#blade fanfic

[lowkeyren]

reverse dating tropes w hsr men!

in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist

featuring — boothill, jing yuan, blade (separately) x gn!reader

✧.* — wc: total 1.5k, used up half my brain for this (the other half is for pt2 w aven sunday geppie!!), lovesick boothill + clingy jy + jealous blade fr, anyway pls enjoy! reblogs r appreciated <3

gepard aven sunday vers here!

boothill ꩜ .ᐟ

love at many sights with boothill whose memory card was tinkered with, and every time you meet, he thinks he's seeing you for the first time, so he falls for you over and over again. 

when boothill returned from a dangerous mission, it was evident that he had endured significant damage. his once sleek and polished exterior was now marred by dents and scratches, and his mechanical limbs were either partially missing or severely damaged. the exposed wiring, usually neatly tucked away beneath scraps of metals, now hung in tangled strands, sparking occasionally with residual energy.

he looked barely salvageable. it's safe to say that the mechanics had a hell of a time fixing him.

though they were skilled enough to piece him back together, his memory card wasn’t as lucky. a tinkering in his system left him incapable of recalling or retaining information in his synthetic brain, temporarily —leaving the mechanics scrambling to find a solution.

weeks later, you find yourself walking down the familiar corridors of the laboratory where your favourite cyborg is being held for reparation.

boothill’s eyes immediately land on yours when you enter the lab. “well ain’t this a surprise! haven’t seen ya in a good long while.” boothill drawls, tipping his hat your way, his voice carrying a metallic twang. 

"i heard you took a bit of a tumble, figured someone should come make sure you didn’t lose all your screws." you shrug nonchalantly, a smirk playing on your lips.

boothill's eyes flicker for a moment, taking in the curve forming on your lips. he thinks you’re adorable with that infectious smile of yours. 

“heh, nothin’ bad, just had a r-r-run in with some cuties" he says, failing to hide the glitch that caused his voice to stutter. (and that damn synesthesia beacon! he swears he’ll get it fixed this time around…)

“guess you took more than a tumble huh...” you lean casually against the workbench, the sterile scent of machinery and the hum of various devices filled the air; your gaze sweeps over the freshly repaired parts of boothill's metallic frame, “anyway, glad to see that you’re mostly fine now." 

“aww! do ya care ‘bout me?” he teases, his grin widening, revealing his pointy teeth peeking out mischievously. you don’t reply, your eyes glinting with the faintest hint of amusement dancing in them.

"boothill, we go through this every time, your memory card's still damaged. you forget things sometimes, so for the 5th time this week, yes i do care about you.”

boothill's expression shifts, a mixture of realization and sheepishness crossing his features. "right, right," he murmurs, scratching the back of his head with his metallic hand. "sorry 'bout that, sugar. guess i just keep forgettin'."

you chuckle and shake your head, finding the situation amusing. he feels like he might overheat from the sheer warmth radiating from your smile.

“you’re beautiful, date me.” (he didn’t mean to blurt that outloud)

you raise your eyebrows at the sudden compliment, “why thank you,” a surprised laugh escapes your lips.

“—and we’re already dating, silly.”

a shower of sparks erupts from his circuits, you can particularly hear the fans inside him sputter and whir. you rush to his side, concern etched on your face.

“wh- are you okay?! you’re short circuiting again!”

and this happens every time his memory lapses. you offer an apology to the mechanic on the next shift for the extra work required to fix yet another damaged wire after your visits. perhaps they should ban you from getting too close to boothill, lest he completely breaks down again like that one time where you told him, yes you actually kissed before.

jing yuan ୭ ˚.

"secret relationship" with jing yuan but he is completely unaware of how his public displays of affection towards you keep revealing the supposed secrecy of your relationship.

on the rare case that the general is found in his office, you are there too, beside him.

“pleeeease? just one kiss, really really miss you, darling”

“no jing yuan, not now…”

he wraps his arms around you as he leans in, caging you from the back. he rests his chin on your shoulder, “then how about a kiss on the cheeks?” he murmurs in your ear. you try to push him away, but he just chuckles softly against your neck, his arms still secure around you.

“no, and get off me before someone sees!” you protest, feeling your face flush from the close proximity, and the tightening of his arms suggests that he has no intention of releasing you just yet.

this stubborn man… you swear you’re gonna burst a blood vessel someday.

as if to echo your exasperation; he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, peppering it with nibbles and gentle kisses. jing yuan certainly knows how to test your limits, yet his affectionate gestures never fail to chip away at your resolve.

suddenly, a series of loud knocks come from the door, you freeze, and immediately attempt to wiggle your way out of his grasp. but he remains unfazed, his hold on you firm, and seemingly unbothered by the interruption.

the door bursts open, “general! there’s a situation at starskiff ha—ven...”  yanqing trails off as his eyes widen at your position. the room falls into a momentary silence as yanqing's gaze shifts between you and his general, his expression reflecting a blend of shock and embarrassment.

clearing his throat awkwardly, yanqing stammers, "i-im sorry for interrupting... i’ll t-take my leave now!” with a hurried nod, he practically sprints out of the room.

oh bless that kid’s poor eyes… 

you shoot a glare at jing yuan from the corner of your eyes, you just know that he has a shit eating grin on his face right now. nowadays, it’s probably common knowledge that the general’s most treasured person is you, evidently shown by how he latches himself onto you every time you’re within his vicinity. you wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of xianzhou knows about your supposed “secret” relationship.

“so… can i have my kiss now?” 

aeons, he’s insufferable. (you love him tho!!!!!)

blade ؛ ଓ

"fake dating" with blade but you are actually dating —somehow everyone is convinced you aren't.

“blink twice if you need help.” march whispers-shout; dan heng leans against the doorway, blocking the way into your room, nods in agreement.

“this is absurd… i’m alright guys, really!” you try to reassure your friends, frustration edging into your voice. though no matter how many times you insist that no blade isn't holding you hostage and that you are indeed in a relationship with him, they seem convinced otherwise, somehow deducing that you're not able to speak freely.

you sigh in resignation, knowing that they aren’t going to relent anytime soon, and with blade idling in your room, you can't afford to keep him waiting any longer. “dan heng please, let me through, he’s been waiting for me for the past 10 minutes now…”

“good, let him wait.” dan heng responds curtly. (what a guy)

march takes hold of your hands, “do you owe the stellaron hunters something, and him out of everyone?! he looks scary…and totally not your type!” 

“not their type?” a low voice rings out from behind dan heng, the three of you turn immediately and see blade looming at your doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“stellaron hunter. stay back.” dan heng furrows his eyebrows, his stance defensive as he pulls out his weapon, positioning himself to block you and march. sensing the growing tension, you step forward, reaching out to gently grasp at dan heng’s shoulder. 

(blade’s expression darkens at your hand resting on him)

“it’s okay dan heng, he means no harm.” dan heng hesitates, his grip on his weapon remains tight, but he doesn't move to strike. so you slowly move between him and blade, “see? i’m fine… he’s not gonna hurt me.” you smile reassuringly at your friends. 

just then, as if to further aggravate dan heng, blade settles his hand on your waist. dan heng’s hand is visibly twitching now. “what? can’t i touch what’s mine?”

dan heng’s eyes narrow, “...we still don’t believe you, leave now. before it’s too late.”

before you can interject, blade grabs your chin, silencing any words of protest with a sudden kiss. caught off guard, your eyes widen as the unexpected gesture leaves you momentarily stunned. but you soon reciprocate his kiss, his intensity drawing you in.

(march quickly covers her eyes with her hands)

“there. now leave us alone.” and with that, he pulls you into your room, slamming the door shut behind, pinning you against it. 

it’s just the both of you now, finally.

“did you really have to touch him.” his voice tinged with possessiveness. “blade, he would’ve hurt you, i didn’t mean—” he shuts you up with another kiss, more desperate this time, welp guess you’re stuck with him for the night.

though your friends might not believe that a person like you would “be in cahoots” with someone as dangerous as him; convincing them otherwise is a task for another time. tonight, he wants your attention focused solely on him, and him only.

✧.*

masterlist gepard aven sunday vers here!

[zhxngii]

Alhaitham & Blade having a crush on you

❏ ( notes ) ; This is my gift for @yanqingisim for the Secret Santa event by @solarisfortuneia, I hope you enjoy it &lt;3 ❏ ( contents ) ; PURE FLUFF! might be a bit of angst idk (surprise surprise.) , i tried to write these two tropes and I hope I did them well... sdjkhklasdme.

As Alhaitham's study buddy/research partner, he has a small (big) crush on you but doesn't know how you feel about him so he resorts to hiding his feelings.

How did he fall for you?

All it took was you truly being yourself around him. Usually, when he finishes a project with someone, he'd often hear them complain about how awkward it might've been or something along the lines of how frustrating his personality was... not that he cared though because in the end the project's done and he won't likely see them much.

You on the other hand... were a different case. He took note of how you tried to understand his side of things, not only yours, and how you tried your best to work with him despite how difficult or tiring it might've been. One thing he noticed was how determined you were with your research, and he found that attractive about you.

There used to be a point where he preferred to be alone but... you slowly became an exception as you two partnered up more.

What he does differently that gets your attention.

Alhaitham would eventually become aware of his feelings towards you, but isn't sure how you feel about him, so he'll keep it hidden away and to himself. Though, there will be a time he can't possibly just hide it anymore so what does he do?

He'll often start doing small things such as bringing his and your favorite snacks when you both take a break from all the work you've done so far. You wonder how he knew exactly what you liked and wanted at the moment at he just simply brushes it off by saying he just guessed... when really he took mental note of what you'd bring with you whenever you were with him.

Whenever you happened to catch him during his break, he puts his book down. Doesn't seem like such a big deal but... with anyone else, he wouldn't do as much as to spare a glance at them. He'd keep his eyes glued to the page he was on, not showing any bit of interest in the conversation that started with him since he wanted to be left alone already. But with you? The book can wait. You could've sworn that his eyes almost sparkle in a way whenever he looks up to see you.

Something cute he does.

Whenever you'd tell him a joke, he'll blush when you giggle at him. You find it adorable how when he doesn't get a joke, he'll often take it seriously and give such a long, textbook-based explanation. Once you explain to him, a look of embarrassment comes to his face but he'll laugh along with you at his own seriousness.

Blade's partner but the problem is that you two don't necessarily get along, he ends up developing a small crush on you, or rather a partnership as he would say in the long run.

How does he fall for you?

Blade wasn't very fond of you, the second he saw you he just didn't want you getting in his way of work. It didn't help how you two were often paired up with each other, on every mission no matter big or small, you two somehow were always stuck together.

He was always quite hard on you as your superior and he knew just how much you disliked him for how he treats you but the second you get injured... he gets worried sick. He knew you were strong on your own but knowing your clumsiness, he had to keep a close eye on you.

He's never once felt such the need to protect someone before, he thought it was just the way of a superior looking after the junior but... boy was he wrong. Soon it became more than just that kind of relationship between you two.

What he does differently that gets your attention.

He tends your injuries himself. Usually, he'd let someone else handle it, but he'd just do it himself as he wanted you to rest and be in bed as soon as possible. You didn't know how good he was at this kind of thing until that day.

He often holds your hand, leading your around with his hands tight around yours and the hilt of his sword. His excuse is that he wants to make sure you stay close to him and don't get lost, but in reality, he just wants to feel your hand in his. He'll give it a nice, firm squeeze from time to time, sometimes holding it longer than he intended.

He gives you small gifts of treats and items so you can take care of yourself when you both complete your tasks. Though he's the one that's literally helping you, he doesn't mind giving you a reward of such from time to time especially when the mission happened to take a toll on the both of you.

Something cute he does.

He becomes softer with you when it comes to winding down and relaxing, he'll take part in the little activities you enjoy even though it may seem totally out of his character but he's willing to enjoy it with you.

He'll even do such things as give you a nice hug, though the hug was mostly so he could enjoy your embrace around him as he relaxes into your arms. He loves the times like this when he can just be comfortable with you and not have to worry about being such a tough guy.

[wormdevourer]

bladie sketches :3

[satoruxx]

congrats on 200 followers!!

im thinking of hsr blade + reader who keeps throwing him corny science-y pickup lines :3

examples:

"if i had to choose between DNA and RNA, i'd choose RNA because it has U in it"

"are you an arrhythmia? because you just made my heart skip a beat"

"are you rheumatoid arthritis? because you make me feel weak in the knees"

(inspired by @/nathan_fang_'s science rizz on ig, theyre absolute gold)

pairing: blade x reader | 1.3k+ words summary: all fluff and crack, just a teensy tiny bit suggestive at the end but it's harmless, blade is TIRED, classic sunshine x grump trope bc we all secretly love it hehe a/n: AHHHH hello anon! this was so much fun to write omg !! blade is such a grump i love him. i don't know if i did him justice though lol. i really wanna pull for him but i spent all my savings on luocha sobs. anyways thank you thank you for your support and i hope you enjoy this <33

blade didn't mind working in pairs. normally, he worked well with the teammates he had. following kafka's plans usually ended with a success, and even as irritating as silver wolf could be, she had enough knowledge in her brain to get them out of sticky situations. he definitely didn't mind working with either of them.

you on the other hand, blade was unsure of. ok yes, in your defense, he knew that you were quite intelligent. you were well-versed in the lifestyles of many different galaxies, and you were the type of person who liked to research as much as you could before you stepped foot on a new planet. so the first day blade met you, he did truly believe you were a mature, all-knowing researcher joining the stellaron hunters.

that was before, though. while you still did come off as all-knowing, he now knew you were far from mature.

"will you please quit it?"

you grin cheekily, watching him pace back and forth in front of the locked door you both were hiding behind, on the look out for guards. his red eyes dart back and forth between the door and you as you sit at one of the computers, extracting some files for the mission.

"i'm just saying you could try to smile more, blade."

he scoffs, eyes lingering on you and your annoying grin for a second longer. "nothing to smile about in my life."

you snort, shaking your head as you absentmindedly tap at the screen. "well that's dramatic. you just need something to make you laugh."

"I don't see any funny people around here." he sneers, eyes narrowed as he shoots you a sarcastic grin. you place your hand on your heart in mock offense.

"i'll have you know i am very funny!" you say defensively, shooting him a glare. blade only raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

"sure thing. because everything you've ever said has got me positively giggling. now will you shut up and work faster so we can get out of here?"

a mirthless smile graces your face as you narrow your eyes at him in retaliation. "you just have no sense of humor." you mutter, turning back to the screen. blade rolls his eyes before resuming his lookout, though his gaze does wander back to you more times than he cares to admit. the room is silent save for the occasional clicks of the software you were accessing, and for a second blade thinks he misses the sound of your talking, but he pushes that thought aside.

you somehow seem to pick up on it though, because you speak up again. "hey blade?"

"what?"

"are you rheumatoid arthritis?"

he can't see your face with your back turned to him, and he seems to think you're seriously asking him a question, because he frowns and begins to speak. "are you stupid? do you mean to say do i have rheumatoid arthritis? because, you know that i do not-"

"because you make me feel weak in the knees!"

there's a tense silence as he stares at you, his brain trying to process what you just said. when it clicks his lips curl into a sneer and he groans.

"aeons, will you please shut up? you are so stupid why am i stuck here-"

"hey blade, if you were an element you'd be francium because you're the most attractive!"

his clicks his tongue as you giggle, finally standing up and making your way over to him after downloading all the data you needed. you peer at him mischievously, eyes scanning over his sour expression. "what, not even a smile? tough crowd."

he scoffs, opening the door and ushering you out in front of him so that he can keep an eye on you. "what, that was your strategy? stupid nerdy pick up lines? try harder."

"you're underestimating my resolve, bladie. i will get you."

he hums absentmindedly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at you as he peers down halls for any enemies before sending you the signal to keep walking.

you clear your throat, and he sighs as you begin your inane antics once more. "you must be a good benzene ring because you are so aromatic!"

"stop it right now."

"you must be made of uranium and iodine, because i can see U and I together!"

he pauses, eyes narrowing as a weird tumble occurs in his chest. he glares down at you from the corner of his eyes, trying his best not to dwell on it because aeons above you were just being stupid. he hears you laugh under your breath, and he's about to scold you once more before he hears voices approaching.

"shut up. guards." he orders quietly, pulling your arm back so that you're now hiding behind the wall with him. he watches them carefully, scarlet eyes scanning for any sudden movements as he keeps you behind him. suddenly he feels your finger poke at his bicep as you whisper:

"are you a carbon sample? because i really wanna date you!"

blade feels his face grow hot as he glares at you angrily. he immediately turns around and presses a bandaged hand over your mouth, leaning in close to hiss at you. "you idiot. didn't i say shut up? they're right there!"

you reach up to pull his hand away from your face, though your fingers continue to hold his as you give him another cheeky smile.

"ooh," you whisper dramatically, grinning at his close proximity. "are you a heart arrhythmia? because you just made my heart skip a beat!"

blade's eyes dart all over your face, and he ignores the way that it feels like his brain is short-circuiting since it's probably just because of how reckless you're being. instead he just opts for rolling his eyes and clamping his hand back over your mouth. you let him this time, though he can still tell you're smiling by the way your eyes crinkle.

as soon as the coast is clear, he's leading you back to the ship without a word. the entire way there, you continue to drop more of your stupid lines, and he only gives you annoyed groans in response.

by the time you both are safely back, he's had enough of you.

"-you have 11 protons? because you're sodium fine!" you giggle, and blade's eye twitches once before he's turning around and getting in your face once more. his eyes bore into yours as he smirks.

"oh yeah? if i was an enzyme, i'd be dna helicase, just so that i could unzip your genes." he says, keeping his voice even as he stares at you.

your jaw drops, face heating up at the unexpected turn of events as you stumble over a response. "w-wait, you-!"

"what? you've been yapping my ear off about how great our chemistry is. don't you think we should do some biology together too?" he smirks, red eyes lighting up as he takes in your flustered expression.

"well that's not what i-!" you pause, breath hitching as he leans closer and brushes a strand of loose hair out of your eyes. he chuckles under his breath, peering at you through his bangs.

"damn. you must be an alkali metal. one touch and already highly reactive, huh?"

"blade!" you hiss, eyes darting away from him and he finally relents, pulling back to watch you with an amused grin. you clear your throat, almost like you know how caught off guard you look. "i have to go...report to kakfa."

he bites back a grin, watching you leave through the dark strands of his hair. so flustered that you didn't even realize that in the end you did get him to smile? how amusing.

he laughs quietly to himself, shaking his head. maybe, just maybe, he could try to ask elio to make you his partner permanently.

[elysiumania]

title: fragile reflections pairing(s): blade, reader characters: blade, kafka, silver wolf, elio word count: 6.4k synopsis: as the moment unfolds, you believed victory was within your grasp, only to be met with an unexpected twist of fate. blade emerges as the ultimate victor, proving that when it comes to skill and long-lasting life, he surpasses you. this realization instills a profound understanding that there are depths to blade's abilities that outshine your own.

Within the expansive confines of the Stellaron Hunters' concealed headquarters, the training ground resonated with the thunderous clash and rhythmic swish of a finely honed blade slicing through forged metal. Overlooking the spectacle, nestled within the confines of the state-of-the-art modular training room, stood Silver Wolf. Her piercing gaze surveyed the scene below, attentively observing the unfolding exhibition of martial prowess.

Amidst the orchestrated chaos, a man emerged as the focal point, his dark blue-hued tresses swirling through the air with an untamed grace. Embodied by an aura of controlled ferocity, he stood resolute amidst the whirlwind of activity, embarking on an unyielding encounter with the meticulously crafted training machines. These automatons, a testament to the ingenuity of the hunters’ skilled hacker, were no match for his formidable abilities.

The man's eyes, ablaze with an otherworldly crimson radiance, mirrored his innermost desires—a primal longing for the thrill of battle and the exhilaration of spilt blood. Yet, his movements betrayed a grace and finesse that belied the raw intensity burning within. With each step and strike, he danced effortlessly amidst the mechanical foes, his lithesome form evading their onslaught with a combination of instinct and honed skill.

As the clash of steel echoed through the training grounds, the air hummed with an electric energy, captivating all who bore witness to this display of martial artistry. The man's proficiency with the blade was unparalleled, his strikes executed with a precision that showcased years of disciplined training. It was as if he had transcended mere mortal limitations, his every motion a testament to the consummate fusion of mind, body and spirit.

For the past half-hour, Silver Wolf had maintained a silent vigil, her unwavering focus fixated on the unfolding spectacle before her. The training ground had become an arena of chaos, a maelstrom of clashing blades and rending metal that assaulted her senses. Each swing and strike from Blade echoed with a thunderous noise that reverberated through the cavernous space.

In any other circumstance, Silver Wolf would have sought solace in the virtual worlds or reveled in a rare day of reprieve from their demanding mission. But today was different. She had chosen to remain, to bear witness to the sheer might and skill emanating from her comrade. The resounding clash of metal, though deafening, was a testament to Blade's unrivaled prowess and the inherent dangers they faced as Stellaron Hunters.

The vision of Silver Wolf partaking in a well-deserved respite, following the successful completion of their latest mission under the watchful guidance of Elio, now felt like a fleeting dream. Her companion, an insufferable and insatiable man, wasted no time in asserting his insatiable appetite for training, demanding a veritable army of automatons upon their return to the headquarters.

Silver Wolf's eyes flickered with a blend of disbelief and exasperation as she cast a skeptical glance on Blade. The audacity of his request, to acquire a multitude of automatons at this critical juncture, bordered on the absurd. Yet, as her gaze locked onto the fiery intensity burning within Blade's eyes, brimming with an insatiable thirst for combat, she found herself with little choice but to yield to his demand. It wasn't a matter of feeling inferior to him; rather, it served as an unspoken recompense for his timely intervention, saving her from the relentless assault of their adversaries during their pursuit of the elusive stellaron.

The notion of indebtedness was an unwelcome concept in Silver Wolf's mind. She harbored an intense aversion to the notion of owing favors, and her unyielding resolve demanded immediate action to settle any debts that may have accrued. She refused to bear the weight of obligations and burdens, even if Blade himself never entertained such thoughts.

Thus, despite her yearning for respite and the solace of her personal quarters, Silver Wolf felt compelled by her sense of duty to discharge the debt owed to Blade. She comprehended that the conception of reciprocation scarcely traversed his mind, but she remained steadfast in her commitment to uphold her principles and ensure a clean slate, devoid of any lingering sense of obligation.

As Blade's onslaught continued, the metallic chorus reached its zenith, rising to an overwhelming crescendo that permeated the air with a symphony of strife. Each strike from Blade's sword, an extension of his very being, carried a ferocity that shattered the training machines like fragile porcelain, leaving behind a trail of broken fragments strewn across the field of the training ground. The scattered remains, akin to fallen soldiers on a hard-fought battlefield, bore witness to the magnitude of his prowess and the unyielding force that coursed through his veins.

Silver Wolf, deeply engrossed in her tenth endeavor to activate an array of diverse automatons, was abruptly startled from her task by the distinct sound of the glass door being swung open. Swiftly swiveling her chair, she found herself confronted by the unexpected sight of Kafka and yourself entering the room.

Kafka, her characteristic mischievous smile gracing her features, strode in with an air of familiarity, while you accompanied her with an enigmatic expression that concealed your immediate intentions. With a friendly flourish of your hand, you greeted Silver Wolf, offering a warm acknowledgement of her presence within the room.

"Oh, so here you both are," Kafka exclaimed, her voice brimming with a delightful blend of inquisitiveness and amusement. "I've been searching for you and Bladie since some of the crew informed me that you've returned from your mission and ventured off to the training grounds."

Silver Wolf nodded in response, her attention momentarily diverted from Blade's fierce swordplay outside the glass, as Kafka continued to observe the intense spectacle. 

"Yes, once we arrived, Blade wasted no time in requesting the use of my machines for his training," she replied wearily, a hint of exhaustion lacing her voice. "Perhaps he needed an outlet to release some pent-up tension."

Letting out a weary sigh, Silver Wolf turned her gaze towards you, seeking to understand your presence in the room. "And what about you, (Name)?" she inquired, her eyes reflecting both curiosity and a touch of fatigue. "What brings you here?"

You cast Kafka a sidelong glance, a mixture of amusement and exasperation gleaming in your eyes, as she posed her question. "Kafka practically dragged me away just as I was en route to the cafeteria for some nourishment."

Kafka, undeterred by your response, tilts her head and playfully queries, "Aren't you eager to offer a warm welcome to our esteemed hunters, freshly returned from their mission?" Her smirk reflects a mischievous glint in her eyes.

In response to her playful inquiry about welcoming the returning hunters, you and Silver Wolf exchange furtive glances, silently sharing an unspoken understanding. Finally, you turn your attention back to Kafka, and in a casual tone, you confess, "I suppose... my inclination does not lean particularly in that direction."

Kafka's laughter resounded through the room, a vibrant eruption, carrying a sense of carefree exuberance that seemed to emanate from the depths of her very being. As her laughter subsided, she addressed you, her voice tinged with amusement and a mischievous undertone that laced her words with playful teasing. 

"(Name)," she remarked, her tone a delicate balance between jest and genuine curiosity, "You truly possess an air of rigidity. Perhaps it's time to unwind and embrace a lighter approach? Or perchance the allure of embarking on another mission has been gnawing at you during this month of dormancy within the confines of our headquarters?"

Your response was involuntary, a subtle scrunching of the nose and the formation of a deep crease upon your forehead betraying the truth behind Kafka's astute observation. You could not deny it—the restlessness had taken root within you, a persistent itch that fueled an insatiable yearning for the thrill of a fresh mission. The boundaries of the headquarters, once a bastion of purpose and strength, had gradually become stifling and confining. They now dulled your finely honed skills and eroded your sense of self, leaving you yearning for the exhilaration and purpose that only a new endeavor could provide.

Elio's firm determination to keep you on the sidelines remained a confounding enigma, a perplexing puzzle that teased at the corners of your mind. Initially, it was easy to attribute it to the critical mission undertaken by Kafka and Silver Wolf as they infiltrated Herta's impregnable space station. Yet, as the days stretched into weeks, and missions were deftly assigned to other members, the absence of targeted orders directed specifically to you left you adrift in a sea of bewilderment, seething with an all-consuming anger that threatened to consume you whole.

The sheer absurdity of the situation only served to exacerbate your mounting frustrations. The knowledge of your capabilities, honed through countless trials and triumphs, echoed relentlessly in your mind, a reminder of your worth and the contributions you could offer to the cause. It was as if the very essence of your purpose had been cast aside, relegated to the shadows while others took center stage. The tempest of emotions churned within, a potent blend of indignation, resentment, and a simmering sense of injustice that surged through your being.

In the depths of your mind, a maze of questions twisted and turned, their answers elusive like phantoms in the mist. Doubts, like shadows, crept insidiously into your thoughts, their insidious tendrils probing the very core of your existence. 

Did Elio harbor reservations about your capabilities? Was there a seed of doubt that had taken root, deeming you unfit to face the arduous challenges that the missions entailed? Perhaps, in his eyes, your presence posed a lurking liability, casting a shroud of uncertainty upon the success of the team's endeavors. The lack of clarity, like a gust of wind, fanned the flames of speculation and self-doubt, igniting a tempestuous storm within your consciousness.

Yet, amidst the tumultuous sea of uncertainty and frustration, there remained a steadfast trust in Elio, an unfaltering belief that he held intricate plans concealed beneath his enigmatic demeanor. His clairvoyant abilities, whispered in hushed reverence, carried an aura of mystique and substance. Elio possessed a talent for speaking in riddles, weaving his messages with an intricate tapestry of words that masked the full extent of his intentions. 

His every utterance, like ancient prophecies, cast a tantalizing veil of intrigue over his actions. And while this ambiguity often left you grappling in the dark, struggling to decipher his enigmatic clues, you understood the weight and significance of such abilities. You never wavered in acknowledging the gravity of his visions.

But the absence of any inkling, any morsel of guidance regarding your current state of uncertainty, left you adrift, much like a solitary vessel lost amidst the boundless sea. Each step forward felt like stumbling through an enigmatic labyrinth, where the path ahead remained concealed within a dense fog of ambiguity, teasing your senses and confounding your every decision.

Even Kafka, Elio's most trusted confidante, seemed devoid of insight into your predicament. As she and the other stellaron hunters departed for their daring missions, a bittersweet envy flickered in your eyes—a longing to be part of their adventures, to embrace the thrill of the unknown. Sensing your yearning, Kafka became a beacon of solace, assuring you with words of encouragement that your turn would come, that destiny would soon unveil its plans for you. In an effort to offer further solace and a tangible connection to their journeys, she promised to return with souvenirs from the exotic worlds they traversed—a gesture brimming with thoughtfulness and consideration.

In those moments, a profound sense of gratitude swelled within you, radiating warmth amidst the desolation of your stagnant existence. Kafka's kindness, though seemingly small in the grand scheme of things, became a lifeline—a fragile thread of connection that alleviated the monotony of your prison-like days. Each trinket or token she brought back became a cherished treasure, a fleeting glimpse into the worlds beyond, a portal through which you could briefly escape the confines of your confinement.

Returning back to your senses, you regard Kafka's question again. "Yes, I am. I want to go on a mission after getting stuck here like a prisoner. I feel useless when I'm the only one being left here while the four of you are going on a hunt."

As the weight of your words settles in the air, Kafka's keen eyes scan your face with an understanding born out of years spent in companionship and shared experiences. She recognizes the subtle nuances, the minute shifts in your countenance, that reveal the emotions you struggle to conceal—the bitterness, the sense of unfairness that tugs at the corners of your lips, threatening to spill forth.

In the beginning, when you first joined the ranks of the stellaron hunters, you wore a cloak of mystery, distancing yourself from the others and erecting walls that shielded your true self from prying eyes. But over time, a gradual transformation occurred, and the fortress of stoicism you once donned began to crumble, revealing glimpses of vulnerability and authenticity. The layers peeled away, revealing new facets of your being, and Kafka, ever perceptive, observed this change with a mixture of satisfaction and contentment. It was evident to the growing trust between you, a sign that the bonds of fellow hunters had woven themselves deep within your heart.

Kafka's gaze lingers on your face, her own expression a mirror of understanding. She acknowledges the frustration that simmers within you, the yearning to break free from the confines of your confinement, to once again venture on missions that test your skills and ignite your spirit. Her voice, when it comes, carries a gentle reassurance.

"I understand," she says, her words a soothing balm to the restlessness that churns within your soul. "It is natural to feel that way, to crave the thrill of the hunt when you are left behind. But trust that Elio has his reasons, hidden though they may be. We are Destiny's Slaves and each role we play is integral to our collective success. Your time will come, (Name), and when it does, you are free to do as you wish."

Her words, spoken with the weight of sincerity, convey a profound understanding and an unyielding faith in the tapestry of destiny that intertwines your fates. In her eyes, there is no doubt, no hesitation even if Kafka's a known mischievous and enigmatic woman. 

But for you, you are aware that the temporary reprieve that enveloped you in its gentle embrace couldn't mask the underlying truth that gnawed at your core. As the moments of ease slipped through your fingers like sand, you were acutely aware that the specter of frustration loomed just beyond the horizon. Tomorrow, or another day when clarity continued to elude you, the weight of unanswered questions and unfulfilled purpose would resurface, seeping back into your consciousness like a relentless tide.

You knew all too well that the calm facade you wore today would eventually crumble, giving way to the storm of emotions that swirled within. It was a cycle, a rhythm that played out time and again, leaving you caught in the perpetual dance of anticipation and disappointment. The weight of confusion pressed upon your shoulders, reminding you that the unwarranted luxury of relaxation could never truly drown out the echoes of unfulfilled aspirations.

With a languid tone, Kafka muses, her index finger thoughtfully placed upon her chin. "Were I in your shoes," she begins, "I would readily savor this moment of respite. It is undeniably a luxury to indulge in relaxation, considering the demanding nature of our profession. So, I intend to seize the opportunity and start on my own personal vacation, unburdened by responsibilities or concerns."

As Kafka's words flowed from her lips, a discernible undercurrent of longing wove through her tone, resonating with the weight of her unspoken desires. You, intimately acquainted with her journey as a stellaron hunter, recognized the deep-seated yearning that permeated her speech. Countless missions, each one demanding and arduous, had been entrusted to her capable hands by Elio himself. The weight of responsibility she carried, shouldering the expectations and trust placed upon her, was immense.

You understood the toll that her consecutive missions had taken on Kafka, the toll that went beyond physical exertion and delved into the field of emotional and mental fatigue. The constant vigilance, the endless pursuit of dangerous prey, had become a relentless cycle that left her yearning for a respite, a momentary escape from the burdensome load she carried.

In her role as Elio's confidante, Kafka bore the heavy weight of his trust like a skilled conductor, orchestrating and executing missions with unwavering dedication. The weight of her responsibilities was akin to an intricately woven tapestry, each thread representing a mission, a life entrusted to her capable hands. With each passing day, the tapestry grew denser, the threads multiplying, until it threatened to engulf her entirely. The need for a vacation, a respite from the constant whirlwind, had become an urgent necessity.

In that fleeting moment, a vivid tableau painted itself before your mind's eye, depicting Kafka liberating herself from the binding chains of responsibility. It was her very essence yearned to break free from the constraints of their esteemed profession, to venture forth into a realm where her worries and obligations held no sway. The palpable longing in her eyes spoke volumes, revealing an ardent desire to partake in the unadulterated joys of unfettered freedom and self-gratification. 

Hence, you understand the reason why she said those words. You have no say.

As if a thunderous clap resounded through the training grounds, seizing your collective attention, you and the two others turned to witness Blade's final strike cleaving through the last vestige of Silver Wolf's intricate machine. In an instant, the room fell silent, save for the lingering echoes of destruction. And with an abrupt motion, Blade's gaze darted at the modular training room where the three of you are settled.

Silver Wolf, weariness etched upon her visage, heaved a weary sigh, as she already sensed the message conveyed by Blade's piercing gaze alone. No words were necessary, as he stood amidst the remnants of conquered contraptions strewn across the field, his silent proclamation resounding through the air.

Through the telecoms of the training ground, Silver's voice resounds as she addresses Blade, "Blade, there are no automatons remaining. You have successfully eradicated them all with your own hands. However, please be aware that my machines require a week's time before they can be utilized once again."

If Silver Wolf remembers it correctly,  her role did not encompass the creation of machines solely for Blade's destructive pleasure. She was not a mere servant to fulfill his whims, nor was she bound by duty to tirelessly churn out automatons to cater to his insatiable desires. The incessant demands placed upon her by her relentless fellow hunter had taken a toll, leaving her exhausted and irritable.

Each time Blade laid waste to her meticulously crafted machines in the training grounds, Silver Wolf couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration. The weariness etched upon her features betrayed the burdens she bore, both physical and emotional. While she harbored a deep desire to repay her debts to Blade, the situation had become an unfair and one-sided exchange, tilting the scales heavily in his favor.

Kafka's sudden suggestion catches both your and Silver Wolf's attention, prompting a moment of consideration. "Why not have (Name) and Bladie engage in a sparring match?" Kafka proposes, her idea arising unexpectedly. "Such an arrangement would prove mutually beneficial. (Name) would satisfy their longing for action, while Bladie would find the increased engagement they desire. It appears to be a win-win situation for both parties involved."

Kafka's mischievous eyes sparkled with a glint of amusement as her voice danced through the training ground, intentionally allowing Blade to overhear her suggestion. Her gaze fixed upon him, her smirk conveying a challenge, as she eagerly anticipated his response. Yet, Blade remained stoically unmoved, his back turned to her, his sword dismissed with a graceful and masterful flourish by his side.

Kafka's lips stretched into a satisfied smile, her keen perception allowing her to discern the unspoken affirmation within Blade's deliberate actions. Understanding his silent agreement, she shifted her attention towards you, her gaze beckoning for your input on the matter.

A brief pause enveloped the space, as silence settled and anticipation hung in the air. You released a defeated sigh, the weight of confinement and monotony lingering within you. With a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, you conceded, realizing that Kafka's proposal would at least provide some thrill from the mundane.

Kafka's smile broadened, a sense of satisfaction emanating from her as both parties seemed to lack any objections to her proposition. It was a small victory, a chance to break free from the confines that had threatened to stifle you and Blade.

Blade stood motionless in his place, his gaze scanning the remnants of destruction that sprawled across the training ground. However, his attention was swiftly seized by the resonant sound of the training ground's doors swinging open. As you strode purposefully through the wide expanse, skillfully navigating your way through the scattered debris he had left in his wake, your eyes remained fixated upon his form, an enigmatic gaze he could never decipher, characterized by a nonchalant and constant composure.

His gaze mirrored yours, displaying a seemingly relaxed countenance that belied the overflowing bloodlust teeming from within him. Though his intention was shrouded in silence, it seeped through your senses, an undeniable presence.

As the distance between you and Blade dwindled, you held your gaze steadfast, meeting his own undaunted stare, devoid of any discernible emotion.

"As ceaseless in your hunger as ever, Blade," you greet him, your words ringing out into the air. However, his silence in response carries no weight or significance for you. It is a familiar sight, one reminiscent of your initial encounter with him.

Blade, unmoving and stoic, continues to watch you with his penetrating gaze. His scrutiny holds no sway over you, a gaze you have grown accustomed to his presence. Undeterred, you take a deliberate step forward, drawing your sword from its sheath with a fluid motion, the glimmering steel catching the light. The air hums with anticipation as you dismiss your weapon with an echoing swish, slicing through the atmosphere.

Blade, unflinching and immobile by your display, remains rooted in his stance. But, a flicker of something unfamiliar dances in his eyes—a glimmer of intrigue and amusement. He witnesses the burning thirst for thrill and the desire to spar that radiates from your very being. The intensity in your eyes, flickering with resolve, is a novel sensation for Blade. It sparks a response within him, a twisted desire to challenge and crush the confidence that brims so palpably within you that both intrigued and repulsed him.

In a suspended moment, pregnant with anticipation, you launched yourself towards Blade with an almost ethereal swiftness, the weight of your sword firmly gripped in your hands. The clash of steel ringing through the air as your sword descended upon him, driven by precise movements and burning hunger. Yet, Blade's reflexes, honed to an unparalleled degree, proved to be a formidable match for your assault. With a seamless display of skill, he skillfully blocked each of your rapid strikes, his own weapon bearing the marks of wear and tear, cracks tracing intricate patterns along its surface.

The resounding clash of your weapons sent tremors through the vicinity, accompanied by fleeting sparks that illuminated the battlefield in transient bursts. As Blade caught a glimpse of your dauntless gaze, brimming with determination and purpose, his smirk deepened, a silent acknowledgement of the intensity mirrored within you. He recognized the fire that burned in your soul, a flame that drove you forward in relentless pursuit of your ambitions.

Blade, however, held no interest in venturing beyond the realm of fellow hunters, his attention solely devoted to the field of skills and accomplishments. Delving into the depths of personal connections held no allure for him, save for the exceptional regard he reserved for Kafka and Elio. Driven by a dedicated desire to achieve the goals that coursed through his veins, he remained focused on his own path, unfazed by the currents that surged within the hearts of others.

Throughout the course of your shared missions, you and Blade maintained a professional distance, seldom engaging in more than the necessary interactions. Under the guidance of Elio, you would receive your instructions and embark on your respective tasks, reconvening only upon completion to report back.

Formerly, Blade held a dismissive perception of you—a figure he regarded as weak and lost, shrouded in the barriers you had erected around yourself. It was an impression born out of his keen ability to read others, to discern their strengths and weaknesses. But, his perception underwent a remarkable shift during your first mission alongside Kafka.

Witnessing the fluidity and finesse with which you wielded your sword, Blade's insight went through a profound metamorphosis. The elegant ballet of steel that exuded from your movements transcended any experience he had hitherto encountered, stirring within him a voracious curiosity about the depths of your mastery. From that moment forward, a new chapter unfurled as Blade assumed the role of an astute observer, his gaze etching every detail of your technique upon the canvas of his memory. He painstakingly absorbed the intricacies of your attack patterns and unraveled the enigma of your abilities, seeking to fathom the unfathomable depths of your prowess.

With each passing day, his respect for you as a formidable swordsman grew.

In Blade's vantage point, the encounter with you held a level of intrigue and stimulation far surpassing any battle against Silver Wolf's machines. While facing off against the onslaught of thousands of automatons showcased his prowess and efficiency, this live duel against you offered something more—a truly worthy challenge that ignited his senses.

As the clash of your blades echoed through the training ground, Blade's eyes gleamed with a hunger that surpassed mere bloodlust. It was an insatiable craving for the exhilarating dance of steel, for the unpredictable nature of combat, and for the opportunity to test his skills against a formidable opponent. In this battle, he found a worthy adversary, one whose abilities and strategy pushed him to his limits.

With each decisive strike, you threw yourself into the battle, channeling the very essence of your skill and resolve. Every movement was executed with precision, a testament to your unfaltering focus. Your eyes blazed with a fiery intensity, reflecting the sheer force of your will as you sought to assert your dominance over Blade.

But Blade, in all his arcane prowess, met your assault with a calm and calculated grace. His responses were swift and deliberate, a proof to his mastery of the sword. Like a dance of shadows, he effortlessly parried your attacks, his sword and arms forming an impenetrable fortress against your relentless onslaught. It was as if he possessed an innate understanding of your every move, countering each strike with a calculated precision that left no room for error.

As the clash persists, a silent exchange of energy passes between you. Blade, ever perceptive, keenly sensed the depth of your thirst for battle. He recognized the hunger that emanated from you, a longing to once again immerse yourself in the chaotic embrace of combat. The frustration and pent-up energy that had accumulated during your days of confinement now surged forth, propelling you to unleash your skills with an intensity that bordered on desperation.

In the face of your unleashed power, Blade couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. It was a rare sight to witness someone so driven, so resolute in their pursuit of victory. As he deftly countered each of your strikes, a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, an acknowledgment of your ferocity. In that moment, he found a profound sense of amusement, knowing that he not only matched your skills but surpassed them.

The battle between you and Blade became a spectacle, an exhibition of skill and strength. Each strike of swords painted a vivid picture of your excellence and his mastery. It was a dance of swords, a symphony of movement and strategy, woven with the threads of anticipation and calculated aggression. As the battle intensified, the air crackled with an electric energy, a testament to the sheer force of your wills colliding in this epic encounter.

Blade's relentless assault continued, his sword slashing through the air with an almost supernatural speed and rigor. You found yourself on the defensive, struggling to block and dodge his relentless attacks. The weight and speed of his strikes pushed you further into a corner, forcing you to rely on every ounce of skill and reflexes you possessed.

Amidst the tumultuous fray of battle, Blade seized an opportunity and struck you with a powerful blow to the gut, leaving you momentarily winded and gasping for breath. Stepping back to regain your composure, you felt the sting of the strike reverberate through your body. Yet, you refused to let it break your spirit. Your senses remained sharp, your determination unyielding, as you knew that conceding defeat was not an option.

Blade, ever persistent, cared little for your momentary falter. His intention was clear: to continue his interminable assault until you either met his level or conceded defeat. With each impact of his strikes, a devilish grin stretched across his face, a telltale sign of the satisfaction derived from engaging in a worthy contest.

Like a bolt of lightning, Blade hurled himself towards you once again, his attacks unrelenting and fierce. He craved the thrill of a true challenge, and in your resilience, you provided him with the fulfillment he sought. The storm of your swords echoed about, a demonstration  of your determination to match his relentless onslaught.

Amidst the chaos of the battle, Blade's keen perception caught a subtle transformation in your demeanor. The flicker of surprise and fleeting perturbation that had briefly graced your countenance dissipated, giving way to the familiar mask of impassivity that often cloaked your features. It was as if a switch had been flipped within you, triggering a shift in your disposition.

In that fleeting moment, the veneer of indifference that settled upon your expression hinted at a potent force lying dormant within, waiting to be unleashed upon your foes. 

This revelation served only to stoke Blade's already burgeoning excitement, evident in the widening smirk that etched itself across his face. His eyes sparkled with a sinister gleam, for this was the very reaction he sought from his foes—a complete abandonment of mercy, a resolute absence of reservations, and an unyielding determination to unleash havoc upon the battlefield.

He wants more. More of it.

In the heat of the battle, Kafka and Silver Wolf stood as ardent witnesses to the captivating spectacle that unfolded before them. Their eyes remained transfixed upon the clash of wills between you and Blade, their hearts pounding in fervent anticipation with every strike and parry that reverberated through the air. The atmosphere crackled with a heated charge, resonating with the tangible intensity that filled the space.

Amidst the ceaseless exchange of blows, you delved deep into the reservoir of your vast experience and honed skill. Every fiber of your being became singularly attuned to the intricacies of Blade's movements, a masterful analysis seeking out the faintest glimmer of vulnerability to exploit. The passage of time seemed to elongate, granting you a heightened perception of Blade's lightning-swift strikes within a mere fraction of their usual cadence. With augmented senses and a razor-sharp mind, you deftly navigated the elegant dance of blades, executing each move with calculated precision.

Taking a moment to draw a deep, fortifying breath, your firm gaze locked onto a concealed weakness, a blindspot inadvertently revealed by Blade in his relentless assault. It was a fleeting instant of lucidity amidst the swirling chaos—a moment of clarity that held the potential to alter the course of the battle. Fueled by an indomitable will power, you readied yourself to unleash a calculated counterattack, seizing the opportune moment that lay before you.

With a steady grasp upon the hilt of your sword, a swift and deliberate strike was unleashed, finding its mark upon Blade's right chest with unparalleled precision. The steel pierced through the tender flesh, a testimony to the accuracy and skill imbued within your every movement.

From the depths of the inflicted wound, a single rivulet of crimson emerged, staining the air with its presence. Yet, the sight of blood failed to elicit any flicker of perturbation within your steadfast demeanor. Your gaze, stripped of discernible emotion, ascended to meet Blade's own pair of crimson orbs, forging an intense gaze between you two. In that impermanent episode, a tinge of perplexity flitted across your visage as you delved into the mystifying depths of his eyes, cloaked in a mixture of amusement and intrigue. Unrelenting, Blade's devilish smirk persisted, mirroring the unshakable will power etched upon your own countenance.

The once vibrant training grounds now lay in silence, an eerie stillness permeating the air as the residue of the fierce battle hung in the atmosphere. The clash of swords had subsided, replaced by a charged tension that seemed to linger between you and Blade. In this quiet aftermath, Blade's voice cuts through the void, dripping with condescension that only serves to provoke you.

"Though you may inflict upon me an abundance of stabs, those wounds shall simply mend, allowing my existence to persist," he asserts, his words laced with disdain. Yet, your gaze remains fixed upon him, devoid of interest but brimming with a resolve that refuses to waver.

"Indeed, I am well aware of the transience of your wounds. That is precisely why I took it upon myself to pierce through your flesh with my own sword, Blade," you retort, a hint of purposive satisfaction coloring your voice.

A sinister smirk stretches across Blade's face, his features contorted with a blend of amusement and an insatiable desire to shatter your spirit with his own hands. He recognizes the cunning behind your calculated strike, acknowledging the depth of your strategic aptitude.

"How cunning you prove to be," he remarks, his voice dripping with pleasure, before swiftly transitioning to a more resolute tone. "Yet, such craftiness holds no significance in the face of true power."

Blade relinquishes his hold on his weapon, the sound of its impact against the ground ringing through the air, an echoing thud that resounds in the silence. Your gaze remains fixed upon him, your senses sharpened, attuned to every nuance of his demeanor, as you brace yourself for his next move.

However, to your utmost astonishment, he clings steadfastly to the body of your own sword, resolutely refusing to let it slip from his grasp. Despite your fervent and desperate attempts to wrest it away, his hold remains unyielding, as though bound to the weapon by an unseen force. Engaged in a relentless struggle against his strength, you strain every sinew in an effort to reclaim what is rightfully yours, but your endeavors prove naught but futile. As the moments stretch languidly into an interminable eternity, your eyes bear witness to rivulets of crimson, gently cascading from his clenched hand, a solemn indication to the toll his compacted grip exacts upon his own being.

Yet, in a stunning twist of fate, Blade's other hand swiftly ensnares your throat, catching you off guard with its merciless grip. The sudden constriction tightens around your windpipe, robbing you of precious breath and leaving you gasping for the elusive oxygen that now eludes you. As your vision blurs and your body weakens, you involuntarily relinquish your hold on your own sword, its resonating clatter filling the vastness of the room. Desperation surges through your veins, compelling your hands to claw desperately at the imprisoning arm, their futile attempts to break free revealing the depths of your plight.

Despite your valiant struggle, the vice-like grip around your neck remains unyielding, leaving you utterly at Blade's mercy. Suspended in mid-air, you find yourself helplessly suspended between life and death. 

Blade's eyes, ablaze with a chilling indifference and an unrelenting malevolence, lock onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. In that dreaded gaze, you catch a glimpse of his namesake, for within their depths resides a cold-heartedness devoid of any mercy, a mercilessness that threatens to snuff out your very existence.

"Let us bear witness to the endurance of your tenacity," he proclaims, his grip around your throat tightening with each syllable, unwavering in its intensity. "I will persist, undeterred by the ravages inflicted upon my body. It shall regenerate, as it has time and time again," he asserts, his voice resolute,

"But you, fragile beings of humanity, are far more vulnerable. A single piercing strike, your life is extinguished. One misstep, and your fate is irrevocably sealed. Therefore, tread cautiously upon the paths you choose, even if you boast confidence in your skills. Be mindful of the formidable capabilities others possess, ready to snuff out your precious existence. So, I offer you a word of advice: if you wish to continue your fragile existence, know your place."

Blade's warning hangs in the air, his words filled with a chilling reality that sends shivers down your spine. The weight of his grip presses against your neck, a stark reminder of his strength and the vulnerability of your mortal form.

After moments of scrutiny, Blade finally relinquishes his iron grip, allowing you to plummet gracelessly to the unforgiving floor below. As you lay there, wracked by fits of coughing, desperately gasping for the precious breath that eluded you moments ago, a wave of relief washes over you like a long-awaited reprieve. With every rasping inhalation, you slowly begin to restore the delicate equilibrium of your being.

As the tremors of the ordeal still course through your weakened body, you summon the remnants of your courage to meet Blade's piercing gaze. With an air of detached indifference, he retrieves his sword, his movements fluid and controlled. 

Without a word or a hint of emotion, Blade turns his back on you, his retreating figure a stark silhouette against the dimly lit surroundings. The weight of his presence lingers in the space between you, a testament to the enigmatic nature of his being. You watch as he fades into the shadows, his footsteps fading away like whispers in the night.

[inorisartcorner]

Nothing moved. In the darkest night sky he’d ever seen settle, not even a star would glisten.

Pieces of metal and wood were scattered on the soil beneath his feet, bearing the reminder of once having been deadly weapons, brandished by some of the most powerful warriors.

The fight was over, Nanook knows how.

And it wasn’t thanks to him; if anything, he was the reason why it even started in the first place.

No one was around; Jing Yuan and Welt Yang had rushed to see the wounded Stelle, Caelus, March 7th and Dan Heng to the hospital. Oddly enough, Welt asked for Luocha’s help to keep them safe and alive; for once, the outsider healer didn’t seem too suspicious to him, at least not enough that he couldn’t trust him with his… family.

They had to run. Blade was actually pretty sure he had close to killed them all in his rampage.

He took his shirt off, looking at his own reflection in Scalegorge Waterscape; somehow he was still alive, not out of his own volition.

Yet he would’ve rather just put an end to his own, as he saw, selfish suffering.

His black hair grazed his shoulders and back; a hiss of pain left his lungs when he realized how some of it had accidentally ended up in his open wounds.

“Here, let me help.”

He suddenly turned around, brandishing his sword, just to immediately retract it; a pair of yellow eyes and a phony, yet comforting, smile enclosed by long, white hair in a small ponytail were looking at him, a hand shot forward as a help.

“No need for violence, Blade.”

“Done enough of that.”

The general laughed, looking at him.

“You’re badly wounded. We should get you a doctor.”

“Unnecessary.”

Blade sat down, his feet tapping lightly in the water, almost in a childish pretense of actually having everything under control.

Truth be told, he was probably trying to fool himself more than Jing Yuan.

A metallic clang shot through his ears; in a few seconds, he wasn’t the only one sitting down anymore.

“Dan Heng is worried about you. Actually, everyone is.”

Blade rolled his eyes, skeptical.

“Hmpf. He should care more about his own wounds.”

“Yingxing.”

Blade’s eyes widened; he hadn’t heard that name in so long.

Another metallic clang echoed in the waterscape; the general’s arm moved around his shoulders, his kind stare watching over him.

He didn’t dare to look back at him. He could feel it, however.

And, truth be told, he didn’t mind it.

“You don’t need to do everything on your own, Yingxing.”

“I’ve been doing this for centuries.”

“And you don’t need to do that any longer.”

Blade’s stare wandered; he felt helpless, not that he could do much. The Mara was still there, right inside him, running through his veins a million miles an hour.

And lord knows what, now that their debt was at least somewhat settled, he could make of himself moving forward.

“We can keep it under control” Jing Yuan said, almost reading his mind, “at least for now. I’ll revoke the warrant, we’ll be keeping you safe.”

‘Safe? Of course’, he thought, a wave of sarcasm gushing through him.

“Even if I was to agree, why would this make sense? I don’t wanna die in a jail cell crazy from this curse. I’d much rather drown here.”

Shaking his head, the general traced the edge of one of his wounds with a finger; Blade’s whole body flinched, a spike of pain so intense that he suffocated a cry in his fist.

“You’ve been through enough. Time to rest.”

A silence that felt interminable dropped dead on the two; like he had done so many years prior, Jing Yuan circled his arms around his long lost friend, holding him close to his chest.

Blade didn’t speak. Truth be told, he probably didn’t even breathe. His eyes were sealed shut; nonetheless, like he was relishing in that affection that he didn’t even remember the feeling of, he rested his head on the general’s chest.

For once, he felt so comfortable that he could fall asleep.

“You’ll be fine. That much I can promise.”

Jing Yuan smiled, a smile of comfort, of understanding, that Blade had only seen all that time ago; he then softly traced a scar on his skin, giving Blade something closer to an itch than an actual fit of pain.

“You haven’t forgotten that I’m ticklish, did you?” Blade said, with a soft chuckle.

“Nope, I sure haven’t”, the general replied. “I could never.”

He then sighed, still holding his friend close to him; never did he think he’d see him again, much less hold him again.

“You’ll heal. And you’ll be a new version of yourself.”

“And my scars? They’ll be there to remind me of who I was.”

“For sure. But it doesn’t need to be a negative thing.”

Blade scoffed, breaking the hug to look at Jing Yuan straight in the eyes.

“And why in the world would that be positive?”

The general looked at his long lost friend, not backing down an inch; he then softly touched his chin, to make him face his own reflection in the water.

“You don’t realize it yet, but it’s because of them that you’re here today. That pain will one day prove useful.”

Blade’s eyes started to water at Jing Yuan’s words; he then felt the general’s arm around his shoulders once more and, almost out of an old yet undead reflex, he leaned his head in the crevice of his neck.

He felt… welcome. Safe. Warm.

The Mara felt at bay.

And he didn’t feel alone.

No, he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

“Welcome home, my dear friend.”

[jingyuanswallet]

bro. can people stop with the inc3st/r@pe reader x character fan fictions? you guys are genuinely gross. I don't want to know your damn intrusive thoughts 💀 "its so gross irl" then why write it?? are you stupid? if you think its gross then why do you write it down..i have blocked SO MANY people because they add something stupid shit like "dad!jing yuan x daughter reader" and its fuckin r@pe too. kys bro. you're psycho and insane. she ALSO makes those fan fictions to satisfy those same feelings for her blood relative brother. IRL!!! so its NOT just purely fiction either.

[cupidkyu]

USE ME LIKE A PRINCESS PLESSESSSESSEEESSEEE

PRINCESS ! ⁺◛˖

dom bottom gn reader x sub top male character

men that worship you,who treat you like you're so fragile,constantly praising and admiring how beautiful ur body is, begging if they can just touch you, begging if they can just plunge deep in u.

men that do anything you want,any position,any k1nk,f4tish: he doesn't mind, he just wants to please u<3,,

men that gets needy when you don't let him hold your hand. breathing heavily as you bounce so good on his cock, jerking his hips up just to get deeper in you,his desperate whimpers escaping his throat as your hole squeezes him so well. he was in a daze,how could've he deserve such a beautiful prize like you?

men that just can't get enough of you, subconsciously going rougher when he's inside you, fingers intertwining as you moan out his name. he's such a good boy,just let him c4m inside u!! he'd be blabbering and thanking you constantly,he's so pathetic it's adorable,isn't it?

men that wants you to himself,who gets jealous when he sees you getting too comfortable with someone else, he'll just need you to drag him somewhere secluded where you let him fuck you until he forgets about everything that ever got him so frustrated ,,

“h—..hmff~ shit- darling..~ you feel so good around my cock-..t-too good~” he'd whine helplessly as he pushes himself inside you,gosh, you're just too pretty for him.

blade,ororon,dottore, ayato,itto,aether,gojo,choso, zhongli,childe,your faves<3

@cupidkyu

[elixrr]

He trusts you. Over the course of your friendship, he built an unforgettable bond with you, one that was meant to last forever– and, really, it could've. It should've, he's not gullible, nor is he naive. He hardly trusts anybody, so you're a rare case— perhaps you're his final and lucky case where he can have somebody else sit with him, shoulder to shoulder, and no mask would have to be up. You're his best friend; you're his lover. You're the shoulder he can lean on, sleep on, lay on, cry on, and that's something that he hasn't had for several years.

Towards the start of your friendship, he didn't exactly see you as a friend, you were more of an acquaintance than anything. You were almost set to be treated by him the same way that he'd treat anybody else. He kept you at arms length, he kept his distance for a while.

Yet, you began to close that distance. You began to slither past his arm, growing closer to him. You were willing, and that's absolutely why you both should've been a lifetime bond.

But now you're being rushed to the emergency room— a head injury, something severe. You're unconscious, terribly injured from the fall, but you're lucky to be alive. He's lucky to have you alive, but now he waits. He waits, waits, and waits for his only trust, his only other shoulder, his only love, and he hopes that you can wake up soon.

You eventually and successfully did. You were in a coma for about a week, but you've finally opened your eyes. You're awake— you're alive! By the Archons and Aeons, that's all that matters to him.

“W– Where am I?” You mutter, eyes finally fluttering with consciousness. Typical question, probably always asked. He watches the doctors explain everything to you.

He watches your eyes as they flicker from one person to the next. One doctor, another, the last one— then to him. A smile nearly graces his face, but your eyes are taken back to begin the cycle again. That doctor to the next, then to that one doctor, then on him, and rinse and repeat. You glance at him as he stares at you, and it's as if he was just one extra person in the room, just one other doctor— out of uniform, though. As if you were saved by him, too, under his care, but your glances are as distant as they are for the other doctors.

Your gaze is unrecognizable. His is the same as ever.

“Who are... You guys?” You ask. ‘Who are you?’ is and would've been fine as long as you looked at somebody that wasn't him, but he's not gullible; he's not naive, and that's the thing. He immediately realizes that you don't recognize him.

He says your name without thinking.

“Do you...” He hesitates, but pursues. “Do you remember me?”

“No, sorry? Have we met before?” The words are fluent, so you didn't hesitate—

—so you don't remember him.

“Amnesia?” One of the doctors mutters, and that's when he realizes that it's all over for him.

He doesn't have another shoulder. He doesn't have a best friend. He doesn't have a lover.

He doesn't have you anymore.

He looks at you, and you look at him. Your eyes are finally fixed onto each other, but you're so distant, so far away from him now. You're both in the same room, but an unavoidable and terrifying distance is built between you two.

“What's your name, then?” You still ask.

The distance shortens. Are you still willing?

“You seem... really upset that I can't remember you. Maybe if you tell me your name, I can remember you?”

Are you really still willing?

He says his name.

“That's a nice name. Sorry, I can't remember, but I'll try.”

“You're willing?” He blurts.

“Of course.” You half-smile.

A sad grin grows on his face. He still loves you— he can feel it deep down inside. You don't remember him. You probably don't even remember any of those special memories you two created that had made the both of you the duo you were, but a smile still adorns his face regardless. You're alive.

And you're still willing.

And, because of that, your bond could last a lifetime.

[0f-hazbin]

Coming soon to AO3!

Art by @deannamb

The Doctor & Donna land the TARDIS in Baldur's Gate, excited to do their usual sightseeing

What could possibly go wrong?

Poster to my up & coming Baldur's Gate 3/Doctor Who crossover fanfic in the new year!

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they act if you called them pretty upon getting catch looking at them…

Dan Heng: blushes. Hard.

He’s not use to someone complimenting his looks as it’s not something he finds important.

‘Are you really that shameless to say such things aloud?’ He’d say while avoiding eye contact with you.

Dan Heng would act as though you just shouted this out loud in front a hoard of people, even though you didn’t.

He’s awkward when it comes to taking compliments aimed his way but his reaction is too fucking cute to ignore and will warrant another compliment his way, which will only serve in making his face brunt redder.

‘Shut up, please.’ He’d plead as he covers a hand over your eyes, feeling as though they’ve stared deeply into his soul and actually see him as a whole person and more. ‘You talk too much about things you don’t understand the first thing of.’

He’s probably going to get teased by March 7th after this and it’ll be used as blackmail, probably.

Give him a moment to breath and calm down before complimenting on how pretty he is because he will combust from how flustered he is.

Argenti: would probably start a compliment war in all honesty because how can you say he’s pretty without admitting that you are also quite a sight for sore eyes.

If you were to compliment his hair, he’d resort back with how even the stars put on their best performance within your presence.

He’s got such a way with words that can easily leave one flustered without even trying. He’d even wax poetry on the spot about how the light catches your eyes in a way similar to that of a kaleidoscope, bright, vibrant and above all breathtaking.

Argenti doesn’t hold back, will not hold back, and will not back down from letting you know just how ethereal you look to him.

He can do this all day, you however could not do this all day seeing how this man has unlimited ammunition when it came to complimenting the beauty of pretty much everything.

(I mean this is the same dude who complimented a plant. 🪴 I bet that plant blushed, we just didn’t see it bc who wouldn’t blush if a chivalrous red head complimented them?)

Welt: smiles softly as a light blush coated his cheeks.

He’s well kept for someone who’s in his 60/70/80’s And he deserves to be told as such!

(all I know is that he’s grandpa age from other ppl)

So when you do compliment him and call him pretty, this old man is going to thank you for such kind words and probably give you head pats as a reward.

He appreciates a kind compliment now and then.

‘Why thank you, I try my best to keep in good shape if I’m meant to keep up with all of you.’ He would say in response followed by a chuckle.

Welt is young at heart and knows that his body isn’t how it once was but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a restless spirit within an old man’s body. So when you compliment him, it only makes him feel good and warm on the inside.

Blade: doesn’t know how to take compliments.

He’s not use to it and doesn’t know how to react to it other than saying something along the lines of;

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’

Or just straight up. ‘No.’

And all the while his face is like this: 😐 or this 😒

It’s never one or the other, blade just doesn’t view himself worth the compliment, when the only things about him that people see most is that he’s a bad dude in a bad group doing bad things.

He doesn’t see why you’re wasting a kind, genuine compliment on someone whose entire body is riddled in ugly scars.

Blade is the type of person where you’d have to prove that your compliment is genuine or else he just won’t believe it.

Sampo: his ego is boosted to the max.

Well done you’ve made him even more insufferable.

He will smile that Cheshire smile of his and ask to hear what else about him you find appealing besides his pretty face.

You: your exposed hips, you slut-

However behind his cocky persona, he’s a giggly bitch who’s mentally kicking his feet and writing this interaction in his bubblegum pink diary with a glitter pen.

Sampo is deeply invested in what you thought about the rest of him but won’t let it show as he would consider it ‘out of character’ for himself. So he’ll continue to act the cocky and confident fool like he always does.

He’ll be the type to tease you about potentially killing him while internally screaming himself and telling other people that you find him pretty, much to your embarrassment.

‘You see them over there? Yeah they called ol’ Sampo pretty!’ He’d say to a random person while pointing towards you as you try to hide yourself behind a trash can…only for the trash can to grow arms and legs and walk off elsewhere.

Why were the arms and legs buff as fuck? What was their workout routine? You must know. now.

Sunday: takes the compliment in kind.

He looks like the type to get called handsome or pretty on the daily, so it’s nothing new to him but he’ll take the compliment nonetheless.

He’s probably the most calm out of the bunch when being called pretty, besides from maybe Welt.

He’s not bashful, he’s not overtly arrogant and he’s not in denial about it either. He just takes the compliment as it is and goes on about his day like any other.

Though people would take note on how he’s smiling brighter than usual. Your compliment would stay with him the entire day, as it serves as a reminder of his place within your heart and he’s secretly scheming on ways on how to stay within your heart.

Permanently.

[lowkeyren]

—reject me not!

in which : when your sudden confession catches blade off guard, his response comes across as a rejection. though he realises his mistake, and tries his best to make things right. (...it gives the whole hq a headache)

slight humor, idiots in love, mutual pining, misunderstanding, you tease him w/o realizing (n he gets back at u hehe), reader is a stellaron hunter, stellaron hunters wingwomen!!!, art by @/kkuekkue on x. reblogs are appreciated! please enjoy <3

wc: 4.2k // hm secret santa? HOHOHO @mikashisus, rayray!! u might pull ur hair out at some parts idk :joy: happy reading n merry christmas my little elf xx

"i think i like you."

the words leave your mouth quicker than your brain can second-guess them. 

blade freezes mid-step, his back visibly stiffening. when he turns to face you, his sharp, cold eyes betray a fleeting glimmer of surprise, perhaps, or confusion —but it disappears as quickly as it came.

he stares at you, his eyes widening just slightly, the faintest crack in his carefully maintained composure.

but then, his lips part, and all he gives you is a single, flat response.

"i see."

two short, dismissive words. not a smile, not a frown —just two clipped words. you tilt your head, expecting some form of elaboration, but instead he just turns on his heel, his coat swishing behind him as he starts to walk away.

(what you don’t see is the way his hands curl into fists as he walks off, how his steps falter just around the corner, or the way he presses a hand against his chest to steady the sudden, overwhelming ache blooming there.)

…must this guy really be so blunt?!?!!

you sigh, a little laugh escaping despite your current situation. of all the possible responses you could’ve imagined, ‘i see’ definitely wasn’t one of them. you shake your head, a part of you wonders if elio is watching, silently laughing at your predicament right now.

it’s fine. really. you should’ve known better than to think he’d say anything different.

though the big problem now is, blade knows about your silly crush on him, so facing him in the future is going to be a total nightmare that you’re not ready to accept. you can already feel the embarrassment creeping up like it’s going to suffocate you.

“where's [name]?” 

blade steps into the base. silver wolf, tucked in the corner, engrossed in her console, raises a hand in greeting without looking up. blade nods in acknowledgment, before replying to kafka, "i went ahead of them," his voice sounds a little more strained than usual, before quickly turning to make a beeline for his room.

but kafka, ever perceptive, senses something’s off. she tilts her head with a smirk, "bladie, did something happen?"

he denies it with a quick shake of his head before slipping past her. having no other option, she resorts to… unconventional methods. 

with a flick of her wrist and a soft, almost melodic whisper, she purrs, "listen to me.”

the moment those familiar words hit his ears, a wave of calm washes over him, and against his will, he halts mid-step. "now tell me what happened, will you?"

he sighs and he rubs the back of his neck. “take your time, bladie.” after a long pause he speaks again, "[name] said they... they liked me."

kafka watches him closely, a grin slowly spreading across her face. "and then what happened, hmm?" she teases.

out of the corner of his eyes, he sees silver wolf perk up at his words, but he pays her no mind as his thoughts are too tangled in what he’s about to say next, the words barely scraping past his throat.

...

the next hour consists of him being ‘lectured’ by his fellow coworkers.

he tries to tune out the barrage of teasing, but something about  “bladie, that's not how you reciprocate,” to “ain’t no way bro fumbled that badly,” managed to stick with him, unfortunately. (he looks over to firefly standing to the side, but she only giggles and shakes her head at him.)

but really, how was he supposed to tell them that he panicked? that he was so stunned by your confession, so overwhelmed, that he could barely form a coherent sentence? that his awkward, dismissive reply wasn’t rejection, but a pathetic attempt to mask his own vulnerability?

the thought of you avoiding him, of thinking he doesn’t care, makes his chest ache with a pain he hadn't experienced for the past few centuries. 

blade makes a mental note to find you as soon as possible. he doesn’t know how to explain himself, not entirely; words have never been his strong suit, but somehow, some way, he’ll make it up to you.

later, you return to the base, your steps hesitant as you walk in. the moment you enter, the group falls silent, all eyes snapping to you. there’s an awkward stillness in the air, like they were caught in the middle of something. your gaze sweeps over the room, and it lands on blade. when you lock eyes with him, a flush creeps up your neck, and you quickly avert your gaze.

"excuse me!" you blurt out and almost sprint to your room.

...do they all know?! this has to be the most embarrassing day of your life.

you agreed to meet kafka at a bar near your current mission to discuss your next task. the magenta haired woman had mentioned it casually when you’d asked, cryptic as usual, only revealing that the task was important but leaving out certain key details —such as conveniently leaving out the part about blade being there too, of course.

(“bladie,” kafka’s voice took on a singsong lilt, her playful smile unmistakable as she glanced at him. “you’re going to use this chance to make it up to them, ‘kay?” 

blade only kept his eyes trained on the entrance, silently waiting for you to arrive.)

running late, your prior mission having dragged on longer than expected, you found yourself hurrying to the bar, weaving through the sparse but lingering foot traffic of the evening.

after what feels like hours, you finally make it to the bar. stepping in, your eyes scan the room for kafka, when suddenly, a man steps right into your path.

the man smiles warmly, though you could tell he’s had a few to drink tonight. his tone is friendly, with just a hint of flirtation as he strikes up a conversation, casually asking if you’d be interested in grabbing a drink sometime.

he’s polite, respectful even, and there’s nothing about him that feels overly forward or aggressive —just a man who’s trying his luck, that’s all. still, you can't help but feel a slight annoyance at the timing.

as you try to figure out a way to decline his invitation, you remain oblivious to blade’s gaze —specifically, how it's fixed on you, or rather, more pointedly on the back of the man’s neck.

“you’re going to snap his neck if you keep looking at him like that.” kafka’s voice cuts through the tension, her tone teasing as she watches the exchange from the side.

“i don’t like what he’s doing,” blade mutters, his voice low and filled with an edge that suggests far more than just mild annoyance.

kafka chuckles softly to herself, already knowing where this is headed. it’s not an outright confession of jealousy, of course —he would never admit to something as petty as that, and she knows better than to push him on this one. 

nevertheless, she still catches it, her lips curling into a knowing smile. even if blade would never call it jealousy, it’s enough to push him into doing something completely out of character —something he’ll never, ever do (until now).

kafka notices immediately. her eyes widen just a fraction before she sets down her wine glass with a graceful motion, amusement dancing in her eyes. and perhaps to make sure he doesn’t look too foolish, she decides to play along and help him act the part.

a sharp clang of glass hitting the table catches your attention. your brows knit in confusion; you glance over instinctively, your eyes meeting kafka's for a brief moment. her expression is unreadable, but the faint curve of her lips makes you wonder what’s really going on.

curiosity pulls your gaze lower, to the drunk figure slumped over at her table, seemingly drunk, his head resting heavily on his arm. the spilled drink pools on the floor beside him, glinting under the dim light. 

at first, you only catch a glimpse of dark, tousled hair, streaked faintly with deep crimson at the ends —so strikingly familiar it makes you pause. then, as your eyes trace over the sharp line of his jaw and the stiff set of his shoulders, realisation dawns on you. 

wait a second.

your jaw nearly drops as you piece it together. the man lying there, seemingly drunk out of his mind, is none other than the last person you would want to see right now.

blade.

your gaze darts between him and the polite man still standing awkwardly in front of you. blade, on the other hand, never lets his guard down, so this... state of his? unprecedented. 

apologetically, you offer a small smile to the man before rushing to blade’s side, urgency in every step as you push past the tables, heart hammering in your chest.

blade’s eyes subtly flicker over to you as you approach, and you can almost sense the slightest shift in his demeanor, the thought of you giving your time to someone else, especially someone so... ineffectual —grates at him.

he swallows the ugly feeling down his throat. perhaps he’s let this irked him more than it should. but it’s too late to back out now that you’re standing right beside him, the weight of your presence making the tension in his chest only more pronounced.

as if on cue, kafka’s voice breaks the silence, “as you can see, [name], our dear bladie here has gotten himself a bit... roughed up,” she says, casually catching the wine glass that had been teetering on the edge of the table.

her lips curl into a playful smile as she glances at blade, whose jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “drinking doesn’t seem to suit him, wouldn’t you agree?” kafka continues, her tone light but unmistakably amused. her eyes flicker between the two of you, as if she’s thoroughly enjoying the situation unraveling before her far more than she should.

you blink, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected scene. your worry only deepens as you shift your attention back to blade, who remains uncharacteristically silent, his head now resting on his arm as though he really had overindulged. 

“blade,” you say softly, your voice carrying just the slightest edge of concern. “what happened?” 

before he can answer —or before he’s forced to lie —kafka chuckles, waving a hand as if to dismiss your worry. 

“oh, nothing serious. he just got a little too carried away with his drink.” she leans back in her chair, a sly glint in her eye that you’re too preoccupied to notice. your gaze falls back to blade, his hair slightly tousled.

without thinking, you reach out, gently brushing a strand strand from his forehead. his eyes flutter open at the contact —those striking, sharp eyes you’ve always found yourself drawn to, dark yet you can’t bring yourself to look away from. 

you notice the faint redness creeping across his cheeks and the line of his jaw, down to his neck. his skin hot to the touch under your fingers. “you’re warm,” you murmur softly, assuming the alcohol is to blame.

if only you knew the warmth searing through him has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with you. 

“ah,” kafka hums, pulling you out of your thoughts. “it seems something urgent has come up that needs my attention.” there’s an unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes. “i’ll leave you two to it.”

you glance at her, startled. “wait, what about—?”

“don’t worry about it,” she interjects, already getting up from her seat. “the bill is already on my tab.” 

well, that wasn’t what you were about to ask anyway! 

a sly smile curls her lips, and she tilts her head ever so slightly. “hmm, it’s rare to see him like this. [name], you’ll take good care of him, won’t you?” her tone is light, but the underlying implication is clear, leaving you flustered as she turns on her heel, striding off, leaving the two of you alone.

blade leans heavily against you, his tall frame making it an awkward challenge to keep him upright as you guide him out of the bar. one arm is slung over your shoulder, while his other hangs haphazardly against his side.

his head is tilted forward, strands of his dark, crimson-tipped hair brushing against your cheek, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him —whether from his predicament or his proximity, you’re not sure.

you shift your grip, looping an arm around his waist for better support, and his body tenses slightly under your touch. for someone playing the part of drunk so convincingly, he’s strangely aware of your every movement, his hand tightening just faintly on your shoulder when you stumble over a crack in the pavement.

“blade,” you murmur under your breath, trying to shift his weight more evenly as you inch forward. “you’re not making this very easy, you know.”

casting a glance his way, you’re met with a low, almost lazy hum in response. his expression is nothing short of a hazy indifference, though you swear you catch a flicker of clarity in his eyes —a brief, focused intensity that seems out of place, before he looks away.

you can feel the heat of his breath against your temple as he wavers with every step. the night air is cool, but the warmth radiating from his body is undeniable, pressing against your side in a way that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. the closeness between you feels almost intimate in a way that will surely have you screaming into your pillow later that night. 

as you continue down the empty street, blade’s mind races; this is his chance. he knows it. he should say something now, anything, to make it clear —to tell you how he feels. (and how it’s been eating at him for longer than he cares to admit.)

this is it, the moment he’s been waiting for, but all he can do is breathe in the scent of your skin and the warmth of your touch. the sensation is all too familiar, like the pounding in his chest —but this time, it’s not from the heat of battle.

just how much longer he has to deal with this utterly insufferable feeling?

it’s worse now, because as you navigate through the halls of the base, he’s beginning to wonder if this is what it means to care for someone —to be vulnerable. 

“here,” you say softly as you stop in front of the door to his room.

he doesn’t want this moment to end. 

you glance at him then, finally meeting his eyes, and the look in them knocks the breath from your lungs. they’re hazy, yes, but there's a sharpness beneath the mask of drunkenness, a quiet intensity that makes your heart beat a little faster.

you clear your throat, breaking the silence. "do you need anything else?"

"no," he answers, almost reluctantly. "i’ll be alright."

a twinge of disappointment surges through you. right… it was foolish to expect anything different. he’s already rejected you, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous for thinking it would be any other way.

you stand there for a moment, the silence between you growing thicker with each passing second, before you force yourself to nod, your voice soft as you try to mask the heaviness in your chest.

“goodnight then."

just as you turn to leave, you feel a sudden pull on your hand, your wrist tugged back with surprising gentleness.

"wait," blade suddenly says, and this time, there's no mistaking the sincerity in it. "thank you.”

his bandaged hand rests over yours, and a soft breath escapes you; flustered, you open your mouth to respond, ready to brush it off.

"oh! It's no pro—"

but you’re cut off before you can finish. he raises your hand, pressing his lips to the back of your palm in a soft, lingering kiss.

"—blem..."

your voice falters slightly as a rush of warmth spreads through you. every nerve in your body seems to spark awake all at once, making you hyper-aware of the spot from where his lips brushed against your skin. you freeze, your breath caught in your throat, unable to do anything but stand there, your hand still resting in his.

then, as if nothing happened, he steps back into his room and shuts the door behind him, leaving you standing there, still processing the unexpected moment.

safe to say you got little to no sleep that night. you roll over, staring at the ceiling, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. it feels ridiculous, embarrassing even, how many times you've replayed that scene in your head every time you close your eyes.

you couldn’t help but smile to yourself like a fool. 

(“so bladie, how’d it go?” / “...”) 

you hadn’t even planned on leaving the base today, let alone stepping foot into the brightly lit chaos of an arcade, but silver wolf had insisted —no, nagged, until you caved. and somehow she’d managed to drag blade (of all people) along, her smug grin all too telling as she pushed the two of you together and skipped off to “go play some gachas”

now, you stand awkwardly by blade’s side, the flashing lights casting a colorful glow over his impassive face. it’s hard to ignore how out of place he looks, his dark coat, sunglasses, and the mask covering his lower face a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere. 

yet, somehow, he doesn’t seem to mind the sharp sounds of arcade machines beeping nor the kids screaming in excitement. he just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you fumble with a stack of game tokens.

“you look thrilled,” you mutter, a sarcastic tone in your voice as you glance at him.  it’s strange, though —there’s something oddly endearing about the way he’s standing there, the dark lenses of his sunglasses reflecting a faint outline of your own face. you catch yourself staring for just a moment too long, wishing you could see beyond the lens, wishing you could read his eyes—

you shake the thought off, it’s all just wishful thinking.

behind the shield of his sunglasses, blade’s eyes tracked your every subtle movement, almost unconsciously. he caught the way your expression softened as you turned toward the claw machine, how your lips curved ever so slightly when your gaze settled on that… thing.

it was maddening, how effortlessly you held his focus, how even a trivial moment like this could stir something deep in him. he told himself it was nothing, but the tightening in his chest said otherwise. 

he wasn’t one to indulge in sentiment, yet something about the way you stared at that silly plush made him restless, made him want to do something about it, if only to keep that smile on your face a little longer.

would your smile grow brighter if that plush were in your hands? 

“let’s go.”

“to where…?” you asked, glancing back at him, the curiosity evident in your voice.

he didn’t answer immediately, but you felt the familiar tug at your hand once again, gentle and insistent, as his gaze slips toward the claw machine where you had been staring earlier.

it’s not hard to imagine the scene as a sweet little moment, with him focused on the claw machine, trying to win you a plush like a doting partner would. 

with a soft click, the claw tightens around the plush, and before you can react, it’s being lifted out of the pile, swinging toward the prize chute. you can't help but stare as he pulls the soft toy from the machine with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

(you pocket the rest of the tokens. guess he won’t be needing those…  for a first-timer, he sure got lucky —must be beginners' luck, huh?)

you blink, slightly impressed. “wow, you’re good at this,” you remark, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. 

without a word, he hands the plushie to you. 

you tilt your head slightly, a bit unsure. “for me...?”

“it's yours. take it." he looks to the side; suddenly thankful for the mask —if it weren't for that, you'd surely see the crimson tint creeping up his cheeks right now.

you hesitate for a second longer before reaching out to take it, your fingers brushing against his, a tingle of heat pulses through you, leaving your hand feeling strangely warm.

“th-thank you," you manage to spit out, and your eyes dart away, suddenly very aware of how close he is. surely, this isn’t good for your heart!

the twilight sky stretches wide, the clouds are heavy, and you’re looking oh so earnestly at him. his heart beats a little faster, louder now, as if his body knows exactly what he wants but refuses to let him act on it.

but then, he blinks —once, twice; snapping himself back to reality. he can feel the space between you growing smaller, your presence growing closer.

his eyelids flutter shut instinctively.

and then, the soft press of your lips against his cheek.

a soft sigh escapes him, and his eyes crack open. if you could see his expression right now, you'd catch the vulnerability that flashes in his gaze. he swears he can feel the warmth of your kiss in his very bones.

though not quite the kiss he imagined… it was something. (re: you got his hopes up)

the shock of your own actions hits you like a wave. you swallow thickly, “sorry —i'll go find silver wolf.” avoiding his gaze as you fumble with the tokens in your hand. "i… i’ll pass the extra tokens to her."

without waiting for a response, you turn and hurry off, your pulse pounding in your ears, praying that the ground would swallow you whole.

that night, you lay in bed, the plushie clutched tightly in your arms. the softness of it contrasts sharply with the rush of confusion filling your chest. 

why was he being so kind to you? after everything, after the way he rejected you just a few days ago, it made no sense. his actions felt contradictory.

you try to push the memory of the kiss out of your mind; impulsive decisions… often lead to mortifying outcomes. though when you glanced at him afterward, you could’ve sworn his ears were tinged with red, just peeking out from beneath his hair. nevermind, it’s probably your mind playing tricks on you.

blade, who’s as cold as the frost-kissed dusk, walks beside you through the lively festival, his dark coat a striking contrast to the vibrant reds and greens around you.

the faint scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider fills the air, mingling with the sound of distant carolers. he doesn’t say much, but there’s something about the way his gloved hand brushes yours, intentionally or not —that makes the chill in the air feel less biting.

you swallow, focusing on the festive stalls ahead, the decorations glittering in the night. “you don't have to stick around, you know. i can manage by myself.”

his steps slow just slightly, and he turns his head toward you, finally speaking. “you think i’d just leave you here?”

the words catch you off guard, and you fumble for a response. “i-i just meant—”

“relax.” he interrupts, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips; his hand grazing yours again. this time, his fingers linger for a moment longer, almost as if testing the waters, before retreating back into the safety of his pocket.

your cheeks flush, and you pretend to be deeply interested in a nearby stall selling hand-knit scarves. just then, his voice cuts through the festive hum. “last week… when you said you liked me,” he starts, and your breath catches.

you whirl back to face him, your heart pounding. “don’t worry about it! really, i—”

“i wasn’t rejecting you,” he says, with an unexpected gentleness in his gaze. “i like you too, [name].”

blade removes his coat, the fabric warm against the cold air as he drapes it around your shoulders, pulling you closer. you stumble, your hand instinctively pressing against his chest to catch your balance.

you look up at him, your breath quickening, as his face draws closer, his eyes locked on yours with that familiar intensity. you let your eyelids flutter shut, lips trembling, heart pounding in your chest as the space between you narrows.

but instead of the kiss you were anticipating, you feel the gentle warmth of his lips brush against your forehead.

your eyes snap open in confusion, only to meet his smirking face. oh... this asshole!

“what?" he teases, his tone deceptively casual. “you seem pretty eager,” his voice drops an octave, hand gently tilting your chin as he leans in just close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin.

you glare up at him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. the way your lips quiver, unable to hold his gaze for long; the fact that he actually adores that flustered expression on your face... well, that’s when he realises. he’s too far gone.

what a dumbass lmfaoo

MASTERLIST.

[jebunkle]

is this the real life?...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

dividers by @/hyuneskkami

[wormdevourer]

[WIP] zesty blade my beloved,,

[cupidwritessillystories]

A headcanon with them meeting their child from the future with hsr men

Character: phainon, mydei, anaxa, dan heng, jing yuan, blade, sunday and caelus

Fem reader

Something like the hsr men meet their kid from the future and the kid say that they're his kid from the future. At first the hsr man don't believe that, but then the kid show the family album photo that make the hsr man believe the kid. The male hsr can already know reader or haven't know reader yet. Maybe after that they meet reader and try to court her 👀

Hi, thank you for the request so much! It was really fun to write (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

Just fluff, confused hsr men, time travel and kids that try to convince their dads that they really are their kids from the future!

Characters included: Phynon, Mydei, Anaxa, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday and Caelus.

Anaxa may and probably will be ooc, since he's not even out yet and the content we currently have of him is mainly leaks. His part is also exceptionally short. Either way, I hope you guys like it!

Love always, Cupid♡

Phainon

He met your future child inside a prophecy, as weird as it sounds. Usually, it was just whispers of Titans, words of maidens, the prophecies rarely ever appeared in a form of hallucinations, but this one did.

He listened intently, trying to catch what the prophecy wanted him to know, but when he opened his eyes, there was no one around besides a small child tugging at his sleeve.

“Dad” he called him. Phainon was surprised, to say the least. From what he understood from the strange story he heard, he would later on get with you, and this little one was supposed to be his future kid.

“Is this even a prophecy, or am I just dreaming?” He asked himself. He would enjoy a future like that, a future with you, but you had already turned him down once. Was he just projecting his unfulfilled desires, had the said “prophecy” read his mind and just gave him the answer he most wanted to hear?

He didn't believe it, he wanted to, but he didn't. The child looked up at him, confused, and then gave him a photograph that looked just a tad bit too real. He jolted awake suddenly, thinking that it was just as he suspected, a dream. But when he looked at what he had in his hand, his whole perception of what just happened changed.

It was the same exact photo the little one gave him. There was no way it was a dream, then, for the things you see in dreams can't just materialize in the real world. He believed now.

It was probably naive to believe that ridiculous story, no one in their right mind would do so, but Phynon couldn't help himself. It felt real, and he hoped it was real.

Little did he know, you were trying to think of a way to apologize to him for turning him down before, because you did feel the same way he did. The time of his confession just happened to be unfortunate, which resulted in you loosing your cool and shutting him down immediately, which later on made you regret your choice of words.

Fate is such a curious thing, isn't it? when two people are destined to be together, they will. No matter what challenges they may face along the way. And so, the “prophecy” did end up being true.

Mydei

Mydei met your child from the future back when he was still a Crown Prince of Kastrum Kremnos. He was on his way to the training arena when he heard weird noises coming from the nearby corridor. There were a lot of stupid people trying to play smart thieves around here lately, so he went to check it out just in case.

To his surprise, the presumed “thief” turned out to be just a young boy, not above the age of 13. He was scavenging through a bunch of crap laying loosely on the floor, a worried look plastered on his face.

“What are you doing?” Mydei asked, still contemplating whether to help him or throw him out of the castle, for he was definitely not supposed to be there. Mydeis’ face when he heard the boy call him “dad” followed by an unbelievable story about time travel and his non-existing family was priceless. A mix of emotion washed over him, most of which were negative ones. Who in their right mind comes up with bullshit like that?

He ended up ordering the guards to escort the boy outside, he wouldn't be able to stand another word from him. Although the boy has been escorted already, a weird feeling that Mydei wasn't exactly able to explain lingered somewhere inside of him. He noticed an envelope on the floor right when he was about to head to the training ground and forget all about this insignificant event. This must've been what the boy was searching for. He picked it up and the first thing he noticed was that it was meant for him all along. Not thinking much, he opened it. Inside there was a photo that looked like it had been taken in Okhema, the Holy city.

What really threw him off was the fact that it was him in the frame together with two people whom he didn’t know. One, he recognised as the young boy that caused him unnecessary trouble earlier on, but the other one was a woman whom he had never met.

It's been years until he finally found you. What's ironic is that he wasn't even searching for you. When he saw the photo, he decided it'd be best to just throw it out, but in the end, he never did. He kept it close to him at all times. He wasn't sure why himself. As soon as he noticed you among the crowd, giving your supplies of medicine out to those who clearly needed it, it suddenly dawned on him.

You were the woman from the photograph. He stared, and stared, and kept staring, untill you finally noticed him. You smiled at him softly, the sun illuminating your hair in a way that made them seem to glow. A flower crown adorned your head, making you look akin to an angel. You walked over to him, waving your hand in a friendly manner. It never happened to him before. People in Okhema were hesitant to talk to him, they probably thought him scary. But not you. No, not you.

When you were in hand's reach away from him, you stopped. You picked a flower out of the many on your head and tangled it in his hair. It was a beautiful white camellia that matched him perfectly. “Thank you, hero.” You said, and then walked away. Later on, Mydei found himself seeking you out on various occasions, making up a multitude of excuses just to be able to spend time with you.

Anaxa

Well, what can I say? Anaxa is a certified non-beliver. If he defies even the gods, he has no problem telling a kid that his story is bullshit and that he probably should focus on helping his parents with whatever they do. No regards for the child's feelings.

He does so repeatedly, but the little boy doesn't seem to be giving up anytime soon. They both stand their ground, using solid arguments to try and convince the other one that they are right. Unsurprisingly, it leads to nowhere.

The kid decides to prove his point by sharing a family photo with Anaxa, who doesn't even want to look at it at first, but after some time he gets irritated by the child's persistence and says that he will take a look at it.

And so, he does. It feels weird, because after further examining the photo he came to the conclusion that it is, in fact, real. He won't ever admit it, but something inside him stirred, and he may have believed that absurd story presented to him. A little bit, at least.

You looked really happy on the photograph, and so did he. It would really be a pity if it all was just a lie, a joke made by a bored kid. Luckily, it wasn't.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng was never the one to believe in fairy tales. He based his opinion solely on facts, so when a random kid suddenly appeared in front of him, trying to convince him that she's his “future daughter”. He genuinely contemplated calling a psychiatrist for her. He'd even pay for the services if he had to. That being said, he doesn't know what compelled him to doing a throughout research on you.

You, who seemed eerily familiar when he saw you on a photograph he received from the child right before she ran off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was sure he had seen you somewhere before.

He fell into a spiral. He spent almost every minute he could searching for you. For signs of you, however small, whether it be in his memory or on the internet, but nothing ever came up.

He was loosing his mind every time he looked at that photo. It was a picture of you, him, and the strange kid that gave it to him. You were holding the camera, he was standing behind you on a beach, his back turned to you. The girl from before was holding tightly onto his sleeve. She seemed younger than when she suddenly appeared in front of him that unusual day.

Just when he was about to give up, when he almost convinced himself that it was all just an unfunny joke played on him by a bored-to-death kid, he saw you.

He saw you when he was buying some snacks with March 7th and the trailblazer in Aurum Alley. The place was very crowded that day, he left his companions and ran after you before he could loose sight of you in the mass of people.

He grabbed your shoulder, you turned around, your eyes met, and suddenly, something clicked. He remembers now, and judging by the look on your face, you do, too.

Memories of his past incarnation cloud his mind. “Those are not my memories” he reminds himself. He let's go of your shoulder, he wants to leave, but before he can do so, you pull him close into a tight hug. He was hesitant at first, but when you rested your head on his shoulder, he reciprocated the embrace.

You knew he wasn't the same person now, what you knew is that if he would give you a chance, you'd fall in love with him all over again. More even than with his past self, and he seemed to be aware of that, too.

Jing Yuan

He was as calm as ever, even though for the past couple of minutes he was listening to a kid around the age of 10 excitedly explaining to him how he’s his future son. Truthfully, he didn't believe a single word that kid said, yet he still decided to entertain him. He was paying attention to every word the child said, asking different questions and letting out dramatic gasps from time to time.

It was until the kid mentioned your name. How was it that he knew you? Why did he suddenly bring you up, of all people? Jing Yuan didn't spare a second to ask the question he had on mind. “How do you know her?” The kid stopped his storytelling and looked at him, bewildered. “huh? Didn't I just tell you? Are you even listening to me?”

Jing Yuan's voice was still his usual, sleepy one, but underneath it, there was a hint of curiosity. “Sure i am. I'm just wondering, what does she look like?” The previous moment of hesitation that could be seen on his face for just a brief moment was now gone completly. He decides to play it cool, as he always did.

“Stop playing dumb!” The child retorted, a bit irritated by now. He managed to come to the conclusion that Jong Yuan doesn't believe him at all, and he wasn't wrong. “You don't believe me, do you?” The kid tilted his head to the side, waiting for a response even tho he knew the answer already.

Jing Yuan sighed in defeat. He got caught red-handed and lost a battle against that youngster. “I suppose I don't. Not entirely.” A second later, he already had a whole photo album laying in front of him. He raised a brow at the boy next to him. “Just look through it. Maybe it'll convince you.”

And so, he did. Not only did he look through it, no. He deeply analyzed every single photo that the album contained. He spent hours that he should be spending on work looking at the pictures. He was lucky enough that he convinced the kid to let him keep the album. None of the shots seemed fake, and some of them even had a signature. Your signature. He would be able to recognize your hand writing anywhere.

Later that day, he visited the alchemy commission where you were supposed to be resting after receiving a fatal injury. He was embarrassed, because the whole time you've been recovering he had never visited you once. He never missed a chance to ask people from the commission about the state of your well being, bit that was it. He wasn't sure himself why didn't he visit you, not even once. Maybe it was because he was scared, because he knew that everything that happened to you was entirely his fault.

His previous confidence faltered, but he wasn't about to back out now. He entered the room where you slept and placed a single peony on a nightstand besides your bed. He didn't wake you up, you will know he was there once you do, and that's enough.

Blade

Him being a stellaron hunter usually means that he has no contact with kids whatsoever, so when a sassy teen pops up randomly right before his mission, he doesn't know what to do. He tried to ignore her, but she's too stubborn to back down. After some persuasion, he finally gives in. He doesn't even say anything to her, just listens to her peculiar story. Besides the fact that the whole situation is rather unusual, everything seems normal, she goes on to explain time travel to him, but when your name slips off her tongue right next to the word “mom” he stops in his tracks.

He wasn't even paying attention to her meaningless monologue, but that didn't fail to reach his ears. His expression turns from an unpleasant one to something borderline threatening.

When she calls him “dad” he freezes once again. For a moment, he thought that she was your long lost daughter or something like that, deliberately ignoring the rest of the unbelievable story she bragged about just moments ago. He clenched the handle of his sword, but she just looked at him mockingly.

“I can prove it. I have a photo.” She said. “A photo… why would that convince me? Get lost.” He answered, but she handed him the photo anyway. She must've come to the conclusion that this is all pointless, because soon enough she disappeared from his sight. He didn't even notice it. He was too focused on the picture. It was real, he could tell, and that was what threw him off the most.

He quickly crumpled it in his palm to hide it when he felt your hands on both his shoulders. You were always unnecessarily clingy, even more with him than with other stellaron hunters. He thought you peculiar, your reason for joining was even weirder than your personality, because you literally didn't have a reason, or just didn't want to reveal it. When someone asked you why did you join the stellaron hunters, your answer was always short. “Fun.” He suspected your reason was entirely different in reality.

He never pried about it, though. He pretended it didn't interest him at all, even though deep down he was intrigued by your person. Maybe he did believe that kid, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Sunday

A little while before the Charmony Festival announcement something strange happened to him. He met someone, a child, that claimed to be his future future kid.

It was rather a peculiar encounter. Let's be fair - he doesn't know how to talk to kids. He's way too formal at all times, so the communication between the two went miserably.

Either way, he agreed to entertain the kid and listen to his made up story, or what he thought was a made up story. It had no logic to it, just a wild imagination of a young person, so there was no reason for him to think about it more than necessary, yet he found himself intrigued by it somewhat.

The conversation was cut short when the child looked at a clock and decided that it's time to go already. Before running off, he gave Sunday a single photo.

A weird feeling rose up in his chest once he looked at what it was. It was him in the frame. Him and a few other people, whom he recognised as the famous crew of the astral express. There was also the kid from before standing between him and a woman who he claimed was his mother.

Sunday didn't want to believe it. Why would he, of all people, ever join the Astral Express? He was content where he was, here on Penacony. It seemed ridiculous at the time.

Everything changed after the Charmony festival, when he got detained by the IPC and later on managed to strike a deal with Jade. Ironic as it is, he found himself asking the astral express crew whether he could board the express with them, at least for a little while.

At first, of course, they were skeptical towards that idea. He couldn't blame them, really. The one who seemed to have the biggest issue with him was you. He must admit, you've made some good points during the debate, if not for Welt advocating for him, you'd probably just kick him out the moment he first stepped foot on the express.

The conversation went on for a long time, with Sunday just standing to the side, waiting for the decision to be made. In the end you agreed, just like the rest of the crew, but the looked you gave him right after it was announced revealed that you weren't exactly happy about it.

He remembered his bizarre meeting with the kid, and the photo that he got, and the fact that supposedly, you and him were the parents. He still didn't believe in all of that, mostly because of your attitude towards him. The worst part was that the way you acted was justified. You seemed to hate him with a burning passion. But nothing lasts forever, and that, too, changed over time.

You started being more open to conversations with Sunday, you let yourself forget about all the unpleasant situations he managed to put the crew into back on Penacony. After some time, you got used to his presence. He would even argue that you kinda liked him, even though you wouldn't admit it.

As time passed, it only made you two closer, and he realised that the kid might’ve been right all along.

Caelus

at first, when the kid came up to him, claiming to be his child from the future, he burst out laughing. Like, really loud and hard, to the point his eyes started watering. It took him good fifteen minutes to calm down. He thought it hilarious.

After he finally cooled off, and your child kept explaining about them, you, and the future, Caelus stopped them way before they could finish. “okay that's not funny. It was only funny the first time around. Stop it.” man was creeped out.

His second instinct was to threaten your child with his baseball bat, and so, he did. It didn't quite work out the way he wanted to, because the kid laughed him off and threw a heavy book right at him, which he, caught off guard, didn't manage to catch in time, resulting in it hitting him in the face. Ouch.

Either way, he picked it up, asking what it is. Only thing he got as an answer was a quick “just open it.” And so he did. He turned it to a random page, and the expression of pure shock on his face said it all.

He expected everything, but not what he saw. There was only one photo on the page he happened to open the album on. In the frame, the first thing he noticed was you. You were cradling a little kid in your arms, and he was standing slightly behind you, his hands rested gently on your waist.

He was still skeptical about the truth, but the photo did look real. And you… You looked ethereal, he thought. Your eyes reflecting your love for the two, your hair slightly longer than it was now, and your smile seemed so sincere. He suddenly felt his heart skip a beat.

You were a passenger on the astral express currently, not yet a member, but you did travel quite a few worlds with the crew already. Caelus never seemed to notice the way you looked at him, although he looked at you exactly the same.

In that moment, he started to believe in the story presented by the kid just a little bit more. He hoped it was true, at least, and if it wasn't, he would make sure it'd come true. That's when he finally got the courage to ask you out, although when you asked what made him do it, he was too embarrassed to actually admit anything, so he quickly changed the topic by making some weird remarks about the lack of trashcan on Xianzhou Luofu.

[thetoyboxs]

Day 3: Home

What is home if not something a traveler always carries, the people in his heart