#Elio deserves better

[frizz-bee-2]

i needed to do this-- .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·.

[santatrina]

parental gallagher is actually insane because what do you mean he's the father figure of a kid that's not only a dream but also resembles his creator .

i believe gallagher is more than capable of separating mikhail from misha and recognizing misha as his own individual but i can't help but imagine that there were moments where it was simply hard not to think of the watchmaker when glancing at misha.

and this gets even sadder because if we really think about it, gallagher spent much much MUCH more time with misha than with mikhail but... the watchmaker's legacy is still so prominent and there's NOTHING gallagher can do despite grief (for mikhail) and love (for misha)

as gallagher himself says, mikhail is gone, but misha was still there.

no one at the hotel acknowledged misha's presence. no one from penacony ever dreamed of him. all he had until the trailblazer arrived was clockie and gallagher, and even if that was insufficient, misha was still an extraordinary kid, an extraordinary friend to everyone who had the pleasure of accompanying him at some point in his... life.

imagine gallagher listening to his wishes and having to go on with his day knowing he'd never be able to fullfil most of them. he would never be able to take misha in any super duper trip. he would never see the day where misha would go trailblazing. never.

HOYOVERSE WHEN I CATCH YOU WHEN I CATCH YOU HOYOVERSE

[exsquisiteexistence]

you were a wonderful experience.

You were everything.

[jasperthetiredghostboi]

I love SM and USUM, they are like my second most favorite pokemon game, they bring me so much joy

[gardensofthemoon]

Curufin/Finrod + 21 - on a place of insecurity pls?

21 - on a place of insecurity. prompt list here

“Easy on the firewood, Ingo, do you want to turn your bedchamber into a forge?” groaned Curufin. He stretched, loose-limbed and warmed with pleasure after yet another of their nightly political debates. The furs, which had provided a symphony of sensation during Finrod’s well-put counterargument, were now sticking unpleasantly to his naked skin.

“I’m not,” replied Finrod, “freezing in my own damned bed.” He prodded at the fireplace with a poker until the flames danced merrily sparking with copper-red bursts.

Curufin opened his mouth but found he couldn’t jab at him. He watched through half-lidded eyes as Finrod draped himself with a robe. A thick, velvet robe, his mind supplied, long-sleeved and brushing against the floor.

Far away, outside the stonewall shields of the city, snowstorms were plundering the open fields, covering the frozen earth in white.

Finrod shivered.

“Come here,” said Curufin without thinking. He scooted over, arms opening wide, and Finrod slipped in. He gathered Finrod close and barely suppressed a yelp when Finrod’s icy fingers dug into his rear.

“Warm me up?” Finrod’s usual nonsense made him roll his eyes. He had a mind to question Finrod’s generous collection of seasonal loungewear, or point out the several blankets that had been rucked to the side sometime midway through Curufin’s concluding point. However the hour was late, and liquid-lazy contentment was streaming in his veins. He chose the cleverer option and let Finrod think he was touched by the poor attempt at pillow-talk.

“Don’t laugh,” Finrod whined. Curufin felt Finrod pouting against his cheek, and hid a smile. His hair was tickling him, that was all. “I really am cold.”

“What don’t I do for you,” said Curufin, and kissed Finrod on the tip of his freezing nose.

[stellar-skyy]

hihi! an iced english breakfast tea with father figure blade?

“iced english breakfast tea here, for... ah, who was it? Oh, of course! Blade!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: While on a trip, you receive a letter from a certain Stellaron Hunter. ii. CWS & NOTES: no warnings applicable. PLATONIC blade & gn!reader, brief silver wolf & reader, kafka & reader. father figure!blade. found family fluff. 0.5k words. iii. A/N: hi anon! this request was actually much further in the queue, but i finished it quickly so i thought i might as well post it now.

The letter is penned on bright white paper, covered in small creases that have been smoothed out. The writing on it is small, with some parts crossed out and rewritten, filling the entire page. In the corner is a small series of doodles in purple ink, crude drawings of the three Stellaron Hunters and you. The envelope is beside it with the wax seal broken, smelling faintly of spider lilies.

Inside, it reads:

[Name],

I hope this letter reaches you well, if it reaches you in the first place. I must admit I am skeptical of the effectiveness of the intergalactic postal system, but it isn’t as if there is another way to contact you, aside from tossing the letter into outer space and hoping it finds its way to the planet you are currently on.

I think this is the longest it’s been without seeing you since you were young. It is much too quiet without you around; Silver Wolf has attempted to fill the silence, but I hardly understand what she is talking about half of the time and I do not care to ask. When you return, you will have to inform me what ‘dps’ and ‘maxed out’ means, because I know asking her now will only give me a long-winded spiel about those video games she is obsessed with.

Despite you being gone several weeks now, it’s still been difficult to adjust to having one fewer member of the group. I have been turning the corner, expecting you to be there waiting for me, but I am constantly finding myself alone. Kafka tells me it’s the mother hen instincts, but she doesn’t know what she is talking about.

Silver Wolf has been asking about you non-stop, telling me she wants her Player Two back. She made me play with her for a bit, but according to her, I’m so terrible at the games that it isn’t even fun to beat me. I’m not sure what she means, she beats you all the time anyway, but when I told her that she just rolled her eyes.

Kafka misses you too, though she’s at least got enough emotional maturity to admit that out loud instead of sulking. When she found out I was writing this letter, she made me promise to tell you she can’t wait to see you again, and you’d better be taking care of yourself. I think she feels the same as I do, even as she teases me for it. Things just aren’t the same with one less person.

I know you’re wondering about me, but I’ll keep it short—I’m fine. My condition is no better than you last saw me, but it is no worse either. You don’t have to worry, and I mean that with honesty.

I trust you are using this well-deserved break to its fullest, taking in the sights and not causing any excess trouble. Elio doesn’t allow vacations very often—it’s a wonder he approved this one, with all the missions he’s sent us on lately—so make sure you take advantage of it. If you are in a tough situation, you only need to remember what Kafka and I have taught you: hit them fast and hard, and don’t leave any witnesses.

Be safe. I’ll see you soon.

Blade

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[alwayscorvus]

"Slow Burn" - Blade as your boyfriend

"Slow Burn" - Blade as your boyfriend

Blade x malereader, fluff, soulmate au; Warning! reluctant, cold Blade at first - "slow burn"

Part 2;

Meeting each other:

It's not that Blade didn't believe in soulmates. He did.

What's more, he dreamed of meeting one.

But it lasted only for a little while.

When he still was a little naive boy.

Boy who hoped to find someone that could keep him company when he was lonely. Someone who would take care of him. Someone to whom he could give all his love to and by whom he would feel appreciated.

Those days, however, are gone.

Blade quickly realized that life wasn't as cheerful as they say.

He grew up.

All wounds he had gained made him understand that he could only count on himself. Only he could protect himself.

And he only trusted himself.

Besides, after what he had done... He didn't deserve love.

At least that's what he thought.

So he didn't seek for a soulmate.

But soulmate found him on its own way.

And Blade chose to believe that all this wasn't Elio's plan at all.

When Blade met you for the first time. His heart stopped for a second.

For a good minute he couldn't take his eyes off you.

Your reaction wasn't any better.

Something hidden deep in Blade took control of him.

That legendary power, destiny...

Everything around him seemed to have disappeared. Sounds from the outside, excited voices of Kafka and Silver.

Background blurred and the only clear thing in his field of view was... you.

However, Blade was quick to regain his senses. He straightened up, put a serious expression and decided to act cold.

He ignored your presence and walked past you with a swift, energetic move.

Seeing this reaction you bluntly understood his message.

And you chose to act the same way. Without forcing your presence.

However, everything changed when it turned out that your company enhanced Blade's skills, in a mutual manner.

Together you were an unstoppable duo.

It was a common thing for soulmates. To become stronger in each other's presence. But Blade felt that only after your first mission.

After first encounter, every separation made both soulmates weaker. Alone, a person couldn't reach they 100% potential.

That's why Blade decided to use you to become better. To be able to kill more.

He would never let you leave.

And, by the way... you were not that bad kind of a warrior yourself.

Don't get him wrong. Blade "DIDN'T NEED" you. But the fact that someone watched his back and let him avoid a few new wounds, wasn't that bad either.

Blade liked to self-improve himself in his free time.

Since he met you he found a new way to do that. He started reading about soulmate's bond.

By this, he learned that touch could strengthened the bond. And the stronger the bond was, the stronger attacks, abilities and talents were.

Perhaps it wasn't an unexpected news. But for Blade, who had never felt a care, never felt a warmth of another person...

It wasn't anything normal.

So Blade began to seek a contact with you. Talking seemed too tiring. And it didn't seem that effective either. Also, Blade didn't want to get to know you. He wasn't interested in what you like and what you don't. It all seemed so trivial and unnecessary for him.

He didn't care what you were like. Althouht not for long.

Blade had no idea how should he get it done. That's why he threw an open book in your direction and pointed a correct line with his finger.

He looked at you with a stiff, unfriendly face, crossing his arms on his chest.

You did what he told you to do. Because Blade couldn't tolerate any objections.

It started with holding his hand.

But Blade felt so awkward with it... Like some stupid tenager.

And it was all because he was an adult now! Not because he felt embarassed... Right?!

So he quickly snatched his hand out of your grasp and stood up rapidly.

He suggested something else. Something in what he didn't have to look at you.

You started laying down together. Blade with his back to you. And you embracing him.

You didn't see this as the best way to get to know each other. You both had definitely skipped a few steps.

But seeing Blade's piercing face earlier, you didn't want to start a quarrel. And you also wanted to seize an opportunity. Maybe that would really let you to get closer to him. After all, you were soulmates. You were destined for each other. You were meant to spend the rest of your lives with each other-

And it's not that in this world soulmates always ended up together. Sometimes they stayed just as a friends. Sometimes they parted ways. They found someone else, despite their inner voice and loved each other very deeply. And sometimes they just didn't meet at all.

Yet you really had no choice. First of all, you began to tie your future with working as Stellaron Hunter. Secondly... Blade really didn't look like someone who would let you go. Not that you really minded that. At least you felt appreciated. And deep inside, you felt that Blade wasn't as bad as he tried to pretend.

At first Blade was stiff.

Very much. As a board.

At first you yourself felt a little uncomfortable too. But later you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing. He was adorable and funny at the same time. But it was, after all, his first time.

At some point, after many attempts, you started to get used to it. And Blade stopped being so stiff.

You, however, couldn't stand this silence. So you took the lead and started talking about yourself. After all, you didn't count on getting anything out of Blade.

Blade wished so fricking bad for you to shut up. Your warm breath tickled his ear and caused some weird twisting in his stomach.

However, he couldn't tell you to stop. After all, he didn't want to show you how much he blushed at that time. What an effect you had on him.

At first he tried not to listen to you. And he couldn't even focus on your speech, to be honest.

At some point, however, he began to gather informations about you. Eventually he realized that since he was lying still anyway, he could listen to you and maybe collect some valuable knowledge. But obviously, he didn't let it show.

But after weeks, he himself started to join your conversation. First with a few snarky comments. Then, with full sentences, Blade began to add something about himself.

He started to treasure every thing that he knew about you. What's more. He was proud that he knew so much of you. He loved to rub it in Silver's face.

After a year together you really started to matter to him.

Habits/Facts:

You were always there for him. Both, in little and in big things. You took care of him when he was sick. When he was busy, you brought small things that he needed like book or tissue, or food for example. But you also saved his life more than once. You cared, you helped him. He really meant something to you.

And you never left him. Even when he was cruel to you. When he ordered, shouted for you to leave.

After a few years, Blade got used to your presence. Not only that. He actually fell in love.

Finally he mattered to someone. And it wasn't just anyone. It was you. The most wonderful person he ever met.

He was the one who asked you to become a couple. Or rather, he decided for you two and just let you know. Typically, in his style.

One afternoon, when he had had enough of Kafka's teasting. He finally broke down and said that "you are together". This effectively shut her mouth while you looked at him with your eyes wide open.

As Blade claimed, putting a label on your relationship was also very beneficial. From then on, you were able to live in a shared bedroom. Yours, because it was more cozy according to Blade.

Of course, he didn't dare tell you that.

Besides, Blade often doesn't tell you many things. Especially if it involves his feelings. Although he doesn't look like it, he is extremely shy in these matters.

He also likes to decide by himself. He just tells you what the plan is and immediately gets into action. Without even waiting for your answer.

You got used to it. At least he keeps you updated. So it could be worse.

Well, and when something really bothers you. And you say it in a firm voice, Blade will stop right away.

Currently you are the only one who can cool him down and talk some sense into him. This is especially helpful on a missions.

When you finally told him that you love him and he felt a true sincerity in it, he burst into tears. For the first time since joining Stellaron Hunters. He lost, overwhelmed with emotions.

It took him years to fully trust you. And say it back.

But when he did... oh boy. You'll never forget it. Especially since Blade isn't eager to show too much affection.

His favorite form of relaxation is to lay his head on your exposed chest and listen to your heartbeat as you lie on your bed together. He feels calm and safe then. He has the assurance that you are alive and that you are really here. That someone really cares about him. And that it isn't just an illusion.

This also relates to your mornings: warm rays of the sun caress his bare shoulders. You affectionately brush through his hair. He then purrs quietly with approval.

But only for a moment.

He quickly returns to listening to the sounds of your heart.

Although Blade pretends otherwise he can be really insecure. Especially when it comes to his scars, which he has plenty of due to the battles he took.

He waited a long time before showing you his body. When he finally did, he couldn't look you in the eye. And you, seeing his back, froze. Blade heard you holding your breath. He started to panic and began to regret his decisions. As soon as you saw him trembling, you immediately got up from the bed, ran over to him. You started to kiss every single one, even the smallest wounds.

He won't admit it but he cares deeply about your approval. And every compliment you say sticks in his head.

When he is jealous he won't tell you directly but will easily let you feel it. Blade will avoid you. And he will start walking faster when you try to reach him. When you finally catch up to him, he'll pretend he doesn't hear you and that he has something more important to do.

Tell him that he is the only one that matters to you. And that in your eyes there is no one better than him. He will hesitantly forgive you and let you lock him in a tight hug. But while still keeping a poker face.

You must reassure him that he is important to you and remind him of his worth. He, unfortunately, often forgets about that and it leads him to a horrible conditions.

If u want to make him blush don't think about touching him in public or anything like that. He doesn't care. At least he acts like its not a big deal. You are a couple. You did it plenty of times. Besides, any work partner can grab his companion's arm or hand.

Instead, make some kind gesture with which you show him that you care about him. For example, make him breakfast in bed and his cheeks will immediately cover in a big reddish blush. He won't acknowledge you with even a single word. But will instantly take the tray from you.

Fights... They are a big part of your daily life. Pumped up Blade always runs ahead while you watch his back.

However, Blade doesn't forget about your presence and after each defeated opponent, he searches you with his eyes and makes sure you're okay.

In theory, he could rely on your soulmate's bond. And wait for a "stab" in his heart which would tell him that something is wrong with you. But he couldn't stand by and let himself lose the only important person in his life.

After a long tiring struggle, you are blessed with his horse voice. You aren't sure if you have heard anything more relaxing in your life.

Hearing the meaning of red spider lilies* that so often surrounded him, you decided to replace them with something else. Something he could love.

You've made a habit of bringing him bouquets of red roses. And he developed the habit of drying them. At some point he collected so many that he didn't know what to do with them anymore. Now Blade separates some of them into petals. Which he places in a notebook. Transforms into his favorite teas. Or perfumes, which he uses on himself. Thanks to that, even in your absence, he can feel your presence.

Let's say it's over for today because translating it will be very painful for me anyway...

*Red spider lilies are associated with death, sad memories, last goodbyes, especially to loved ones and for this reason, they aren't given as gifts.

While red roses symbolize a true love🥀

[tamsyien]

. . . understand ``☆

blade x fem!reader `☆`

. . cw: slight mention of blood, descriptions of making out

. . an: first hsr story for my first limited five star ☆☆☆☆☆ couldn't think of a better title smh

you never understood blade. even when kafka tasked you to take care of him after missions. cleaning him, making sure to treat his wounds, all that stuff.

he was quiet at first. no words exchanged between you two, just comfortable silence whenever you would clean him in the bathtub. a variety of shampoo and conditioners perfectly arranged by the side of the tub.

kafka only trusted you because you were able to relax blade after his most difficult missions. which was weird because according to silverwolf, kafka was always the one taking care of blade after missions. of she were gone, then it'd fall on silverwolf or sam to take care of him.

"i also found it a bit strange when kafka suddenly trusted you to take care of blade." silverwolf said as her fingers rapidly fly across the keyboard. "why?" you ask, watching her in curiosity. "well, kafka was always the one to take care of him. so entrusting someone with that task was surprising." she glances at you for a moment, then returns her attention back to the hologram in front of her.

"but dont overthink it too much. it's probably something to do with Elio's plan." she assures you.

you always think back to that conversation with silverwolf, pondering over the details and the possible reasons for kafka trusting you with blade. even now as you scrub the said swordsman's hair of any remaining blood, you find your mind wandering over to that same conversation.

blade opens his eyes, seeing you zoned out and mindlessly scrubbing his air was amusing at best. although he liked the feeling of your hands in his hair, the water was getting cold, and you hadn't even started to clean his body.

blade lifts a hand up to your face, cradling it softly as he watches you come back to reality, blush creeping up your neck. you pull back, looking away as you try to hide your face.

"the water is getting cold." he says, retracting his hand after a few moments. you only nod, moving to wash his hair. reaching for the bar of soap, you prepare to scrub his body clean of all the dried up blood. but before you could start, a hologram appears in front of you, with silverwolf right in the center.

"kafka's calling you to her office." she says before disappearing as quickly as she appeared. the room was silent for a while as you wonder why kafka needs you at this time - she always knows when you're cleaning blade.

"go. i can clean myself." blade's voice breaks the silence in the room. "uhm... ok." you mutter, standing up and giving blade the soap before exiting the bathroom.

you walk through the halls of headquarters, the silence almost defeaning. recalling the conversation you had with kafka a week ago, you wonder why she suddenly gave you a 'well deserved vacation'. you sigh, deciding to go to silverwolf for help. even if the girl seemed like she was always on the computer, she always listened to your ramblings. you're thankful for that.

rounding the corner, you remember that blade returns from his most recent mission today. you guess that kafka has already taken care of him...

you curse as you bump into someone. "ah, sorry about that..." lifting your head, you lock eyes with crimson red ones. there was an unreadable expression on his face - one you've seen many times after a particularly rough mission.

he stares at you, gaze burning through your soul. you shuffle awkwardly on your feet, struggling to find the words to break the tension.

suddenly, you're pinned against the wall, blade's arms on either side of you. you cower, lowering your head. a hand gently lifts your head by the chin, crimson eyes meeting yours. your breath hitches, his other hand wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"why weren't you there to greet me?" he asks in a whisper, quiet enough that only the two of you can hear. he narrows his eyes, tightening his arm on your waist. "why was kafka the one to clean me?" he asks in a harsher tone, voice dripping with annoyance.

you avert your gaze, stumbling over your explanation. "kafka told me to take a month off. she said i didn't need to greet you after missions so i didn't." you gently try to get out of his hold. it feels like your heart is about to burst, and you were sure you looked redded than a tomato.

blade tuts, tightening his hold. he's silent, which was unnerving. finally, after what felt like an eternity, he lets you go. you step back, trying to calm your heart. he stares at you for a moment before turning around and walking away. you watch him disappear into the next corridor, slumping against the wall, wondering what in the loving name of aeons just happened.

even now, you still dont understand him.

for the remainder of your 'vacation', you could sense blade following you everywhere you go. you even had to take extreme measures (asking silverwolf for help) just to avoid him.

silverwolf looks up from her computer, bubblegum popping as she takes in your slumped form. "you can't hide in here forever." she says, crossing her arms. hiding in silverwolf's room was the best course of action for you because blade wasn't allowed here.

you groan, dropping your head on her desk. "he's been following me for two weeks! two weeks, silverwolf!" you complain, "i can't even go to my room without him knocking on the door every thirty minutes!" silverwolf only laughs at your predicament. you've been going to her every time you're troubled by something (most of the time, it involved a certain mara-struck swordsman), and she was amused every time.

silverwolf smirks, clearly knowing something you dont. "just talk to him. it'll be resolved in no time." she suggests, going back to whatever she was doing. you stay quiet, pondering over your options before a knock on the door is heard. "speak of the devil." silverwolf stands up, motioning for you to hide, which you immediately do.

"what do you want?" she asks, annoyed. "you already know what i want." blade's voice reaches your ears, making the butterflies in your stomach act up again. "she doesn't want to talk." the silver-haired girl refutes, narrowing her eyes. the room is silent for a moment, before the sound of a sword being unsheathed resonates in the room.

"pull that damn sword out and i will call kafka on you." silverwolf threatens, only to be answered by blade with the same intensity. "bring her out and i wont tell sam you've been stealing his spare parts."

"you wouldn't dare!" she says in an exasperated voice. you already know where this is going. you internally cry, ready to beat up silverwolf. the next thing you know you're being dragged out from your hiding spot and being thrown over blade's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

silverwolf stares at you on the way the way out, her expression reading im not sorry. you give her the finger before the door shuts in your face. the both of you are silent for a while. the only sounds being blade's steps echoing through the empty corridor.

"blade, put me down." you firmly say, squirming in his grasp. he only shakes his head. "put me down!" you say a bit more louder, now actively trying to get out of his hold. blade only tightens his grip on your waist. you sigh, knowing there's no point in fighting him.

"i will never understand you."

you're proven wrong when one night and a lengthy confession later, you're laying on blade's bed, his arms wrapped around you. the memory of last night is still fresh in your mind.

his lips meeting yours in a feverish kiss. his soft hair intertwined with your fingers, his smell intoxicating - you guess all the products you used on him finally paid off. the way his hands settled on your waist, the kiss becoming hotter and deeper by the second. your heart beats faster with all the feelings you've never understood before, choosing to push them to the back of your mind. now they resurface as blade whispers sweet i love you's against your too hot skin. his hands roaming your body as emotions start to unravel from the deepest parts of your heart -

blade's cold skin snaps you back to reality. he nudges your shirt up, settling his hand on your bare waist. his gaze on you never falters - piercing through your soul as if reading your innermost thoughts. he pulls you closer to him, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his warm breath tickling you a bit. you smile, combing through his soft black hair, untangling the knots from it. you let him rest, the tranquility of the room lulling you to sleep.

maybe you did understand blade. just a bit.

an: this is so messy jsjsjsjsjsjjj i cant think of a proper name for this so yall have to put up with the current one :p

there's so many plot holes in this istg. maybe i'll make a part 2 who knows 🤷‍♀️

this is the start of a 7 day writing challenge which i will hopefully finish (please i just want my motivation to write back)

© tamsyien 2024 , do not repost, copy, or translate

[peculiarbeauty]

just to preface this , please don't reblog. i know a personal is about to get ahold of this. do not - i repeat - do not reblog. thanks.

so by the way , i really wanted to talk about what i am looking forward to with disney since they announce a lot. i know i tend to talk about certain things i am really am not looking forward to with disney. i LOVE disney , i just feel they could make better decisions sometimes. i hope that my feelings on disney never affects anyone here though yk because at the end of the day , you deserve to be excited for what you are excited for !! just as i am. <3

on that topic , the things i am REALLY looking forward to : elio , lilo and stitch live action , mufasa , wizards beyond waverly place , captain america brave new world , zootopia 2 , freakier friday , frozen 3 , toy story 5 , hoppers , incredible 3 , the greatest showman the new musical , hercules broadway musical

the things i WISH i had more interest in but maybe the previous stuff they offered didn't land for me , maybe that will change : moana 2 , star wars skeleton crew , pixars win or lose , avatar fire and ash , percy jackson and the olympians season 2 , mandalorian and grogu

the things i'm uninterested in : snow white

i thought that my list for uninterested topics would be bigger than it was but seriously i am super optimistic about everything else coming. even mufasa impressed me actually ?? bc it's an original story. they can go every which way they want and make it their own. which is something i would like to see more from disney these days. originality is important to me !! and i don't want everything from disney to just surround making a remake. that's lazy to me. on that same topic though , stitch actually looks so so good. at least his model does.

[ice-creamforbreakfast]

Elio grabbed Naomi and snuck into a storage area. His heart was in his throat and he didn't know how his best friend was going to take his news.

Naomi: Are you going to tell me you brought something better than the punch? Elio: I wish....I...I made out with Allan and I have to tell Miguel and I don't know what's going to happen! I'm a mess! Naomi: Elio what the fuck? Do you even like Allan like that? Elio: I guess I do. What am I going to do? Naomi: You have to tell him! I'm team Allan all the way, but as vapid as I find Miguel, he doesn't deserve this. Wow! You're a shit, Elio. Elio: I guess I am. Should I wait until prom's over? Naomi: Get it over with.

[theseshipsshallsail]

Summary:

There’s a distinctive creak of rusty hinges - the gate, Oliver realises, that marks the zig-zag path to the beach - and supervising his every move Elio keeps up a running commentary; well-versed, apparently, on the third-century Christian martyr upon whom this, Italy's most magical summer tradition, originated.

The Tears Of Saint Lawrence

“Trust me!” Elio declares, rooting through the hallway closet for a lightweight sweater as Oliver spies his missing espadrille half-hidden by Polpetta’s upturned basket. “It’s August tenth. La Notte di San Lorenzo! You won’t want to miss it.”

“Not for the world,” he agrees, inspecting the tan-leather surface for incriminating teeth marks.

And certainly not like last time, either: when the poetic notion of wishing on a falling star was damn-near anathema to a man so consumed by the devastating thought of goodbye. 

“Can you fetch a blanket?” Elio calls, voice echoing to the vaulted ceiling, yet no sooner has Oliver slid one into an empty holdall does the other man catch him by the wrist; face full of impish glee as he seals the distance between them. “According to your Heraclitus,” he drawls, a gauzy silk scarf dangling from his fingertips. “...the eyes are much better witnesses than the ears. But my father was adamant surprise is the greatest gift, and you, mon cœur, deserve to experience this properly.”

Oliver arches an intrigued eyebrow. “Properly, huh?” Biting his lower lip, he offers no resistance when Elio motions him closer; securing the ad hoc blindfold at the back of his head. “Kinky.”

Elio snickers. “You’ve seen the contents of my bedside cabinet.”

He has indeed. 

And honestly can’t wait to investigate them further.

“Fortune favours the bold,” Oliver says - somewhat tipsy thanks to Manfredi’s birra alle castagne - and Elio laughs out loud, adjusting the tightness at his temples with a cursory tug.

“Okay?” he checks. 

“Me okay.”

“Then Andiamo, Americano!” Elio exclaims, steering him towards the foyer entrance, and steadying him at the waist they negotiate the narrow steps of the raised veranda; wood transitioning to gravel to the familiar cushioning grass that comprises the villa’s front lawn. 

The cool, night air is rich with jasmine and rosemary; the brackish ocean breeze tickling his nostrils as the ever-present waves roar in his ears.

“Watch your step,” he hears, followed by a small click when Elio employs his flashlight.

There’s a distinctive creak of rusty hinges - the gate, Oliver realises, that marks the zig-zag path to the beach - and supervising his every move Elio keeps up a running commentary; well-versed, apparently, on the third-century Christian martyr upon whom this, Italy's most magical summer tradition, originated.

The tide is still receding when they reach the bottom: the multitude of shingly pebbles slipping occasionally as they skirt the deserted shoreline. Minutes blur - Elio’s body an extension of his own - and Oliver finds himself somewhat breathless after a calf-aching schlep along some steeply-sloping ground - a dune, he suspects, judging by the thorny vegetation - before Elio stops short; releasing his bicep with a gentle squeeze. 

“Don’t think I wasn’t tempted,” he says, apropos of nothing. “To take you to the berm, I mean. The higher elevation is surely magnifique, but I didn’t want to ruin the effect whilst getting us there. So.”

“Fair enough.” Oliver’s heart leaps into his throat. “Maybe next year?” he suggests instead; buoyed by the possibility. “Or Ferragosto, even?” They could pack a picnic lunch. “That’s this Sunday, right?” 

“All roads lead to La Danzing,” Elio agrees from somewhere to his left, presumedly arranging the afghan at their feet. “Careful when you lie down, ouais?”

Oliver scoffs. “Like you said: I’m middle-aged, not decrepit.” 

“Tell that to your dodgy kneecap,” the other man goads; the heat of his palm guiding Oliver southwards as he crouches on his haunches; legs unfolding in an awkward shuffle.

Finally horizontal, he wriggles his hips in a bid to get comfortable - no easy task by dint of the various detritus digging into his spine - but with a faint whisper of clothing Elio’s sitting beside him, so Oliver crosses his ankles and folds his hands atop his stomach; the switched-off flashlight plunging him into total darkness.

“Ready?”

Elio’s excitement is infectious. “Absolutely.” 

“Then brace yourself, mon ami.” 

Slender fingers cradle his skull - loosening the blindfold’s double knot - and Oliver’s eyes snap wide in awestruck disbelief when Elio whips it free with a flourish.

“Oh my God,” he gasps: the words wholly inadequate; the paralysing sense of utter insignificance almost impossible to overcome. “Oh my God…”

The light pollution is negligible here - miles as they are from the nearest major city - and the Riviera sky is an inky canvas. A pinprick panoply extending to the distant horizon. Truly mesmeric by any standards, yet amongst those scattered constellations blaze the Perseids, also. An annual meteor shower born of dust and ice. Hurtling through the Earth’s atmosphere like tears; emblematic of the white-hot coals over which Saint Lawrence met his untimely fate.

“Oh my God,” Oliver repeats, positively trembling as his arm drops limply to the side.

Dizziness strikes quickly in his poleaxed intermezzo, and mouth agape at the wondrous sight he digs his nails into the woollen blanket; mooring himself with the coarse, knitted fibres.

Reconnecting.

Recalibrating.

The lost decades behind them outstripped by those to come.

“We’ve found the stars,” he murmurs eventually.

“To hell with once only,” Elio replies, levering up on his elbow, and gripping the front of Oliver’s Oxford he funnels his love, his forgiveness - his everything, really - into a kiss that burns brighter, fiercer, than anything streaking the celestial plains above.

Notes:

Also, happy birthday to our Maestro, Luca Guadagnino. Eternal thanks for the stories you’ve told and the countless lives they’ve touched ❤️

[artemisjpotter]

Penacony 2.3 spoiler ramblings

____________________

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK STOP LEAVING FUCKING CLIFFHANGERS WHAT THE FUCK

Other random thoughts:

- Thank you for finally giving Acheron’s full backstory to us. I feel so bad for her. I went to give her all the hugs. Please visit the Express. You deserve all the happiness babe

-I do like Firefly as a character don’t get me wrong but I’m not a huge fan of them pushing this faux ship between her and the trailblazer. Like it feels forced. I feel like we got attached to her way too quickly in 2.0 and now we’re acting like we’re basically dating. There was even the bridal carry! I think I would like it better if it had more gradual development. I think it has potential, it just needs to happen more organically.

-WHY DID YOU SKIP THE SCENE WITH AVENTURINE AND BOOTHILL STANDOFF AT THE END OF 2.2??? Like how did they reach an agreement? Since when did the marketing dept have beef with the SID? Did everyone know this and that’s why Boothill approaches Aventurine in the first place? WHY DIDN’T YOU SHOW US THEIR CONVO HOYO??? You did both my boys so dirty this patch. They’d better give them an epic buddy cop showdown against Oswaldo in a companion mission or the interlude. Also: show us Boothill’s backstory in game so I can properly sob like a baby and we give him a proper character arc. Also also: make Nihility = depression so we can finally have the Aventurine depression arc we deserve and maybe get that boy some happiness and will to live at some point.

-Speaking of the IPC: wtf is up with Jade??? Topaz looked gay AF when she first showed up, and Jade kept infantilizing her, calling her “little Jelena” and such. And when she went to more harsher “negotiations” with the family she ended up being more manipulative and cutthroat like we saw when she first met Aventurine. She’s clearly manipulative and I think she groomed Topaz and acts like a different person around her. That would also explain Topaz’s brainwashing that the IPC is great and all. God I hate them so much. LET BOOTHILL SHUT THEM DOWN I’M BEGGING YOU 🙏🏾 🙏🏾 🙏🏾

-Speaking of the family, WHERE WAS MY BOY SUNDAY??? We know he’s on trial but he only shows up at the end, and Jade is just like, “explore different paths.” So like what is the future for Sunday now? Are they just letting him go? What’s going to happen to him? And why didn’t we get to properly explore Robin’s grief over her brother’s actions and subsequent imprisonment? Again WE WERE ROBBED

-Ngl I started crying like a baby inside when the Express said their goodbyes to the Nameless. That story makes me so sad 😭 and March’s question about morality AHH I LOVE THE EXPRESS CREW FOUND FAMILY SO MUCH

-And going off of that, I love how the Stellaron Hunters are like found family. It’s so sweet, like how Firefly told Jade Silver Wolf would fuck the IPC up if they messed with her. We love our criminal found family in this house (also love how Kafka asked Firefly to buy her some stuff.)

-Why the fuck did Elio hire Sparkle? I don’t understand that. I don’t understand the point of her or any of the masked fools tbh. Sometimes I imagine Elio is just writing things in the script for shits and giggles and it kinda makes me laugh but also scratch my head 😂

I think that’s all for now but I reserve the right to add to this. I did enjoy 2.3 overall, but they left way too many loose ends imo (and I wanted more fan service for my faves, ngl). I do hope they resolve them in the interlude and/or companion missions. Penacony has sooo many interesting storylines that it would be a shame if they didn’t wrap them all up.

ETA: WHY IS ARGENTI’S ENGLISH VOICE STILL BROKEN I WANT TO HEAR THAT MAN’S ELEGANT VOICE AGAIN 😭 😭 😭

[jeanbie]

WORDLESS #1 ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

genre: sugar daddy & contract killer au | warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention, mature rating, potentially ooc levi | wc: 4.2k

note: there will be overall 5 parts to this series. see end for more notes ^^ could be a little bit ooc but it's all fiction anyway so lets use our imaginations :P btw i dont speak french so sorry to my french readers

★ ch1. ch2. ch3. ch4. ch5

⏤ Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Levi over the edge if he hears them again.

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Levi’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Levi did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Levi sufficed for “clean-up work”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Levi came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Levi working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Erwin, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Levi seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Levi spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Levi donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues. Levi was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working.

And, Levi was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head.

Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Levi’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Levi going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Levi would feel alien, like he didn’t belong.

At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty eight year old skin), Levi felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Levi during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Levi’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival.

Asshole, he deserved it.

Secondly, Levi was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Levi, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep.

Levi knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Levi was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Levi drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed.

Levi carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Levi is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Levi is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that.

Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional.

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Levi over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Levi is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Levi shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Levi often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth.

You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Levi is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa.

Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Levi doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Levi’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Levi says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Erwin’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Levi concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Levi wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Levi mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Levi suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Levi might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Levi decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Levi finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Levi is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long feud with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Erwin had found closer to Levi’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Levi picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back.

France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Levi dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Levi takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Levi replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you.

Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Levi responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Levi. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favourite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Levi replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Levi relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew.

Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple teet.”

He takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to the Internet,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Levi prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary.

So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Levi has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Levi stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Levi wants to hang Erwin for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Levi’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Levi remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Levi prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor.

Levi and his men, along with the few police officers Levi could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Levi got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you.

He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Levi could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Levi collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug.

Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Levi.

“Fuck you,” Levi barks suddenly, and Erwin shrugs and exits the office.

All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Levi comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Levi comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today. 

Levi hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Levi says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Levi pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Levi.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Jesus, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Levi exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Levi drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room.

Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee.

Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Levi knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Levi moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Levi sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Levi thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Levi stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Levi again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Levi.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Levi thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get your friend Erwin an uncle badge if he wants one. He's a nice guy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Levi mutters. “He wants a sugar niece, well…he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Levi looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Levi’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Levi hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Levi presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Levi smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now.

You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Levi’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Levi takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other’s company is enough for tonight.

The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Levi’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

[thenovelartist]

Life After Destruction - Chapter 6 - Honkai: Star Rail

<Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter>

“You were supposed to die.”

At the all-too-familiar sultry voice, Stelle looked up from where she was sitting to see Kafka. “What a way to greet someone,” she snipped.

“I thought I’d cut to the chase.” Uninvited, Kafka stepped closer and took a seat on the bench beside Stelle.

Stelle narrowed her eyes at Kafka. Even after all this time, she never could fully figure this woman out. The only thing she knew for certain was Kafka never wished any harm to come to Stelle. Though Stelle supposed if there was one thing to know about a person, that certainly wasn’t the worst.

“What brings you here?” Stelle asked, glancing around the crowded plaza of the planet they were visiting. “Out in the open.”

“The place is busy enough for people to notice everyone yet no one,” Kafka answered. “I’m nothing more than a face in this crowd, just like you.”

Well, that was true. Despite Stelle's face having become quite a famous one, no one had approached her. Honestly, for the better.

“I’m surprised that vidyadhara of yours left you alone, though.”

“He’s just across the street.” Through the crowd, Stelle could spot Dan Heng standing beside March as they waited in line at a food stall. The reason for that was March’s phone had broken on the latest mission, and they were currently waiting for it to get fixed at a shop down the street. After meandering the streets for a while, March thought she’d grab snacks for everyone, but Stelle was not up for standing in line. Despite being told her belly was smaller than average for a woman six months along, Stelle was beginning to feel its effects to the point she no longer protested the occasional break. Seeing as March had no phone, Dan Heng had gone with her, leaving Stelle to rest on a bench for now.

“Still,” Kafka continued, “he doesn’t often leave you alone long enough for us to chat.”

“You could approach me when he’s here.”

“That would ruin our girl time.”

Stelle just rolled her eyes at Kafka’s evasive answer. “Anyway, what do you mean? Or am I gonna have to play ‘truth and lie’ to maybe get an answer out of you?”

Kafka chuckled. “Actually, I’ll humor you and give you straight answers today. You deserve it, considering you’re still alive.” She leaned back against the bench, crossing her legs. “In every future Elio foresaw of us winning against Nanook, there was not a one where you didn’t die from that stellaron burst. As cruel as this might sound, we accepted it. A single life is a better sacrifice than a galaxy full of them.”

Considering she was that life, Stelle was inclined to hate that sacrifice more than anyone. But on the other hand, she also understood it. She’d met so many wonderful people, both comrades in arms and civilians who just wanted to live peacefully in this galaxy. She’d come to care for them so deeply that if she could pay a price that would guarantee their future, then she would.

Once again, she caught flashes of a particular green and gold coat as well as a cotton-candy-colored dress through the crowd. Heck, she would have made that sacrifice if only for those two over there, plus the other Nameless, of course. They’d given her everything, and she gladly would have returned the favor, even at the cost of her life.

A sudden jolt to her stomach was enough of a reminder that a very tiny someone was glad she didn’t have to.

“Is that all you wanted to say?” Stelle asked, automatically covering the spot her baby kicked with her hand.

“No,” Kafka admitted. “Actually, there’s quite a bit I want to say, but you’re not the only person I want to say it to.” With that, she stood. “That is, if you dare to follow me for a bit.”

Stelle quirked a brow.

“Don’t worry. It won’t take long. You better text your husband, though. He doesn’t look too happy.”

At the mention of Dan Hang, Stelle looked through the crowd for him, only to see he was glaring in her direction. Not only that, but Stelle watched March’s expression darken the instant she caught on.

She forced herself to give them a smile and a wave before pulling out her phone.

Stelle: It’s okay. 

Stelle: I’ll be right back.

Dan Heng pulled out his phone in response, March looking over at it.

“Now that you’ve taken care of that,” Kafka said, starting to walk away. “Follow me. I promise it will be worth your while.”

As Stelle stood, her phone dinged with a message.

Dan Heng: Where are you going?

Stelle: It’s fine.

Stelle looked up to see Dan Heng and March looking at her through the crowd.

Stelle: Trust me. Just get the snacks for when I get back.

And with that, she shuffled off after Kafka.

“Clingy, aren’t they?” Kafka joked once Stelle caught up to her.

“Well, I don’t need to tell you they don’t exactly trust you,” she snipped.

The woman shrugged it off. “Probably for the better.”

As they walked through the ever-moving crowd of people, Stelle didn’t initiate conversation, even though she certainly had questions.

“Congratulations, by the way, for being the first to bear a vidyadhara.”

“Half-vidyadhara,” she corrected.

“Full-blooded, if Elio’s prediction is correct,” Kafka returned. “But either way, a miracle child for the woman still miraculously alive. It makes for a nice fairytale, doesn’t it?”

More on instinct, Stelle’s hand rested on her stomach. Was Kafka right? Was her child a full vidyadhara? It wasn’t like they knew for certain, and there was a chance they wouldn’t know until it went through a reincarnation process. But if it was, then that would be a boon for Dan Heng's people. Even if they could add a single vidyadhara to the population, that was more than anyone could ever have hoped for. Though, she supposed a vidyadhara having fathered a child in the first place was already a miracle. 

Not that any of that ultimately mattered in Stelle's eyes. This was her and Dan Heng's child, and she was excited to have them come into her family.

“Do you know if you’re having a boy or girl?” she asked.

Stelle shook her head. She was at the point where she could find out if she wanted, but when discussing it with Dan Heng, she’d commented how it would be fun for it to be a surprise seeing as everything else about the baby was. At the time, Dan Heng had frowned, probably because he’d wanted to know, yet he’d humored her and agreed to wait until the baby was born.

Kafka hummed. “Elio wouldn’t tell me his prediction, either.”

“Does he know?”

“If he does, he isn’t telling.”

Stelle resisted the urge to roll her eyes. In all her travels, she’d crossed paths with the Stellaron Hunters many times, but never Elio. He remained a mystery that Stelle had grown too leery of to want to solve.

As they wove their way through the streets to an alleyway nearby, Stelle caught sight of a tall man with silver hair. She froze a moment, almost tripping over her own feet in the process as she was struck by an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

Beside her, Kafka chuckled. “I know you lost your memories when the stellaron was implanted in you, but do you happen to recognize him?”

They stopped in front of the man who looked down at her with uncertainty wavering in his golden eyes. “Should I?” she finally asked.

“I guess not,” Kafka muttered. “You could say he’s my gift to you.” She then tapped the blue gift tied with a pink bow in the man’s arms. “And then one for the baby. Curtesy of me and Silverwolf. I’m sure Blade would have reluctantly appreciated being included, too, if he’d survived.”

Stelle blinked in surprise. Blade was dead? But… wasn’t he…

Kafka seemed to read her mind, melancholy tainting her ever-present easy smile. “One of the very few ways an immortal can find relief from their curse is to be killed by an aeon. This battle presented Blade with an opportunity he could not resist.”

“Yeah,” the man weakly confirmed. “But he didn’t go down without fighting.”

Kafka sighed. “I suppose you’re right. It wouldn’t have been like him otherwise.”

At the somber mood, Stelle felt uncomfortable, like an interloper intruding on a private moment. There was also the fact Blade had a turbulent past with Dan Heng—er… Dan Heng’s past incarnation, which only made her feelings towards that particular Stellaron Hunter all the more confusing. Should she feel glad that Blade got his wish granted, or glad that he was gone? Was it wrong to feel both ways?

“Er, um…” With a forced smile, the man soon shoved the gift box at Stelle. “Sorry, for bringing the mood down. Here!”

Hesitantly, Stelle took the gift. While she did have half a mind to thank him, the only words that came out instead were, “Who are you?”

Kafka spoke up. “If I said he was your brother, would you believe me?”

Her… brother?

Wide-eyed, Stelle looked the man over. She knew he’d felt familiar in some odd way. Was this why?

His chuckle was strained, and he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, I knew you wouldn’t remember, but it’s still kinda weird.”

Words were slow in coming, considering how dry her mouth was. “So… you remember?”

He nodded. “Yeah, kinda.” With an uncertain smile, he extended a hand. “I’m Caelus.”

“Stelle,” she returned, more automatically than anything, before taking his hand to shake.

“He can catch you up on the old times later,” Kafka spoke up. “That is, if he still remembers them.”

Stelle’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I took a hit to the head in that last battle,” he answered. “The concussion was a monster. A lot of my memories are still fuzzy.”

“If you weren’t so reckless, you could have avoided it,” Kafka lightly chastised. “But then again, that’s to be expected of you.”

Caelus chuckled sheepishly.

“Getting back on topic…” Crossing her arms, Kafka looked over to Stelle. “I’m sure you want to know why I’m here, introducing you two now after all this time.”

Stelle nodded.

“I don’t care to be sentimental,” she said, “nor do I care to go out of my way unless I can see a benefit of it. But… I guess you two are an exception.”

The mood changed then, the world seeming to fade away. It clicked for Stelle that this was the first time she’d ever seen Kafka’s eyes look so clear, except the time Kafka was the Master Diviner’s captive. But considering that Kafka had been a prisoner then compared to now when she was free, Stelle was hesitant to count that as an exception at all.

“Many years ago,” Kafka started, “Elio predicted Nanook would bring about the end of the galaxy. So, he started making a plan. The first step being to produce a human that could be a vessel for a stellaron. This was a process that took a few years to complete, resulting in several babies being created. As they grew, they were constantly being tested for their ability to withstand the power of a stellaron. By the time the group reached the age of five, only two of the children remained viable vessels for the stellaron. We only needed one, but there were only benefits in having a backup, and if both of the vessels made it to adulthood, then we would choose the one that held the most promise. The other would remain a Stellaron Hunter.

“I was put in charge of your training. I gotta admit, I thought you two were going to be real hassles. And while you were in your own way, training you was… amusing. I wish more people had half the raw talent and determination you two showed. But, that shouldn’t be surprising considering whose DNA was taken to create you.

“Then came the day that one of you had to be chosen. Ultimately, both of you were good options to be the stellaron’s vessel, each having your own strengths and both of your bodies physically up to the task. But when it came down to it, there was something in Stelle that made me lean towards her as my choice. Hence Caelus stayed on as a Stellaron Hunter, running errands and whatnot behind the scenes so Stelle’s merry band of Nameless could handle other galactic problems and build alliances along the way.”

At the rush of information, Stelle was quickly growing overwhelmed. It was becoming a struggle to even continue standing when she felt so shaky on her feet. Yet, she forced herself to keep it together. Kafka was never forthcoming with information unless it benefitted her. From all their meetings, Stelle had learned to listen to what Kafka had to say and negotiate for anything more she wanted. But with Kafka dumping this out of her own free will, Stelle wanted to grasp onto every word.

“So… you raised us.” Stelle clarified.

“In a sense, I suppose I did,” Kafka answered. “In your eyes, I must not seem like the type.”

Stelle shook her head.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d be the type, either. And I wouldn’t say I was fully in charge of raising you. You both had a nanny who was actually responsible for you until you were about eight, at which point you were dropped fully into my care. I just taught you everything I felt was important to your life goal.”

“She was brutal,” Caelus whispered to Stelle. Yet, the light tone and slight smile he wore proved he didn’t mind.

Whether it was because she didn’t remember or because the part of her that somehow did remember didn’t mind, Stelle was unbothered by that fact. “So my ability to fight—”

“Came from me,” Kafka finished. “From your bat to your lance, I trained you in both.”

Absently, Stelle looked down at her hands, currently not in gloves allowing her to see the callouses that covered them. Callouses that took on a new meaning now that she knew she’d gotten them due to training with the Stellaron Hunter before her.

“Any other questions?” Kafka asked. “This is the one time I’m answering them freely.”

Clenching her fists, Stelle looked back up at Kafka. “What if I’d failed as a… vessel?” The word felt sour in her mouth. It was hard to grasp the fact she’d been artificially created to be a means to an end. As though her whole existence was, in fact, simply to hold a stellaron.

Kafka hummed. “If ever there was a future where you failed as a vessel, whether it was because you ran away or because you died, we had another stellaron lined up for Caelus.”

“What?”

Stelle glanced over at Caelus, whose jaw was practically on the ground at this point. Clearly, that was new information to him, too.

“Is it such a surprise we had a plan for you?” Kafka challenged. “You know how carefully everything was planned in your time as a Stellaron Hunter.”

Caelus didn’t seem to have an answer for that.

“Thankfully, we never had to implement that plan. It wouldn’t have been ideal anyway as the purpose of putting Stelle on the Astral Express was to help build an army that would rally behind her.”

So even that was planned, putting Stelle on the Express where she’d made a home for herself. Where she'd found a family and even a husband. 

But... then what was to become of them if she'd... “What of the Express members?" Stelle questioned, a defensive anger giving a bite to her words. "Did you mean to put them at the heart of the war?”

“Don’t get upset with me. They would have found their way into the war regardless. You just happened to be so charming that they rallied behind you. In that sense, you were an overwhelming success as an intended vessel.”

Stelle didn’t even know how to feel about that. Yes, she found a home on the Express, and she was thankful for it, but she could have led them all to their death, just because someone else had been controlling the strings.

Any freedom she’d ever thought she’d had over her destiny was slowly slipping away.

“Before you get too sulky,” Kafka continued. “Just realize that they would have all died without you. Along with nearly all the galaxy.”

“At cost of my life, right?” Stelle clarified, anger covering the fear that was creeping like ice through her veins.

Kafka frowned. “Yes. Maybe it was the pure determination both of you possessed to be in control of your own destinies that changed the outcome to something Elio couldn’t have predicted, but what happened was truly the best-case scenario. We were prepared to lose both of you in the aeon war.”

“So we were always meant to die?” Caelus snipped, a hard edge to his tone. "No matter which one of us was the stellaron's vessel?"

Kafka didn’t respond right away. Instead, her expression turned regretful. “I’m sorry,” she slowly spoke, those words ringing with more genuine emotion than Stelle had ever heard from her. “I know that this sentiment is far too little too late, and you might not believe me at all, but… I did care for both of you. A future where I lost either of you was not what I considered ideal, but when the existence of the galaxy was at stake… my feelings on the matter were irrelevant.

"But,” Kafka continued, “considering that you both defied all odds and predictions, I thought you both deserved the truth, no matter how harsh it may be.”

Stelle was rendered speechless. As overwhelmed as Stelle was, that sentiment felt genuine, at least, which almost made them harder to process.

Caelus, on the other hand, still had some fire in him. “How can you say that,” he challenged, “knowing you were raising us to send us off to our deaths?”

“Everything I did was to give you a fighting chance to avoid death,” Kafka answered, her voice taking on a growly edge in defence. “Stelle may not remember, but I know you do. You even said yourself I was brutal on you. I had to be because I knew there would come a time when I wouldn’t be around to protect you. Every bloody battle I let you face, where you screamed at me or cried or got hurt, was all to prepare you to face even worse situations that I wouldn’t be around to help you tackle.”

Caelus grew silent at that.

“I was not destined to save the world,” Kafka continued, her voice calmer now. “That was placed on you two. All I could do was give you every skill you would need to accomplish your destiny. But now… you two are all grown up with bright futures ahead of you. That is more than I could have ever asked for. So if you hate me now, I can live with that.”

“Kafka…” Caelus spoke, all previous anger now gone from his voice.

As weird as it was, Stelle felt similarly. Maybe she was too numb to make an accurate assessment of things, but she felt like Kafka meant every word. Like Kafka, her supposed enemy, actually did care for Stelle more than she knew. 

“Stelle," Kafka spoke, approaching the two of them, "you have a place you need to get back to, but I need to ask a favor of you.”

“Depends on what it is,” she said, her mind still reeling with information.

“Take Caelus with you.”

Caelus’ brow furrowed. “Huh? Take me where?”

A sad smile flashed across Kafka's face. “I’m kicking you out of the Stellaron Hunters.”

“What?! Why?”

She leveled him with a knowing look. “I know you’ve been sneaking off trying to fix stellaron problems the way the Astral Express does. So it’s better I let you do that instead of watching you get yelled at by the others for not following orders.”

Caelus fell silent at that.

Kafka hummed, amused at winning this verbal battle. “You’ll never hear these words from my mouth again, but…” She reached out, cupping Stelle’s cheek with one hand and Caelus’ with the other. “I’m proud of both of you.”

For some reason, those words hit Stelle harder than she expected them to.

The next second, Kafka pulled away. “Take care, Kiddos.” With a smile, Kafka turned on her heel and started strolling off down the alleyway.

Leaving a speechless duo standing in her wake.

~~~

“Where is she?” March muttered, looking over the busy plaza.

Dan Heng’s fists tightened. He should never have let Stelle wander off alone with Kafka. Nothing good could ever come from it. He’d been about ready to sprint to her side when he first saw Stelle with that Stellaron Hunter, but he’d trusted her and stayed put as she’d asked him to. That had been ten minutes ago, and despite he and March having acquired the long-forgotten snacks, Stelle was nowhere in sight.

He pulled out his phone again, searching for a response to any of his previous five texts, only there was none.

Just as he was about to call her—

“I see her!”

Dan Heng looked up, searching the crowd for Stelle and finally spotting her approaching with someone he’d never seen before by her side.

His feet moved on their own as he wove through the crowd towards her. “Stelle.”

Her somber expression brightened slightly as she saw him.

Before he could ask if she was alright, she threw her arms around him and held on tight. With her safe and sound back in his arms, relief flooded him, though he quickly turned a sharp gaze at the newcomer she’d been walking with. One who, oddly, looked familiar even though Dan Heng was certain he’d never seen that man before in his life.

"Hey!" March said, having caught up. "We were worried."

"Sorry," Stelle muttered. 

"Did something happen?" Dan Heng asked.

With a heavy sigh, Stelle pulled away. “Er… I’ll tell you later. But, right now…” She turned around, only to wave the man over to them.

At least the man had the decency to look abashed at his intrusion.

“So, uh…” Stelle gave Dan Heng and March a painfully awkward smile. “This is my brother, Caelus.”

“Brother?!” March cried.

Not bothering to cover his surprise, Dan Heng looked the man over, instantly seeing the family resemblance.

“Yeah,” Caelus sheepishly confirmed. “It's a long story. Uh… nice to meet you both?”

“You probably already know,” Stelle said. “But this is March 7th and my husband, Dan Heng.”

“Uh, nice to meet you, too,” March awkwardly greeted, giving him a wave.

Dan Heng gave a nod of acknowledgment, too surprised to do much else.

“So,” Stelle started. “From here on, he’s joining us as a Nameless.”

“Huh?” March glanced between Caelus and Stelle in surprise.

Dan Heng felt like he was going to have a headache with how fast the surprises were coming. He should have been used to it, considering who he was married to, but this was notably different. “Why don’t you sit down and start explaining?”

Stelle didn’t protest, allowing Dan Heng to guide her back to the bench before heavily taking a seat on it. Dan Heng took a seat next to her, unwilling to let go of her hand quite yet. Before he could ask her to start explaining, though, she patted the empty seat next to her. “Why don’t you take a seat?” she offered Caelus. “That was a lot for you, too.”

The man sighed, suddenly looking extremely ragged. “If you don’t mind,” he said, practically collapsing down on the other side of the bench. He set down the long gift box he’d been holding, leaning it against the bench before bracing his elbows on his knees and hanging his head.

Although his guard didn’t completely fall away, Dan Heng wasn’t so cruel as to not feel some pity for Caelus. Seems whatever happened with Kafka was hard on both the siblings.

Unsure what else to do, March held out the bag of snacks to Caelus. “We got some of the little donuts from the shop over there. Want one? I bet it would be a good pick-me-up.”

Though surprised at the offer, Caelus shyly accepted. “If you don’t mind.”

With a smile, March held the bag out to him. “We got plenty.”

He took a couple with a quiet thanks.

March then held the bag over to Stelle. “You better like these considering you disappeared on us.”

Stelle smirked. “And if I don’t?”

March yanked the bag away. “Then none for you!”

“I haven’t even tried them yet.”

March took a single donut out of the bag and put it in Stelle’s outstretched hand.

Stelle glowered at it.

The interaction was enough to clear the remaining tension in Dan Heng’s shoulders. Stelle was just fine. Everything was okay. Even with the exception of the newcomer who sat with a small smile as he ate his snack, everything felt back to normal.

With March having finished passing out snacks, including giving more to Stelle, Caelus scooted over to the edge of the bench so as to make room for March to sit.

“Thanks,” she said, plopping down between him and Stelle. “So, you’re going to be joining us?”

“Seems so,” Caelus answered, his mannerisms more relaxed now.

“You said you were Stelle’s brother,” Dan Heng prodded.

Caelus nodded.

“He was with the Stellaron Hunters,” Stelle explained.

“Then what brings you here?” Dan Heng inquired.

Caelus cringed. “It seems I’ve been kicked out.”

March frowned. “Huh? For what?”

“Apparently, being too helpful.”

“Do they think that’s a bad thing?”

Caelus shrugged.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Stelle spoke up, “but it felt more like… an excuse than anything.”

“Seems about right,” Caelus quietly agreed. “It seemed like Kafka wasn’t exactly kicking me out. More like… she didn’t want me to have to be with them any longer.”

“What did Kafka say?” Dan Heng asked, his curiosity growing stronger by the second.

He almost regretted that question as a heavy cloud seemed to settle down on the siblings once again. Stelle answered, “I’d prefer to tell everyone all at once. It’s… a long story.”

“Okay.” Dan Heng rubbed her back soothingly.

“Then, I guess Caelus is really coming back with us,” March said, turning back to Caelus. “So, welcome to the crew.”

Caelus’ expression lit up. “If you’ll take me, I’m happy to be aboard.”

“I think we still have some time before my phone is fixed. So do you want—”

“Actually,” Dan Heng spoke up, having heard his own phone ding with a message notification. “They just finished, if you want to make your way back to the shop.”

March popped up from her seat. “Then let’s go.”

“Wait,” Stelle said, taking out her own phone. “I want to send a message to Himeko saying we’re bringing someone with us.”

“Good call,” March said. “Hey! Caelus, what’s your number, anyway? We’ll add you to the group chat.”

Caelus pulled out his phone, tapping it a few times before offering it to March. “Add your info, and I’ll text you when you get your phone back.”

“Sounds good to me.”

~~~

With their mission of fixing March’s phone completed, they all headed back to the Express. Stelle was beginning to feel the exhaustion kicking in but she had to keep pressing on. She had to properly introduce the newest trailblazer to Himeko and Welt, after all.

Much to their surprise, Welt and Himeko were waiting right outside the Express for them, Pom-pom standing in the doorway.

Suddenly, Stelle grew a little nervous, though she wasn’t sure if that was truly nerves or if it was her baby moving around. Maybe they were kicking out warning her to calm down and stop stressing them out.

Sorry, Baby, she thought, rubbing a hand over her stomach.

Dan Heng’s hand came to rest on her back, calling her attention. She glanced up at him, spying the concerned look on his face.

She just shot him a smile and a nod, hoping he’d understand she was just fine.

“Welcome,” Himeko greeted, being the first to approach them. “Is this the new Nameless I heard about?”

“Yes,” Stelle said, stepping forward to make proper introductions. “This is my brother, Caelus.”

Himeko looked him over in surprise. “Well, I can certainly see the resemblance.”

“Caelus, this is Himeko and Welt,” Stelle introduced, seeing as Welt had come up to them. “And over in the doorway is the conductor, Pom-pom.” Who, by the way, seemed very excited considering how frantically they were waving.

“We meet again,” Welt said.

Caelus nodded. “I guess we do.”

Wait… “again”?

“Huh?” March piped up, confused. “Do you know him, Mr. Yang?”

“Yes,” Welt confirmed, looking back over to Caelus. “In the war, you provided protection for the medical transport, did you not?”

“That’s where I’ve seen you,” Himeko jumped in, realization dawning over her. “You were always such a mess, and you never stayed for long so I never got a good look at you.”

Caelus gave a sheepish shrug. “Heh. Yeah, that was me. Kafka told me not to get too involved, but I couldn’t help it. If Stelle was going to the heart of the war, I couldn’t not follow, stellaron or not.”

“Wait,” March spoke up. “Where exactly were you? Dan Heng and I followed Stelle into the heart of everything, but I don’t recall seeing you.”

“I doubt any of us would have been paying enough attention to recall an unfamiliar face in the crowd,” Dan Heng said. “We had more pressing matters.”

“I started on the outskirts,” Caelus answered. “Just started dragging out the injured and helping them get to the transports. Occasionally, I’d ride with them to be a guard against the tougher monsters. The deeper I followed you guys into the mess, the less I focused on the injured and more on helping defeat the machines. Things get a little fuzzy toward the end, but Kafka said I took down a doomsday machine?”

At that, Stelle felt her jaw hit the ground as she stared at him. Suddenly, hazy memories tainted with vivid fear came rushing back to her. Standing in the middle of a war-torn planet, the acrid smell of burning machinery and the metallic smell of blood filling her nose as she stared up at robots larger than anything anyone had ever seen before. The worst of which was a destruction bot imbued with the power of Nanook himself as the dying aeon tried to hide behind it. It had taken all their strongest weapons and planning to even make a dent in it.

But then, they’d watched the center of the bot start glowing, brighter and brighter like bubbling lava, until it had exploded. It had taken a moment for everyone to realize what had happened, but once the dust had settled, a war cry had rung out. In the middle of the noise, Stelle had led the charge forward to Nanook himself, Dan Heng and March by her side with a roaring army behind her, ready to take on the last wave of monsters protecting the aeon.

“That was you?” Stelle murmured in awe.

“Don’t ask me how I managed to do it,” Caelus said, running his hand through his hair before lifting up a section to reveal a long, curved scar carved into the side of his head. “Cracked my skull open so I don’t remember much. Must have just charged headlong into the fray with half a plan and somehow completed it. Apparently, that plan was taking a stellaron and shoving it inside the core.”

“Wait, what?” March cried, suddenly stepping closer. “You were inside that monster?”

Caelus sheepishly smiled. “Yeah. Somehow. I’ve always been an ‘act first, think later,’ kind of person, more than Stelle ever was. Must have just run on impulse.”

“How’d you manage to survive the explosion?” Dan Heng asked.

Caelus shrugged. “My only guess is that my body, like Stelle’s, was specifically designed to withstand stellarons.” He lifted up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a spiderweb of angry red scarring. But then took off his glove, revealing how his hand held no scarring and the red ring on his wrist that separated the two sections. “Weird, isn’t it? Kafka’s guess as to why my arm’s like this is that when I stuck my hand in the core with the stellaron, everything outside that core ended up being a mess whereas the inside was protected. As for why I survived at all when I definitely should have died… maybe the core expanded, protecting me? Don’t have a better guess than that. I remember seeing white; that’s it.”

There was a short pause as no one knew what to say to that. It wasn’t as though Stelle didn’t have anything she wanted to say but rather had too many thoughts rolling around in her mind and not a clue which one needed to be voiced first.

In the end, it was Welt who broke the silence. “You did well,” he said, resting a hand on Caelus’ shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Yeah!” March chimed in. “That was amazing! We had no idea how to take that monster down.”

“I second that,” Stelle finally said, giving him a smile. “Guess being a Stellaron Hunter had its perks.”

The mood lightened just ever so slightly at that as Caelus mirthlessly chuckled. “I guess it did.”

“Well,” Himeko said. “With a story like that, I feel you’ve earned a place on the Express. We’re lucky to have you, Trailblazer.”

Finally, Caelus’ smile turned genuine as his eyes brightened. “Happy to be aboard.”

“Here.” Stelle reached for the box Caelus was still holding. “I can take that while the others show you around. Thanks for carrying it back for me.”

With a nod, Caelus handed it over.

March watched with curiosity. “Who’s that for?”

“Kafka gave it to me. For the baby.”

“Oh?” Himeko said. “Baby shower gifts already coming in? Though, one from Kafka is most surprising.”

“No kidding,” March agreed. “Makes me curious.”

That one little remark was how Stelle found herself sitting in the parlor, gift on her lap while her family looked on. She understood why they were curious and maybe even a bit concerned. She felt similarly if she were being honest.

After untying the pink bow, she lifted the powder blue lid off the box to reveal white tissue paper inside. Laying on top was a small baseball bat, complete with plastic balls and a little glove.

Amused, she took out the toys, one clearly meant for a small child. A few chuckles sounded around her.

“It’s fitting,” Dan Heng said with a grin, taking the small glove to examine.

But the box felt too heavy for that to be the end. Stelle lifted the paper, only to see a full-sized bat, complete with baseballs and a leather baseball mitt.

Stelle pulled the bat first, looking over the blue design painted on the gray material. The weight was familiar in her hand, but as memories resurfaced, the weight soon settled on her heart. Kafka had trained her how to wield this weapon, a long time ago.

Suddenly, Kafka’s conversation came rolling back to the forefront of her mind.

“Wow,” March remarked. “That’s really… thinking ahead.”

“Yeah, but Kafka didn’t really want to get a baby item,” Caelus said. “At least she got something nice. She never spent money on toys for us.”

Stelle hummed, trying to ignore the haunting thoughts for now. “That sounds accurate."

“She did let us rummage through the dumpsters behind the toyshops, though," Caelus continued. "We found some good things in there.”

Suddenly, the room went silent.

And Stelle watched as Caelus slowly grew uncomfortable. “What?”

“So you’re telling me that was Kafka’s fault?” March cried.

Dan Heng sighed, suddenly looking very tired. “So that’s where that came from.”

“Uh…” Caelus’s expression turned sheepish. “Did I… say something bad?”

Stelle shook her head, a sudden headache coming on. For as long as she could remember, she'd always had a draw to garbage cans, making her the butt of many jokes and much harassment. She was happy her friends slowly accepted that part of her, seeing as a part of her never wanted to stop. She just got so much joy out of finding something good that nothing else seemed to faze her.

It was just... the last thing she expected was for her favorite hobby to be explained like this. “No. But just… never let them catch you rifling through dumpsters. They will never, ever let it go.”

~~~

With all the excitement that had occurred today, Dan Heng expected Stelle to be in bed by now. When he’d suggested earlier that she retire early for the evening, she’d looked tired with the way her eyes were glazed over and her cheeks had lost some of their color. The most concerning thing, though, was that she hadn’t protested to the suggestion.

However, instead of finding her resting in bed, Dan Heng entered the bedroom only to see Stelle staring at her chest in the mirror.

The scar that had once been so blatant had faded somewhat thanks to Bailu’s medicine. Although it looked slightly less angry than it once had, it would likely take years for it to fade. Even with Bailu’s medicine, Dan Heng doubted it would ever fully disappear. Which was fine. It’s not like Dan Heng cared that she had scars; he had them, too. The only reason he wished it would disappear was because his wife looked completely lost in thought as she ran her hands absently over the mark between her breasts.

Unable to watch any longer, he marched over and laid the small mirror down flat on the dresser, interrupting Stelle’s musings maybe a little too brashly considering that she startled at his action.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She shrugged dismissively.

He hated the way her eyes held none of their usual light, her face having taken on a gloomy gray tint. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

Her gaze hit the floor, her brow scrunching together and lips tugging downward as though in pain. It was an expression that practically ripped out his heart.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. Her abdomen was growing, so facing chest to chest was becoming increasingly awkward, but she was still small enough where it wasn’t too bad.

She leaned into him, clinging to his jacket and nuzzling her face into his shoulder. The way she leaned so fully against him further proved something heavy was weighing on her. But he didn't want to press. He'd just wait for her to respond, or maybe, if need be, not respond at all. 

“Kafka said I was supposed to die.”

Her muttered words surprised him for just a second before a wave of anger overtook that feeling. It figured Stelle’s mood had something to do with that woman. He never should have let her go off with Kafka. “But you didn’t,” he reminded.

“No,” Stelle clarified. “Like… I was literally created to die.”

At that, words failed him.

She sniffed, and he held on tighter as she clung to him.

“But you escaped that destiny,” he finally said. “You’re here now.”

“I know,” she said, pushing away and wiping her tear-stained cheeks with the heel of her hand. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s a lot.”

His heart was breaking as he watched his wife fall apart. Regret for his earlier actions—rather, his inaction—was creeping in as he cradled the back of her head, leaning forward to rest his forehead on hers. “I should have gone with you. If that’s all Kafka had to say, she could have saved it.”

Stelle shook her head, her bangs ruffling against his. “No. It’s not…” She sniffed again. “It’s fine, but…”

“Deep breath,” he gently instructed, rubbing her upper arms now.

She did as told, taking a deep albeit shaky breath.

“What all did Kafka say?” Dan Heng asked, leaning back to look her in the eye.

Wiping away the remnants of her tears, Stelle began. “She admitted that Caelus and I were both created to hold a stellaron so we could defeat Nanook, and that we were both supposed to die. In every foreseen future, there wasn’t one we were supposed to live. But… like…” She made a flailing motion, as though explaining that her foreseen future clearly hadn’t come true. “Obviously.”

“You made your own destiny,” Dan Heng said. “You and Caelus both, it seems.”

She nodded. “That’s why Kafka told us the truth. Because she… I think she felt bad.”

Dan Heng’s brow furrowed, yet he kept all opinions and doubts to himself.

“So… it’s hard because part of me doesn’t want to hate her,” Stelle continued. “Especially since she raised us and taught us so much. She's the closest thing I've had to a mother figure, even if I can't really remember. But I feel like I should be mad because I was just… I was used. And planted here to fall in line with their plan no matter how hard I tried to escape it. Every step of the way, I was fighting against their plans for me, yet… I was in their plan the whole time.”

Her voice was warbly, and her eyes were red as her tears started up again. He hated it, yet he was helpless to do anything but listen.

“And I’ve got this reminder now,” she continued, grabbing at her chest. “That… that their future for me was never something I could escape from.”

“But you did,” he cut in, cradling her cheeks and swiping the tears from them. “That scar is a reminder you made it out alive. That you’re still here, forging your own destiny with us.”

Her frown deepened. “Yeah, but… Caelus could have just as easily been the one to have the stellaron. It was just… as long as one of us made it on the Astral Express. So even being here now… I feel guilty, knowing I was just a plant. It’s my fault you all were dragged so deep into this war. It’s all… my fault.”

He took a moment to carefully choose his words. “Even if that was the intent of the Stellaron Hunters, you yourself were never a plant. You were, and still are, one of the Nameless due to your own choice.”

She finally looked back up at him.

He gave her a sad smile, his heart in pieces for her. “You choose this path. You fought Nanook because you ultimately are selfless. And we followed you because you were our shining ray of hope. The Stellaron Hunters couldn’t have accounted for the fact that you made such strong connections of your own volition and rallied the galaxy behind you to lead the charge for the universe. That was all you, not the Stellaron Hunters. Nothing is your fault.”

His words sparked a little glimmer of hope back into her golden eyes, only for it to fade just as quickly. "But that was their plan, for me to make connections."

He sighed. "Even if it was their plan for you, it was because of who you are that people rallied behind you. But... if that's not enough, then I guess I just have to give them credit for putting you here. It's because of the Stellaron Hunters' plans that I was able to meet you. Whatever opinions I have of them, it was because of them and their decision to choose you that I was blessed with you as my wife.”

Stelle glanced away, though this time, it wasn’t pain that flashed across her expression but sheepishness. “Kafka told me not to marry you,” she admitted. “At the time, she didn't tell me why, though I guess I understand now. That’s why I tricked you into marrying me. To spite her.”

His lips twitched up in amusement. “How many times do I have to tell you that you didn’t trick me into anything.”

“I feel like I did.”

“I knew what you were doing,” he whispered, holding her close. “Although, I wanted to marry you more formally elsewhere.”

“Sorry,” she returned quietly. “I know I messed up your plans.”

“With you, I’m used to it. I just couldn't say no to you when you were so happy.” He could still remember her unabashed smile as he agreed to partake in that ceremonial wedding dance with her on a planet many, many trailblaze missions ago. Several other couples surrounded them, but as they spun around together—likely missing many of the steps even though the announcer was calling them out and allowing their wrists to grow ever entangled by a silk cloth that connected them—Dan Heng felt like it was only him and Stelle in that moment. He could still feel the way the cloth bound their wrists in the end, tying them together in a union that would not be so easily broken.

He was never one for crowds, hence why he’d been planning a private, quiet ceremony elsewhere, but ultimately, he’d never regretted that being their wedding. Though Stelle did humor him later by partaking in customs he was more familiar with, allowing him to formally present her those particular hair sticks she loved more than anything despite rarely wearing them.

“So never feel bad about that,” he continued. “I was happy to follow you.”

“Yeah, but… what if I had died? Then Kafka would have been right that it was better to stay away—”

“But you didn’t,” Dan Heng cut in, reminding her again. “So don’t worry about a past future that’s impossible now.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” she admitted on a whisper.

Dan Heng frowned. “I know you never would on purpose,” he assured. “If I’ve learned one thing from my past incarnation, it is that death is not something we have control over. Even with all the power I have at hand, I cannot bring you back. Which is why I need to cherish the days that I do have with you. Scars or no, and no matter what intentions others had for you in the past, I consider myself blessed every day I spend with you, my starlight.”

Her eyes had lost their melancholy now, regaining some of their normal sparkle. Although, that might have been exaggerated by the new round of tears forming.

“And even if I’d known I would have lost you, I still would have married you.” Sweet words, yes, but words he meant. An outcast like him would have gladly taken that blessing even if he’d known it would be temporary. Stelle had taught him the meaning of “better to love and lose than to never have loved at all.”

She sniffed, her lips warbling as the forming tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks anew. Before he could swipe them away, she grabbed his cheeks and lunged forward to kiss him.

“I love you,” she said, her words weak and whispery.

“I love you, too,” he quietly returned before bestowing kisses of his own on her.

And promise I will love and cherish you for as long as we both shall live. Hopefully, for a long time yet to come.

[mobblespsycho100]

I think I already asked ur fav character but whos ur fav from each area? express, space station, belobog, luofu, and penacony. and then misc to include the sstellaron hunters n stuff. Well. I can assume the for for penacony lolz

4 me.... the express is probably the MC tbh. Himeko is a close second she may be tied

space station issss HERTAAAA !!! 100% herta. waittt Arlan too.....

Jarilo vi is Clara or Sampo ^.^ the sillies

Luofu.... does Blade count if hes technically a different person now. It's probably Yanqing 4 me

Penaconyyyy.... so hard.. NO WAIT MISHA I LOVE MISHA silly little guy

For misc,,,, is Boothill from Penacony? if not then its him. oooh or screwllum... hes not playable tho.... OOKH silver wolf def shes soooooooo

I LOVE ALL UR PICKS (xcept blade im sorry bladers i can see his appeal just not for me) ‼️‼️

yes okay so

🌠🚂 Astral Express: very similar to u. Himeko is my numero uno, but I love MC and pompom too <3 if i had to rank id say Himeko, PomPom, MC, and then Welt Danheng March are kinda tied ? i love themb theyyre the sillies ever ^.^

🛰️ HSS: Probably Arlan and Peppy (theyre a package do not seperate), because theyre silly to me and I think Arlan deserves better!!! But tbh IDK, If Screwllum counts as a space station character since he appears there often, id say screwllum :3 robots !! Herta and Asta are also characters that I used to be neutral on/dislike but I quite enjoy them now!!! :D Ruan Mei is interesting 🤔 but i would love it if her design actually had like a lab coat or more biology aspects to it like the dna helixes are great but i need More y'know?

❄️Jarilo-VI: SAMPOOOOO !!! not even a question. second fav either Serval or Bronya or maybe even Lynx??? but Sampo is top tier to me. yesss. Underworld Charas r kinda more fun than the Overworld ones though imho, they have a closer tight-knit dynamic which I loveee like Seele and Luka are so siblings / besties and Oleg and Luka mentor-student relationship and Natasha and Hook being like aunt and niece and Clara Svarog daughter father bond of all time is so silly to meeee <333

🪷 Luofu: Blade counts imo!! since he appears in Luofu patch and thats like his former home. My fav Luofu character is Xueyi, but I gen rlly love Jing Yuan, Fu Xuan, and Yanqing too :3 Hanya is fun also but only because I like tragic siblings ajdhsjdh also shout out to Luocha for being a merchant whos actually NOT that much of a good guy and is just a silly weirdo man

SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO 🪙THE IPC🪙, i hate the corporation's wholedeal but i love Owlbert, Topaz & Numby, and Aventurine a lottt <333 Ratio doesnt count as IPC despite being a representative sent by them btw hes in Intelligentsia Guild which is funded by the IPC but isnt part of the IPC. ANYWAAAAY

🌟 Stellaron Hunters: Kafka... its still Kafka.... i want to move on from her so badly please.... I stil havent gotten her i want to cry.... please letme let me live..... I like Sam and Silver Wolf as well too :3!!! Blade is silly but hes my least fav. Elio is my silly cat cat to meeeee

🌃 Penacony: Our canonical Penacony characters aka the playable ones actually from there are Sunday, Robin, Misha, and Gallagher. I really like Robin !!!! shes so silly and cute and i love herrrr <3 but if we r talking characters *featured/will be featured* in Penacony's story, then I have to admit Im very down bad for Aventurine and Black Swan rn. Boothill also <3 :3 sillies forreal . Acherons lore is interesting as well!! though shes not like a fav, shes like my blorbo in law for sure (one of my moots/friend is a big fan of raiden mei and therefore a big fan of acheron :3!! we ramble/basically make essays and talk to each other abt hsr a bunch and its fun :3!!!)

ANDYEAH THATS IT I THINK 🌟🌟🌟 YUPPEEE THANKS FOR THE ASK THIS ONE IS A GREAT ONE AND I LOVE ANSWERING AND GIVING MY THOUGHTS

[melancholic-hues]

you’ve never felt fear (but i have, and i do)

posted on AO3

kafblade week 2024: prompt - wounds / touch / rescue

fandom - honkai: star rail

rating - general audiences

warning - graphic depictions of violence

category - f/m ; gen

pairings - blade/kafka

tags - kafblade week 2024 ; hurt/comfort ; needles ; i promise the warning isn’t that severe

word count - 906 words

-

content warning: needles and blood

He raises hell upon the facility they are sent to.

The alarms blare in the background, flashing red, red like the rest of his vision. The thick metal door glitches out of existence, courtesy of Silver Wolf’s handiwork, and Sam punches through the lever at the edge of the door connected to the rest of the facility and disables the place entirely. Blade slits the throat of the guards and some of the “medical professionals,” leaving them not entirely dead but near it. They deserve to feel agony as death slowly approaches.

They’d hurt Kafka.

After losing communication with her, like Elio predicted in the script, Silver Wolf had done everything in her power to get Sam and Blade into the facility to rescue her. This was all part of the script, Blade had told himself then. The script has an eighty-one percent chance of accuracy, and they almost went off-track if it wasn't for Silver Wolf rushing her entire process.

Now, though, they are back. And they will bring the entire facility to the ground with them.

Kafka is in the center of the room, machines surrounding her with seemingly hundreds of tubes inserted into her arms, her legs, her neck. Her arms and legs are almost entirely bare, her expensive shirt and pants ripped just at the shoulders and hips, respectively. She is unconscious, head down and magenta hair loose, cascading down her shoulder like elegant waterfalls. Even when sleeping and hurt, she looks so ethereal.

Blade cuts through the staff around them, going for fatal stops but never slicing his blade deep enough for an instant kill, and before he knows it, he arrives at the machines.

He does not take into account the carnage around him. All he sees is Kafka, injured and her body used in disgusting, unconsented ways, and the rage in him burns all the more. He does not fight the mara as it overcomes him.

More people flood into the room, guns drawn. He can feel the bullets pierce his flesh, graze his skin, tear his muscles, break his bones. All of the pain is dulled by the mara.

Sam, now next to him, works on getting Kafka out of her current condition. Blade is thankful for the automaton’s presence; he does not think he can safely remove all of those needles and chemicals in her body. Instead, he focuses on one thing: revenge.

He lets himself take damage, uncaring of his body’s protests, and brings them down one by one. Screams and the sound of bodies and weapons alike crumpling to the floor fill the room. Blade full on intends to make them regret ever, ever touching her. She is so much more than someone to be experimented on like an insect.

He pulls his sword out of the flesh of a soldier. Around him are the corpses of the staff, the aftermath of his hazy fury. His bandages and clothes are darkened with crimson blood, and he feels the wet sticking to his skin underneath. How much time has passed?

Kafka has always said his fights are a pleasure to watch. He does not agree; a woman like her is so much better than a mere weapon like him. Why Kafka spends time around him, knowing his hands are stained and his mind is fragmented, he does not understand. However, he is not sure if he will survive if Kafka leaves.

That is the last of them. He backs away from the body, blankly surveying the room. Bodies and guns strewn over the white tiled floors, some of them now splattered with blood.

“Bladie.”

He whips around on his heel, his breaths heavy and his eyes wild, and sees her. She is free of the machines, with Sam carrying her, but at what cost? She’s bleeding everywhere.

He is torn.

How can he let something like this happen?

As soon as the thought enters his mind, he mentally slaps it away. Kafka is not a damsel in distress from a children’s tale; she is more than capable to wreck the same, if not more, chaos upon demand. Yet, to see her reduced to something so fragile and small, he feels something he does not quite know what.

Kafka turns her head to look at him and winces. He does not start toward her; the mara is still in him. Burning. He wants to, though. He wants to be the one carrying Kafka. He wants to be by her side as she recovers.

These are dangerous thoughts.

“Listen,” Kafka whispers, voice filled with pain. His entire body stills as the familiar wave of calm and nothingness washes over him. “It’s okay. I’m here, and — ” she coughs, and Blade rushes over.

Sam gently passes Kafka over to him. “Do be careful. She is alright, but she is very injured right now. Recovery, however, will take approximately three to four weeks. This is because of a range of factors: possible abuse she might’ve endured — ”

“Sam,” Kafka interrupts.

The automaton does not continue.

Kafka stares into Blade’s eyes, hypnotizing magenta meeting red. With a shaking hand, she cups Blade’s cheek. Her hand is too cold. “I am not dying. Besides, I’m not scared. You shouldn’t be either. Don’t be scared.” Her honeyed voice is impossibly small.

“Kafka,” he says. His voice does not shake, and his eyes do not burn. “Let’s go home.”

Kafka nods, giving him a watery smile.