"What's her favorite color?"

You glared at him, "Blue."

"Does-does she know about me?"

"Yes. You have your glasses and a different bandanna so it didn't register to her since she's only seen pictures."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are."

You grabbed the responder snail again. "F/n."

"You and Tashigi can leave now Smokes. I'm fine."

"Are you sure you want him around? Say the word F/n, and Tashigi and I will kill him for you."

A laugh came out of you as Tashigi agreed. "Thank you for that generosity but I'm fine."

"Okay just checking. Call us when you want us over with Barsalino and Takako."

"Will do."

Silence hung in the bubble before you heard a soft knocking to your left. Kiki was there. It finally clicked for her. "I'm going to keep you in the bubble." Before he could protest, you stepped out of the bubble.

She signaled up. Which you obliged. "Is that him?" She whispered.

You smiled as she still had a hard time understanding your devil fruit. "Yes, that's him."

"Can I meet him?"

"Do you want to?"

Kiki stared into Kuzans eyes,and slowly nodded her head. You let the bubble burst. You stood in front of Kuzan.

"Kuzan, this is our daughter Kiki. Kiki, this is your father."

[juggalomary]

She’s here and just sent off to my beta reader (ugh thank you again). I’m excited to announce the unbetaed "of scars and silence"

content warming! violence, mcd (technically), described injury ig? Enjoy

“John Elias Mactavish was an honored soldier and a loving uncle. He did not however live long enough to become a husband, father or grandfather. He had the ability to light up a room, literally and figuratively, and had never failed to get every possible man out of any situation. You may not know him as a soldier, but I did, and so did the men sitting in the place of his parents. That fireball of a man was once one of my closest friends. I wish him the best in whatever death may bring.”

Gaz has shed a tear, and Price is smiling reassuringly and sadly at once. Ghost clears his throat and blinks back a single tear. Losing comrades was the sad truth about the military. He watched his best men get gunned down and there was nothing he could’ve done. This was different.

Ghost had watched, and had seen Price get hit. He could’ve made a shot, but they were just moving too much to risk it. He attempted to go over to them, but a Konnie got a hit onto his temple, knocking his steps to a halt. He felt a single wave of darkness fly over his vision and leave, simultaneously with a gunshot. The thunk of the body on the floor was met by silence as he regained himself.

Johnny, lying dead on the concrete, active bomb being defused, no Makarov. He doesn’t remember shouting out to him, but apparently it happened. There was an exit wound. There was an entrance wound. There was no shot of him getting up.

Price and Gaz had the bomb defused by the time the initial shock was wearing down. His pulse was zero, his breath was zero. Everything was zero.

Soap was dead. He couldn’t come back. Goddamit ghost still had the the killing bullet in a box in his room. He didn’t actually admit that to anyone.

His ashes (most, soaps sisters and the task force, as stated in his will, were to receive some) were spread in the wind and water off the Scottish coast. His dog tags are worn by Mari Finch-Mactavish, his Irish twin.

The world kept revolving after his death. Makarov's heart is still beating after his death, not for long, if Price had something to do with this.

x/x

Waking up from a coma is a jarring experience, especially when you wake up with a massive blind spot in your left eye, and extremely obnoxious tinnitus in your ear.

As far as he can remember he shouldn’t be awake. A loud noise, likely a gunshot was his last sensation he can remember. He can’t remember much else. That seems like an issue for a later moment, he was tired.

He dreamed for the first time since being shot that night. He dreamed of the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse. Conquest, a blonde woman, late thirties, strong souled and confident. She was his adoptive mother, after his parents had left. War, a tall man with a hat and mutton chops, he spoke rough but cared deeply. In this he was a father, his source of advice. Hunger was a tall, young, lanky man, a cap with some flag sat atop his head. A brother and a friend, a lover, but not to him. He could make any man, even the strongest yearn, hunger, and beg, for his approval, but John (?) didn’t need to beg, he already had it.

Finally, if not the most important but the most scary was death. 6’4, shoulders wide as mountains. His muscles had to have been the size of his head. He wore a human skull across his face. He was feared by most, not his 3 other horsemen, not soap (?), but everyone else. He told jokes, he showed emotion, he smoke cigarettes as well as vaped, at least on the field. He would sneak onto the roof with john and watch as mars, named after the god of war, aligned with earth.

These horsemen were familiar. The dream brought him comfort in times of terror.

He woke up officially to a nurse changing a bandage on his head. An IV was jammed into his hand and his arm was in a sling. His whole head hurt, waking up from such an experience like this one, this dream was bound to give him a headache. The nurse walks in front of him, he only knows this when she walks around to his right and notices his stare.

He can hear what she says but she does say something. Then out of nowhere a man guarded by two burly armed men and a doctor.

“Good morning six. I hope you can hear me. We will get you a hearing aid soon. We’re wishing you a speedy recovery.” The man spoke with a thick accent, Russian likely. He didn’t know who he was, he knew he could barely hear him and couldn’t see his right side.

“Thank-“ he was hit hard across the face. He hadn’t done anything yet to deserve it.

“The task force is not to speak unless asked a direct question. You will learn over time.” And with that he's gone as quickly as he appeared.

He, who was referred to as six, which seems dehumanizing, was left to think.

He had to think about this task force. How was he qualified? Is this military? Is he military? He was six, so who were the other five? Who is soap, and why dies he refer to himself as it.

x/x

The nurses came in once every hour and a half. He only had a tv with Russian sitcoms playing. The nurse would chuckle, check and change his IV, every 3 nurses they would feed him through a tube in his nose.

That tube itself was a problem, he would throw it up nearly every night. And then gag and tear up when they put a new one in. He stopped being audible when he received a clean cut across his collarbone.

The injuries received after he got there just added onto a list of things wrong. The most notable ones include, puncture of the frontal lobe, entrance and exit wounds, deafness (cured by aids), complete blindness in his left eye, titanium plate in his head, and a shattered collarbone.

He quickly realized that those were just the things he was told because they were operated on. He had a vertical scar across his forehead, eye, and cheek. These cosmetic things did not bother him because he was not allowed to look.

Six was released into light training after about a month of recovery in the hospital. By this point he was completely silent, never asked questions so he never spoke. In light training he met another guy, one who used bsl, which six understood without ever learning. He learned he was called eight and had a steel rod in both his legs.

These two were only one apart in formation so they were also one room apart. Eight was ever the luckier of the two, knowing he was in the British Royal Navy, but had his legs shattered with an ied in Kyrzakhstan.

Six tried to remember but was only met by the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Death called him Johnny, sounding increasingly stressed and worried with each call until he was screeching in agony. He disliked dreams with death.

Still that man, death himself must’ve been important if his damaged mind remembered him. The other horsemen were there often enough that he didn’t fear sleep. Only one actually riding a horse, which was famine, on strangely enough, a chestnut thoroughbred racehorse. He would pet and brush this horse. When he showed up in dream he’d know it’d be a full night's sleep.

[yonpote]

under cut cuz i talk too much lol

i am not blaming dan or anything (and obviously this has been a joke in lgbt spaces for forever) but i do think he unintentionally enabled the like "homophobia is a good thing actually" type jokes and like i definitely make them too, and im always seeing jokes on here like "god why are they Like This" etc. but i think some people just dont know the line or view them so much as friends that they don't think about how it could read differently from someone who is essentially a stranger. ive said smth similar before of like, dnp (ESP DAN...) used to be not great at drawing boundaries esp since youtube and social media culture were so different back then, but now even when they draw hard lines ppl either continue to step right over them, or dont understand exactly where the line goes. they dont care if u write smut or dead dove fics, they dont care if u make shippy fanart, but like maybe dont tag them in buttsecks? (or maybe do, idk theyre being so unhinged lately maybe we gotta start @'ing them in catboy porn (JOKING))

i was talking w a friend a little bit ago about the exact differences between the generally speaking philosophies between older fans and younger fans. it seems that older fans embrace creating transformative works and having their own interpretations on who dnp are, whereas younger fans want to know dnp on a personal level and want dnp to know Them and recognize them not just as fans but as people. and OFC there are older phannies who want the parasocial interaction and younger phannies who write fic and people who do neither, and people who do both! (hi :3) but then some people have a difficult time being able to marry the two ideas maybe?

heres the truth. dan and phil are real human beings who have made a career largely off their shared dynamic together, BOTH because they genuinely enjoy creating and being together AND because a lot of people really get invested in it and it makes them more money. they don't mind fic or art, you probably SHOULDNT tag them in the saucy stuff, but they know it's out there and generally have been respectful of fan spaces and knowing where OUR boundaries lie (altho maybe the line was toed w the roblox video but thats debatable.) they really do care about their audience both in order to please us and keep us coming back, AND because they see how much theyve affected us as people and have a deep *Sarapocial Relationship with us.

there are both parasocial AND tranformative ways to break boundaries, and oftentimes they can be one and the same. they aren't our friends they arent our dads and they arent objects with no feelings. they don't stalk our accounts but they are still able to see whatever we post publicly. theyve seen so many horrible things and have had many horrible things happen to them, and while no one can be certain something like that won't happen again, now that they have been able to be more honest with us about a lot of things they are able to trust us a little bit more.

anyway ramble over back to me talking abt how dan should embrace their transness

[very-feral-lesbian]

this is not something id usually post but why not!

ive been on a queer movie kick lately, and wanted to give a few reviews and recommendations of some lesser known ones so i can spread the word because some of these are complete hidden gems!

Beautiful Thing | 1996

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

i rated this movie four stars. not because it is outrageously deep or new or profound. but of how it’s so particularly captured such a subculture of life, and can make even the worst things seem joyful. the relationships, even outside of the main romance, were also nuanced and detailed, and it felt like you knew all of the characters from people in your own life. ithink the best way that I can describe it is that it was endearing in a really normal way. and the last shot is perfect.

Shelter | 2007

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

i have rewatch this movie twice since I originally have seen it. once again, this movie really captures a particular person’s life and it’s so much more about life than it is just the romance. It felt like a natural connection, the characters had chemistry, and i was just giggling a lot of the time. im a sucker for a found family movie and this really hit the spot. i did cry the first time. 

Latter Days | 2003

⭐️⭐️⭐️

this movie was interesting. I really enjoyed the main characters connection with his best friend and I found most of the scenes totally normal early 2000s stuff. the romance was good, the chemistry was there most of the time, and I was rooting for them after one of the big events later in the movie. I watched this after the first two and my expectations from those put me at too high a bar, and just this one fell in comparison. 

Birdcage | 1996

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

this movie was a pleasure. i absolutely love Robin Williams, and I think his performance in this was great. I love queer movies that involve drag, as that is such a big portion of queer culture. I thought the premise was interesting enough to keep me connected, I felt like it had a logical chain of events that culminates in an interesting watch. there were some points where I felt like it was dragging on too long, or the joke was repeating itself too much however, I think some parts of it absolutely captured queer culture in a way that makes me have to appreciate it. I definitely recommend.

Shiva Baby | 2020

⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

this whole movie was centered in one house, 99% of it was just scenes in this home from a funeral which on paper, sounds like it could make it boring but I really enjoyed watching this movie. rachel is so talented and her performance in this movie was great and I think this role was perfect for her. I’m a big fan of slice of life and this was definitely that. but also extremely dramatic and messy and complicated in the best way. 

Theater Camp | 2023

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

as someone who did not grow up in theater, but had friends that did, this movie was absolutely incredible. the characters were great, and knew when and how to make fun of itself, while still taking itself seriously in someways. their performances throughout the whole thing are great. this movie is really stuck with me for one reason or another, i think it’s gonna be a new go to comfort movie.

The Four-Faced Liar | 2010

⭐️⭐️⭐️

if I’m being honest, this movie wasn’t great. but when you’re trying to find sapphic films that aren’t historical or depressing, it’s really hard to be picky. It’s a dramdy at its finest. interconnected and messy relationships, slightly insufferable characters then sprinkle in some cringe you get this movie. but sometimes the drama is what you need. and there’s also movies that you need to make fun of while also paying half attention to, if you’re looking for that this is your pick.

[animalinvestigator]

Today I started watching immigrantes road by ghost tundra and it reminded me of the vibes of some of your character and the art of them by the highway. I hadn't seen your blog in years but I wanted to find ot so I could tell you j think youd enjoy the series

wow!! thank you for thinking of me anonymous, even though its been a long time.. i cant believe my silly drawings stuck with someone that long haha.. i'm really touched^_^ i gave it a watch at your suggestion..its very stylish, in a way that really reflects the way the early 2020s internet culture has started producing its own visual and tonal style... i feel quite detached from it since its a totally different era from me really, lol...culture moves fast online..it reminds me a lot of the modern day version of youtube "fanime" series that used to be popular for people on here to make back in like , 2014-2016 ish , where they were usually initially started as a joke and had this strange lilted jokey tone but kept getting strangely more serious on a whim as the artist began to get genuinely invested in the characters by accident (though it certainly seems like this series was started out of earnest investment and just happens to have an off kilter tone, lol. still made me think of that, also because that weird phenomenon has just been on my mind recently and the DIY feeling is the same) the second episode is quite good. ghosttundras work is something i respect a lot for what it is, but that doesn't usually strike a chord with me and that i havnet had much interest in getting invested in on my own, but i am glad you prompted me to watch this, because i enjoyed it a lot more than the other stuff of theirs ive seen. i'll be thinking about it for sure....

thank you so much for your recommendation.. and for remembering me and my ocs after all that time , and for coming back to say so :3 hope you're doing well lately!

[starz4valen]

queers im fucking lost come save me

ok but in all seriousness,

despite labeling myself as aroace for a hot minute and finding comfort in that label and the community for a time—shit doesnt feel quite right anymore.

i have had ONE EX. one.

i genuinely think i was in love with him. i only felt what i felt with him,,,WITH HIM. nobody else. I felt the butterflies/giddiness, i loved his laugh, his smile, hearing him, his jokes, all the names he would call me, how much he said he loved me, our late night discord calls, having him around, just. him. when he rarely spoke abt shit that was bothering him it hurt me so bad, like i would hurt with him. and the mere THOUGHT of ME hurting him made me wanna sob.

as you can probably guess by the fact we’re exes, we’re not together anymore. it hurts. hell, my stomach tangled a bit as i typed that out. (could be cause recently someone who used to be a friend went and dated him and then got upset at me for getting upset at them but this ain't abt them.)

we broke up in like june last year, and i felt so fucking horrible about it bc it basically ended w him yelling at me over text at how horrible i am at listening and how i treated him more like a therapist—which i will admit i did. i sucked for that. it makes sense why tho, i was working through a lot of shit at the time, doesn’t justify it at all though. i should’ve treated him better. im desperately trying to fix it in my current relationships so that never happens again.

then again, he also treated me badly. he said things that really fucked with my sense of trust in people and just made me scared to get close with anyone like that ever again, or in general bc i was convinced everyone had some ulterior motive w me or secretly didnt give a shit abt me—but also i felt *I* was the problem. like every relationship im in is gonna end horribly bc im just that bad. its taken a lot to say that i feel loved by and trust my current friends, as well as trying to recognize that I deserve love, and im glad i can say that im getting better ^^

but,,,idk anymore

i concluded i was aroace almost a year after we broke up. there were a couple reasons. for one, i only really got that close w him. i dont really know if ive had a crush or what that feels like—in fact i think i faked one in elementary, the whole reason i got w my ex was bc he was flirting w me and it made me feel nice. (also bc i was worried he would be my only shot at love but i digress) i feel off when people talk about heading to poundtown or anything like that, the same with crushes—just crushes tho relationships i totally get—and i still struggle to wrap my head around attraction and how people just can look at someone without even knowing them at ALL and go “you. i want you.”

i wrote off how i felt when i was with him as simply some non-romantic form of attraction and called it a day.

but recently ive been reflecting on that, and i think i was wrong. the way that even now i get all these emotions by merely talking abt my ex says something. how upset seeing that "friend" going ahead and dating him after barely knowing him and just how angry i was says something. the way i cried seeing my best friend get a whole small crate of presents from their partner for their bday bc i was THAT JEALOUS says something. the way i yearn for affection and to be loved again says something. the way im starting to miss being in love again says something. the way i would always want some sort of relationship—even when i identified as aroace—but just never thought it would happen bc i didn't feel pretty enough, or mentally well enough, deserving of one, or like id ever be lucky enough to find someone who makes me feel that way again and how scared and sad that makes me,,,says something.

now in terms of poundtown—legit dunno. closest to that I've done w anyone was neck kisses from my ex, which i did really enjoy—but also i legit identified as ace like the whole time we were together and the few times he made jokes like that i felt uncomfy. plus the only way i feel i could be ok w going further w something like that is if its either excessively gentle or the most unserious thing ever. so tbh if i had to take a guess on how i feel abt that—not too keen on it.

I'm debating a couple labels, bi, aroace, bi and ace, demirose, and demirose and bi, but tbh i feel bi kinda fits the most? (maybe???) but also it doesn't. idk if its the fear of opening my mind to me being in a relationship despite my fear of intimacy and commitment or just that I'm aroace and this is my brain telling me to stop overthinking shit—but i know i wanna figure this shit out

if anyone has like legit any words of advice PLEASE send it my way. i will take even the tiniest crumb of guidance cause i am more lost than a child in ikea.

thanks to anyone who read all this <3

[aria-ashryver]

It's a totally random ask, I just checked the time and thought you're probably in the hospital rn, and then I realised it's been a while since you updated us on pretty nurses situation 💅🏼

(anyone cuter than Vidya perhaps? 👀)

🩺Aria's Top Ten Nurses 🏥

because sitting in the hospital for hours on end is boring so we make dumb little lists to pass the time which you absolutely do not have to read lol

(cw: theres a photo of an IV line in my arm under the cut)

#10 - Gary (vascular access technician)

ultimate gruff old dad. excellent banter. always tells me to keep out of trouble when he's done setting my lines. finger guns for days. he's only coming in 10th bc he tried to convince me to get a permanent line fitted and the concept of that terrifies me (hence why i have instead opted for over a hundred individual injections to date)

#9 - Cincy (chemo ward nurse)

incredibly soft spoken. shy to the point of painful. apologises for everything. she was there on the day of the pincushion tally high score, and even though my veins have recovered a lot since then, she always has a look of fear in her eyes when she goes to set my lines. I'm sorry Cincy, please stop being so scared of me.

#8 - Olivia (chemo ward nurse)

peak tsundere ice queen. super pretty. magically long black hair. has never smiled in her life. pretty sure she secretly enjoys inflicting pain on people, because she always sets the cannula in my cephalic vein (beneath the thumb on the side of the wrist) to "give my dorsal arch veins some time to recover" and HOLY FUCK THEY HURT. one time she laughed* at one of my jokes and it was the best day of my life.

*it was a begrudging huff of air through her nose and then she rolled her eyes, but it counts dammit.

#7 - Claire (clinic nurse)

tiny Irish lady. always got too much on her plate. why does she run everywhere. always makes me giggle when she does my obs and pre-checks bc my meds sound funny when you say them with an Irish accent. Claire please sit down for like 10 minutes, i beg, you're making me tired.

#6 - Kelly (chemo ward nurse)

only been my nurse once or twice, but i do remember that one time she laughed so hard at one of my jokes that she started choking and had to excuse herself, and the resultant ego boost has shot her up to place #6 on this list

#5 - Warren (vascular access technician)

OMFG Warren you pretty motherfucker. why are so many of these nurses in their late twenties/early thirties and ludicrously hot? this guy looked at me with his big brown eyes and soothing voice, held my hand while he applied some anaesthetic and told me "that's it, good, you're doing so well love". Warren how do you expect me not to fall in love with you??? that is EXACTLY how Vidya got me

#4 - Jax (chemo ward nurse)

i met them on their first day in the chemo ward. they were just supposed to be observing that day -- unfortunately what they observed was the pincushion tally high score. Sorry Jax.

(i.e. they witnessed Cincy and Farah puncturing the ever loving fuck out of my every available vein, failing to set line after line, apologising to me profusely over the course of like half an hour, and then the vascular access team coming in to rescue us all and set my line via ultrasound instead.)

that was a fun one lol.

#3 - Vidya (chemo ward nurse)

the one, the only, my actual wife!!!! 💖🌈 im half convinced she was the product of a fever dream, because one: how is this woman both fucking gorgeous and SO sweet and caring? and two: her shifts have changed and i barely see her these days. Come back Vidya i miss you 😭😭😭

#2 - Farah (chemo ward nurse)

another super pretty nurse! was delighted when i told her tumblr was still a thing. unironically says "slay" and "omg yass!". compliments my outfits without fail every time i go in for treatments. got extremely excited the first time she set a canula in one go after the pincushion tally high score debacle, and then told me "damn girl, you traumatised me that day" lol. Sorry Farah

#1 - Tori (chemo ward nurse)

Tori is my BRO. our banter game is excellent. (she's also super pretty lol). always tells me when there is good shit in the fridge. been my nurse so often that she just feels like a pal. sneaks into the admin office to make sure my appointments are at lunchtime or later (instead of like 8am) whenever she can. once told me it was her opinion as a medical professional that i should treat myself to bubble tea and ice cream.

Congrats Tori, you win the nurse rankings and my entire heart forever!! 💖💖💖

(but so does Vidya bc I am a fucking simp for that woman lbr)

[dearweirdme]

one day I'll stop writing essays in your asks but your questions and the responses are always so interesting to me especially as a non taekooker! So here's another one,lol.

I always knew another member was coming to taes picnic. I knew for the same reason I wasnt surpised when 3 of the members performed at yoongis concerts.

BTS want to see army. That's their whole thing. If they can make time for it that's what they're going to do. I'll admit that I thought it was gonna be JK who came and I assumed it was going to be him up until I heard he left Korea again. Then I was pleasantly surprised when Jimin came.

Not to shade the person who is exhausted by the "vmin" soul mate thing but Jimin wasn't going to taes vicnic because of some elaborate ruse by hybe to push the soul mate narrative, like its not 2020. Nor do i think he was there to make it seem like their relationship is soooo strong.

I want to remind people this is the duo who people have joked about being divorced all year. They both have only recently started mentioning each other and hanging out so I definitely dont think they care about our perception of their closeness through a platonic soulmates lens.I think Jimin and taes friendship is beautiful and i think if youre lucky you'll have several playonic soul mates in your lifetime. I think thats what jimin and tae were/are saying when and if they still use that word about each other.

Its pretty obvious that Jimin was there, not for any elaborate narrative or as a flimsy substitute for Jk. Jimin came cause tae asked him too and beause Jimin enjoys seeing army. Its pretty in his nature to show up for his members and he misses army. He told us he did in his live less than 48 hours ago so why wouldn't he jump at the chance to see us/them?

As to why JK wasn't there its the same reason he didn't get on live for like a month. He had a schedule, he's very busy. And for any taekooker who worries or gets irrationaly annoyed by them not having as much time together, you should know that taekook is more used to each others schedules than any of us are. Im sure JK was worried about tae and missed him when tae was going non-stop as I'm sure tae is worried and missing JK now. But whatever you believe they're doing, jk not being there today doesn't change it and I'm sure he wish he could have been.

I dont see him not showing up as a grand scheme by the company to push any type of narrative but just obvious logistics. Frankly if JK was home and didn't have a schedule I think JK and Jimin both would have come.

((((And this is a bit of a tangent but regarding the idea that theres a fandom narrative that taekook isn't close, I personally am not a taekooker or a jikooker and have never seen that narrative in any of my fandom spaces. I don't think the majority of the Fandom outside of the straw lovers believes that at all, but i could be wrong. Now do I think there's a huge focus on their closeness, when it comes to marketing or pairing them up? No, lol.But if I'm in a queer relationship with my band mate and I'm not ready to be perceived by the public I would take there not being a huge focus or emphasis on my relationship as a blessing. Just a different perspective i thought id offer ,but I get pushing back on the narrative when you see it because honestly its annoying when anyone says two members arent close, but I will say ive never heard anyone say taekook isnt close personally.))

anyways that's my essay for the day and since I seem to be popping up here a lot I will sign off this time so in the future when i pop up you know it's me lol- BYM

Hi BYM-anon!

Sorry for being a bit late in responding!

I agree with most of your ask. I think the things we disagree on are that I think Tae and Jk are more to each other than friends, and I think a large portion of fandom actually does think Tae and Jk drifted apart between 2016 and 2020. I think most of fandom sees that they are close now, and have been for some years.. but there's still those (yes, probably Jkkrs mostly) that disagree.

I think in part the lack of Tkk footage is from allowing them privacy and safety. From Bighit's perspective, having an actual in band relationship must've been super unconvenient, no matter how they personally view queer relationships or Tae and Jk as persons, business wise it's seen as a risk. There's the risk of them breaking up, there's the risk of them having a rocky relationship with drama, there's the risk of them being distracted, there's the risk of discovery in a queer unfriendly country. So I think as soon as BH became aware, they introduced boundaries and rules Tae and Jk had to adhere to. Which isn't all too weird, because in 'normal' situations companies would also probably tell their dating coworkers to act professional. I think Tae and Jk, as well as the other members, do want their privacy. Was the intent from Bighit to protect them? No, I think they just want to protect their company. You can tell that at times Jk and Tae did not like the way they were treated.

How do Jk and Tae feel about the boundaries and rules they had to live by? Probably very conflicted. I think rationally they probably understood, but emotionally it was very hard and different situations probably came with varying feelings. There's so much to consider. There's the band as a whole, they wouldn't have wanted to put the other members' future at risk, they also wouldn't have wanted to put their own future at risk (though at some points they might've wondered if things were worth it). Keeping their relationship safe and hidden, was the safest way for them to carry on professionally and privately. But, being young and in love calls for feelings that are so strong.. they must've felt very frustrated at not being able to show that. I think they also felt the rules and boundaries were too strict, prohibiting them from even acting as close friends. Having to watch other members be close with your partner (having a full blown other ship to take root) while not being able to do much themselves. I think it truly hurt them.

We see a lot of "Jk is trying to hide" stuff, and I do think Jk is a bit more carefull (of sharing friendships and bonds in general), but when all you've ever known is to hide your relationship, that's what has become your safe place. I do believe Jk doesn't like the shippers comemnts in his lives, and justly so. It's people asking for information they have no right to.

Mentioning Tae and Jk in one sentence always comes with some tension.

[divorcetual]

whats ur fav anime . atm

OHHH hard to choose. Ive been rewatching Kaguya-Sama: Love Is War (and watching s3 for the first time) lately and its def one of my faves. It's a comedy but it has a kot of serious parts fit into it really well (Sometimes in comedies rhe serious bits are totally ruined bt sticking a joke in the middle, or theyre just inserted into it reslly weirdly- I think love is war does it really well tho)

OH !!! Mononoke is also rlly good its probably my all time fav in its genre (Like I wouldnt pit a comedy against mononoke bcs you gotta judge them on different things yk?). Its also the onky dubbed anime that I watch the sub with. The dub aint bad but I thi jnk the sub is just rlly good.

In generalllll I'd say The Disasterous Life of Saiki K bcs its so rewatchable imo (I'm the worlds #1 rewatfher ever).

OH JAPAN SINKS 202O THATS ONW OF MY FAVES 100% i'm Science Saru's #1 dickrider but I really enjoy it in general for a lot of reasons. Bcs its SciSaru the animation has a really unique feel- When you get to watching so many anime you can lose interest in an otherwise good one if it has the standard, boring style every time yk? SciSaru tho has a lot of influence from western animation as well as eastern- The chief of animation is actually Spanish and worked in Ireland and France before going to Japan for SciSaru !! France is actually where one of the founders met Góngora (chief animator) and when he started his own abimation studio w/ Eunyoung Choi (other founder) he invited Góngora to join. Sorry I rlly like taljing abt SciSaru.

Anyway the studios animation is of itself is a amazing. I lije to describe it often as a more western feel with the actual animation, but a very Anime-y framing and bloxking if that makes sense? I could go on abt this for hours. anyway

As I said Japan Sinks 2020 is super good, so's a lot of SciSaru's other stuff. Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken is also an AMAZING one done by them. iirc it was the first of their anime that I watched.

Sarazanmai and Stars Align are also great ones !! Yk how when you finish one rlly good media you immediately want The Exact Same Thing but Slightly Different? I like to rec those rwo together bcs it feels like that sorta vibe. Weathering With You also ig. If you were to watxh both of them I'd say go for Stars Align first tho, or else the wildness of Sarazanmai might make Stars Align seen like a bit of a letdown. idk

If I had to go for movies I'm always a sucker for Makoto Shinkai ones, and if you like his stuff then Words Bubble Up Like Soda Pop might be down your alley too. I've been watching the Satoshi Kon fest and Tokyo Godfathers is AMAZING as well. Pretty different from the ones I just mentioned tho

Last years fall season releases had some gems too!! Hells Paradise, My Home Hero, and Heavenly Delusion were amazing. I havent finished those last two yet tho haha

Kotaro Lives Alone also came out last year I think? or maybe 2020-2022 idrr. Its a luttle sad but its rlly good. So sad that theres no more ToT

[pocketofpencils]

Questions for Writers

10000 years late! thank you @calunalilly for tagging me

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

a very modest 19 lol

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

163,620

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Last Tango in Halifax

Happy Valley

Collateral

1 Vigil fic lol

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1: The Equation of Mass. : Caroline/Jane christmas fic. My first ever loooooooong one.

2: I Want You To See Me: Caroline/Gillian. Glasses are annoying, lets kiss about it.

3: Welcome Home: Vigil fic lol First ever thing I published on the internet.. Only 412 o words, thought people would hate it but I still get kudos and bookmarks on it 3 years later lol

4: Brunhilde and the Bastard in the Barn: Catherine/Jane Current WIP/Pain in the arse lol. Getting ready to wrap it up :')

5: Pain and the Passing of time: Caroline/Gillian. First LTIH fic, in first person *gag*. Makes me cringe, but also surprises me that I wrote that!

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try really hard to! My inbox overwhelms me sometimes haha! But I appreciate and read every comment I get! So thank you to the like 2 people who are probably reading this haha.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It is yet to be written! But I do have a mildly angsty one in mind.. Not a not happy ending.. Just happyish lol

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Equation of Mass I guess. Most Fluffiest

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No! Thankfully. I only write there for fun. Any hate (that isn't warranted of course call me out if I fuck up) would probably make me stop posting haha.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes.. Im a much better smut reader than writer I can tell you that lmao.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I mean at this point I think we have just accepted Jane into the Happy Valley landscape, so much so that its sometimes hard to remember she's plucked straight (or gay ;)) from another show. So I guess almost all of my works are crossovers haha

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

lol hands off my garbage

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Ive had to explain words to my American friends.. does that count?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I just did my first colab with @calunalilly! I think were going for another..or 1000 <.< lol

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

All the pairings I write for are my faves. i also love Mirandy :')

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Lmao well anything Ive started I always have doubts I will complete. I am (very very slowly) writing my first book...and I have doubts but I am working through them!

16. What are your writing strengths?

I dont really know.. I think jokes? Funny is most important!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

lol Grammar, formatting, imposter syndrome, actually writing lol. All things that I am working on. I also need to plan better to stop writing plot holes lmao. remembering fic is just for fun!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Do what you want bro lol

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Published: Vigil.. I also wrote some unpublished Killing Eve and Doctor Who fics that will never see the light of day as I wrote them by hand (lol) and lost the notebook I wrote them in. So I hope who ever found that notebook enjoyed them lmaoooo

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

ahhhhhh I dont know. I think Year of the Dog was the first one I wrote and was like: "Ok I can do this writing thing".

Everyone I would tag, has already done it so... :)

[definitelynotshouting]

Oooo, I see you started playing MC as well ^.^

My brain has been stuck in the game for a solid 2 months now, I've had so many ideas for building, so it's nice to see you enjoy it too <3

And to be fair, I do use creative mode for some things in my singleplayer world (cuz I wanna skip to the good parts lol). But I think if the potion lab I build in the survival multiplayer I'm in was what I had made in that singleplayer, a sad Grian looking for weakness potions would be delighted to stumble upon it pffttt

I have 2 double chests of finished potions, huge nether wart field, endless water source, 5 brewing stands, a whole double chest of at least 3 of every potion ingredient, pre-prepared awkward potions, 3stacks of bottles, blaze rods for days, you name it and it's there

The only issue is that all weakness potions I have ready are turned into splash potions, cuz I've never really had the desire to chug them myself (besides that one time I tired to get the "have every potion effect on all at once" achievement xdd)

~🌠

Ive been watching mcyt religiously for abt 2 yrs now (prior to that i had ZERO exposure to minecraft at all) and have joked before that its given me fucking minecraft shingles bc i never got my crafting vaccination as a kid. This thing has DESTROYED my braincells its just all minecraft blocks now, im obsessed

Ive also shamelessly used cheats in my first proper singleplayer world-- pretty much just to teleport to coords bc i get lost real easily and an hour of trying to navigate back with F3 is not my idea of a good time 😭😭😭😭 but with this new 1.20 singleplayer my plan is basically play on peaceful until i can get set up with a house and get a bit more practice with movement, then switch it to easy to practice killing mobs, then slowly ramp up the difficulty until i get to hard so i can cure zombie villagers. I watched p much the entirety of Pixlriffs' Survival Guide S2 around January after getting super sick and needed smth to entertain myself with, and now im following along with his S3 bc he is just the guy ever to me :] its taught me a lot abt the mechanics of minecraft which has been REALLY nice for a late learner 💀💀💀💀

YOUR POTION ROOM SOUNDS SO COOL!!!!! Thats so many ingredients,,,, i love your organization system that sounds so nice. Ive found my favorite thing in minecraft is literally inventory management SKDNEKDJD hermits beware i am the anti-chest monster guy<3 but yeah gods can u imagine if Grian had used splash potions 😭😭😭 he wouldve dropped SO FAST, RIP

How do you usually plan your builds??? I got myself a creative flatworld to make stuff in, but ive found that idea i had with taking a screenshot of the area and drawing on it has REALLY helped me put some concrete visuals to the ideas ive had which has been SUPER helpful. I just finished building the silhouette of my future lakehouse the other day (via the Pixlriffs stone method) so now im just messing around with block palettes to see how i wanna incorporate the cherry wood :] im super excited to build it for real in survival!!!!