#kafka brainrot

[harmonysanreads]

You tell Yandere!Kafka about how she's insane, how wrong this all is, how she shouldn't do the things she does for you, how unhealthy her feelings for you are, how she's hurting innocent people, how screwed up this whole arrangement is—she holds a speck of dust to say that is how much she cares, and then blows it away.

[atlaswav]

METAMORPHOSIS ☾

INFO: 2246 words, kafka x gn! reader SYNOPSIS: The threads of fate were never to be interpreted by the senses of mortals, and you pay the price. An extravagant cage, or a slave to destiny? You play your part like the puppet you learned to be, with Kafka serving as your lesson to maintain the realm between art and the artist. You, the Frankenstein's monster of fate's mistakes, and Kafka, the one who sees everlasting beauty in you. WARNINGS: uh nothing really except angst ig and REALLY FUCKING DENSE PROSE good luck reading allat bc i'm not reading what I wrote again LMFAO. this is gonna flop bc it's too complicated rip AUTHOR'S NOTE: NOT PROOFREAD BC ITS CURRENTLY 3:30AM AND IM DELIRIOUS. This was intended to be a weird character study but it turned self indulgent REAL quick i hate it sofuckingmuch YIPEEE!!! likes and reblogs are appreciated i'll give u a fat sloppy kiss.

Art governs the world, as Kafka says.

The world is governed by its artists. Formed by the hands of sculptors, decorated with grandeur by its musicians and dancers, yet art runs far deeper than these meticulous displays. Art is present in all. It allows life to be breathed into the mundane, allows men to understand their souls – the contours of their being, the purity and refinement of their essence. It allows for the soul to become honed as sharp and pedantic as one’s craft, etching the outline of an artist’s life.

Art allows man to discover and become familiar with themselves, and hence becomes a vehicle for all those yearning for greatness to have their wishes fulfilled. Thus, art is mistaken as a noble practice, each misshapen line of a paintbrush burdened with the virtue it cannot promise. Yet art may not be as noble as what meets the eye, with its breath shaping each whisper of life. As there is an art to all, there can only be balance. Shrouded with the curse of mortality and death, the act of stealing life becomes an art as well. Dark and taboo, but an art nonetheless. 

Killing becomes an art, each spray of blood the artist’s signature, each cut, bruise and scar carrying the same reverberations as the splash of paint on a blank canvas. It could never be replicated, even if the artist’s eye was the most honed at their craft. Done right, killing could be beautiful, and death could be revered. It was a mantra for all she did – Kafka, the absurd devotee to all that was beautiful, perpetually in pursuit of beauty and purpose. 

Beauty, she thought, was the hierophant of art in itself. Though this may present a causality dilemma in all art mirroring beauty and beauty ever present in art, she believed that beauty would reign triumphant. To her, it was a sanctimonious practice that would rule out of presence alone, but instead of interpreting the beauty of the world, she craved to find beauty for herself. Selfish to no end, but what were humans if not selfish?

Many thought she was mad. That her self imposed quest was futile, and she’d return tasting bitter disappointment sickly on her tongue. Her self imposed quest was woven into her being, the thread that perpetuated her fate and directed her to Elio. The thread that gloriously pulled her towards you. 

Were you art, or the artist? Were you the creator, or the created? The all knowing maker or the grotesquely beautiful creation? She couldn’t tell. It was trivial. Did it matter? No, it didn’t. You were beautiful to her – the embodiment of all she believed to ring virtuous and true. Causality dilemma as you may be, you remained unshaken by the wiles of fate.

“How did Elio get you?” were her first words to you. 

Composed of fragments of dreams and broken flesh, you appeared in front of her. Stricken by a plight of existence, but beautiful, still. A Frankenstein's monster of beauty and decay. “He didn’t.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I came to him.”

Curiosity flashed in those eyes of honeyed wine. “What reason would someone like you have to enslave yourself to fate?”

In turn, you smiled at her. “Fate will tell, will it not?”

Fate strung its threads across your body in a pattern of knots so ravishingly complex. Your fate, ambiguous to all but Elio, it seemed, wrapped around you in the most tragic and delightful way, she couldn’t resist tangling herself with you; tracing her gloved hands along your bindings, losing herself in the rumination of possibility. The rumination that she once would’ve scoffed at for being so wishful. 

You didn’t know what you did to her.

“Is it time already?” she rose from her position, glancing down at the unconscious man beside you, oblivious to your presence. Blade was barely conscious, drifting in and out of the hypnotic state Kafka had induced on him. 

“Looks like it. Elio’s never wrong.” you reply.

“Are you nervous?”

“Why would I be? Did Elio mention anything about danger?”

Her laugh is musical. “The trailblazer hasn’t met you yet.”

“I’m excited to make their acquaintance, then, if they’re as interesting as you suggest.”

Kafka smiled, slipping through the doorway of the makeshift abode with a fleeting glance. Fleeting glances, furtive touches, whispered words. That’s what the thin bond stringing you together consisted of. Neither of you let the other linger for too long, so help the stain that you’d inevitably leave. You were the substance she wanted to get blissfully drunk on, yet you were far too beautiful to squander on such menial things. In turn, she was the overture that haunted your dreams, yet disappeared once the score came into view.

Some things were best left at a distance, the careful and prudent restriction promising preservation. 

With a laugh to none but yourself, you followed her from a distance just beyond arm’s reach. You realised you would follow her to whatever end she led you to. You’d let her lead you to desolation, because you trusted she’d restore what she called your ‘beauty’ once again. You trusted her cunning eye – the eye of the artist – to watch you become derelict, and to salvage what could be saved from the shards of your remains. 

The trailblazer had the same eyes that Kafka had – willful and shrewd – yet determination sat at the forefront instead of the tinge of deadly curiosity Kafka held. 

“Who are you?” the trailblazer questioned, eyes flickering between the two of you. Two questions spent, one left.

“I used to be a knight of beauty.” a faint glimmer in her eye as she smiles towards you. “We worshipped Idrila, the Aeon of Beauty. We vowed to guard their beauty with the sword, but one day they suddenly disappeared.”

The trailblazer appeared to be conflicted, gaze darting back and forth between the two of you. “And you?”

“I am the interpreter of the cosmos.” Kafka’s amusement is undeniable. Her lie doesn’t escape you as you weave a web with the string she provided. Playing her game as intended. “The stars ordain their prophecy, and I interpret them into coherent events that mortals are able to comprehend.”

The trailblazer says nothing. The best lies are moulded from dregs of the truth, as she’d taught you.

“What’s your last question?” Kafka asks. 

“What are you two?”

Very few times you’ve seen Kafka taken by surprise. The woman blinks. 

“Kafka is an artist.” you respond in her stead as she scoffs at your answer.

“Then you are the wanderer above the sea of fog.”

Full of riddles, always. She could never give anyone a straight answer. Why would she? She was the artist, forever touched by the calamitous effect of your being.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” The trailblazer frowns.

Kafka laughs in delight. If you could store the sound in your heart, surviving from its pure, unbridled mirth, you would. “Everything leads to the answer eventually. There’s only the illusion of being lost.”

“Quit being cryptic.”

“The future is a labyrinth. Divergences are merely inducements. There is only one true path. You only have to know how to look.” A smile plays across her lips as she gestures towards you. “And I have my looking glass.”

—

If beauty was present in all art, you failed to find the art in deceit. Morally, its falsehoods nurtured the true nature of humankind, yet the guilt that followed in tandem with this practice ate away at the disposition like rotting flesh in the maw of a rabid beast. 

Elio had revealed his plans to you – your script to act out – and you’d shied away in cowardice. Or could it be seen as self preservation? Where was the line between cowardice and preservation? Surely, you walked across it with fear of teetering to one side. There’d been no deceit on your part until this very moment, the illusion of what you’d had finally facing the denouement. 

You so desperately wanted to continue living this beautiful farce with Kafka, but there were other plains written in the stars. 

“Kafka?”

“I’m here.”

“Tell me a lie.” 

“A lie?” 

You frowned, gazing up at the stars. The infinite, perpetually changing stars that voiced their teachings to you with whispers unheard to ears but your own. If it was in Elio’s script, you’d play your part, no matter the height of the fall. Such was your deal with Elio – your shackles in exchange for an extravagant cage. “Yes.”

“Why would I do that?” she asks, leaning against the railing of the balcony. Another city, another task to fulfil via Elio’s requests. Did they ever end? It was a foolish question to ponder. 

“Your lies are pretty. I could get blissfully drunk on them.” your eyes reflect the cosmos in them, and as Kafka leans in closer, you shut your eyes. 

“What do you mean?”

You laugh, palm outstretched in front of you as if to gather the galaxy in your fist and force the fate of the world out of its grasp. “You lie so often that it’s the only constant I can find, anymore.”

She pauses. She’s sure you can feel her body tense beside you. “...Don’t tell me.”

“Lie to me, Kafka.” you close your eyes, leaning against her shoulder as the stars gaze down at you. She remains still. 

“I can’t. Did Elio put you up to this?”

“Why not?” Your avoidance of her question only makes her even more wary. 

“I’ll feel guilty.” she pouts, her light tone an attempt to alleviate the atmosphere, but you turn to face her completely. 

“Kafka, I’m in love with you.”

Silence hung rigid in the air as the stars sang their lonely hymn, their finale of Orpheus and Eurydice. Kafka, the picture of stoicism – the unmoving sword in the stone – was torn. Her facade of cold, amused indifference had shattered, leaving a demeanour that betrayed her emotions, now written clear across her face. You turned away. 

Two stars, born of the same nebula, yet suffering far different fates from one another. Your star burnt far too brightly, while hers shone with cold light that you relished in. Your star would soon wink out, your death a destruction unbeknownst and insignificant to many, yet cataclysmic for one.

Deceit was necessary, or so Elio had told you, for Kafka’s resolve to steel. For her to become the character he needed to execute his script.

So, you supposed, as there was an art in Kafka’s beautiful lies, there was beauty in deceit. A beauty of sacrifice to set Kafka’s beauty etched into time, while you burned away in the depths of history. 

The wanderer above the sea of fog, and the artist that could only appraise its beauty. The two realms far too separate for the artist to reach out and stop the hand that tore the canvas with a blunt knife. 

“Was that a lie?” Kafka asks, voice distant as the look in her eyes. 

“I couldn’t lie to you.” the words spill out like a wound torn open. Rehearsed, and performed like the slave to destiny you became. It repulsed you. You wanted to rip your tongue out. 

“You can’t do this.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t do this.” she meets your eyes. Pleading, almost. The Kafka you know never pleads – but the thread between you is stretched taut, and the three fates lie in wait. 

“Tell me a lie, please.” you step closer. She steps back, expression carefully blank. “Tell me you hate me. Tell me you despise the air I breathe. Tell me that the beauty that you see in me is unfading.”

“Stop.” her gloved hands rest on your shoulders. Delicate, as if you’re a statue that she sculpted herself. 

“Kafka, please.”

“Enough.” She releases her hold, turning away from you. “Goodnight.”

The art must be separated from the artist, or so Elio had claimed. You were the grotesque creation, and she was the artist with unbridled curiosity. Your mere touch was poisonous to her, Elio claimed – he claimed many things, and you wanted to scream at him, to tear the tapestry of destiny apart with your bare hands, but he gave you a choice. 

Though a life as destiny’s slave was demanding, life as an orchestrator of the most beautiful catastrophe sounded far more enticing – morbidly so. 

Kafka was the artist in perpetual pursuit of all things beautiful, and you could think of no entity more beautiful than the tragic story of your own satirical tragedy. 

Elio handed you the options, and you tugged at the thread lined with gold, cajoled with fables of love and artistry. The world fell silent around you as you stepped into the role of the artist, commanding the orchestra with a baton of bones. Cold, unfeeling. Such should be the shape of your soul, as your art demanded. 

Art aids mankind in discovering the contours of their soul. Yours just so happened to be the missing star in the sky. A tale of destruction unknown to any other except the star burning blindingly bright beside you, mourning. 

You, the monster of art, pressed too close to the artist, and now you were marked with lacerations none could erase. Kafka’s sword found its mark through your heart, and blood sprayed onto the floor in a flourish of red. The artist’s signature. 

“I can’t lie to you anymore.” 

And so the star burned brighter.

written by @atlaswav , published 17th of January 2024

[sylverstorms]

~Honkai: Star Rail Women and How they Hug You~

Characters: Kafka  |  Black Swan  |  Acheron |  Firefly  |  Robin |  Himeko  

Warnings: None, SFW.

Kafka is always hot. In every sense of the word. 

Even in the heart of winter, she is a source of endless heat when you join her on the couch after missions. With her mauve hair loose, she is the personification of temptation as she languidly motions for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, her fingers slide like liquid over your nape, pull you flush against her, with your head resting on either her shoulder or her generous chest. 

She loves to talk low in your ear while she holds you like this, fingernails gently scratching at the base of your neck. Sometimes, she shares details about her missions. If she’s in a naughtier mood, however, expect the kinkiest things to fill your ears, until you’re blazing red. 

Black Swan feels like a cool spring. A calm oasis for you to rest in, for however long you wish. 

All you have to do is speak her name into the aether, and she will come to you, as soon as she is able. Be it after nightmares or long days, you always smile when you feel your bed dip with a familiar weight. Her graceful arms encircle your neck, guiding you onto her chest. If you’ve closed your eyes, overcome by the bliss, before you see her amused smile, then you will feel it on your skin when she kisses you. 

Hugging her is heavenly. Like you’re enveloped in a cloud. Soft, fresh, plush in all the right places. And as soon as she asks you how her ‘dear’ or ‘darling’ is faring, if you missed her, that is when you utterly melt.      

Acheron is steady and so very safe. 

It’s like nothing in the world can touch you while you’re with her. She’s not one to initiate long embraces first, hesitant due to her powers, but if the two of you are alone she will often cast you a longing look that speaks volumes of how badly she wants to be close to you. One she hopes you don’t catch, even though you always do.  

When she hugs you, her strong arms wrap around you like you are the most precious thing in the world. She likes to tuck her chin onto your shoulder, sometimes turn into your neck, breathing you in. Her body is firm from years of combat, but her skin is so soft to the touch. The corner of her lip always tugs upwards in amusement when you caress her abs (which is every chance you get).

Firefly is an absolute sweetheart. 

Do you want to hold her? She will stop whatever she is doing and immediately come over to you. More often than not, she ends up curled into your lap with her arms around your shoulders. Adores nuzzling into your neck and pressing her cheek against yours like a little kitten. If you kiss her jaw or temple, she will melt in your arms. 

Very sensitive. If your lips caress her neck, best believe she will make a sound and immediately turn tomato-red. No matter how long you’ve been together, flirting in this position will result in her cheeks growing hot. Which only makes you want to tease her that much more. 

Robin is always a delight to hug. Cosy and sweet and soft. 

She absolutely flushes at the smallest hint of PDA if other people are around, but she will not deny you ever. Behind closed doors is a different story though. The girl will come over to you and wrap her arms around you from behind, silently asking to be held because she’s often too shy to say it. If you toy with her hair, massage her back or nuzzle into her wings, she will shiver against you. 

Likes to trace small shapes on your skin with her fingertips when you’re cuddling. Will die inside and go to heaven if you do it to her first. If you simply lay together, relaxing, she may start humming a tune by your ear in her angelic voice. A privilege reserved for her one and only <3

Himeko is soothing in every way. The way she smells, the way she touches you, the way she makes you feel. 

She is gentle like the warmth of a fireplace after a long trudge through snow and she never gets tired of holding you. You don’t even have to ask. One look and she will know to come over and embrace you. If other members of your team are around, she establishes small points of contact, like an arm around your waist or a hand at the small of your back. Until you are alone, where she will fully guide you into her arms. 

Loves to gently massage your back or run her thumb in small circles between your shoulderblades. Always exhales a soft chuckle if you kiss her collarbone and tell her how good she feels. You are so comfortable when you sleep against her perfect body that you have trouble sleeping without. Not that she minds this one bit.     

[ddarker-dreams]

kafka encouraging yan blade's behavior and even helping him in his questionable endeavors ...

the selfish decisiveness his mara evokes vanishes when his lucidity reigns. he's less sure of himself. specifically, of his conduct. how much of your happiness can he sacrifice for his own? he doesn't want you to be miserable. he doesn't even need you to like him, necessarily. although he'd greedily devour your favor, should you bestow it upon him.

blade experiences this pleasant rush when watching you go about your daily activities. how your voice takes a soft cadence to soothe a crying child, when you help an elderly neighbor bring in their groceries, the supernovas born in your eyes when you learn your favorite drink had been paid for by a stranger (him). it's organic, it's you — uninhibited, stumbling around through life.

he could take so much. he could ruin you. he could drain every ounce of goodness from your body like a parasite. he's acutely aware of this, even derives a sick satisfaction from it, if he's honest. you're in the palm of his scarred hands. this is the focal point of his dilemma. should his grasp loosen, you'll fall through his fingers. however, if his fist clenches too tight, you'll break.

blade doesn't want you broken. he just wants you. smiling, laughing, whole.

everything you wouldn't be if he acted on his impulses.

kafka, vigilant as ever, picks up on blade's morose mood. she knows what's troubling him before he even parses it out for himself. and so her gentle suggestions begin, woven so subtle at first, that they almost go unnoticed. she stresses how safe you'd be under his dutiful watch. that you wouldn't want for anything. how if he shares parts of his past, you, being the bleeding heart that you are, won't be able resist empathizing.

sometimes, she'll tell him, a gentle hold is the trickiest to escape.

he might not acknowledge her advice outright, but as time ticks on, each lonely night feeling colder than the last, he wonders how much longer he can go without your warmth.

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE MIGUEL O’HARA x KAFKA! READER BRAINROT (ft lil surprise)

tw/cw: reader has no specific gender, yandere themes, there are no laws it’s the multiverse, slight angst.

Call this a proof of concept / project proposal more than anything else cause it’s all around way too messy to be called a fic. By that I mean send in an ask for this I beg of you I need an excuse to go hard on this concept.

Anyways, imagine you as Miguel’s spouse in his original universe. Meek, yet elegant little [Y/N]. A trophy spouse at most. With the little time you spent with your husband, you two bonded over science.

Unfortunately like many of Miguel’s [Y/N]s here on Tumblr, you die before he truly got to cherish you. Thus pushing him over the edge.

Many years later he finds you in a different world. A lot different from his own. Very far into the future. Where humanity’s reach had already spread across different planets and whatnot.

You see, you seemed to be a rare occurrence in the Multiverse, and many of those worlds you were destined to die. It was a canon event he could not interfere with.

But in this one you were thriving, happy and hopelessly in love…

With… someone else who isn’t him.

Surprise bitches it’s [insert fave honkai star rail character here].

Okay now send in that ask to get further writings about this🔪

I was thinking about this ever since HSR came out actually but I couldn’t really think of who to pair spiderkafka! reader with lol so here we go.

[sugurusfav]

i need a fic abt kafka railing your brains out while she answers a call from blade talking abt missions n stuff while she covers your mouth w her hand to prevent you from making suspicious noises..

bonus points if blade gets kinda traumatized after realizing what his fellow hunter was doing at the moment (you)

(idk if this has alr been made so plz tag me when u see a fic like this <33)

[belazarts]

"haaha... had your fill dear?"

"...not even close"

[jiusyn]

being a kafhime truther is being normally deranged and magnifying at the available dialogues to decipher and create meaning behind layers and layers of history we do not know of yet. quite frankly the reason why im still very much stuck in my own head bc of pondering through perspective methods to see why their dialogues and gestures the way they are (other than, ofc, writers and directors' decision)

think abt how 90 percent of himeko's dialogue is filled with direct and indirect mention of kafka during the destination alteration scene. and in a new player's pov, it can be treated as himeko's and kafka's 1st encounter— yet everyone can also notice how tensed and passive aggressive the atmosphere was when kafka appeared and took the floor. [case in point with himeko's reaction and body language: kafka appeared, himeko held her forearm in recognition and side-eyed kafka— shifting her head together with her body in an attempt to ignore kafka.

[bombastic side eye]

[owh girlie did not like it one bit]

[then, the famous tension scene that would make u want to rewind and see what u missed bc why is girlie so mad]

kafka nearing himeko's line of view; himeko glancing at her nails then crossing her arms in guard— again, in an attempt to dismiss kafka and assert that kafka's presence is not something that she can't handle. kafka paused intentionally, eyes looking forward yet the subtle and brief flicker of it, as if awaiting for any acknowledgement from himeko (himeko saying "stellaron hunter" with distaste) and when she did, kafka giggled. and kafka, well, she gestured at himeko as if it really was their first encounter, yet how she smirked at the end with eyes crinkling in the slightest tells otherwise.

march in an attempt to interrupt kafka's unwarranted presence but was subdued with himeko's signal. which makes u think cuz, really, who even lets a stellaron hunter even speak when others would immediately turn hostile against them and apprehend them asap.]

AND THEN...

himeko: perhaps next time you'll be willing to pay us a visit in person and we can continue our little discussion.

in kafka's companion quest:

"in person"

something abt how himeko keeps saying that in her dialogues when kafka's involved makes me think. makes a lot of us think. this then can probably cue us of how owlbert hinted (or even deadass exposed himeko) that they do have had encounters and it piques our interest as to how, why, when, and where in those moments — were they intentional? happenstance that turned to destiny? and so much more.

and how many in those encounters did himeko hoped that kafka would show up in person often than on wanted posters and news media and bulletin boards of her bounty and crimes? than on rumors and words from people's prejudices and opinions that she hears about her?

i can only make out from these dialogues is that himeko knows kafka (and the stellaron hunters) would need her help.

there is, after all, a grace of sincerity when someone shows up in person.

[wellgoslowly]

old quotes about love that i think lockwood associates with lucy because im obsessed with these fuckers

“and she tortures me, tortures me with her love. the past was nothing! in the past it was only those infernal curves of hers that tortured me, but now i’ve taken all her soul and through her i’ve become a man myself.” - fyodor dostoevsky

“i can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly, even though i feel that here in this world there’s no undisturbed place for our love, neither in the village nor anywhere else; and i dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and i would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more.” - kafka

“i love thee, i love thee with a love that shall not die. till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.” - william shakespeare

“how do i love thee? let me count the ways.” - elizabeth barrett browning

“i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. i love you simply, without problems or pride: i love you in this way because i do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no i or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when i fall asleep your eyes close.” - pablo neruda

“if i had a flower for every time i thought of you… i could walk through my garden forever.” - alfred tennyson

“when we love, we always strive to become better than we are. when we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too.” - paulo coelho

“in vain i have struggled. it will not do. my feelings will not be repressed. you must allow me to tell you how ardently i admire and love you.” -jane austen

“he’s more myself than i am. whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” - emily brontë

“every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. those who wish to sing always find a song. at the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” - plato

“doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt i love.” -william shakespeare

“i cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which had laid the foundation. it is too long ago. i was in the middle before i knew that i had begun.” -jane austen

“i loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.” -charles dickens

“you are always new. the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. when you pass’d my window home yesterday, i was fill’d with as much admiration as if i had then seen you for the first time… even if you did not love me i could not help an entire devotion to you.” -john keats

[omamorens]

(kafka companion quest spoilers) so we all heard how kafka’s (en) voice became softer when blade asked to leave right?? like i wasn’t hallucinating that right????

[harmonysanreads]

Idk why, but I imagine Lyney introducing his s/o to Arlecchino

⁺ ⋆˚ Kafka Anon

I think it's highly likely Arlecchino would know of your existence way before Lyney introduces you to her.

It's nothing complicated, she must be updated with the whereabouts of her children. If Lyney has gotten that close to you, it'd mean that the rest of the House also know and accept you as ‘family’. It'd not be that difficult for the news to reach Arlecchino then, let's say through one of Lyney's ‘siblings’.

Arlecchino is not against this relationship at all. Lyney is more impatient and unorganized than he lets on and he requires someone more grounded to keep his wits in troublesome situations. It's a good thing you're capable of handling him, since poor Lynette can babysit him for so long. You also make a good incentive in keeping Lyney motivated enough to continue his ‘training’ as her successor. Your presence in his life is beneficial in every aspect.

But Arlecchino still pretends to be surprised when Lyney actually does it, if just to tease him a little. What, she has playful moods every once in a while, too, you know?

[fatuismooches]

ITS 💌 ANON!! as per usual i come to you with a headcanon at ungodly hours of the night in my time. i’ve been playing too much honkai star rail…BUT!! fluff and angst combo again 🏃 ure the best :(( pls don’t follow my example and get proper rest !! thanks for always being cool hehe

Dottore making a medicine that actually does work!! you can move around like normal, no longer as tired, and ofcourse- Dottore is thrilled. He’s done it, he kisses them and he takes reader everywhere, every single place he wanted to- he checked everything, they were fine…until suddenly, they fainted and he basically finds out that the medicine could only make everything good for a short amount of time before putting reader in the most excruciating pain possible after, so sadly, zandik curses himself and gets back to work :(( he dosent care about the sacrifices, he dosent care what he has to give and what gets taken away as long as you don’t. He’s a committed man and he’s committed for until after life. Literally will reincarnate with you if he can because he will *not* let go.

TO THE FLUFF THOUGH! zandik taking atleast 1 hour everyday to do something that you like because he realizes that you miss him (and he misses you too). At first he was wary because he wanted to ensure that he could get you cured as soon as possible, but he couldn’t handle it if you were all sad and gloomy either. He didn’t want you to think of yourself as a burden and god forbid, you try to leave again (referring to that one ask where reader leaves bc they feel like a burden,, in feel like he’s be so damn scared…even if he won’t admit it). So reading you a book? sure, just be prepared for many side comments if it’s some cheesy romance novel or him reading a textbook. Drawing? hell, he’ll draw an anatomical heart with you holding it! Cuddling? he’ll wrap you up in his fluffy coat and hug you as much as you want.

- 💌 anon

AWW ILYY 💌 ANON!! Hehe I am trying my best to go to sleep earlier... it's a work in progress. Also i feel you on the HSR brainrot but I'm TBL 57, have no good artifacts since I haven't farmed, and stuck on the deer boss fight 💀 i gotta get on the grind soon 😫🫠 But you better get proper rest too!!! Or else- 💖💖

NOOO THE FLUFF GETS IMMEDIATELY WIPED AWAY TO ANGST- I can't imagine the sheer happiness you two would feel. Reader, of course, would be absolutely elated and very plainly show how delighted they are. You're running, hopping, Dottore even twirls you around and you do a pretty little spin as you fall back into his arms. You're so happy, you haven't smiled or laughed this much in ages. Dottore, as usual, doesn't show nearly as much emotion as you, but don't let that fool you. Internally, he's feeling something he has never felt before, so foreign that normally he'd be trying to get rid of it but this time he knows exactly why he's having this feeling. Thrilled, excited, proud, enthusiastic, words that could not even begin to fully describe this feeling. Centuries of work finally paid off, never to have to be repeated again. To see you so purely happy, makes him look forward to things going back to how they once were. Oh, how much fun you'd have joining him as his assistant again. The whole atmosphere and feelings of the clones in the lab are in sync for once.

Except... it all comes crashing down. Literally. When you collapse in his arms with ragged breaths, skin searing to the touch, actual tears begin to form from how badly it hurts. Immediately the mood from early deflates as he rushes to get you back to normal and ease your suffering </3 To have something he desires right in his hands, just to be snatched away from him with no warning is something he's never experienced before. He is a scholar, possibly one of the most intelligent beings in Teyvat. Such a thing shouldn't have happened to him. But it did, and he has to start over. He probably killed some people to blow off steam. No remorse. Just anger.

Sigh sigh I LOVE THIS SM. Normally, he'd scoff if it was any other activity. Especially when it's boring meetings. A whole hour? For nonsense? He finds it meaningless. His 24 hours are spent doing important things. Important things being research, experiments, notes... and you, of course. You're right, when Dottore has a goal or something he wants to reach, he just throws himself into it. No breaks, nothing, he just wants to make progress, progress, progress. Especially when it's you on the line. He'll refuse any and all contact. But he's come to realize your state deteriorates even more if your needs are not met by him. Not to mention the clones are sending messages to each other internally about how sad you are, which he decides he overhears way too frequently </3 So he knows he has to put a stop into it. (And yes, that ask was sad as hell, I still think about it 😭🥺)

Love how we agree he's a pro at drawing anatomical stuff hehe. You cut out the hearts he draws and put them on your walls or something ;( And also AHHHH THE FLUFFY COAT CUDDLING... No words can describe how much I love that scenario. It's so cute to think about both of you wearing it at the same time... you're on his lap, he's wearing the coat but it's swallowing your whole body up anyway since it's wrapped around, the fluff tickling your face!! <3 The book is in your hand, you both take turns reading it but Dottore interrupts whenever something dumb is said or done. Oh.. but you end up falling asleep since his voice is so relaxing and his chest is so comfy..

Ughhh eternal lovers with Dottore is hitting me right now ;( Especially when you talked about his commitment... hell yes this crazy doctor will not bat an eye at anyone else besides you it doesn't matter how long it's been. For you he has no limits. He always be intrigued and into this person who managed to worm their way into his cruel cold heart...

[pocketsizedowls]

The first time I read The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, I was in my second year of college.

At the time, despite going to a university that was a 12-hour drive away, I faithfully returned home during every break, every holiday, and every long weekend. Much like Gregor Samsa, the protagonist of The Metamorphosis and breadwinner of the Samsa household, I thought my family needed me. They couldn't function without me. Texts and calls flooded in every day from my siblings, my mother, my father, so at the end of my second year of college, I wrote a creative nonfiction essay about The Metamophosis. My family is not like Samsa's, I claimed. Even if I get transformed into a bug like Samsa did, they would never faint at the sight of me. They accepted me each and every time I returned home from college, slightly changed from the last but still human at my core. They loved me, I said. They always will.

The recent release of Teniwoha's "Zamuza" via Project Sekai's N25 brought me back to that essay, and upon rereading it for the first time since I wrote it four years ago, I... pity myself. At 19, I had not yet come to terms with my family's dysfunction, my mother's narcissism, and my father's neglect. Being parentified growing up often means that you're the last of your siblings to realize you were cheated of a proper childhood, and that growing up too quickly has detrimental consequences on your health. Cortisol, the steroid hormone released into your body during long periods of stress, is only good for your body in smaller doses. Today, I am writing this post at 6am after rolling around in bed for hours, stuck in the limbo of waking and sleeping. Unfortunately, insomnia is only one of the issues that arise in adulthood after living in fight-or-flight mode your entire life. I would love to tell you more, but that would make this post way too long, so let's move on to the interesting stuff:

I see a lot of my younger self in Mafuyu Asahina, who puts on a "good girl" facade her entire life in order to meet the expectations of her demanding parents. By that I mean, she sacrifices her happiness and her identity to secure love and empathy from her mother, and boy do I know helpless that feeling can be. I only wish that when I was in high school, I also had good friends like Kanade, Mizuki, and Ena. That it didn't take me so long to realize that I am not responsible for my parents' emotions and that I did not need to take on adult responsibilities at a young age to be loved. Because love, as most people learn at a young age and I learned when I was a little older, is supposed to be unconditional.

Gregor Samsa, who transformed into a bug at the beginning of the story, died at the end of The Metamorphosis due to familial neglect. After sacrificing his entire life and identity to serve his family, they moved on quickly without him once he was no longer useful as their golden child. This would have been my fate, had I not pivoted my priorities later on during college to focus on myself. This would have been Mafuyu's fate, if not for her good friends who are unconditionally invested in her well-being. The song "Zamuza" is inspired by The Metamorphosis, and the song is often called "Samsa" when referred to in English. A tribute to Samsa, I think this song is not only Kanade's attempt to save Mafuyu, but also her way of making sure that Samsa, despite being forgotten by his family, will continue to be remembered by her audience.

Take a listen, if you haven't yet:

[trumanblackarchmyback]

I think about this A LOT

[araneitela]

While I have these noted in my OneNote, putting them on here may... make it that I write these down more thoroughly faster. But, meta-topics that I'm planning on elaborating on:

— Kafka's semblance of 'boredom' and its manifestation. This is seen across the board through either suggesting or engaging in both more trivial and more significant 'games'. But a great example is the "trial" during the on-going Jepella Rebellion. Throughout the entire sequence, we see the judges with flaring red eyes that glow brighter at numerous intervals, and when she's "let to plead her case" a bit more thoroughly towards the end of it, we're shown a red string breaking (timestamp: 2:08); you see the judges' eyes return to normal and they are in a state of severe mental disorientation and panic. The string breaking marked the intended end of Kafka's Spirit Whisper on them. The entire trial was nothing more than a mockery of the court: her game. As Sam notes at the end (timestamp: 2:32), "You should really stop playing with your food; Kafka." He meant it. Kafka plays games when many likely wouldn't due to a sense of risk. Aside from being immune to this due to the lack of fear that she claims the populace of Pteruges-V (or at least, New Babylon) to have, this playfulness is likely an added manifestation of this. We know that she doesn't fall victim to the same follies as others from this same planet, "I used to be a Devil Hunter (...) When people don’t feel fear, they are dominated by desire and pleasure – they become “devils”, so this may be a different form of 'pleasure' in the simple form of entertainment. The Jepella 'trial' is simply the most evident example.

— The two different manners of speech. We're overtly familiar with the incredibly seductive delivery of most of her dialogue, but there are instances where Kafka's delivery is quite different and it is incredibly intentional. The very first instance of this, is when she first speaks to the Trailblazer. It is not as consistent, and there is still usually a lingering element of playfulness to the end of most words' pronunciations (there are specific lines that are a lot more evident, such as "When you have a chance to make a choice, make one that you know you won't regret" at the end of the sequence). This could be blamed on the fact that this was an early recording and they were undecided; however, the decision of having two different 'vocal deliveries' has been set in stone with Kafka's story/companion quest. Thankfully, I found this to help make it very obvious.

— Not feeling fear does not equate lack of emotions and/or the concept of humanity. For me, 'fear' is merely one of many emotions that humanity possesses, it is tied in with many (all) others but it is not representative, on its own, of all emotions in their entirety. The reason I make note of this is Kafka's inherent tie to musicality, one of numerous great 'arts' that requires great emotion to properly understand and appreciate. Now, part of me wondered if she perhaps lacked this as well, and whether, because of that, this was one of her 'goals' within the Stellaron Hunters as well. But when looking at the individually noted goals for each of them, "they who chase after fear" (Kafka) is separate from "they who inquire meaning" (strongly hinted at being Sam), which renders the question null and void. Aside from that, she actively seems to harbor an element of care towards the Trailblazer, but most undeniably, she actively harbors a semblance of care and concern for Blade's state of being in her story quest. This also means, to me, that Kafka harbors the ability of affection.

— Her character banner was called 'Nessun Dorma', named after arguably the most famous tenor arias in all of opera (yes, you've likely heard it even if you're not into opera). As much as she is very much tied to classical music throughout the game, and showing an active investment in it, this is entirely different as it is a vocal performance, rather than instrumental as all other musical passages used for her have been. Nessun Dorma is an aria in the final act of a musical called Turandot. This is a fantasy tale that unfolds in China, where a beautiful but very cold princess (Turandot) poses three riddles to any suitor who dares court her, and commands the death of all who fail. When an unknown prince (he who sings 'Nessun Dorma) ultimately triumphs, the opera ends in a love story with a happy ending. Hoyoverse doesn't do things without reason, and so this intrigues me relentlessly. But moreover, the riddles and their answers really get the cogs in my head to spin wildly; as this reeks of Kafka in more ways than one:

"What is born each night and dies at dawn?" Hope.

"What flickers red and warm like a flame, yet is not fire?" Blood.

"What is like ice yet burns?" Turandot (the princess in question).

[esmeraldablazingsky]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Blade/Kafka (Honkai: Star Rail) Characters: Blade (Honkai: Star Rail), Kafka (Honkai: Star Rail) Additional Tags: other stellaron hunters briefly mentioned, Blade is Called Ren (Honkai: Star Rail), Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Kafka, Blood Drinking, Mild Hurt/Comfort, no beta we die like blade cant Summary:

Kafka is a vampire whose venom is potent enough to quiet the mara; Ren is an immortal whose blood will never run dry. Somehow, it’s easy for two people unacquainted with care to care for each other.