#also silver wolf and elio

[thedeerus]

pirate au doodles

[endlesslytired]

Penacony is nutty AND IM HERE FOR IT!!! Listened to White Night like 5-6 times now today.

(watched both seasons of Cooking With Valkyries. now I've seen that and ELF Academy. I LOVE THESE ANIME SERIES! Need to watch Golden Courtyard next.)

[coffeeaddictandinsomniac]

since i've done the astral express (+ aventurine and ratio), i figured it was time to do the stellaron hunters now. so, here's how i think they would take their coffee.

Blade - doesn't care. he will drink it black. he will drink it with so much sugar in it that it will kill him (he will especially drink it then). he will drink it iced. he will drink it made with orange juice. he, however, will only drink it if it's been handed to him. he won't make it himself.

Kafka - two shots of espresso. just a dash of milk.

Silver Wolf - doesn't drink coffee because she doesn't like the taste, nor does she particularly like hot drinks. she drinks only energy drinks; her favourite is the watermelon monster.

Firefly - french vanilla. that is all.

Elio - out of a bowl.

[jar-of-maise]

stellaron hunters found family (i)

Blade thinks to himself for a moment, in truth he has an inkling about the so-called “power” and it’s origin, but keeps it to himself for the present. For now, he contents himself with watching Silver Wolf and Kafka argue. It’s a rather one-sided affair but entertaining to watch nonetheless. 

Sam returns from a mission later and Blade gets the honour to witness one of the duo’s legendary video game duels. It’s fun to watch and Kafka joins him on the couch as the Silver Wolf and Sam battle it out. Sometime, when it’s late in the night and Silver Wolf has finally dozed off, Kafka puts on a movie. It’s an action packed one, with horrid flashing lights and cinematics that has Sam worked up to the nines. 

“That’s not how it works in real life.” He grumbles, pointing at a rather risqué interrogation, “movies aren’t made the same anymore,” he adds unhappily when the following escape scene ends with the lead actor bursting out through a window. 

“Oh well, it’s value is in entertainment. Realism is secondary,” Kafka says delicately, she’s examining her nails carefully though Blade isn’t sure how she is given the dim lighting of the room. 

He hasn’t been paying a lot of attention to the movie, more preoccupied with not moving so Silver Wolf doesn’t wake up since Kafka always insists he be a human pillow. 

“You’re just comfortable Bladie, don’t overthink it,” she once said to him after a mission where she had insisted on sleeping on his shoulder. 

Even now, she’s leaning against him on the couch, legs thrown over to the other end of the sofa. Silver Wolf is resting against his other side, snoring lightly, somehow oblivious to the noise and explosions of the movie. It’s not like they try to turn the volume down either. She’s also got his coat draped over her lopsidedly like a blanket. No one had wanted to get a blanket when asked and naturally it just happened to be the day when all their couch covers were in the wash. 

So Blade sacrifices warmth. Not that he runs cold, it’s a strange juxtaposition, because the heart beating in his chest is certainly cold, but his body itself still runs hot. Warmer than the average human for some strange reason. Perhaps he’s simply keeping the furnace fire he can no longer use in his body instead. 

It seems it comes in handy, as Kafka and Silver Wolf always use him as a pillow. Even Elio, for all his prissy, posh cat ways, isn't immune. Maybe Sam is the only one who doesn’t see Blade as a portable heater…then again, Sam is self-sufficient, relying on machinery alone to accomplish tasks. 

Speaking of Sam, he’s sitting on the ottoman. Blade isn’t too sure why, there’s space on the couch – there was a reason they had needed to upgrade it several times in the past, but when he sees Elio stalk into the room from the hallway, he thinks he knows, especially when cat-Elio jumps onto Sam’s lap to get scratches. 

The night wears on and soon, not one but two people are fast asleep on each of Blade’s sides. He’s pretty sure Kafka is faking it, but knows very well that Silver Wolf is dead to the world. Not even a hard shake would make her wake up. The ending credits of the movie are rolling on the screen and still, neither have woken up. 

Blade gestures at Sam, who stands up and takes Silver Wolf back to her room, coat and everything. Elio is perched on his broad shoulders, amber eyes gleaming as they walk away. Thankfully, Silver Wolf sleeps deeply. Blade supposes it’s one of her many strengths, especially since she is still a child. 

Left alone with Kafka, Blade thinks that it really would be rude to leave her on the couch, even with a blanket and pillow. Well he doesn’t have a coat to give her and the one Kafka wears is much too small for the night so he takes her back to her room. He makes sure to remove her sunglasses, pistol(s), jacket and katana. 

The door is carefully shut, done in a way that wouldn’t make a noise and wake Kafka up. They share a trait there, that they are both light sleepers. With Kafka and Silver Wolf secured, Blade begins the trek back to his own room. It’s dark in the hallways, but occasionally, a window opening into the starry seas appears.

[aha-chuu]

I just had a minor thought but like I've been playing hsr and it's really cute that the trailblazer (Stelle/Caelus whatever) has an idle where they're playing a mobile(?) game. Like my trailblazer makes a little sound of achievement randomly and I'm like "dang I never sound that happy when I do spiral abyss".

Anyway, the reason I'm making this post is because Silver Wolf's trailer came out and she is (famously) also a gamer. Moreso than the trailblazer, but also they've only existed for like two weeks so I won't hold that against them.

It made me think - what if the trailblazer is a combination of the stellaron hunters? Like, they're the ones who "made" them and we've all heard the "Kafka is mother" jokes. What if when the stellaron hunters programmed the trailblazer's personality, they put some of themselves into them? Or perhaps they have leftover memories from their time with them despite the amnesia, nothing concrete but some habits that they picked up.

So they got gaming from Silver Wolf, and perhaps their playful side from Kafka. Like, in the Silver Wolf trailer Kafka memes on her somewhat and then also her nicknaming Blade "Bladie" does suit the vibes the trailblazer has. Maybe the trailblazer's violent impulses come from Blade, then, since it is comical how quickly they start beating random strangers with their baseball bat.

We don't know anything about Elio but he's known as "Destiny's Slave" and that's pretty fitting. As the player character, the Trailblazer has exactly no actual free will. Sure, unlike Genshin, a lot of the different dialogue options do come with unique responses, but there's not one choice the trailblazer can actually make. This holds true from the meta "we (the player) control them" and also in-universe everything they do is predetermined. Looking at this from a fourth wall perspective does make sense since Aha (Elation) recognises its universe - that being the universe of hsr - is part of a game.

Idk, I just found this interesting. Kafka implies the trailblazer knew her before she shoved the stellaron into their chest, but since their memories are gone I do like to think that Kafka manufactured our personality by using aspects of the stellaron hunters.

[biblicallyaccurateangeloncrack]

Do you realize that now we know the identity and have interacted with 4/5 members of the stellaron hunters right

[pigeonsplease]

I can see where the Sam = Sampo theories are coming from, but I feel like I’m one of the few who reaaaaally don’t want that. Pleaaase don’t downgrade the awesome laser-eyed robot into a person in a suit. We already have a Sampo at home!

They don’t make Screwllum a playable, Svarog comes as an attachment to Clara, Herta is just a puppet — HSR has too many cool mecha designs to deny me a proper robot buddy who sends me stickers.

[izaswritings]

Rating: G

Category: Gen

Relationships: Blade & Kafka, Blade & Silver Wolf, Elio & Kafka, Kafka & Stellaron Hunter Members

Characters: Blade (Honkai: Star Rail), Kafka (Honkai: Star Rail), Silver Wolf (Honkai: Star Rail), Elio (Honkai: Star Rail), Sam (Honkai: Star Rail)

Additional Tags: Stellaron Hunters as Found Family (Honkai: Star Rail), Platonic Relationships, Partners in Crime, Prompt Fic. Surprise Party, Team Bonding, Character Study, the inherent hilarity of ur coworkers being ur found family and also u are all wanted by the state, Space Comedy

Fic Prompt courtesy of @pinkprimrose05!! Thank you so much!

Fic Request: What if the Hunters' release dates coincide with the day they joined the organization, and they decide to have an anniversary celebration of sorts for Kafka? Or: The Stellaron Hunters throw a party.

[fragmentedblade]

[b1adie]

ok so we know trailblazer travelled with the stellaron hunters before the story. they’re the ones that drop them off at the space station, silver wolf is really friendly with them, and blade outright says it in kafka’s companion mission.

so looking back, firefly’s reaction to seeing trailblazer for the “first” time makes a lot of sense

thats not some way you’d react to seeing a stranger yk… the surprise and then happiness and immediate familiarity makes way more sense now

and ofc theres these lines… we meet again, as always, as ever, etc…

i was looking at the last page of the dreamscape pass earlier. there’s a sticker about meeting her.

… and then there’s this one, too.

and its KILLING me. like ok. they were in love? and trailblazer had to have their memories wiped? it makes everything make more sense in retrospect and it also makes it hurttttt. and like i love that trope, person forgets everything but still has this seeimingly-unexplainable fondness towards their partner..

do you think seeing the person she loves again was part of those “great rewards” elio promised her.

[milksnake-tea]

✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : Firefly and Silver Wolf return from Penacony, bringing souvenirs of all kinds alongside them.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 6.3k

✩ TAGLIST : @vynicity , @vxnuslogy, @https-mika, @greyrain23, @red-ninja15, @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio , @astolary , @xphantasmagoriax , @semi-orangeapple , @ezra1yn , @xynthevoid , @apinu , @crysangria , @shenwi , @louchive , @mave-in , @mutiachan , @meerpea , @tetrxctys , @emiken-070907 ( send me an ask off anon if you want to be added !! remember to specify that it is for this series )

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : mentions of alcoholism in this chapter !! also check out the tags, i've added something that needs to be looked at but tldr the reader will be dealing with themes of alcoholism, addiction, escapism, and survivor's guilt. it'll be tackled in later chapters, but just putting that as a warning now! sunday's pfp art is by @/thotep

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Weeks have passed since Sunday had first arrived at the Delphi.

With Silver Wolf and Firefly busy with their mission on Penacony, life is relatively mundane. If you don’t have a script to fulfill, then Elio lets you run free to do whatever your heart desires - ironic, considering the nature of your work.

Every Hunter has their own way of passing the time between scripts. Kafka often goes shopping for fancy dresses or yet another velvet coat to add to her increasing collection of them. Silver Wolf, on the other hand, shrinks away from the real world and into the comfort of her room to game - you know this because her room’s right next to yours, so you can hear whether or not she wins or loses.

Firefly never spends too long on the Delphi; rather, she takes up her suit and flies off to visit nearby planets, eager to experience their wonders as any normal tourist would. As for Blade, he sulks off into the training rooms, either sharpening his sword or perfecting his technique.

But what about you? What do you do in these torturously boring times? What is your way of keeping yourself entertained?

Drinking. It’s drinking.

Because apparently making candy-flavored drugs isn’t bad enough.

Simple piano played in the background of the Delphi’s bar, where it came from you’ve long given up on trying to figure out. Golden lights hanging from the ceiling clash against chestnut wood, filling the bar with a hazy, warm color.

You’re alone in the bar, sitting laxly in one of the many stools that line the countertop. Lazily, you spin a jigger in your hands, absentmindedly adding and shaking and tossing until you’re left with a clear, peach-tinted cocktail topped with creamy white foam and mint leaves.

The drink is known as a White Sand, a cocktail you discovered when visiting a tropical planet known for its tourism. You’re still new to mixology, preferring to just drink wine straight from the bottle, but you can’t deny that trying out different combinations of recipes, some delicious and others diabolical, is a surprisingly great way of passing the time.

Just as you’re about to take a sip of your drink, your phone dings. You’re tempted to ignore it, but after the second, third, and consequential pings, you begrudgingly take it out with a sigh.

You roll your eyes a bit despite the smile on your face. Drinking your cocktail with a little more spite this time, you type out a response.

Spinning around on the stool, you uncross your legs and, taking your drink with you, make your way to the training room. Thankfully, the walk isn’t too long - just an elevator ride down and after a few minutes of walking through the facilities, you’ve arrived.

You take a deep breath as you come to the doors of the training rooms, mentally preparing yourself for what was to come. Just to be safe, you summon your sword in your dominant hand and hold your cocktail in the other.

Your sword isn’t anything impressive when compared to the others’ - it isn’t as flashy as Silver Wolf’s or Firefly’s, nor is it as intimidating as Blade’s. It supports a simple yet elegant design, and it’s thin, tapering to a sharp point. 

But what makes it unique are the bright veins that run through it, filled with a deadly poison that you’ve personally curated through testing and researching natural poisons found across the stellar seas. Just one graze or prick of your blade, and your victim becomes paralyzed within seconds, dead with a few more.

Normally, you wouldn’t bring it out - you prefer your rifle and bayonet over your sword - but what lay behind these doors required a little more agility than what could be accomplished with one hand and a rifle.

With a sigh, you step through the doors and brace for impact.

“[Name]-?” Sunday looks behind him as you enter, only to curse and bring up his rapier as Blade lunges at him once more. It’s a fatal mistake, being distracted in the middle of a fight, and Sunday learns this the hard way when he’s caught off balance (rapiers are NOT good at blocking, especially if you’re a beginner) and Blade mercilessly drives a kick into his stomach.

You narrowly jump out of the way as Sunday flies past you and into the wall with a crash.

“Don’t let your focus wander.” Blade barely finishes speaking before he lunges at Sunday again with a swing of his broken blade.

See, you’re technically supposed to break up the fight and tell them of Firefly’s message. Technically.

But you kind of want to see where this goes.

And so you lean back against the wall, swirling your drink idly and watch the show without lifting a finger to help Sunday.

Sunday manages to dodge Blade’s attack, which is better than when you saw him a few weeks ago. Last you saw him, he was getting beat left and right both physically and mentally (Blade does not know what sugarcoating is). 

See, as of late, Blade’s taken up a new hobby to entertain himself - that being training the newbie in the ways of combat. While it’s arguably true that Blade is the best suited for this (Kafka is Kafka, Silver Wolf can’t be bothered, Firefly doesn’t know what’s within a normal person’s capabilities, and you would treat it like a chore), his methods are… less than ideal.

Basically, he teaches you the basics for the first two weeks, and then makes you fight to the death against him until you get better not because you want to, but because you have to if you want to live.

You know this, because you went through this too. So did Silver Wolf. Firefly didn’t have to because one, she was already a capable warrior and two, she’s Blade’s senior, as weird as it sounds.

For the most part, Sunday seems to be doing relatively well, being able to parry, dodge, and attack the best he can. Obviously, he’s unable to land a hit on Blade (it would be impressive if he did), but being able to hold his own is more than enough.

The rapier he wields is a gift from his master. Although Blade can no longer craft weapons as he used to, his eye is still as sharp as ever. The rapier itself is an elegant thing, sporting a silver handle with a sapphire embedded near the handguard. It still holds considerable weight, but is light enough so that Sunday can wield it despite not having any prior training.

Every so often, the Halovian’s halo glows, indicating a mental attack of some kind. But the glow is faint, meaning that it isn’t anything that could seriously debilitate Blade, who is especially sensitive to attacks regarding the mind.

You smile to yourself. Always thinking of others, wasn’t he?

The mental attack creates only a momentary stagger in Blade’s movements, a brief falter, but Sunday seizes the chance. His wings, which have gotten stronger with every visit to your office, flare out in a cape of night. He still can’t fly, but they’re strong enough to propel him out of Blade’s range.

His wings tuck, and he strikes his rapier again, but this time it isn’t with the intent of piercing Blade with his sword. Instead, his halo glows stronger, and small staffs of music shoot like miniature missiles at Blade.

Of course, Blade slashes through each music note easily. Even as Sunday conducts his personal choir with his rapier as his baton, there’s still a slight tremble in his hand, still not fully used to the weight of the rapier.

Not only that, you notice, the staffs aren’t exactly strong either. They waver, and they’re thin, as if one pull of your finger could break them into ribbons.

Your phone dings again, reminding you of why you were here in the first place.

Right. You’re supposed to stop them. How many minutes has it been? At least two.

You gulp down the rest of your cocktail (there wasn’t much left), relishing the taste for just a moment before you lunge and intercept Blade’s attack. Your sword meets Blade’s in a flurry of sparks. You grunt, planting your feet on the ground and push off, throwing Blade off of you and forcing him to skid back.

Blade is less than pleased by your interruption despite expecting it. You can see that he’s half a mind to turn the training onto you. Before he can try anything, you point your sword at him, stopping him with a warning look.

“Sorry, but class is going to have to end early today.” You twirl your sword mindlessly in your hand before summoning it back into your inventory. “The girls are coming back from Penacony, and Firefly wants us in the living room in ten. And before you ask, if I have to go, so do you.”

The last part is directed at Blade, who grumbles in response.

“Fine.”

His sword disappears from his hands as he straightens. You almost don’t catch Sunday sighing in relief behind you. A laugh bubbles in your chest as you turn to him, crossing your arms.

“Old man’s been hard on you, hasn’t he?” 

Sunday sighs, rolling back his shoulders as his rapier dissolves into nothing. 

“I should be used to it by now,” he admits, “but Blade’s teaching style is more erratic than what I’m used to.”

“You’re getting better, though. At least you can actually hold the rapier now.”

Sunday chuckles. “That’s true. It doesn’t feel as heavy anymore; I suppose I’ve gotten stronger.”

“You sure have.” You look him up and down.

He’s wearing a long-sleeve compression shirt and simple joggers so as not to ruin his other clothes with the sweat and tear that comes with Blade’s training sessions. His body is still relatively slender like it was when he first came to the base, but you can see hints of his labor beginning to bear its fruits. His arms are definitely more toned, and while he still predominantly wears gloves, you spy a callus on one of his right hand’s forefingers.

Ever since he’d first stretched his wings, it was as if a light had returned to his eyes. He is still reserved, still quiet to a degree, but his presence has become brighter, in a sense. You see it in the tiniest changes - the lift of his eyes, the genuine crinkle in his smile, the gradual relaxation of his shoulders.

In your opinion, he’s never looked better.

Then again, your only visuals of him prior to now were when he was at his lowest, so maybe it wasn’t a good comparison.

You realize you’ve been staring for longer than what’s socially acceptable. Meeting Sunday’s confused smile, you playfully stick your tongue out before waving him off.

“Don’t just stand there. Go wash up and change, you smell.”

Sunday blinks. “I do?”

The genuine worry in his voice almost makes you feel bad. In an effort to make him feel better, you pat his head in two heavy movements, earning a high-pitched squeak with each pat.

“I’m just messing with you,” you tease, ruffling his feather-like hair before finally releasing him. Sunday huffs, slightly puffing out his cheeks as he immediately starts fixing his hair. He reminds you of a baby bird.

Resummoning your wine glass, which you had put away before intervening in the spar, you pull out a vintage wine bottle from nowhere and pour out some red wine. Sunday wrinkles his nose.

“Drinking again, I see,” he sighs. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?”

“For you, it is,” you say, throwing the wine bottle back into your inventory. “I, however, am not like you.”

“You’re destroying your liver.”

“My liver can handle it. Ask Blade, he knows. Isn’t that right, Blade?”

“Don’t bring me into this,” mutters Blade, in the middle of changing back into his normal clothes. You shrug.

“See? He didn’t deny it.”

Sunday crosses his arms. “He didn’t confirm it either. [Name], I cannot in good faith let you go on about this self-destructive path-”

“And on that note, I should get going,” you cut him off, pointedly ignoring the look he gives you. But before Sunday can start up his thirty-minute lecture, you’re already turning your heel and walking off with a cheeky wave. “See you up top!”

“Hey-!” Sunday shakes his head as you saunter out the doors, pressing a hand to his forehead. He already feels a migraine forming. “What am I going to do with them…”

Blade hums sympathetically, wordlessly offering Sunday a bottle of water and a towel, which he accepts gratefully.

“Don’t bother,” says Blade, looking at the doors where you’ve just left through. “They’ve always been like that. Trying to reason with them is fruitless.”

Sunday turns his head slightly to glance at Blade, his brow creased with worry.

“Still, this habit of theirs…”

Blade sighs. “It may look bad to you, but trust me. This is better than what they were doing before. At least with alcohol, their body can recover quickly.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sunday turns fully to face the other Hunter. “Surely, alcoholism can’t be a better alternative.”

For a long, heavy moment, Blade merely stares at him silently, waiting for him to come to his own conclusion. The air turns suffocating the longer the silence drags on, but Sunday endures. He meets Blade’s gaze calmly, and waits.

It isn’t too long before Blade relents. Maybe it’s because they have an appointment soon, or maybe he doesn’t feel like playing mind games with Sunday - or both.

“Have you ever seen them get alcohol poisoning?” he finally says, a little breath to his voice like a sigh.

Sunday blinks, caught off guard by the question. “No, but-”

“There’s your answer.” Blade begins to walk off. Before he disappears, he glances back. “Save your concern. Don’t pry where you aren’t welcome.”

The doors slide shut, leaving Sunday alone with the echo of the Hunter’s words. He squeezes the bottle tightly.

Don’t concern yourself, huh?

How could he not? In Penacony, his ears were meant for hearing the woes of his kin, and his heart forever cut to bleed for them. Sympathy is carved into his skin; it was second nature to him already.

But he remembers that moment in your office, the sudden coldness that came with an attempt of sympathy. And he remembers that he isn’t on Penacony anymore.

His eyes shut, a sigh escaping him. His wings tremble restlessly, referencing his thoughts.

Sunday opens one dark wing, and flaps it.

It’s frustrating, constantly being told to sit still and mind his own business. You’ve already helped him so much, but whenever he tries to do something for you, whether it be small, such as helping out with a chore or something more serious like this, he’s always shut down.

He feels useless, like a leech or a freeloader. All he’s done is take and take and take, unable to give.

He buries his face in the towel Blade gave him with a groan.

He hates it.

He should be doing more - he should be more.

“Still here, I see.”

Sunday flinches. He looks around wildly for the source of the voice, but he sees no one. Was he already beginning to hallucinate? He shouldn’t be, he was sleeping enough thanks to your medicine, but maybe four hours a night still wasn’t enough-

“No need to panic. I’m down here.”

Sitting at the foot of the doors is a familiar black cat with familiarly unnatural blue eyes.

Sunday relaxes. “Ah, Elio.”

Out of respect, he bows to his leader. The Destiny of Slave tilts his head, soundlessly leaping onto a nearby bench. 

Sunday tries his best not to be unnerved by his gaze, but he can’t help it. Despite being on the Delphi for a little more than a month now, he’s rarely seen Elio, and as such hasn’t gotten used to his piercing eyes.

A small surprised sound leaves him as Elio jumps onto his shoulder, perching himself on him snugly. The seer’s back brushes against his wings as he readjusts himself.

“What addles your mind?” Elio asks. Sunday wants to lean away from him, but it’s impossible with the seer on his shoulder. “Firefly will be arriving in two system minutes. You will be late.”

Right, the meeting- meeting. 

Sunday’s mind jumps at the word, dragged back into its own habits. Late, late- he can’t be late, that is unbecoming of someone like him, shouldn’t he know better? Instead he wasted time by asking useless questions- Stop thinking, stop thinking, you’re taking up valuable minutes- Get a move on, move, or they’ll hate you, they’ll take it as a disrespect, they’ll never accept you as their own-

“That’s enough.” 

A paw baps the side of his head gently, snapping Sunday out of his thoughts. 

Dull pain pricks at his palms. With a start, he realizes that his nails are digging into them, as they always do whenever his mind starts racing. He quickly relaxes his hands with a sigh.

Elio hums knowingly.

“You think too much,” says the seer. He stretches on Sunday’s shoulder, letting out a small meow as he does. He looks and acts so much like a real cat, Sunday has to remind himself not to pet him.

“I apologize,” is Sunday’s automatic response. Internally, he winces. You’d scold him if you heard him.

Elio shakes his head.

“The others won’t ostracize you,” he says matter-of-factly, in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

“Is that a part of your prophecy?” Sunday asks, eyes glittering with dull mirth.

“Perhaps. It is also their nature. One doesn’t need to be a seer to know that.”

The seer lashes his tail. Sunday doesn’t know how to feel about being comforted by a cat, but knowing who Elio is, and the absolute certainty behind his words manages to quiet the noise in his mind enough to let him think clearly.

“I… I see. Thank you,” he says sheepishly. Elio shrugs.

“It’s nothing,” he assures. “If you need further consolation, you can pet me.”

Somewhere a record screeches to a halt. Sunday stares blankly at Elio, who stares back innocently as if he hasn’t said anything wrong.

“Absolutely not,” Sunday says flatly, with half a mind to shove the seer off just to see what would happen. “You’re a grown man.”

Elio’s eyes gleam. “Am I? Or am I a cat who has learned to disguise as human?”

Sunday doesn’t bother entertaining him. Rolling his eyes with an amused sigh, he begrudgingly gives Elio a small scratch on the chin.

“Happy now?”

Elio closes his eyes, the beginnings of a purr rumbling in his chest. The vibrations are soothing against Sunday’s skin, like how white noise aids one in sleeping. One of Elio's ears flicks, and Sunday has to bite down a smile.

“This isn’t for my happiness,” Elio says despite clearly enjoying the scratch. He blinks his eyes open, forcing Sunday to look into the sky. “You are feeling better.”

The seer tilts his head, looking past Sunday in amusement. Before Sunday asks what exactly it is he’s looking at, he hears a distant flutter, and his wings brush against fur. His face flushes.

Elio chuckles, his tail flicking back and forth. “Come on now, the others are waiting.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, ears burning, Sunday nods.

He really needed to fix this wing problem of his.

—

Three floors up, you wait with Kafka in the main living room. 

The Spirit Whisper user has only arrived recently, having sped back to the Delphi from whatever corner of the universe she was shopping at. Her recent escapade shows on her outfit, a brand new velvet coat (this one a dark red) draped over her shoulders.

Her gloved fingers fly expertly across the neck of a violin, a mahogany bow in her other hand as she maneuvers the violin into an eerie melody. Her shoulders sway as she does, her pupiless eyes fluttering closed every so often with the music.

“They’re here,” you announce, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in the plush sofa chair in which you sit. Your eyes are focused on your phone, which tracks Firefly’s and Silver Wolf’s location on an app the latter had designed herself.

Kafka hums, her deft hands never stilling. “Is that right?”

There’s a creak as the door opens behind and Blade walks in. With a simple nod to both you and Kafka, he slinks off to his corner of the room and summons his sword to hug against his chest. Kafka smiles demurely.

“Say,” she says, finally setting down the violin, “Bladie, how’s Birdie’s training going?”

Blade shifts the sword, looking up. “He needs to work on his footwork.”

Kafka hums. “Do you think he’s ready for a mission?”

“He can hold his own,” Blade admits, “but I wonder if he has the heart to kill. He could easily incapacitate me with his attacks on the mind, and yet he chooses not to.”

“It’s because he cares,” you jump into the conversation, setting your phone aside. “He may not act like it, but he’s rather soft-hearted. He probably doesn’t want to hurt you.”

Blade scoffs. “That kind of foolish sympathy will only debilitate him on the battlefield.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” says Kafka. “Who knows? Maybe Birdie will surprise us. One doesn’t nearly become an Aeon without some kind of moral ambiguity.”

Blade doesn’t look convinced, but he was never one to argue. He merely shrugs with a grunt, accepting whatever Kafka decides is the truth.

It isn’t like the conversation is set to continue either, as soon a portal made up of multicolored pixels spawns in the middle of the living room, and out walks Firefly, shopping bags hanging from all over her arms. Silver Wolf follows soon after, closing the portal behind her with a pop of her bubblegum.

“Welcome back,” Kafka greets, leaning on top of the backrest of your sofa chair. “Had fun at Penacony?”

“Fun is… one way of putting it,” Firefly chuckles bashfully. “It was definitely eventful. Speaking of which,”

She looks around the room for a certain someone.

“Where’s Sunday?”

“Probably changing,” you say, standing up from your chair. “He was in the middle of getting beat by Blade when I told him.”

“Ah, I see…” A small, nervous laugh leaves her. She quickly brightens, however, once you go in for a one-armed hug, the other hand still holding your wine glass. “That’s okay. His gift can wait. Here, let me give your guys’s.”

She rummages around in her shopping bag before pulling out what looks to be a large bubble, purples and blues glistening on its surface with the occasional person or place flashing.

“Here’s yours, [Name].”

You stare at it, dumbfounded. “A bubble?”

“It’s a dream bubble,” Firefly clarifies, gently placing it above your open palm. “Basically, they’re little memories or stories stored in a bubble - like a movie! There was this one vendor in Oti Mall who sold them, and, well… When I saw it, I knew I had to get it for you.”

Her shoulders jump, as if remembering something.

“Oh, and… Maybe it’s best if you don’t open it here.”

Raising a brow, you tear your eyes away from the strange bubble. “Why is that?”

Firefly shifts. “Well… you’ll know.”

That doesn’t sound reassuring. “Now I’m getting worried. Is there a trigger warning, or..?”

Firefly waves her hands hastily. “No, no, nothing like that! It’s just that, well… dream bubbles leave you unconscious, so…”

“Ah.” You blink. “That makes a lot more sense.”

“That wasn’t all I got you, though,” Firefly adds. She takes the shopping bag that she’d pulled the dream bubble from and hands it to you. “I know you like collecting drinks, so…”

At her words, you immediately forget about the dream bubble. Throwing it away somewhere, you eagerly reach into the bag and feel the familiar touch of cold glass. Your eyes gleam with excitement.

The bottle you pull out is tall and fat towards the bottom, the glass tinted a dark caramel while what seems to be liquid amber sloshes inside. Stamped on the front of the hefty bottle is a green and orange logo that tells you just exactly what this beverage was.

“SoulGlad, is it?” you read aloud, holding the bottle up to the light. “So this is the famous ‘beverage of dreams’.”

“I know you prefer wine,” says Firefly, rubbing the back of her neck, “but Siobhan recommended this - also it’s a staple of Penacony, so I figured, why not try that wasn’t alcohol for once?”

You pointedly ignore that last part. “Siobhan?”

“She’s a bartender I met on Penacony! Speaking of which, Blade,”-Firefly fishes out another shopping bag, this one smaller and darker in color- “Siobhan said that this drink is good for people like you. It’ll make you feel a little better.”

Blade raises a brow. He unhands his sword only for a moment to accept the bag. Briefly peeking at whatever’s inside, he raises a brow and closes the bag, nodding his thanks to Firefly.

The biggest bag turns out to be Kafka’s, as Silver Wolf had already received her souvenir prior to arriving on the Delphi. 

The hacker’s gift currently sits on her head as she plays yet another game in the chair that used to be your. The holographic Origami Bird bears a striking resemblance to her, occasionally cocking its head and chirping every so often, the three large feathers on its head swaying with each movement.

“Wow~” Despite having just gotten a new coat, Kafka’s perfectly painted lips curve into a delighted smile at the sight of black and magenta velvet and bronze buttons. “Did you get this specially tailored?”

Firefly tucks a white hair behind her head, her cheeks flushed with joy. “Yes, I did. It was only a small extra fee, so I didn’t mind.”

“How thoughtful.” Kafka swiftly abandons her current coat and slips on the new one. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to use it often.”

Kafka pats Firefly’s head gently, smiling down at her like a mother would her daughter.

“Congrats on your mission, by the way,” she says. “Quite the stir this time, I wish I was there to have seen it all.”

Firefly chuckles nervously. “Yeah, Penacony was definitely… interesting.”

And then, as if summoned by his homeland, two doors slide open and Sunday enters with Elio nestled snugly in his arms.

“I apologize for being late,” says the Halovian, bowing slightly. Kafka laughs.

“Don’t worry about it,” she assures, waving a hand carelessly. “What matters is that you’re here, Birdie.”

Fuchsia eyes narrow amusedly at the seer comfortably cradled against Sunday’s chest.

“Having fun there, Elio?” Kafka teases. Elio squints at the woman for a second before letting out a disturbingly cat-like meow and nuzzling back into the warm wool of Sunday’s turtleneck.

As much as you want to laugh at the seer, your eyes are somewhere else. Besides you, Firefly has seized up, her posture stiff and awkward at the sight of the former Oak Head. Figures, she probably had… a lot of conflicts, to put it lightly, with Sunday, and seeing him so soon - not to mention with her boss - must be jarring.

You decide to give her a bit of comfort. Nudging her lightly, you offer her an encouraging smile. She returns it gratefully, before taking a deep breath and greeting her now-junior.

“Hi, Sunday,” she says tentatively with a shy smile. Sunday’s eyes soften.

“Ah, Miss Firefly.” He nods politely. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yes.” Firefly shifts her feet. “How have you been?”

“Better. You Hunters have been far more accommodating than I had ever anticipated, although rather eccentric.”

“That’s good,” Firefly chuckles. She pulls out a light-blue gift bag, and, walking up to Sunday, extends it to him. “This is your initiation gift. I really hope you like it.”

“Ah, thank you.” 

Elio jumps off Sunday so that he can accept the gift, and opts to climb Kafka instead. In the meantime, Sunday handles Firefly’s gift as one might handle a baby. Once he opens it, however, his eyes widen in shock and his breath hitches.

“This is…”

Firefly smiles softly. “I asked your sister personally.”

Grasped in Sunday’s shaking hands is a gleaming album of red and purple. His sister’s face smiles up at him from the recording booth as she sings to the hearts of millions across the universe. Signed in the corner in a pastel pink pen is her signature.

“I…” Sunday’s voice is choked in his throat. He sounds like he’s about to cry. A part of you wants to reach out and give him a hug, but you don’t think that’s the right course of action right now.

“There’s a note inside,” Firefly offers. “And as for the album itself, it’s like a mini phonograph, so you can play it whenever you want.”

Sunday’s hand clasps tightly over his mouth as to hold back the tears that threaten to break from his eyes. Golden rings scan Robin’s face, again and again, rechecking her signature to make sure that he isn’t seeing things.

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispers. “I…” He inhales deeply to calm himself and reign back his composure. “...Thank you, Miss Firefly. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“You should be thanking your sister,” says Firefly. “She put some other things in the bag there for you, and- Silver Wolf? Did you give him your gifts yet?”

Silver Wolf doesn’t even look up from her game. “Nope. Give me a sec, I just gotta beat this level aaaaaand- done.”

She jumps up, her Origami bird fluttering in surprise as she does. Twirling her fingers, a phone materializes in her hold.

“Here’s your phone, newbie,” she says, stopping in front of Sunday. “I cleared it of all its tracking malware and transferred your frozen accounts from the IPC. Everything else should be the same.”

“Damn, you had tracking malware?” you comment, stealing back your seat now that Silver Wolf has left. Sunday sighs.

“Yes, the Dream Master was rather… paranoid.”

“That doesn’t matter though,” chirps Silver Wolf as Sunday takes back his phone. “I already got rid of it all, so it’s useless now. I also added you to the groupchat. Your sister’s been texting you like crazy, though. You might want to answer her.”

“...I’ll think about it,” says Sunday. The hacker shrugs.

“Do what you want, it’s not my business.” She starts up another level, evident by the 8-bit music playing from her phone. “Your old clothes should be in your room now; I put them on your bed for you.”

“You did? When?”

“Just now.”

You shoot a confused Sunday a smile. “Silver Wolf’s specialty lies in altering the data of reality.”

“Ah. Well, thank you Miss Silver Wolf.”

The hacker wrinkles her nose. “Just Silver Wolf is fine. Although, I have got to ask-”

She looks up, excitement and curiosity glittering behind her nonchalant facade.

“Why did you have so many copies of the same outfit? Are you like, an NPC?”

Sunday doesn’t seem to know what to do with Silver Wolf’s expectant gaze. He tilts his head.

“It’s merely a matter of convenience. I can’t wear the same clothes every day, that would be unsanitary. But the public has a certain image of me, and I had to uphold it - hence the clothes.”

“Oh.” Silver Wolf deflates. “That was significantly less interesting than I thought it’d be.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t mind her,” you butt in. “She just likes to over exaggerate things so that she gets disappointed by them because she sets her expectations too high.”

“I do not!” Silver Wolf kicks you childishly, nearly spilling your wine in the process. You shoot her a glare.

“Yes, you do, I have receipts- do you want me to pull them out? I will pull them out.”

“Yeah, right. Screenshots? Recordings? Please, you know that’s useless against a hacker like me.”

“I’m not that unprepared you heathen-”

Elio sighs as the two of you begin bickering. Kafka chuckles, patting him on the head while Blade has already started napping standing up. Sunday glances at the two senior Hunters nervously.

“Are they always- like this?” he asks. Elio shakes his head in disappointment.

“You’ll get used to it.��

—

Later that night, Sunday sits in his room. There’s little to no light, save for the small lamp that sits on his bedside table. Soft piano music plays in the background, accompanied with the soft soprano of his sister.

“In candlelight, as time unwinds, I find myself, lost in your eyes.”

He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the still-white walls of his room. He welcomes the melody into his ears, allowing it to consume him in its song. 

“In midnight tolls, as darkness folds, I see your tears, when we say goodbye.”

Flashes of Penacony’s scenery as he had fallen reemerge in his mind. He remembers the sunrise, the piercing light of the sun as it touched upon Golden Hour for the first time in years.

“Watching stars, as we drift on by.”

He remembers his sister’s embrace, the confusion and the fear, but also the relief and comfort of family.

“A touch,”

If he loses himself enough…

“A glance,

If he forgets enough…

“Fly away.”

He could almost believe that it’s his sister standing next to him that’s singing, not a recording.

“Will our paths converge, ‘neath the sun?”

Robin’s voice swells, and strings jump in to accompany it. Goosebumps chill his skin and his breath catches in his chest. His eyes squeeze, a strangling emotion he doesn’t recognize squeezing at his heart.

“A silent desire, in melody sung.”

For a moment, he sees her, he sees his sister, he sees Robin. It is almost as if she is speaking to him, singing to him, asking him of what fate has in store for them.

“Beyond this stolen night, we share a cherished dream.”

Indeed, they did. Her dream, their dream. A dream to fill the skies with their songs, to dance for the people they loved so much.

“Between souls whispered that it ‘seems’.”

But only one of them could make that dream a reality.

“Will shooting stars align ‘neath the sun?”

His eyes peek open, glossy and aching. The music heightens, and the dark ceiling blurs into the beginnings of a beautiful nightscape, full of twinkling stars and kissed by the retreating sun.

“In whispered hopes where journey's begun.”

Penacony smiles down at him, the home to which he’ll never return to. All twelve hours have passed, and a new day has begun.

“In dreams, we waltz the sky,”

His hand twitches. It flexes against the blankets, grasping for something, someone who isn’t there.

“You watch me drift on by,”

Oh, how he wishes he could hold her again, see her smile again, watch her sing once more. His heart aches to cradle his baby sister one last time, even if it’s for a second, just so that his last sight of her wouldn’t be of a smile with tears.

 “In your memory, a whispered song,”

“A seed of hope where we belong.”

The song ends, leaving Sunday with a husk of a heart. A singular tear breaks free and slips down his cheek. For the first time, Sunday doesn’t think to wipe it.

His chest hurts, yet lighter, as if a weight has been lifted, leaving his heart to deal with the repercussions of bearing said weight for so long. He can breathe, painfully so, yet it is clear, crisp, rejuvenating.

He wants to see her again, but not now. Not yet.

But one day, they will.

His phone pings, snapping him out of his thoughts. He almost doesn’t want to check it, but it pings again and he picks it up reluctantly.

It’s you, he realizes, a small smile slipping onto his face.

Sunday grimaces at the memory. Last week, he’d made the mistake of admiring one of the flowers that grew over your door. Well, that flower turned out to be carnivorous, and very territorial, and it nearly took off a chunk off his finger had he not blasted it out of panic.

He still has to buy you a replacement.

He shakes his head, sighing with a smile. Out of reflex, he flexes the finger that had been bit. Had it not been for you, it would still be wrapped in bandages.

A soft laugh escapes him at your sticker. He scrolls up for a bit through the conversation, rereading it over and over again. Why? He doesn’t know. It just feels right.

His scrolling stops just over the attachment you sent. So this is his part of the script - Elio’s infamous prophecy that contains details of the future, down to the very second. He clicks on it.

Reading over it briefly, his brows furrow.

“Alfeasa-VIII, is it?” he murmurs. 

He’s heard of the planet before; a prosperous kingdom with loyal and loving subjects that worshiped the Preservation. He’d never paid much attention to it, though, as the most interaction he’d ever gotten from it were a few of its nobles who came to Penacony for vacation.

His fingers stop just above a paragraph in his script that seems all too out of place.

At 22:38:10 system time, the reigning kingdom of Alfeasa-VIII will fall. [Name] will dispense multiple gas bombs at the banquet. They will give you one gas mask to give to a person of your choosing. Whoever you choose will become the next ruler of Alfeasa-VIII. I trust that you will choose wisely.

—

Bonus (left on read):

<< previous || series masterlist || next chapter >>

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[chiara-hotel]

Your role/where you live in the Honkai Universe based on your s/o!

The Astral Express! Created by Akivili, you warp to over world all across the galaxy to retrace his steps and for the thrill of the adventure! Of course you also deal with stellarons which threaten the galaxy aswell.

~ Welt, Himeko, Dan Heng, March 7th

The Stellaron Hunters! You along with your s/o to follow Elio and his scripts. Going around various worlds to take stellaron hunters or maybe even give one out.

~ Stelle, Caelus, Kafka, Firefly, Silver Wolf

The Genius Society! Of course you’re smart enough to become one of the 84 geniuses, so much so that you’ve been acknowledged by the aeon of erudition himself. Even your s/o can acknowledge your talented nature.

~ Dr Ratio, Ruan Mei, Herta, Asta

The Xianzhou Luofu! You live within the Xianzhou alliance, specifically on the luofu. You live with your s/o on their home island.

~ Jing Yuan, Blade/Yingxing, Yukong, Tingyun, Dan Feng, Lingsha

The Xianzhou Yaoqing! Its your home-world and you stay there as you await for your s/o to return from various missions! Important cloud knight meetings or maybe just ensuring you (and everyone else's saftey0

~ Feixiao, Moze, Jiaoqiu & Sushang

Penacony! You live within the festival of dreams, either helping in the dreamscape or the real world. Your s/o appreciates any help though.

~ Sunday, Robin, Boothill

No where! You are a wandering traveller with your s/o, you’ll follow them to the darkest depths of reality no matter what.

~ Boothill, Black Swan, Sparkle, Sampo, Acheron, Luocha, Jingliu, Aventurine, Kafka, Firefly

The IPC! You either simply live with your s/o and follow them wherever or they hire you as a small assistant. They’ve seen the darkness the IPC holds and doesn’t want you to get wrapped up in it too. As long as you’re with them though they’ll keep you safe, forever & always.

~ Diamong, Aventurine & Topaz

[yasemei]

Aventurine, Jing Yuan,Sunday, Blade and Wriothesley celebrating teen!reader’s birthday!!

🪷 Genre: Platonic + Found family

🌸 a/n: its my birthday so I decided to actually write something today!! :) english is not my native language so please excuse any errors

🪻 father figure characters / topaz, dr.ratio, yanqing, robin,kafka, silver wolf, elio and sigewinne mentioned / reader is a prisoner at fortress of meropide in wriothesley‘s part

~ Aventurine ~

Aventurine probably didnt celebrate many birthdays, including his own, but he really cared for you and wanted to make yours special.

He would buy something you really wanted, no matter how expensive it is, he is going to spoil you rotten.

He would also buy a very sweet and expensive cake for you, he always takes note of your preferences and likes, so he buys the most suited cake and gifts for you.

He tries to get a break from work to celebrate with you, if he cant manage to you would just celebrate at his office.

He has no problem if you want to celebrate just with him, but if you want more people and not feel lonely, he would try to get dr.ratio and topaz to celebrate with you. (with a lot of effort)

Ratio would be hard, but if youre a student of his and Aventurine manages to convince him enough, he would buy you a small gift and text happy birthday to you.

Topaz wouldnt mind celebrating your birthday, despite her not being too fond of Aventurine, it wouldnt take too much convincing to get her to celebrate your birthday. She would buy you a nice gift and personally wish you a happy birthday.

You two spend the all night having fun. He personally tucks you to bed when you get sleepy. (He might even carry you)

Seeing you grow up and enjoying your youthful years satisfies him than any gamble could ever do. He follows the path of preservation, he would do almost anything to preserve your youth and happiness— something that sadly wasnt done for him.

~ Jing Yuan ~

Jing Yuan is used to celebrating birthdays, he celebrates Yanqing’s every year after all.

He also buys you great gifts and cake. Like Aventurine he makes sure to remember your likes and preferences.

He is also pretty busy, but he would make time for you since its your birthday.

Yanqing would celebrate with you as well.

He tucks Yanqing and you to bed before going back to the endless paperwork on his desk.

He has a big soft spot for you and Yanqing, watching you two grow up makes him bittersweet, knowing that you two are going to be adults one day and not spend as much time with him as you do now.

But he believes that you two will be good and responsible adults thanks to his guidance.

~ Sunday ~

Sunday would be make extra time for you, also inviting Robin for your birthday

He would buy you a gift from a very luxurious store in Golden Hour, he even orders a special birthday cake for you.

Robin would personally sing happy birthday to you with her angelic voice

Sunday already has a tendency to dote on you, but not directly since he is busy, he leaves random gifts during the day and has bloodhounds watch over you to ensure your safety while he is busy working.

But for the sake of your birthday; you, him and Robin had lots of fun together.

~ Blade ~

Blade wasnt too sure what to for your birthday, ever since he adopted his new identity, he has been disconnected from people, only living as a weapon.

But you were special to him, he always felt the need to protect and care for you. Maybe you had bringed out the fatherly instincts that he didnt even know he had.

He goes to Silver Wolf and Kafka for advice.

He ultimately decides to make you a handmade gift, he used to make weapons after all, his crafting skills are incredible, maybe not as much as it was when he was still Yingxing, but he is still talented.

Kafka buys the cake and some accesories or clothing as gifts

Silver Wolf would hack into a rich persons account to get you something you really wanted.

Elio doesnt give you any missions, you and your fellow stellaron hunters celebrate together when they come back

Blade would carry you to bed when you get tired, he would even tuck you in if you ask nicely

~ Wriothesley ~

Wriothesley would buy a cake and gift for you from the overworld

You two and Sigewinne celebrate together by drinking tea and having cake

You and Wriothesley already spend a lot of time together since you work directely under him

Seeing you grow up safely makes him happy, even though you are a prisoner, he has a huge soft spot for you

He would also tuck you in, but he would do it secretly so the other inmates dont see him being a massive softie, he has a reputation to uphold after all and cant have the inmates misbehaving or maybe even using you against him

[sealedterror]

Stellaron Hunters and Astral Express Parallels

So, I've noticed that the Stellaron Hunters are basically a darker, murdery, and morally grey parallel version of the more heroic Astral Express, with every member mirroring another from the other group. Two sides of the same coin, if you will. First thing I'd like to point out, both factions don't really follow any current aeon. They "follow" (very loose term here) the missing-in action Akivili and the "Destiny" that Elio forsees. Both factions also are deeply involved with Stellarons(we encounter a stellaron on every planet, the Stellaron Hunters hunt them. Obviously) Here's some similarities I've thought of between the members and some theories based off each other: !!SPOILERS AHEAD!!

Dan Heng and Blade:

Both from Xianzhou,

Immortal in some way(Blade's self-regenerating and Dan Heng's reincarnations)

Same gender

Dan heng's five star form enhances his basic attack, like Blade, who I BET was ALSO a four star before the mara and Jing Liu incident

Similar age? Don't really know exact timeline between them

Both feature flowers in their gameplay(lotus flowers and spider lilies)

Himeko and Kafka:

Both intelligent women

The pseudo-moms of their faction.

I might be pulling out of my ass here, but I'd like to point out that both of them use both a ranged weapon(Himeko's laser and Kafka's gun) and also a melee weapon(Kafka's katana and Himeko's grator).

Since they are each others parallel, I'd like to make the assumption that since Himeko was the first one to join the Astral Express, that Kafka was the first one to join Elio. It just fits with the known info we have and clears up any ambiguity, but you don't have to strictly adhere by it lol.

Pom Pom and Elio

"Animals" yeah right

The being who leads their group in the direction wanted(conducter, scriptwriter, best destiny, best path to blaze)

You assume they are the cute mascot at first, but then there is something...exceptional about them, that you can't quite pin down.

Both are sentient and can presumably talk(Elio might just write to communicate, how would that work though? Toe beans? Meow to text? Lmao)

Wait....with synestheia beacons that's actually very possible. Oh god

March 7th and Silver Wolf(HEAR ME OUT)

The trendy, youthful girl of the group

....Use of technology?

yeah i got nothing BUTBUTBUT

March 7th's mysterious pasttttt. Like, the similarities between Danheng and Blade weren't revealed until his five star form was revealed and I'm making the theory that when March 7th's mysterious past is revealed, the similarities between her and Silver Wolf will appear!!!!

So Silver Wolf is from Punklord, is extremely accomplished and powerful, chaotic neutral with a sense of wanderlust. I don't know much about her(don't have her character/character story) so I can't say much more, but what I do know seems pretty plausible for March's former self.

It supports my theory that March 7th's five star form will be Nihility. Imbibiter Lunae was Destruction, like Blade. The memokeeper in March's quest said her past would "only bring her pain". How nihilistic is that? Either way, I'm definitely pulling xD

Stelle/Caleus and Firefly/Sam(the best for last ;)

So this is the one that really cemented this theory into my mind. So far, you might have noticed that every member's mirror image is the same gender(with the exception of Catlio and PomPom, I'll talk about it in the comments). But Trailblazer has TWO genders/personas. You know who ALSO has two genders/personas?FIREFLY/SAMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some theory and more similarities between them

They both are the explosive power powerhouse of their group(Stellaron and Sam's firepower)

Both pretty smart(dubious) and funny(hilarious, the both of them)

They both eat questionable things...Trailblazer's trash consumables and Firefly's woodchip Oak Cake(seriously, read the description, do they have iron stomachs or something??)

...So they might have iron stomachs.

Both were presumably artificially made. We know Firefly/Sam is(born to fight in a war) and the Trailblazer is a vessel of a Stellaron. There has to be some funky, wonky, genetic/biological makeup for that.

Welt Yang and no one lmao

Lonely ass old man, no ship?(making the no bitches face)

Anyway, I presume he doesn't have any parallel bc he's from another universe. I don't know much cause I haven't played Honkai Impact. Something about a comic and "herscherr"? Idrk but. I suppose Luocha could join the Stellaron Hunters. That would be crazy as hell and if it happens I CALLED IT, but it probably won't. Probably.

There is also the theory Sunday joined the Stellaron Hunters. It's honestly really interesting and if that's true.....Welt Yang and Sunday don't have any similarities so that's tossed out the window. So, that only leaves the possibilty that we will have a mirrored someone of Sunday joining the Astral Express in the future. That would be INSANE but fun as hell like, can you imagine?

On another, slightly less speculative note, I'd like to point out that the five stars of the Astral Express have the same paths as the Stellaron Hunters. DHIL and Blade, are both Destruction. The Trailblazer started off as Destruction and Firefly/Sam is Destruction. As I theorized above, March 7th's five star form is likely Nihility, just like Silver Wolf. Except for Himeko and Kafka. Hmmmm

It is also my theory that Kafka was supposed to be Erudition, like Himeko, but the Stellaron Disaster on her homeplanet altered her path to Nihility. We know how smart Kafka is and we've seen paths change, Dan Heng changed to Hunt after doing away his vidyadhara features, and we have switched paths multiple times now. But we know we and Dan Heng can switch between paths anytime. I think Kafka's case is different, in that she can't switch and the Stellaron permanently altered her, removing her fear and switching her Path.

So this concludes my rant, are you convinced yet ;)? It's really interesting that the two factions mirror each other so deeply. I am getting the message that, whatever our fates are, they are deeply intertwined.

Thanks a bunch for reading this far and please, let me know what you think! May the Trailblaze be with you....or something lol

Edit: AAAAAA, Firefly's pool cutscene!!! She said, and I quote "The Astral Express and the Stellaron Hunters are like light and shadow. We walk on different paths, intertwined, moving forward and growing together...Maybe the end is predestined, but, it is not today."

Idgaf, I'm taking this as confirmation!! My theories are becoming true!!!!! *high pitched squealing* Show me more, Honkai Star Rail!!!!

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 17: Blade x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4368

Warnings: Afab!reader, size difference, age difference, camgirl, voyeur, caught watching, sex toy (dildo), masturbation, spanking as punishment, a little hint of (forced) age play, infantilization, passing mention of pacifiers, cock warming (in mouth), Blade being a strict yet also perverted grandpa

A/N: Very excited about this one, personally 🤭 This is a little gift I wanted to do for a friend, you know who you are ❤️ and I hope you enjoy the fic!

⭐

It is in a rare moment of clarity that the man currently known as Blade finds himself wandering down the winding corridor of the ship. Elio’s ship. No, that wasn’t quite right. This is the Stellaron Hunters ship. 

Even if it technically belonged to their largely elusive leader, this was still a neutral safehaven for everyone in their merry little band of wanted criminals and the vast majority of it was considered communal property. He had every right to be here just as any of them did even if the only things he owned in it were the clothes on his back and his sword. 

Except — glancing up from his thoughts, Blade abruptly realizes he’s made his way into the hallway where the girls’ rooms were located. In all actuality he shouldn’t have been here. Not because of any rules or regulations, or even because any one of them had told him not to, but due to his personal boundaries and respect for their space. His own hardly used room was on the opposite side of the ship for a reason, and something he’d insisted on so as not to intrude on the daily routines or general comfortability of the fairer sex. 

Silver Wolf thought him old fashioned for it and called him names he didn’t fully understand the meaning of. 

Kafka had found it rather amusing, laughing that slow, drawling chuckle she does when something has managed to tickle her funny bone in earnest. 

Firefly even told him once that it was sweet of him to show them such consideration, though he knew not how that made any sense. It was only customary for men to give women their privacy, wasn’t it? 

And you … 

Slowing to a halt in the middle of the hallway, just a few paces down from your door, Blade abruptly realizes that that was what he was doing on this side of the hull. 

He’d felt compelled to see you and at this time of night it seemed likely he’d have better luck looking for you here than anywhere else. Clearly he hadn’t thought that through all the way though, otherwise he wouldn’t have suddenly found himself standing between Silver Wolf’s room and Kafka’s like some sort of creeping midnight wraith. If one of them caught him skulking around like this would they be upset with him? Would they look at him with suspicion and question his motives for being out in what was by all accounts their hallway at this late hour? 

Feeling a self conscious prickle start up at the base of his spine, Blade begins to turn so he can creep back the way he’d come from but a frustrated groan behind Silver Wolf’s door stops him in his tracks. He hesitates a moment before shuffling closer to just bring his ear up to listen. It’s badly muffled through the barrier and he can’t quite make out what it is she’s saying, but he could surmise that she must have been laying into someone rather colorfully through her headset. Gaming, no doubt. 

Straightening back up, the man currently known as Blade carefully considers the situation laid out before him. Young Silver Wolf was clearly much too preoccupied to notice his presence and Kafka was in all likelihood probably asleep by now, wearing her favorite eye mask to ensure she got a good night's rest. And if he recalled correctly, Firefly was off at the moment doing something at Elio’s request which only left … 

Silently turning on his heel again, he continues his onward trek past the line up of doors until he reaches yours down by the end of the corridor. His hand comes up to deliver a curt knock but this, too, gives him pause. If you were trying to sleep he didn’t want to disturb your rest or potentially frighten you, having someone unexpectedly rapping their knuckles at your door like that. So he murmurs your name instead, speaking only as loud as he thinks he needs to for you to hear him. 

For a long stretch of seconds he gets no response whatsoever and he soon decides that you must be tucked into bed already. Breathing out a terse sigh through his nose, he once again starts to turn and retrace his steps only for an odd little noise filtering through the door to give him pause. A quiet mewl that rises in pitch at the tail end before fading out with a threadbare rattle, by the sounds of it. How odd. Were you in pain? 

He stands there for another moment longer, just listening, until he at last catches that same breathy exhale again. Although he isn’t quite sure what to make of it, his thoughts meandering through a variety of possibilities that seem increasingly unlikely to him, he still ultimately decides that this warranted further investigation. After all, if you were in some sort of distress it would be wrong for him to ignore it. 

It’s not exactly curiosity that urges him closer to your door nor is it for entirely selfless reasons of magnanimity either. The insistent tug he feels in his chest to see you in one of his fleeting moments of cognizance is much more pressing than anything else, the rest just a convenient excuse as he turns his ear to listen. He says your name again, no louder than before, and still you do not respond. 

Carefully, Blade reaches for your doorknob and just tests its give. It almost registers as surprising when he finds it unlocked but he doesn’t stop long enough to question it. Barely turning it enough to ease the inner latch open, he pushes in only so far as to create a hair's breadth sliver of a crack which is where he bends his head to once again listen. 

A soft but insistent rustling noise. Another throaty sound. The soft click of something wet and warm, and welcoming that sends a dull spark of recognition racing through his mind. 

He doesn’t outright understand what it is he’s hearing but it’s as if some long dormant, primal part of his brain that is more beast than man recognizes it for what it is. His pulse quickens ever so slightly underneath his collar and he slowly works the door further open until he can peek around the edge of it. 

At first all he can make out is your empty bed and the resounding darkness that shrouds this side of the room. The other half is faintly lit by a dull glow that flickers just ever so slightly around the edges. He almost doesn’t do it, fully aware that it was not only rude but also highly inappropriate for a man to intrude on a woman’s private space in such a way, and yet he can’t quite seem to fight the compulsion to inch his way in to stand just inside your room, peering over at the corner and the source of that incandescent light. 

To his mild pang of surprise, you’ve got a small desk set up along the far wall with a custom built laptop open that looks to be of Silver Wolf’s creation, if he had to guess. The screen emits enough light for him to make out the immaterial shapes of all the bits and baubles you’ve collected over the years lined up in apparent disarray around the computer. Odd little cartoon cat figures which he knew Firefly to be equally enamored with, an old Clockie stuffed toy, various good luck charms and bracelets, a girlish jewelry stand, a stack of magazines and a small collection of perfume bottles lined up in some semblance of order. 

It does not leave him with an impression of someone who is on the IPC’s most wanted list, but rather it reminds him that despite everything else you were still just a girl. 

His girl. 

No. A girl who reminded him a bit too much of another girl he’d known several lifetimes ago for him to pretend like he didn’t see the similarities. 

And in front of all that clutter and the evidence of the person you are when you weren’t chasing down Stellaron’s with them, you’re sitting in a cushiony, pink fur lined chair with both feet propped up on the table, bracketing the softly humming laptop. For an extended moment Blade has no reasonable idea what you’re doing, registering only that your socks were mismatched, the rest of your legs bare and that your arm was restlessly moving in the space between your thighs. 

But then his gaze focuses in on the glowing screen and all at once he understands what’s happening. 

You’ve got the computer's webcam aimed at you in such a way that it records a close up shot of your lower half while the rest of you was largely obscured by the creeping darkness around you, effectively veiling your face from any clear identification. The feedback shows your pussy spread open around a thick, phallus shaped toy that heavily slides in and out of you in time with the flex of your hand. Those noises he’d heard suddenly make complete and total sense, as do the breathy little sounds you’re quietly making, and he feels suddenly warm with that knowledge. 

He knows he really shouldn’t be violating your privacy like this, like some kind of shameless voyeur, but … his attention shifts to the sidebar of the screen where a fast moving series of messages seemed to be coming in, one right after another. Were you streaming this for the entire cosmos to see? 

Something about that manages to truly shock him, and his chest expands with the sharp little breath he sucks in. It’s a small miracle that you don’t hear it and catch him red handed, but you’re evidently much too focused on working that toy inside you to be aware of much of anything else at the moment. And for a harrowingly long stretch of moments, the man currently known as Blade just stands there and watches you in transfixed disbelief. 

It’s hard to say if it’s just his age showing, great as it was especially when compared to yours, or if it’s the instinctive draw he felt towards you, that deeply rooted urge to protect even when you didn’t conceivably need to be protected, but he feels somehow angry about this. Not because of any potential security threats posed by your actions when he knew Silver Wolf would have taken care to ensure the computer and its signals couldn’t be easily traced. Nor is it even because of the fact you seem to be taking a great deal of pleasure in exposing yourself like this and getting off to a rapt audience of strangers, although that does bother him too a little bit. 

More than anything he finds that it’s the very notion, simple as it was, that other men were looking at you in such a vulnerable and exposed state of undress. That they were watching you, talking to you, making dirty comments at you and fisting their damned cocks while thinking about you. It was illogical that this should cause such a violent sense of unrest in his body when you weren’t actually his no matter how much he looked at you as if you were, but he can’t seem to wrangle it back under control now that it was swelling within him. 

He wasn’t exactly mad, at least not at you. Ticked off was probably the more accurate description and he doesn’t even attempt to hide it as he side steps further into the room so he can swing the door shut with an attention grabbing bang. 

You jolt so hard your chair seems in danger of tipping over when you bolt upright to twist around, looking over your shoulder at him with wide, startled eyes. For a moment you don’t seem to know how to react or even fully process the fact he’s standing there, but then your expression ever so slowly morphs into one of great confusion. 

“Blade? What are you doing in here?” 

“I came to see you but you didn’t answer when I called. I thought you were sleeping, not … this.” 

Here you start to look a little peeved. “So you just let yourself in? How long have you been standing there? I didn’t think I needed to lock my door at this time of - -“ 

“Turn it off.” 

“What?”

“I said,” He intones, stepping across the room in only a few short strides to loom over you. Leaning down to brace one bandaged hand across the back of your chair, he reaches out with the other to grab the top of the laptop and forcefully slam it shut hard enough to make you jump. “Turn it off.” 

Just sitting there in frozen stillness with your bare thighs weakly pressed together, you warily peer up at him from your lower vantage point before at last rousing yourself. “The webcam is still going. You need to turn off the actual stream first.” 

“I don’t care. I’ll smash the whole thing if that’s what it takes.”

A puzzled look crosses your face. “Why are you so upset about this? I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Oh, you’re doing plenty wrong, little Rabbit.” He says, intentionally keeping his tone low and even, watching your expression darken slightly at the use of your old code name. 

Blade knew you didn’t like it when he or any of the others called you that, but there were a great number of other things you didn’t like either. He was aware you didn’t like green vegetables very much, for example, even though he’d attempted to chide you into eating them on occasion. But you didn’t listen to him, just as you weren’t listening to him now. You also didn’t like when he would try to baby you as he so often felt compelled to do. It was frustrating and more than a little confusing when he himself was so often out of sorts due to his condition, and yet … 

It suddenly occurs to him as he’s looking down into your upturned face that this was the reason for his current upset. He wanted to dote on you and coddle you, protect that girlish side of you that he perceived as innocent, but good girls who got babied didn’t show their pussy to every corner of the universe. A lesson had to be taught here if he wanted to get through to you. This couldn’t be like the broccoli and the green peppers where he just let it slide, because this wasn’t half as harmless in his eyes. 

Slowly straightening at the idea that comes into his head, Blade cooly peers down at you from his elevated height. “You said it’s still recording?” 

A stilted, grumpy little nod. Such a brat. “Streaming, but yeah. It’s still going.” 

“Good. If you want to show off so much then let’s let the world see what happens to bad girls who don’t keep their legs closed.” 

Your head snaps up at that, genuine shock registering in your expression. But before you can recover enough to react he brings the hand on the back of your chair down to grab a biting fistful of your hair, giving it a subdued tug to keep you in place when you try to jerk away from him. He isn’t violent with you nor is he really even all that rough about it, just firm and unrelenting while he holds you there. 

Listening to you seethe and hiss like an incensed cat, he bends at the waist again to reach between your legs. You let out a startled squawk, socked feet sliding uselessly against the smooth top of the desk as you try to keep them closed to shut him out but it’s an effort in futility. He easily bullies his hand into the tight, warm space despite all of your desperate wriggling so he can grapple the toy from your hand and ease it out of your cunt. 

You issue a low, faltering sound as it slips away to a sticky wet little click, shuddering rather stiffly as you watch him set it aside on the cluttered table. Even with the only light source now coming from around the edges of the closed laptop he can still clearly make out the fine sheen of arousal coating the silicone when it glistens faintly in the dull glow. It’s enough to make him click his tongue in disappointment before redirecting his fingers to nudge at your feet where they’re still awkwardly braced on top of the desk. 

One yellow sock and one purple? Was he going to have to start dressing you too? 

“Down. Feet don’t belong on the furniture, Rabbit.” 

Shooting him a quick, heated glare, you grudgingly comply, curling your legs inward so that you can work them underneath the table in the awkward position you’re sitting in. You probably would have had an easier time of it if he’d let go of your hair, but he didn’t want you thinking about running off to escape your punishment. Besides, this wouldn’t even be happening right now if you hadn’t had your cunt shoved up in front of the camera to begin with. 

Stopping just long enough to flip the top of the computer back up and allow a bit more light so he can better see what he’s doing, Blade sternly nudges your head around to indicate what he wanted you to do. “Turn around. Kneel on the chair for me.” 

You grumble under your breath the whole time yet comply with this as well, slowly twisting around to get your legs under you before going up to clutch the backrest, facing out now. He follows you around throughout the process, using his hold to guide you into place, until he ends up standing directly in front of you. A quick look at the screen behind you confirms his suspicions. This was a perfect angle of your ass. 

“Dammit, Blade,” You seethe, clutching the chair so tightly it creaks under the pressure when he reaches down with his free hand to tug his belt loose. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? The way you were fucking yourself with that toy, I thought for sure you wanted a cock to play with.” 

A sharp, rattling gasp catches in your chest, peering up at him with a deeply flustered look. “Wh - I didn’t even think you knew those kinds of words … you’re so old fashioned about everything it almost feels wrong somehow.” 

He quirks a single brow at that, setting in to work at the front placket of his pants now. “I may be old, especially compared to you, but I am still a man. You would do well not to underestimate us of the opposite sex.” 

“I can see that.” 

Allowing you that final bitter grumble, Blade stiffly shoves his open pants down far enough for him to fish his cock out. He’s only half hard but rapidly filling out, and he takes himself in hand to pointedly nudge it at you, dragging the fleshy tip across your lips when you try to turn your face away. You were certainly stubborn but unfortunately for you he had nothing but patience and time to waste. 

“Open your mouth, little Rabbit. Let’s put it to better use than sassing your elders, hm?” 

Groaning a quiet sound when he tugs on your hair again, you glare daggers up at him from under the fall of your lashes. He gives you no chance to truly fight it though when his hold on you was as good as iron and his other hand was crowding insistently close to your face with his expectant cock. A cursory struggle is all you ultimately manage before he works your mouth open enough to slip it in, and you noise a muffled sound of protest at the abrupt sensation of spongy flesh on your tongue. 

“Do not bite.” He warns, allowing just enough of an edge to creep into his voice to indicate he was serious about that. “What’s wrong? You look upset. Isn't it customary to give little ones something to suck on in order to soothe them? Think of this then like a pacifier substitute. Something tells me you’ll appreciate it here in a moment.”

You noise a confused sound at that, keeping your eyes rolled up to suspiciously watch him. He says nothing further though, holding your head firmly in place with his hand while he leans forward to reach over you. 

Placing his opposite palm along your lower back, right under the raised hem of the fluffy hooded top you’ve got on, he drags it lower to feel along the feminine curve of your waist and then your hips. He realizes in a vague, distant sort of way that he’s seen you wearing this before. It was a two piece set, if he wasn’t mistaken, and the matching shorts were probably somewhere on the floor underneath the desk where you’d slipped them off before the fun started. It was astounding to him how shameless you were behind closed doors. 

But he plans to correct that, and as he heavily smooths his gloved fingers across the swell of your ass cheeks he takes a great deal of satisfaction in the way you shudder for him. It was likely that you were starting to guess at what he planned to do, and you whimper a sweet little sound that’s thoroughly muffled by his cock in your mouth. You don’t try to spit him out or test your luck with your teeth though, and that pleases him as well. 

It’s clear enough to him that you can be good, if you want to be, and he’s perfectly willing to give you that incentive, lifting his hand and then bringing it back down with a sharp clap across the fattest part of one cheek. You jolt so hard you almost seem to choke on the saliva gathering along your tongue as much as you do at the girth of him stretching your lips open. Still, you don’t fight him, so he quickly does the same to the opposite cheek. 

“Do you think this is what they wanted to see?” He murmurs, giving your fleshy backside a tight, pinching squeeze to make you squirm. “A bad girl getting spanked with another man’s cock in her mouth? I’m sure they're all quite disappointed in tonight’s show.” 

The only response you give is a plaintive little whine into his coarse thatch of pubic hair, struggling to ease your head back when his length slowly grows and fills out more. He keeps you held right where you are though, feeling himself start to tickle at the back of your throat now, and he groans a quiet sound as he brings his hand down on the first cheek again. 

“They’ll be even more disappointed when they find out this is the last time they’ll ever see you. Bent over, getting your behind smacked like a child. There will be no more of this nonsense, do you understand me?” 

You attempt to speak around him only to come up short, stiffly nodding your head instead. And he gives you no time to adjust or ease into the sting that’s no doubt settling over your ass the more he spanks you, peppering his hand back and forth between both cheeks to show them an equal amount of attention. Even in the faint glow of the laptop screen he can see your skin gradually darkening where he strikes you, the extra bite of his glove no doubt adding to the burn. And below that, in the feedback of the webcam, he can look at your poor, neglected little pussy where it’s peeking out from between your thighs. You really were a cute thing, and to this end he understood to an extent why you might enjoy showing off for strangers and being on the receiving end of their amorous gazes. 

But it wasn’t proper nor was it appropriate for a young lady such as yourself, and he just keeps spanking you until he can feel you shuddering with the sobbing, tiny cries that make your shoulders defensively bunch up. Only then does he pause to give you a short break while he lifts his hand to his mouth so he can bite the finger of the glove between his teeth and slide it off. 

When he reaches for you next, he’s struck by the stark contrast between his skin and yours. Where his fingers were battle hardened and littered with numerous scars, you were conversely smooth and nearly entirely blemish free. The size of his hand against your back also registers as pleasing, easily spanning almost the entire width of your waist despite the femininely wide set of your hips. He seems to dwarf you in every way, and he takes a moment to savoringly slide his calloused palm over your abused cheeks to really rub the hurt in and listen to you seethe. 

“Are you sorry, little Rabbit?” 

Sucking in a thick, wetly faltering breath, you give your head a plaintive nod as you noise an incomprehensible sound around his now stiffly rigid cock. 

He delivers another sharp swat to your ass, watching the meat of you jiggle from the force. His bare hand must hurt worse without the glove in the way, because you positively writhe against him, squealing helplessly while he grabs a tight handful of your throbbing skin to give it a squeeze. 

“Are you going to do it again?” 

You shake your head this time, restlessly shifting on your knees where you’re knelt for him. It’s almost enough to sway him, to make him feel enough pity for you to stay his hand, but he persists, knowing you wouldn’t learn your lesson if he wasn’t strict with you. Lifting his hand, he brings it back down on the other cheek to make you woundedly lurch against him with a smothered wail. 

“Good. I don’t want to have this talk with you again.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[nvuy]

omg did u see the sunday leaks ab his path and element..... hes also suspected to be released in 2.7 😭😭😭 sunday lovers r in agony rn

sunday potential leaks under cut;

aundayyyysyeyyyyy sundayydydyerrrerredder

hgrrgggggggggggggg

imaginary harmony… hehehehegrrrrrrrrrrrr

stellaron hunter aundaygrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

i always had this thing where you are an on call mechanic and you travel to planets and people commission you to fix their cars or their ships or whatever. you own a little warehouse on your home planet, whatever whatever.

you love your job. you’re also a bit of a grouch though. bit snarky, sarcastic, but you can offer some good advice if you need to.

you also happen to be the mechanic elio calls on when their ship needs repairs. it’s all completely secret. they call you in, you come on board, fix their shit, they pay you nicely, and then you leave.

you know them all well enough by now.

you’ve got elio who, when you come on board, says, “oh, by the way, watch the stairs on your way down.” (and surely enough you end up toppling down because there’s a loose step and you bruise your knee) (thanks for the warning). sometimes, you’re convinced he breaks their mangy old coffee machine just so you can visit again.

kafka loves to mess with you, but she means well. she enjoys a good chat, and sometimes when she’s not busy, she’ll follow you down to the engine and bring coffee. she drinks it black. gross.

she’ll ask about you, what you’ve been up to, how you’re feeling, whatever whatever. calls you beautiful, too. you guys probably kissed once. it’s sort of complicated.

blade is unfortunately your favourite. you love giving him giant hugs when you cross paths on the ship, and sometimes it’s like a reward when he returns the favour. at first you thought he was some big brooding hulk of a man, and then you learned he’s actually just some dude with really big arms. you also learn he owns bunny slippers and he likes pancakes, as weird as that is.

silver wolf cooks them best. you don’t really speak to her; she’s way too absorbed in her phone, but she thinks you’re cool. sometimes asks you questions about her PC or phone hardware and stuff, to which you reply, “i’m not tech support, weirdo.” she knows that, but your reactions are always fun. if kafka’s not around, she’ll show you the clothes she’s planning to buy online.

so you’re a common occurrence on the shuttle, sure. imagine your damn surprise when you stomp on board in the morning and when kafka greets you over her coffee, you accidentally shoulder check some random skinny dude (that’s not elio, because elio wouldn’t stand in the way at all) when you open the door.

you don’t pay it mind.

rather, you barely even notice and stalk over to the stupid machine while elio waves you a good morning. as you’re working, kafka leans on the bench next to you and offers you some of her coffee. it’s gross, but it keeps you awake enough to finish the job.

she’s chatting about whatever again until she falls comfortably silent.

“so, uh…” the machine buzzes to life as you plug it back into the wall. “what’s with angel face?”

she hums. “sunday.” she’s watching him now. silver wolf is showing him something on her phone, and he looks hilariously confused. “poor bird’s lost. flew too close to the sun.”

whatever that meant.

she takes her mug back from her hands. “why? like him?”

you hum lowly. when you turn and lock eyes with him, sunday quickly looks back down at silver wolf’s phone.

“handsome.” you weigh your options. “i think we’ll get along just fine.”

you were both doomed from the start, you and sunday. the pining was so obvious. you both practically chased each other around and then played it off as a coincidence when you bumped into to each other.

blade took it no mind, silver wolf gagged every time you two interacted. elio thought it was sweet, actually (he’s not surprised at how you two have developed). kafka plays wingwoman, because of course she does. she won’t voice it, but she thinks you both deserve to feel love again.