Videos that Pheres has undoubtedly harassed everyone on his friendslist with.
HE JUST LIKES CRABS. =:)
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JBB: An Artblog!

titsay

tannertan36
Show & Tell
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
Stranger Things
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Kiana Khansmith

blake kathryn
Sade Olutola
dirt enthusiast
todays bird

@theartofmadeline

oozey mess
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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@refiningspacetime
Videos that Pheres has undoubtedly harassed everyone on his friendslist with.
HE JUST LIKES CRABS. =:)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
>PHERES: skirt the line.
rebatrollsâ:
Youâre rather sure now that the new stiffness in Pheres isnât a figment of your imagination, and now that youâve noticed it your mind is searching for reasons for the tension. Did he think you were taunting him, showing off your psionics so casually? Plenty of trolls were of the mind that you shouldnât have them at all, that they made you a mutant worthy of culling.
Pheres had never struck you as the type, but he was a firm believer in the right ways of things. To have to see your psionics stable while his own were crippled might be the cause, you decided with a bit of resigned exasperation.
Itâs one thing to know youâre a part of the Psionic Corps. But sometimes actually seeing proof of why youâre there is enough to turn away some trolls. Itâs easier when you had psionics like Tomois, you think a bit bitterly- his aptitude straddles the thin line that divides psionics and psychics and seems so much more tolerable to traditional thinking trolls.
Youâre about to try and drum up some polite excuses for both of you to leave this conversation when he looks up at you and makes a sound youâd never expect to hear out of such a proudly docile troll as Pheres. But thereâs no denying a hiss when a troll makes one, and when he rears back like a snake about to strike your hindbrain is perking up in to complete attention.
Fortunately for both of you, he doesnât lash out. But he glows, a flash of light that comes from more than just his eyes and stirs up a bone-deep outrage that throws you off-center with its intensity. You can feel your fins flare up, tines stretched to their limits- but Pheres is backing down, and when his hands cover up that glow you feel yourself settling. But why did you react like that in the first place?
Pheres is retreating from you now though, and you feel a bit stilted when you grapple for words. Some part of you thinks he should be sorry, but itâs a strange impulse you try and squash down. âIt is alright,â you say, because you refuse to pay attention to the weird hostility thatâs still trying to simmer under your skin.
âMy apologies if I startled you. Are you unused to seeing other trolls that glow when they use their psionics?â That had to be what he was doing. Youâd seen his eyes light up, and if there was more that had shined through as well⌠It was odd, but you werenât an expert on the ways that psionics can physically manifest. You just think that maybe heâs a bit self-conscious about it.
It doesnât provide an answer for why it upset you, however. You release your psionics, trying to tuck your fins back in to something resembling calm before Pheres looks at you again. No need to make him feel worse about this, you try to reason. He obviously felt bad enough already.
For one sickening moment, it almost looks like Vadaya tenses when you hiss at him. But he doesn't retaliate. He just flares his fins at you, the colour brightening as his eyes narrow -
- and then you've got your hands clasped over your face, blocking out the sight before the spike of anger can actually grow into something dreadful. Oh! You hate this. And part of you wants to yowl at him for the fact he reacted to you, when he's so much larger. What does he think you can do to him?
He isn't allowed to flare at you!
Except he is, because he's an indigo, and you're maroon, and this stupid muddle of bizarre, overwrought madness is absurd. It's like there's a smaller version of Sipara in your pan that wakes up when you see lights and highbloods. It's dreadful! You scarcely want her around when you're near them normally, never mind in your head. And.. you're being silly.
And Vadaya is talking.
Is your face still glowing? There's warmth under your fingers, but that likely just means you're blushing. And he already knows you have burnout. If he questions you, you'll just say it's.. scarring, you decide. Your skin is thin in spots, and that means the light leaks out. It sounds plausible. "I haven't," you admit readily, not entirely sure what he just asked, but it's fine. All you have to do is sound earnest. "I'm so sorry. This is, ah -"
Oh, thank heavens, his fins are pinned back. "This is my first time seeing someone glow," you lie quickly, and you just hope it makes sense with the rest of the conversation. "I didn't - heavens! I wasn't aware, ah, it was.. a thing.. with.." Is it insensitive to say fins?
"Ears!" you chirp instead. "Ears. Glowing ears. Does it always, ah, do that?"
>PHERES: skirt the line.
rebatrollsâ:
Had you crossed a line in your pushing? Pheres is a troll of words, but after one âohâ he falls silent in a way that feels awkward to you. You hadnât taken him as a troll that was sensitive about his burnout, but that didnât mean he couldnât still have sore points about it. Perhaps his perceived worth to others was one of them that you had just blundered right over.
It would make sense to be sensitive over it, wouldnât it? You donât know how exactly he had sustained his injury, or really much about Pheres at all past what heâs shared with you. Itâs a worry in your mind even as you form your construct, and once heâs looking at it you have to wonder if this is just salt in the wound that your blundering is rubbing in.
But he doesnât seem at all depressed at the sight. He says itâs impressive and he sounds genuine to you, though part of you argues that youâre sure heâs seen much more impressive things in his time with Scimitar. âThank you,â you say instead, letting the image flicker away as he speaks.
It takes you a moment to understand what it is heâs trying to say at first, with âimportant figuresâ. But then you realize that he means his position in comparison to a Canary, and you can see where some worry might come from that. He wouldnât want to get accused of impersonating a superior officer, though you shake your head when he mentions working for Vahakn of all trolls. âWell Longhaul will probably just put a request in and see what they can spare. Perhaps it will not be as ornate as the usual officer-issued stabilizers. But there are other designs, yes.â
Another flex of psi lets you build up the image of a stabilizer bracelet, and you hold on to your psionics this time as you talk. âSimple bands like this can be used, though they are sometimes more elaborate- a chain and ring might connect to them, or multiple rings.â You form the additions with your words, giving his horns a thoughtful glance when youâre done. âOr perhaps a happy medium would be a horn ring. Your horns are rather integral to your type of psionics, are they not?â Maybe you were assuming he was too much like Zavare, but the similarities hadnât failed between them yet. Pheres just had a lot more horn to deal with than they did.
As it turns out, you don't like the newer manifestation of psi, either. The bracelet he shows you is a sparkling violet hologram, the perfect match to the glow of his eyes. It's the sort of thing you've seen on the higher echelon's wrists, the sort that sleep at desks and rarely venture from them. You ought to be paying attention to that, or the words, but it's hard to focus on anything past the fact a very large part of you detests the harsh violet light he keeps projecting.
It's not fair, you think. It must be a sort of bigotry, to dislike someone's psionics just because of their caste - and this is what it is, isn't it? You're not a bigot. You oughtn't care at all. But evidently, you do. A great deal.
"Ah," you say, distracted. "I - see! That makes sense. That is very lovely."
Your horns are rather integral, he says. That's an easy question to answer! That's the sort of thing that you absolutely can answer, without any complications, or being bothered at all. It's Vadaya. He's perfectly harmless to you, and perfectly kind. You don't know why you're getting in such a furor.
Or, no: you know exactly why, but you don't know why you can't stop it. It's the construct, you decide. You just need to rip your eyes off of its glow, and back onto his face. Except when you look up, Vadaya's fins are spread. Not in an aggressive way! They're just there, and you rather hate it.
Then he exhales, and lights pulse bright in through the tines. The flood of outrage rolls in so sharply, it feels like lava down your spine. The hiss is instinctive as you jolt back, eyes lighting up - but it's not just your eyes, is it, that's leaving it so bright?
When the thought hits, at least, you have enough sense to clamp your palms over your mouth, fingers curling over your eyes. Maybe you aren't glowing! Maybe you have bigger concerns than glowing, regardless, given you just hissed at Vadaya. "Oh, I'm sorry!" you manage, taking another step back. There's no one behind you, or set to walk into you. It's fine. It'll be fine.
(Nothing will ever be fine ever again.)
"I'm so sorry, I just - ah -" Did he see anything? Are you still glowing? You widen your fingers just enough to peer through them, then squeeze them shut. Your heart is racing like a rabbits, but even in your panic, there's an act to be upheld. When in doubt, you always redirect. "It's just - oh! You're - you're glowing!"
>PHERES: skirt the line.
rebatrollsâ:
Pheres questions you, but of course he does. You know how aware he is of your caste, his hesitance in accepting any of your help in the first place had proven that. It just means you have to be a bit careful with him, in a way that still feels awkward. âI am absolutely sure,â you insist, and hope that thatâs the end of it.
âI do not need any reward for making sure that another troll is well, do I? And yes, I am sure Longhaul would see the value in having an assistant that could simply teleport about to deliver things. He is a very busy troll, you probably know that better than I. Any way that he could cut time would probably be invaluable to him.â If the Corps had one thing, it was stabilizers. The Education Program and its sister programs were always on the cutting edge of making more efficient helms, sure, but your program cared about the other things that psionics could do.
Things that could help Pheres, or so you hope. You think your joke surprises him, but he doesnât seem upset by it as he leans in to look at your hand. âIt is simply more practical for us,â you explain, turning your hand so that the gems are visible. âJewelry can be caught on things, or stolen.â Or ripped out of a troll, but you arenât going to offer that reason. âIt also allows for a stronger effect but that is not something you would need, I do not think.â
You flip your hand back over on a whim, pulling your psi in to form the usual diamond shape of the Canary-style stabilizers. Itâs just enough to make your gaze turn heliotrope for a moment, and you rather hope you donât startle him with the glow. âSomething like this is most popular. It works best I have heard, close to the horns.â
Longhaul would appreciate having an assistant. That's the second troll who's told you that, and you don't suppose Hadean and Vadaya could be more different if they tried. Perhaps there's a grain of truth to it, then, if everyone else sees it. "Oh," you say, but you're not sure what else to say. It's hard not to view your integration into the IPC, more and more, as a sort of betrayal to Sipara.
You don't know what she does, precisely, in her spare time. But you know it's hardly more legal than you. The sort of thing that would be dangerous if your hobby career ever spilled -
- but you're saved from that train of thought when light flares in front of your eyes. And with it comes that flash of agitation again, sharp enough that it feels like heat in your veins. There's a burr in your throat, sore and scratchy, that you have to swallow hard to keep down, and bile to match it. You don't know why. It's just lights.
You never had this problem before, but a lot of things are shifting lately, and you hate all of them.
"Oh!" you gasp, clasping your hands over your mouth, and the way your claws catch at your skin is a distraction in itself. If you're getting jealous over psionics, then that's a silly, easily solvable problem. Vadaya is your superior in a number of ways. This is the least of them, and perhaps the most absurd to be bothered by. "That's so impressive! Ah, I've seen that, I think.. it's very handsome. D'you suppose I could wear something like that? Isn't that just for, mm.."
You release your hands, and let your smile tilt to the side, ever so self-deprecating. "Important figures?" you say, gingerly. "I haven't the faintest idea what sort of design would work for Scimitar, either. I'd hate for the lieutenant-general to assume I was trying to work for, ah, miss Vahakn, or someone else.."
>PHERES: skirt the line.
refiningspacetimeâ:
Heâs so tall! Itâs such a shame that heâs so.. positively murderous, and attached to Iconic, and generally a bastion of bad judgement. Itâs a shame that heâs a fish, really. You canât flirt with a fish.
You canât flirt with Vadaya at all, because your entire clade would cull you, if Iconic didnât first. But if only he wasnât so murderous, youâd probably consider it all the same. Especially when he goes and says itâs a pleasure to see you.
Your laugh is bright, and the anxiety isnât faked. âI saw Iconic earlier. But I didnât see miss Nanako.â You wonât, if you can avoid it. You remember her, even if she doesnât recall you, and youâve no inclination to let her see your face long enough for that to change. âI donât need anything at all. Ah, I just wanted to say..â
Itâs a little forward to clasp his hand between yours! Itâs also a little silly, given how absurdly large his hands are in comparision, but you do it all the same, keeping your grip firm. âI just wanted to say thank you,â you say, earnest, âfor the medication. Ah, it was deeply appreciated. And very kind of you to offer in the first place. It helped out a great deal, you know, and I was a little.. mm, it ended up that I didnât quite have the attention to thank you properly, at the time, which was absolutely dreadful, I know, but.. that is why I wished to say thank you now!â
âAnd is there anything I could do to repay you? Because that was very kind of you. And, ah, it was appreciated.â You shake his hand to emphasize the point: âDeeply!â
The first time youâd met Pheres, youâd thought he was so birdlike-always fluttering about, so delicate that you couldnât imagine living his life. Your opinion has grown the more youâve come to know him, but the bird comparison has just stuck to him.
When he laughs, just a bit strained, you accept immediately that thatâs not going to change tonight. Before you know it, youâre sure heâll be darting off after someone else, but for now youâre perfectly happy to indulge him in some idle chatter while Iconic is distracted.
Or not-so idle chatter, you realize when he takes your hand in both of yours. His hands are so dainty, you marvel for a moment- was there anything to them, other than skin stretched over bone? Two of his fingers were probably as thick as your own, it felt like having a wriggler holding your hand. Though admittedly, youâre rather sure Pheres still is a wriggler, for all that heâd probably deny it.
âThere is no need to thank me,â you immediately insist when you can get a word in. âI am just happy that I was able to assist you when things were so hectic for you, really. Burnout is never comfortable for any of us, and having medication to help stem it can make all the difference. I know that you still had much to do, I was certainly not insulted that you took care of that instead of thanking me.â
Of course Pheres is a troll of manners. Heâd shown that plenty of times, so worried about being proper. You should have expected this youâre sure, but itâs nothing you canât handle. âDo not worry about repaying me either. My repayment is seeing you doing better. But perhaps you should check in with Longhaul? He could easily put in a request for a stabilizer for you, I hope you know. It would help your efficiency in the workplace even, if you were able to use your psionics a bit more freely to do your job.â
Was that a bit much to tell him? You hesitate before you decide that perhaps it would soften the blow if you joked. âAnd in case you were worrying, we do have stabilizers that are not so permanent,â you try, wiggling one of your prosthetics for emphasis. âThere are even rather stylish ones that look like jewelry.â
Vadaya is always so polite! It's so unusual, for a highblood. But you always seem to find this sort. "Well," you murmur, "as long as you aren't offended.. but are you sure?" His repayment is seeing you do better. If you didn't know better, you'd think it was a pale overture.
But you're quite certain he's incapable of that sort of thing. No, he's just lusus-inclined, like Raphae. "I would like to do more than just, ah, survive, as a reward! And - oh! Do you think he would?" Hadean would slaughter you if you went and got yourself a new stabiliser. The hole in your wrist from the last, for all that it's healed over, still itches at the thought.
But perhaps Vadaya senses your hesitance, because he pauses, then actually japes. Your eyebrows go up, then you release his hand - just to bounce onto your toes, all the better to look at the hand in question. "Really! I didn't know that at all - ah, whyever are yours implanted, then?"

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
>PHERES: skirt the line.
rebatrollsâ:
If you were being honest with yourself, about fifteen percent of the reason you kept antagonizing Iconic out to the dance floor was to get the both of you away from the VIP area of the ball. You had to admit, you hadnât been expecting Iconic to use his fame to get the two of you in to such an area, and you still had no idea why he had wanted to in the first place.
You werenât made for rubbing elbows with celebrities, and if you have to tell another actor or musician that you didnât watch or listen to much media you think the room might combine to burn you at the stake. Itâs just nicer out in the main hall, where there are faces you recognize. And when you didnât have to worry about every other face belonging to someone far too prideful about their entertainment value.
The two of you had just been hanging at the edges, waiting for the orchestra to finish with their break and begin the next round of dancing when Iconic had murmured something to you- about dealing with a troll trying to take after her lusus a little too far, you think- and had vanished in to the crowd with a dramatic flap of his cape. Utterly over the top but then, you reflect, so was everything else about your kismesis.
It couldnât have been more than a handful of minutes that youâre left alone however, though the troll is unexpected. But thereâs no mistaking Pheres for any other troll, dimpling up at you and looking markedly improved from the last instances you had seen of him. You imagine his worker must have returned just in time for him to recover for the event.
âJust Vadaya is fine,â you say, a reflex that you pay little mind to. âHello, Pheres. A pleasure to see you as well.â Youâd rather thought he would avoid you, after dodging much of your help while he was pushing himself so hard. But perhaps he was feeling differently about it now that he wasnât so tired. âI am here with my kismesis, actually. Though Nanako is in attendance as well. Were you in need of assistance with anythingâŚ?â
You doubt it- nothing has ever gone wrong at one of these balls, and the security is extremely tight on the event. But thereâs a first time for everything, you reason, even if Pheres wasnât looking too concerned. Youâd just rather that nothing ruined the evening.
He's so tall! It's such a shame that he's so.. positively murderous, and attached to Iconic, and generally a bastion of bad judgement. It's a shame that he's a fish, really. You can't flirt with a fish.
You can't flirt with Vadaya at all, because your entire clade would cull you, if Iconic didn't first. But if only he wasn't so murderous, you'd probably consider it all the same. Especially when he goes and says it's a pleasure to see you.
Your laugh is bright, and the anxiety isn't faked. "I saw Iconic earlier. But I didn't see miss Nanako." You won't, if you can avoid it. You remember her, even if she doesn't recall you, and you've no inclination to let her see your face long enough for that to change. "I don't need anything at all. Ah, I just wanted to say.."
It's a little forward to clasp his hand between yours! It's also a little silly, given how absurdly large his hands are in comparision, but you do it all the same, keeping your grip firm. "I just wanted to say thank you," you say, earnest, "for the medication. Ah, it was deeply appreciated. And very kind of you to offer in the first place. It helped out a great deal, you know, and I was a little.. mm, it ended up that I didn't quite have the attention to thank you properly, at the time, which was absolutely dreadful, I know, but.. that is why I wished to say thank you now!"
"And is there anything I could do to repay you? Because that was very kind of you. And, ah, it was appreciated.â You shake his hand to emphasize the point: âDeeply!"
>PHERES: skirt the line.
If Iconic sees you, heâll slit your throat and hang you from the ceiling by your own organs, no matter how much Siparaâll squall.
But thatâs only if he sees you. Itâs only if he gets near enough to use his wretched fucking psionics - and frankly, youâve got no intention of letting him so much as slink within twenty feet of you, never mind the full ten. You know how he feels in the radar of your psi. No matter how far heâs floating off the ground, he canât sneak up on you.
And thatâs why youâve been sidling in the periphery of Vadayaâs sphere of influence, waiting for Iconic to get distracted. It doesnât take long. Youâd told Sipara to post the pictures of her with his stolen cigarettes on Hivebook, a good ten minutes ago, so itâs just been a matter of waiting. Soon enough, your phone vibrates with a notification in Siparaâs fire orange.. and then ID tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing. He murmurs something to his kismesis, curling his lip in that sneer he passes off as affection, and then he slips away.
Straight towards the courtyard outside, where Siparaâs trying to light up the entire pack at once on livestream.
Sheâs not your moirail anymore. Youâll feel bad about this bit of subterfuge later. For now, though, you wait until Iconicâs at the edge of your awareness, then you sidle up to Vadaya. A toss of your hair, then youâre tilting back your head, beaming wide enough to seem sincere.
Itâs not hard. Vadayaâs a big lug of a troll, with fins gaudy enough to make you uneasy, but heâs never shown the slightest interest in hurting you. Quite the opposite, if youâre entirely honest, and thatâs why youâre here. Mostly. âHello!â you chirp. âAh, mister Urvata - itâs lovely to see you here. I just didnât think youâd be coming at all! Did you bring the rest of your battery...?â
two times kit got pheres to dance (and one time he didnât)
For an ask from @anontrolls ages ago! Iâm going to sit down and get all of these drabbles done. EVENTUALLY.
>1/3
âI donât think you can use your horns as an excuse, Pheres,â Kit teases, dropping back onto his feet. When he wipes his hands on his pants, they leave behind sandy trails. âTheyâre not even as long as mine!â
You kick at the furrows in the ground where his horns scraped, dubious, and he laughs.
When Kit had offered to teach you how to dance, this is not what youâd imagined. Youâd pictured the cleared floor of his hiveblock, with open windows and music and just enough alcohol to make things more entertaining then mortifying. Youâd brought the alcohol, even!
Now it rests morosely in the shadow of the hivestem, with sand collecting on the bottles rims. Youâd barely been past the central archway when Kit had tumbled down the stairs. âPheres!â heâd said, beaming, and you hadnât the heart to stop him when heâd hauled you around back instead.
(And when he turned to look at you, just to make sure it was fine - well, you hadnât the heart to correct him then, either.)
Itâd taken one look at the courtyard, milling with lusii doing their best to crop the scraggly weeds lower, to decide youâd rather do this sober. It isnât as if itâs been hard! You can do the.. waving, and the hip-pivotting, and all the other things Kitâs shown you. They donât take skill, really, and you know how to dance, no matter what Emerel says. (No matter what Sipara says: as if sheâs got room to talk about elbows, when she leads everything with her damn hips.) Youâve been able to perform all the moves, with only the slightest mis-steps.
Until now. Your palms are resting flat on the ground, and your horns, uncapped, are scarce inches from the sand. That isnât the problem, though, not really. The problem is in how the ground is tipping up at you, and your horns are doing their best to drag you down to meet it.
âThatâs why you keep your chin up! But, uh.â Kit rubs at his neck, his grin lopsided. âIf you donât want to,â he says, âyou donât have to! We can just -â
âOh, no. Youâre not escaping your offer that easily, Iâm afraid,â you say, glancing up at him. The way he brightens is gratifying!
It almost wins out over your uncertainty. Almost. Thereâs a crick in your neck thatâs only getting worse with each passing moment you stand like this. âI said Iâd try it, didnât I? But. Ah.â
âYouâre not going to let me fall, are you? Because,â you say slowly, âIâm willing to try, but, ah, Iâm not especially keen on falling on my face.â
âThat seems a little painful, Kit. And perhaps cracking a horn or two is perfectly fine in your case - which isnât to say you should, mind, theyâre lovely, itâd be a dreadful waste - but Iâve got two sets of horns to hit on the way down. In addition to my nose.â
The thought makes you pull up. Itâs a relief! But you canât even pay much attention to that, not when youâre reaching up to your face, distressed.
âI canât fall and break my nose, can I? Is that a risk, if I fall? Because I donât have anything to set it, Kit, and I donât want ââ
He catches your wrist. âI promise I wonât let you fall,â he says, seriously enough that you almost miss the mocking quirk to his grin. âIâll hold your legs the entire time. Okay?â
When you nod, he moves his hand to your neck. Itâs less of a push and more of a suggestion, but you bend all the same. âItâs just like a flip, but youâre holding still. You can do it!â
âBut if you canât,â he says, glib, âthen Iâll let you kick me in the face. Howâs that?â
Then he grabs your knees, and lifts.
>PHERES: Meet Aleida.
Riccin meets Aleida, a fuchsia-blooded heiress from a different sector of space, in a diplomatic outreach on the part of the church, Pheres has questions about Riccinâs new friend.. which ultimately results in Aleida offering him a sword as an overture of friendship, and Pheres trailing Riccin across space on a journey to get it.
After all, Hadean and Sipara said donât talk to strange highbloods. But they canât protest if he brings back gifts! =:)
PHERES:
By the time the ship lands, you're entirely ready to scamper. But Riccin doesn't let you out until they've had a chance to tie an indigo scarf around your neck, and dabbed white across the lids of your eyes, the arch of your mouth. They clasp something strange and metallic around your wrist, the cuff just loose enough to spin, and when you turn it to look, the symbol of the Messiahs winks up at you. "It's so they know you're with the Church," they tell you, firm. "Anyone so much as look at you twice, brother, you flash that, and tell 'im you're on an errand for Moongaze, yeah? It lets me know where you're at, too. 'n' if you need it off, all you gotta do --" They press a palm to it. Their psionics pool over it, the liquid blue light catching in the lines, and then it clicks open. "There," they say, and they slide it back shut. "But don't fucking take it off. You got two hours, aright? Then I'm comin' to fetch you." Hadean would squall. But there's a comfort in their worry, and you press a kiss to the open flat of their palm, all formal bright gratitude, before you bolt towards the meeting spot. Malevola's a strange place. It's only off in degrees, you think: if you were only watching it from the corner of your eyes, then it'd look like home, but there's a thousand different subtleties that drag at your attention in ways you can't quite understand. Your eyes keep lingering on spots they shouldn't. Your gaze keeps lighting up on trolls that it shouldn't - - but luckily, whenever you're in doubt, you can always fall back on manners. You keep your head down low, a soft smile on your face, and you let yourself blend in. No matter the planet, no matter the station, no one ever looks twice at a maroon who's simply a part of the crowd. It's a fact you've always abused, and it's one that, now, gets you all the way to the bridge you're supposed to meet at. It's.. very damp, is your first thought. Your next, worried thought is: - oh, dear. It's very empty.
INKTOBER - 12 - FALL
PHERES DYSSEU | 17 YEARS OLD /Â 7.85 SWEEPS
CASCARA CITY, LANTERNFIELDS | 2217 WORDS
Specific content warnings on this: this is a follow-up to the previous Sunstrider drabbles: Elilah warning Pheres off of them [1], Pheres & the troupe at 15 [2], and Chapar and Pheres at 16 [3]. Usual content warnings for this plot-line, which are: a bunch of young college students taking advantage of high schoolers, which culminates in this drabble!
"I'm leaving the Sunstriders," Chapar tells you briskly, sliding your door shut behind him, "and if you've got any common sense, I think you're going to, too."
You drop the can of coffee you'd been opening onto your counter with a nervous laugh. "Ah -"
"I'm not joking, Dys." Your van isn't that large. When he starts pacing, twenty steps takes him from your recuperation slit to the passenger seat, then he's whirling on his heel to do it again. Each step has you anxiously eyeing the ceiling to make sure his rack won't scrape. Sometimes you think your horns are impressive, but that always ends as soon as you see your best friend. He's just.. impressive, from his voice, to his rack, to the way he never has to wear a neck brace to keep all of his horns up.
No, he just had the luck to be hatched sturdy enough to deal with it. He's just a full meal, Malaya had said once as a joke, and he'd only ever said it to make Khaneh squall, but the phrase had stuck with you all the same.
Mostly because Malaya had never said anything like that about you. It's hard not to be jealous of Chapar, sometimes, when he's got a moirail, and big horns, and he's actually a proper part of the clade, while you're stuck at the outskirts.
Except he apparently doesn't want a clade.

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changing yourself isnât easy. building anything takes time, and it took you years to build up the first time. you donât have that luxury now. no matter how many times you divorce yourself, youâll never be able to run away forever.
hereâs the good news: you donât have to. the good news is that rubble makes as good a foundation as any. the good news is that with every aged brick you tear down, you fortify your future structure.
take out the rotting wood. pry up the bleached tile. replace it, refit it, rebuild it, and donât stop. itâs hard because itâs worth it. it can be done.
orange is a door, a transition, a tonal shift. if you lift your palate you can hit those higher notes. yes, thereâs something brighter on the other side. are you willing to do the work to get there?
cw for discussion of sex / trauma
RICCIN KAYATA | 8 sweeps, 19 years old
PHERES DYSSEU | 8 sweeps, 18 years old
âRust - Pheres,â you clarify, rolling your eyes. Last time you used an epithet, heâd said something about knowing who youâre with, like it was a joke, then sulked for days. âWhat is your problem, even?â
He blinks at you. âWhat?â
Knees balanced on yours, a hand braced on your shoulder: even leaning back, heâs only about of a height with you, nose level with yours. This close, you can smell the olive in his hair and the mint on his breath. This close, you can actually see the fine wrinkles of his face, and the way his mouth pinches. âI donât know what youâre -â
He pauses when you settle your hands on his hips. Thereâs a sliver of skin where his shirtâs pulled up, right above the hip-bones, and itâs amazing what a single touch can do: you hook your thumbs there, and you can feel the wave of tension spreading through him, pulling him up and away.
âThat,â you say, dry, âis what Iâm talkinâ about.â
âI donât -â Itâs just a shift back at first. Then he shimmies, just a little, and you know the routine. You lift off your hands, palms exposed, before he can slap them off, and flare them out in front of you:
Look. Not touching.
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scared to let your guard down
INKTOBER #4: DEFIANCE | 9686 WORDS
RICCIN KAYATA | ~9 SWEEPS / 20 YEARS OLD
PHERES DYSSEU | ~9 SWEEPS / 19 YEARS OLD
cw: discussion of age gaps and resulting consent issues, abuseÂ
âYou lookinâ for a pale? Donât worry about it,â Cu Chul had told you. âIâve got it fucking covered.â
This is not what youâd thought sheâd meant.
The apartment youâre lounging around is in set up - well, not like a pale bordello. Youâve been plenty of places, but youâve never been in one of those, no matter how many insinuations Dysseu makes. Nah, it just looks like a plain olâ fucking apartment, really. Itâs the same as half the buildings in Lang Kheh. The ceilings are low and wooden, with rafters exposed and cobwebs plagueing the corners. The roomâs smokey with the scent of roasting fish, and the stink of the docks from down below keeps wafting in through the cracked windows. The furnitureâs faded in the way that everything is, here: it doesnât matter how many doors you have, or shutters, or clothes. The salt always seems to find a way to bleach it.
It looks perfectly normal, save for the fucking floor. And thatâs only on account of the factâŚ
âCu,â you hiss, doing your best to keep your ears aloft. Your heart is in your throat, racing away like a rabbit on a track. You can practically feel each jump of your pulse. âCu!â
She looks back at you from where sheâs chattering with the host, some green-eyed sprat who scarcely reaches your shoulder. Heâs got the sort of face thatâd make your eyes linger, usually - the kind of horns thatâre made to take a grip - but youâve got bigger issues. The roomâs cute. Even you can admit that. The folks are cute, too.
Significantly less cute is the way some of âem are flat-out piling.
At first glance, it just looked like your regular sort of party. But nah. The two tealbloods snuggling on the couch arenât necking, for all that oneâs got her face pressed in close to his cheek. Theyâre whispering, their fingers laced together, and it was only when her shoulders hitched that youâd caught those were tears on her face, not fucking highlights.
Cu gestures at you sharply to wait.
âCu!â Â you yowl, louder this time. Thereâs an indigo and a rust braiding hair on the countertop. Every third strand, her hand goes skirting across the nape of his neck. When you jerk your chin towards âem for Cu to see, he actually fucking chirrs, harsh enough you can feel the vibrations through your feet, and he leans into it.
Your faceâs as orange as the sun itself. You look away like youâve been slapped, ears pulling back, and Cu -
- all she does is fucking laugh at you, lip curling like youâre being fucking silly. âI told you Iâd get you piled,â she says, all full of scorn. âCousin, you wicked nonbeliever, did you motherfucking doubt?â
âThis ainât a pile, girl!â You have to cant your voice low. The oliveâs eyebrows have raised so high, they might as well be hidden in his hair, and heâs stepped back neatly into the crowd. When Cu realises heâs moving, she actually shifts to watch him go, her mouth twisting down into a mouie, and it takes you clearing your throat for her gaze to turn back to you. âThisâs a fucking - fucking -â
She sighs. Then she steps in close, reaching up to grasp your braid and tug your face towards her. âCousin,â she drawls, soft and warm, even as her cool breath puffs against your cheek. Itâs honey-sweet, in a way that speaks to fucking pre-gaming that she didnât have the grace to share. âChillax. âcourse it ainât one pile. How the fuck you gonna find somebody if itâs one pile? You think Iâm haulinâ you out here, dragging your candy-ass all the way across the region, for one pile? You think Iâm lookinâ to bend your knees and haul you into mine?â
âNah, cuz. You wanted a pile, and I did you a good one. I gave you half a fucking dozen of âem.â She gives your braid a tug. âNow,â she says, âitâs up to you what you do with âem.â
Then she turns. âStygia!â she calls out. âStygia, babe, whereâd you wander off to?â
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Audio please đ
this video is extremely high-tier comedy

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judgement memeeeee
1 troll per reblog, but you can reblog as many times as you want
come get judged by this expressionless dork \o/
Judge this jackass?