#the slow blade

[chriswhodrawsstuff]

Beware the slow blade

Last night the inappropriately named Home Secretary, James Clevery, came out with a statement that the Pro Palestinian protests need to stop and that there need to be a crackdown on the protests. He was swiftly backed by, our second unelected Prime Minister in a row, Rishi Sunak. Apparently, some MPs are feeling afraid… Now where do I start? Apparently, a couple of MP’s have taken to wearing…

[lunacias]

of five people, three must pay a price

[crazygnomenclature]

[kenchann]

some twst doodles ...( ￣０￣)ノ

[aventurineswife]

Hello how are you I hope you're taking requests if yes may I ask for blade with a deity reader who can heal his mara but it comes at a price for the reader and it leaves them with side effects and blade doesn't realise till the side effects start showing and it's not enough to kill them but enough to get them weaker

Fleeting Salvation

Summary: Burdened by the torment of mara, Blade reluctantly accepts your healing, which can temporarily soothe his pain. However, the process comes at a steep price, leaving you weaker each time. As Blade begins to notice the toll it’s taking on you, he struggles with the unfamiliar fear of losing someone who willingly sacrifices themselves for his sake.

Tags: Blade x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Touch of Fluff, Immortality and Suffering, Sacrificial, Deity!Reader, Slow Burn.

Warnings: Themes of self-sacrifice, Mentions of pain and suffering (mara-related), Emotional vulnerability, Physical weakness/exhaustion from overusing powers.

A/N: First time writing a Bladie centred fic, i probably got the mara thingy wrong since I'm always confused by it😭😀

Blade leaned against the cold steel wall of the Stellaron Hunters' hideout. The endless pull of mara clawed at his mind, a cacophony of whispers and screams that never ceased. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his broken sword, the jagged edges digging into his palm like a cruel reminder of his shattered existence.

"You're restless again." your voice, soft as starlight, echoed through the dim chamber.

Blade's eyes snapped to you, a figure glowing faintly in the dark. You carried an otherworldly grace, a testament to your divine nature. A healer, Elio had said—a being who could offer him fleeting solace. He had scoffed at the notion when you first arrived, but now he couldn’t deny the faint reprieve you granted him, however temporary.

“I’m always restless.” he replied gruffly, averting his gaze.

You approached, unbothered by his curt tone. Blade was always guarded, his demeanor like an impenetrable fortress, but you had seen glimpses of the pain he carried—a pain so profound it rivaled the stars' lifespans. Kneeling beside him, you placed a hand on his arm.

"Let me help." you offered, your voice steady despite the weight of what you were about to do.

Blade hesitated, his brows furrowing. “You’ve done enough. It’s pointless.”

“It’s not pointless if it brings you peace, even for a moment.” you countered gently.

He didn’t argue further, though his jaw clenched. Blade allowed you to place your hands over his chest, your fingertips glowing faintly as your power flowed into him. A radiant warmth spread through his body, soothing the burning chaos of mara. For the first time in hours, the voices in his head grew quieter, retreating like a tide.

Blade exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing. But as the light dimmed and the healing concluded, you swayed slightly, your breath hitching.

“Are you alright?” Blade’s voice was sharper than usual, his gaze narrowing as he noticed your pale complexion.

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing, but you couldn’t let him know. Healing mara was not like mending physical wounds; it demanded more than energy. It tore at your very essence, leaving you weaker each time. You had accepted this cost willingly, knowing that your gift could ease Blade’s torment, but you hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to hide the toll it was taking.

Days passed, and Blade began noticing the changes. You moved slower, your hands trembling slightly when you thought no one was looking. The glow that once surrounded you like a protective aura now flickered weakly, as though a storm had dimmed your light.

“Stop lying to me.” Blade demanded one evening as you stumbled after a session. He caught you before you fell, his grip firm yet uncharacteristically gentle.

“It’s fine...” you murmured, leaning against him as your strength faltered.

“It’s not fine,” he growled, his frustration spilling over. “You’re weakening yourself for me. Why?”

Your eyes met his, soft but unwavering. “Because you deserve to live without pain, even if it’s only for a while. You’ve suffered enough, Blade.”

His hands tightened around your arms, his jaw working as he struggled to find the words. No one had ever willingly borne a burden for his sake. He didn’t understand it—why you would sacrifice yourself, even partially, for someone as broken as him.

“Don’t do this again,” he said, his voice low but fierce. “Whatever price you’re paying, it’s not worth it.”

“It’s not your choice to make,” you replied, your tone firm despite your exhaustion. “I’m choosing this. For you.”

For the first time in centuries, Blade felt something unfamiliar—a pang of fear. He had spent so long chasing his own destruction, yet now, the thought of losing you unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain.

Blade began watching over you more closely after that. He noticed every tremor in your hands, every falter in your step. He tried to refuse your help, but the mara would always resurface, its relentless pull forcing him to rely on you again and again.

One day, after another grueling healing session, Blade didn’t let you leave. Instead, he sat with you, his expression unreadable as you rested against the wall, drained.

“You’re a fool...” he muttered.

“Probably.” you admitted with a faint smile.

Blade’s eyes softened, the weight of your sacrifices pressing heavily on him. “I don’t want this.”

“You don’t want the pain either,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “Let me carry a little of it, Blade. Just for a while.”

He didn’t answer, but the silence that followed wasn’t his usual cold indifference. It was something else—something fragile, like a thread connecting the two of you in the vast emptiness of the universe.

For the first time in a long while, Blade found himself wanting something more than destruction. He wanted you—and that terrified him more than anything.

[neatnete]

[mosstrades]

been rewatching a pretty good series

[aanya16071]

Tyril Behaviour Analysis

In Book 1, he was pretty smooth with MC, especially in that last 30-Diamond scene. He acted like MC's equal, teasing & flirting (at least at the end).

In Book 2, he acted like MC was fragile, acting overprotective, scared that they would be taken away again. Now, I think, in the year MC was gone, he kind of forgot some aspects of their personality; making an idolised version in his head. This does happen in real life too: you can subconsciously make idolised versions of people in your mind and look up to them and completely ignore the flaws. Especially when he has his rude awakening of his faith - he starts to see MC as a replacement for his faith, with a line going something like, 'As if he could only find his lost faith in you.'

In Book 3, he's full on worshipping MC. A (kind of) subtle indicator is the poetry. The lines paint MC as some kind of God/Goddess. Then, of course, he has that line: "I worship you, MC: your body, your heart, your power" [or something like this, basically, the word 'worship' was used].

And the best part? I don't think the writers even REALISED what they have done.

-----

In hindsight, I realise this is plain to see and did not need my pointing out the obvious.

[fisheito]

blade, superspeed superstar investigative extraordinaire (flinging entire men around since , uh, Saia)

[enbyblades]

*squidward voice* we serve catboys here sir...

[battampria]

VAMPLITA'S EDITING EVENT

this is day 4 of @vamplita's event!!! made a lil bit too much than expected.......

blade def fits the quote "look at her. i would die for her. i would kill for her. either way, what bliss." bc who also wouldnt die or kill for kafka?

my wifi is way too slow sadly </3 ill edit this post tomorrow for the art credit

art cred; miothle on twt

[screechingfromthevoid]

I made an Orym edit instead of writing or sleeping

[saintajax]

Mother hen blade you are always on my mind

[briar-oses]

ok back on track with this baby au that unfortunately got wayyyy too long for under @ge's post... so sorry😞 (sorry if it's the wrong link also) so im moving it into a different post. honestly ge talking about it first just gave me the chance to explore this au (thank you ge!!!) that's been in my friendand i's head for a while now LOL shoutout to blue my bff

(maybe i should make a tag for this au now?)

with adoption came the responsibilities of a parent. altho tang bo and chung myung were already the little girl's parents by that point, they realized that they never really got to name her with anything. tang bo went on and mumbled about how stupid he was being to forget naming his now-child of all things and went full-on spaced out mode to think about possible names.

chung myung, holding the little energetic bundle in his arms, looked down when the said girl tapped him on the chin. his daughter (oh my god) babbles at him. quite the talker, she is. he then turns to look at her other father, who's in his own world and looks back at his babbling daughter.

chung myung huffs. definitely her father's daughter.

***

“Min-ji”

the little girl, currently being held by tang bo, stares at her father blankly. “You don't like that either? Alright.. how about Ha-eun?”, tang bo says, to the baby. said baby just drifts her attention off to some butterfly that passed by, reaching for it.

tang bo whines helplessly. “Hyung-niiiim! she's not liking anything!”, he complains. chung myung, training nearby, walks back to where tang bo and their daughter (the thought makes him feel warm? hm.) are staying, shielding themselves from the heat.

“She's a year old, Bo” chung myung made it a habit of not swearing or calling tang bo names whenever he's around with the baby. so he resorted to calling the other by his name often.

(the first time it happened, tang bo slipped. luckily he wasn't holding the baby at the time or chung myung would've beaten him to a pulp)

“She's a very picky one-year old.. she probably got that from hyung-nim”

chung myung huffs an amused breath. he is by no means picky but it's amusing how tang bo recently picked up a habit of relating the little girl's quirks to both their mannerisms.

We're not even blood-related, punk..!

chung myung sat beside tang bo once he's near. “What names did you come up with?”

“I already said Min-ji and Ha-eun... There's also Yu-jin, Jiah, Soo-ah...”

“That's too many!”

tang bo turns away, hiding the little girl as he shirks away from chung myung. “Is it my fault that I'm good at names! Hyung-nim can't possibly know how that fee.. I'm joking! Just joking!”

chung myung retracts his hand back. “Any other names?”

“Hm.. There's Min-ho.. Seo-joon.. Soo-ah....”, tang bo goes silent for a short while. “.. Maybe I did think of too many”

You think? You could name your entire set of daggers with all that

“What about you, hyung-nim? Maybe you thought of something”

chung myung hums, lost in thought as he stares at tang bo, and then to the face of the now drowsy little bundle of joy in tang bo's arms. chung myung reaches for the round cheek of their now-sleeping daughter, all soft and precious.

“Seo-ah”

tang bo watches, mesmerized, as his hyung-nim that's known to be all things brash and rough being so gentle towards a little girl that's not his own until just recently. his hyung-nim wears a smile so soft and rare, so unlike his usual mischievous ones that tang bo's mouth remains slightly open until chung myung notices his prolonged silence.

clearing his throat and backing away for some space, chung myung turns to look at the suddenly interesting floor of the training grounds.

tang bo, silent for a few more seconds until he lets out a soft chuckle. “Auspicious omen.. Tang Seo-ah...”, he says, turning to look at the sleeping girl— Seo-ah— in his arms.

“It's a great name, hyung-nim”

[temporarily-your-saint]

Dull Blades

sneak preview of a benjicot blackwood x targaryen oc fanfic ~

word count: 469

tropes: slow burn, angst, daddy issues (lots of family issues in general tbh), forbidden lovers, marriage pact,

warnings: none for this right now! later on it will most certainly have mature themes ~

Helpless. She felt utterly helpless. It was hard to feel anything else in that moment aside from one other: rage. Rhaelana’s amethyst eyes clouded over into a blank stare as an echo rang in her ears.

“Rhaelana?”

She looked up to where the voice was speaking from. Nodding slowly, she walked around her father to pass through her chambers, into the hallway, and then down the cold stone stairs.

It couldn’t be true. They wouldn’t risk that. No, Otto wouldn’t risk that. It’s absolute barmy.

The princess turned down another hallway, scurrying to find her queen mother.

“Mother?” she called out, her voice echoing back to her in the empty halls. “Mothe–“ but before she could finish, a voice interrupted behind her.

“She’s gone. Your mother left on Syrax,” Daemon answered quickly. His eyes bore into hers as she turned around, searching for her thoughts. He recognized those eyes for they were her mother’s. She held that same lost but intense gaze moments ago before coming to tell his daughter of the heartbreaking news.

His shoulders dropped as he took in her appearance. She may have taken after her mother in beauty but his daughter truly carried his rage.

“Well, we must do something, anything,” the princess’s face shifted from anger to desperation as she plead with the king consort.

“That’s not my call to make, Rhaelana. At least not yet. For now, we must wait,” Daemon’s words were firm yet she could tell that he too was frustrated, aching for action. For now, they were to stay put and obey their queen. Though, there were no orders as of yet. But it’s all they had to work with for the time being and Rhaelana hated it.

Her eyes swelled with tears at his words. How was she supposed to wait? Her mother was now gone and her sweet, baby brother slain by their own kin. Their deceitful, wicked kin. Preposterous.

How had it come to this?

Yes, there had been ongoing tension when the family came together while her grandfather, King Viserys, had been alive. But this? To kill a boy. A young, boy. A messenger! She knew her brother had not gone looking for a fight. Oh, how her uncles had stooped so low…

The back of her hand found her cheeks as she wiped the burning tears that began to fall from her eyes.

She took a step forward as a harsh whisper erupted from her throat while the princess spoke, “I will end Aemond. It will come one day that I am to face him and you will not stop me. Nor mother.”

With those final words, Rhaelana strode past Daemon and back to her chambers. Seconds later he heard the old wooden door of her room slam.

Certainly, my daughter, he thought to himself.

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Hi, hello! I’ve been cooking something up while watching the second season. MAAAJOORRR brainrot mode. What started out as a little one-shot blerb in my brain has taken over completely, soooo here’s a little teaser for it. The two parts of Dull Blades will be incorporated into the fic but will have little tweaks! I’m planning on posting Part 3 of it but then that will be it until the actual fic ~

Anyways, I have been having so much fun writing Rhaelana and Daemon’s complicated father-daughter relationship and couldn’t wait soooo here you go—a lil offering before the season finale and before I post Part 3 and then the actual fic. 🤲

[sharknark]

⬇️rant about a really good hengren (reverse renheng) fic i read. link at the bottom give it a whirl

i've never read a fic so well-catered to my tastes before in my life and the best part is that i was so caught off guard by how good it was cuz the tags and summary had me like "right this is some omegaverse-esque, rawr XD mating shit"

but from the very first paragraph i realized it wasn't just ao3-typical possessive mating shit it was (dare i say) IN CHARACTER possessive mating shit. underappreciated dan feng lore is the two hearts shit, duty expects him to smother his own empathy and perform cruelty obediently (and that being in his dragon form literally numbs his empathy towards mortals) but then it's flipped around and he's criticized for being too heartless

there aren't a great many english fics that take advantage of the 'numbed empathy' thing, so this fic using that to explore the toxic codependency that drove dan feng to making yingxing immortal in the first place is so!

dan feng's dragon heart prioritizing it's own indulgence and power, his human heart screaming against it for empathy and restraint, but both hearts united in this possessive adoration of yingxing... dan feng is possessive to the point of harming his partner, forcing them to take his affection, inherently contradictive to the protective impulse to see the other unhurt.

dan feng makes yingxing immortal in a really sketchy operation, despite knowing that yingxing is literally defined by his pride in being a short-life. he wants yingxing to be with him so badly that he does the one thing that would hurt yingxing the most, too blinded by possession, this sickly overbearing affection, to empathetically respect yingxing's death.

yingxing lived cramming every second he could into his craft and his goals precisely because he has so much less time than all the immortal species around him, but when he's forced into immortality, his hands are scarred and ruined past the point of ever crafting again. he suddenly has so much time, all this time he would've cherished as a mortal, but is totally useless to him now that his purpose for living and passion is gone.

so there being a scene in this fic where dan feng is moping "yingxing doesn't wanna fuck because he's glued to his workshop", being followed up with a scene of dan heng fucking blade while kissing his scarred hand and crying that he's "so sorry", yeah no shit asshole, his dragon heart got what it wanted, blade has all the time in the world to fuck and nothing competing for his now limitless attention and no one's happy about it.

as arrogant about being a short-life as yingxing was, it really is compensation for the discrimination he faced for it. other immortals looked down on him, so having dan feng, THE top dog, be so deeply enamored with him stirred his own toxic codependent urges. he was so desperate to have dan feng's eternal regard that he's willing to die for him (as in the sedition), his death being the force cementing his place in dan feng's heart forever.

so the fic having yingxing ruminate on this, that he had hoped for dan feng to love him even centuries after he inevitably died, only for the fic to end with:

yeah yingxing... you left an impression... he made you immortal.... everyone's upset by this

(that's what makes dan heng forgetting blade was ever yingxing to begin with all the more painful because, you went and turned him immortal and when it backfired horrifically you went on and fucking forgot, bitch i'd be pissed to the point of centuries long bloody pursuit of vengeance too.)

here's the fic go read it and leave kudos and a comment, technically porn but i got so invested in the character study that part barely registered. also yeah if you hadn't realized already super dead-dove:

blah blah "renheng is toxic" sorry that's why i like it