this blog is dark content friendly, and occasionally 18+. all posts will be tagged appropriately with mdni and any applicable cws. please do not interact if you are under 18!
i am a leak free blog, do not talk to me about or link me to any leaks unless i ask please and thank you!
— spade • he/they • 20+ • hoyoverse writer
— all interactions come from novarchofstrength
— archive for all my writing is at dozingmeow
— feel free to ask for my genshin or hsr uid! I play on asia servers
— masterlist — ao3 — tags
— recent works
sff track I: origin point of failure [sfw]
h&r act v: apotheosis [sfw]
1 peter 4:8 [nsfw]
— working on
h&r act vi: oblation
event piece [current wc 20k]
cogito, ergo sum [current wc 1.4k]
ch! act i [current wc 1k]
amor vincit omnia [current wc 200]
credits; dividers are by diviniyae, stickers are official hsr in game assets
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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Reblog this if you want readers to come into your ask box and ask for the “director’s commentary” on a particular story, section of a story, or set of lines.
Or, send in a ⭐star⭐ to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!
Setlist for Failure | Track I: Origin Point of Failure
Pairing: Blade x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1.9k [in actual shock rn i wrote smth under 5k...]
Content Warnings: reader is an onlyfans model, mentions of; non-sexual nudity, sexual nudity, shibari, lingeire
series masterlist | masterlist | ao3
a/n: hello... this is the beginning of blade fumbling the same baddie over and over again while thinking he is fumbling two different baddies. all while he has millions of people willing to throw themselves at him hahahaha.
For all that the man claims it is Blade's fault for never having a password on his phone–his banking apps are locked, so why does the phone have to be as well? Blade doesn't understand it–at the end of the day, it is in fact, Jing Yuan's fault and Jing Yuan's fault alone.
Usually Blade would lay the accusation at Kafka's feet, since the woman has on more than one either downloaded dating apps onto his phone or used his card details to buy him porn; all with that infuriating smile as she tells him to "Live a little, Bladie." Except he isn't with the Stellaron Hunters when his bank informs him of a monthly charge by something called OnlyFans, he is–and has been for the past several weeks–on leave in the Xianzhou dealing with personal matters.
That is to say Jing Yuan had kept texting him about the latest spout Blade's older brother was having with the venerable CEO of Dragonvista Pharmaceuticals, and begging him to come try to corral his brothers–apparently Dan Heng wasn't having any luck. He could curse Jing Yuan for appealing to his need to show Dan Heng up, and he does curse Dan Heng a little.
In fact, going to his messages he opens up his chat with Dan Heng. Absently noting that they hadn't talked in nearly six months, the last time being when Dan Feng had wanted to try having a family dinner; despite the fact only he and Yingxing still lived in the Xianzhou full time.
Bladie 🔪 to Annoyance-in-Law 2
Fuck you.
Blade exits out of his texts, ignoring the bubbles that had popped up almost immediately and the subsequent notifications popping up at the top of his screen as Dan Heng angrily replies to him.
He goes back to his bank app and stares at the charge again, trying to remember what he had being doing last month. …all he can think of is the massive argument Dan Feng and Yingxing had been having, that Blade had been dragged into in a piss poor attempt to mediate between them.
Getting dragged into an argument between those two, was worse than when his co-workers started rowing in the middle of their synched periods or what Blade "affectionately" refers to it as–hell week. Blade envies Elio for being busy organising things all the time, he never gets dragged into the cat-fights Kafka, Firefly and Silver Wolf get into. Hm.
Bladie 🔪 to The Meowanager 🐈⬛
Fuck you.
Blade returns again to the bank charge, and oh hadn't he given his phone to Jing Yuan to hold during his brother's argument with his temperamental spouse? Well that solved the issue of how the charge had happened, opening up his browser he intends to figure out what inane subscription Jing Yuan has signed him up for now.
Blade stares at the result in equal parts disbelief and resignation, because of course, this is just like Jing Yuan. Sometimes Blade thinks that Jing Yuan and Kafka conspire together in an effort to make him turn as gray as his brother, truly he doesn't see any other way there is only ever one of them pulling this type of shit at a time.
Then again, their plans to get him laid would probably be twice as bad if they were conspiring. …perhaps Blade should start praying to Lan again, as thanks that those two haven't teamed up yet. What he doesn't know yet is that it would be too late for that, but he will when he gets back to Asdana.
Blade holds back a sigh and clicks on the link to the website, navigating with some difficulty to the log in screen. At the very least Jing Yuan has done him the service of clicking save password, because all he has to do is put in his email before the website finishes the process itself.
Blurred images greet him when it loads, and Blade is suddenly glad that he's currently alone in his hotel room. In fact, he is doubly glad that Yingxing hadn't insisted on him staying in the Dragonvista estate. Despite reading what the website was, it hadn't occurred to Blade that the images might show up upon logging in.
This must be a sort of page to go looking for accounts similar to ones you are subscribed to already, at least that is what Blade assumes. He had only had a vague awareness of these sorts of platforms, had thought it was good for whoever needed or just wanted to do that sort of work and hadn't put much more thought into it.
Still.
Bladie 🔪 to Dozing Meow 🐱
Die.
Blade reopens his browser, carefully clicking through the website until he finds the payment options.
What he intends to do is simple; he wants to cancel the subscription Jing Yuan had arranged, close the website and then forget about it all together. What he does is entirely different; he cancels the subscription, and then instead of exiting the website he accidentally clicks on KintsugiBunny's profile link.
His mouth goes dry instantly, heart suddenly a sharp staccato in his chest as he stares at someone who may as well have been hand crafted from his deepest fantasies. Your face isn't in any of the images he scrolls through, a smart thing to do if this is just a side hustle for you, but your body. Aeons.
Soft looking hands with even softer looking skin that is clad in lingerie set after lingerie set, red, black, blue, gold; a fetching shade of plum purple rope that makes him tighten his grip on his phone, the case creaking in his hold until he forces himself to relax his hand.
Blade truly thinks he could kill Jing Yuan right now: for setting this account up, for somehow finding the one person who seemed to have spawned from all of Blade's fantasies, and as a message notification pops up on the website and Blade reluctantly clicks on it to read your message he thinks he could kill him for this as well.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hi, um I just got a message that you unsubscribed but your payment for this month has already gone through?
You didn't put a reason, so I was wondering if you wanted a refund..?
Your anxiety practically radiates through the screen, and Blade is forcibly reminded that some of the people working jobs like these have no other options if they want to survive. It puts a sour taste in his mouth, the idea that someone as soft and sweet looking as you–who should be being pampered by someone–being forced to take on a job like this just for the money.
Blade has the irrational urge to spoil you, he certainly has enough zero's in his account to give you anything you wanted after all.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hello..?
You do know that your read receipts are on right?
Blade is seriously going to kill Jing Yuan next time he sees him, he's no longer joking.
Chat between KintsugiBunny 🐰 & Edgelord 🎸
Edgelord 🎸: No.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Is that a no to the refund or to knowing your read receipts being on?
Edgelord 🎸: Both.
Edgelord 🎸: I don't need the money. Keep it.
Edgelord 🎸: I want to give you more.
Why did he send that, you were going to think he was some kind of creep.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Oh. Were you trying to change your subscription tier, but cancelled it on accident then?
Edgelord 🎸: I'm. Not the best at technology.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: That's okay! If you want, you can tell me what tier it is you want to change to and I can do it from my end :>
Blade stared at his screen, he had no clue how to answer that; because on one hand if Blade hadn't accidentally clicked on your profile he really would have been cancelling the subscription, but on the other if you did it he wouldn't have to ask Jing Yuan to set it up again for him.
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one.
It couldn't be that much, right? Even if it was Blade barely spent his money on anything, he had more than enough zeros in his account to pay for your highest tier. As well as enough interest to pay it, in all the picture he had seen before your first message; you were so beautiful, he had already been dreading having ask Jing Yuan to help him resubscribe to you.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: What
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I mean, are you sure? The highest one, and not the next one up?
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one. Don't worry, I can afford it.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Well… if you're absolutely sure…
Blade finds your hesitation cute, but it is completely unnecessary.
Edgelord 🎸: I'm certain.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Okay, I'll do it right now for you! It should only charge you the difference between your previous tier and your new one :>
Edgelord 🎸: It's fine if it charges the full price.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I've done it, so you should be charged today sometime or in the next few days.
Edgelord 🎸: Thanks.
Edgelord 🎸: Have a nice night Bunny.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: oh
KintsugiBunny 🐰: You too !!
Blade's lips quirk up as he exits the website, resisting the urge to scroll through more of your photos only by reminding himself he had to be up early for a flight tomorrow; and Blade would like to take his time enjoying your hard work. Thinking of his flight makes him double check that his alarm is on though, nose wrinkling at the 4AM marked down. Even if he's used to catching flights at all times of the day due to his job, he still doesn't like it.
Rolling his shoulder absentmindedly he got up from the couch in his hotel room, moving over to plug his phone into his charger next to the bed. Leaving it there he goes and has a quick shower, stepping back into the room fifteen minutes later; a towel slung low around his waist and another down his back, to catch the lingering water dripping from his braid.
He can hear his phone ding with the familiar sound of his banking app, but ignores while he pulls a pair if sweats on. Sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, Blade picks up his phone curious to see how much his new subscription cost considering how shocked you had been over him picking it.
"Heh," Blade can't help it when he snorts, an amused smirk overtaking his lips as he looks down at the new charge. He shouldn't be amused, with how shocked you had been this was clearly a lot of money to you. Blade just can't help it though, with how little he spends his money this may as well be the equivalent of a fancy coffee to him.
New charge: $59.99 by OnlyFans.
Blade has to laugh at it, because if he doesn't he thinks he might demand to know who made you think so poorly of your body; and then kill them for it. Seventy dollars for your highest subscription, in Blade's opinion that should be the minimum amount a person should be paying for access to your account.
He supposes he might actually need a password on his phone from now on, just so Jing Yuan can't find out about this if nothing else. That's a problem to figure out tomorrow though, for now he needs to get to bed if he doesn't want his early flight to completely fuck him over.
a/n: despite this being a for fun thing i do have a plot in mind hehe !! be prepare to enjoy much more of blade being a failure at social interaction and fumbling. also disclaimer i have no idea how onlyfans works and i dont rlly want to research it icl so im basing the subscription stuff off my understanding of patreon
Setlist for Failure | Track I: Origin Point of Failure
Pairing: Blade x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1.9k [in actual shock rn i wrote smth under 5k...]
Content Warnings: reader is an onlyfans model, mentions of; non-sexual nudity, sexual nudity, shibari, lingeire
series masterlist | masterlist | ao3
a/n: hello... this is the beginning of blade fumbling the same baddie over and over again while thinking he is fumbling two different baddies. all while he has millions of people willing to throw themselves at him hahahaha.
For all that the man claims it is Blade's fault for never having a password on his phone–his banking apps are locked, so why does the phone have to be as well? Blade doesn't understand it–at the end of the day, it is in fact, Jing Yuan's fault and Jing Yuan's fault alone.
Usually Blade would lay the accusation at Kafka's feet, since the woman has on more than one either downloaded dating apps onto his phone or used his card details to buy him porn; all with that infuriating smile as she tells him to "Live a little, Bladie." Except he isn't with the Stellaron Hunters when his bank informs him of a monthly charge by something called OnlyFans, he is–and has been for the past several weeks–on leave in the Xianzhou dealing with personal matters.
That is to say Jing Yuan had kept texting him about the latest spout Blade's older brother was having with the venerable CEO of Dragonvista Pharmaceuticals, and begging him to come try to corral his brothers–apparently Dan Heng wasn't having any luck. He could curse Jing Yuan for appealing to his need to show Dan Heng up, and he does curse Dan Heng a little.
In fact, going to his messages he opens up his chat with Dan Heng. Absently noting that they hadn't talked in nearly six months, the last time being when Dan Feng had wanted to try having a family dinner; despite the fact only he and Yingxing still lived in the Xianzhou full time.
Bladie 🔪 to Annoyance-in-Law 2
Fuck you.
Blade exits out of his texts, ignoring the bubbles that had popped up almost immediately and the subsequent notifications popping up at the top of his screen as Dan Heng angrily replies to him.
He goes back to his bank app and stares at the charge again, trying to remember what he had being doing last month. …all he can think of is the massive argument Dan Feng and Yingxing had been having, that Blade had been dragged into in a piss poor attempt to mediate between them.
Getting dragged into an argument between those two, was worse than when his co-workers started rowing in the middle of their synched periods or what Blade "affectionately" refers to it as–hell week. Blade envies Elio for being busy organising things all the time, he never gets dragged into the cat-fights Kafka, Firefly and Silver Wolf get into. Hm.
Bladie 🔪 to The Meowanager 🐈⬛
Fuck you.
Blade returns again to the bank charge, and oh hadn't he given his phone to Jing Yuan to hold during his brother's argument with his temperamental spouse? Well that solved the issue of how the charge had happened, opening up his browser he intends to figure out what inane subscription Jing Yuan has signed him up for now.
Blade stares at the result in equal parts disbelief and resignation, because of course, this is just like Jing Yuan. Sometimes Blade thinks that Jing Yuan and Kafka conspire together in an effort to make him turn as gray as his brother, truly he doesn't see any other way there is only ever one of them pulling this type of shit at a time.
Then again, their plans to get him laid would probably be twice as bad if they were conspiring. …perhaps Blade should start praying to Lan again, as thanks that those two haven't teamed up yet. What he doesn't know yet is that it would be too late for that, but he will when he gets back to Asdana.
Blade holds back a sigh and clicks on the link to the website, navigating with some difficulty to the log in screen. At the very least Jing Yuan has done him the service of clicking save password, because all he has to do is put in his email before the website finishes the process itself.
Blurred images greet him when it loads, and Blade is suddenly glad that he's currently alone in his hotel room. In fact, he is doubly glad that Yingxing hadn't insisted on him staying in the Dragonvista estate. Despite reading what the website was, it hadn't occurred to Blade that the images might show up upon logging in.
This must be a sort of page to go looking for accounts similar to ones you are subscribed to already, at least that is what Blade assumes. He had only had a vague awareness of these sorts of platforms, had thought it was good for whoever needed or just wanted to do that sort of work and hadn't put much more thought into it.
Still.
Bladie 🔪 to Dozing Meow 🐱
Die.
Blade reopens his browser, carefully clicking through the website until he finds the payment options.
What he intends to do is simple; he wants to cancel the subscription Jing Yuan had arranged, close the website and then forget about it all together. What he does is entirely different; he cancels the subscription, and then instead of exiting the website he accidentally clicks on KintsugiBunny's profile link.
His mouth goes dry instantly, heart suddenly a sharp staccato in his chest as he stares at someone who may as well have been hand crafted from his deepest fantasies. Your face isn't in any of the images he scrolls through, a smart thing to do if this is just a side hustle for you, but your body. Aeons.
Soft looking hands with even softer looking skin that is clad in lingerie set after lingerie set, red, black, blue, gold; a fetching shade of plum purple rope that makes him tighten his grip on his phone, the case creaking in his hold until he forces himself to relax his hand.
Blade truly thinks he could kill Jing Yuan right now: for setting this account up, for somehow finding the one person who seemed to have spawned from all of Blade's fantasies, and as a message notification pops up on the website and Blade reluctantly clicks on it to read your message he thinks he could kill him for this as well.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hi, um I just got a message that you unsubscribed but your payment for this month has already gone through?
You didn't put a reason, so I was wondering if you wanted a refund..?
Your anxiety practically radiates through the screen, and Blade is forcibly reminded that some of the people working jobs like these have no other options if they want to survive. It puts a sour taste in his mouth, the idea that someone as soft and sweet looking as you–who should be being pampered by someone–being forced to take on a job like this just for the money.
Blade has the irrational urge to spoil you, he certainly has enough zero's in his account to give you anything you wanted after all.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hello..?
You do know that your read receipts are on right?
Blade is seriously going to kill Jing Yuan next time he sees him, he's no longer joking.
Chat between KintsugiBunny 🐰 & Edgelord 🎸
Edgelord 🎸: No.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Is that a no to the refund or to knowing your read receipts being on?
Edgelord 🎸: Both.
Edgelord 🎸: I don't need the money. Keep it.
Edgelord 🎸: I want to give you more.
Why did he send that, you were going to think he was some kind of creep.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Oh. Were you trying to change your subscription tier, but cancelled it on accident then?
Edgelord 🎸: I'm. Not the best at technology.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: That's okay! If you want, you can tell me what tier it is you want to change to and I can do it from my end :>
Blade stared at his screen, he had no clue how to answer that; because on one hand if Blade hadn't accidentally clicked on your profile he really would have been cancelling the subscription, but on the other if you did it he wouldn't have to ask Jing Yuan to set it up again for him.
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one.
It couldn't be that much, right? Even if it was Blade barely spent his money on anything, he had more than enough zeros in his account to pay for your highest tier. As well as enough interest to pay it, in all the picture he had seen before your first message; you were so beautiful, he had already been dreading having ask Jing Yuan to help him resubscribe to you.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: What
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I mean, are you sure? The highest one, and not the next one up?
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one. Don't worry, I can afford it.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Well… if you're absolutely sure…
Blade finds your hesitation cute, but it is completely unnecessary.
Edgelord 🎸: I'm certain.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Okay, I'll do it right now for you! It should only charge you the difference between your previous tier and your new one :>
Edgelord 🎸: It's fine if it charges the full price.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I've done it, so you should be charged today sometime or in the next few days.
Edgelord 🎸: Thanks.
Edgelord 🎸: Have a nice night Bunny.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: oh
KintsugiBunny 🐰: You too !!
Blade's lips quirk up as he exits the website, resisting the urge to scroll through more of your photos only by reminding himself he had to be up early for a flight tomorrow; and Blade would like to take his time enjoying your hard work. Thinking of his flight makes him double check that his alarm is on though, nose wrinkling at the 4AM marked down. Even if he's used to catching flights at all times of the day due to his job, he still doesn't like it.
Rolling his shoulder absentmindedly he got up from the couch in his hotel room, moving over to plug his phone into his charger next to the bed. Leaving it there he goes and has a quick shower, stepping back into the room fifteen minutes later; a towel slung low around his waist and another down his back, to catch the lingering water dripping from his braid.
He can hear his phone ding with the familiar sound of his banking app, but ignores while he pulls a pair if sweats on. Sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, Blade picks up his phone curious to see how much his new subscription cost considering how shocked you had been over him picking it.
"Heh," Blade can't help it when he snorts, an amused smirk overtaking his lips as he looks down at the new charge. He shouldn't be amused, with how shocked you had been this was clearly a lot of money to you. Blade just can't help it though, with how little he spends his money this may as well be the equivalent of a fancy coffee to him.
New charge: $59.99 by OnlyFans.
Blade has to laugh at it, because if he doesn't he thinks he might demand to know who made you think so poorly of your body; and then kill them for it. Seventy dollars for your highest subscription, in Blade's opinion that should be the minimum amount a person should be paying for access to your account.
He supposes he might actually need a password on his phone from now on, just so Jing Yuan can't find out about this if nothing else. That's a problem to figure out tomorrow though, for now he needs to get to bed if he doesn't want his early flight to completely fuck him over.
a/n: despite this being a for fun thing i do have a plot in mind hehe !! be prepare to enjoy much more of blade being a failure at social interaction and fumbling. also disclaimer i have no idea how onlyfans works and i dont rlly want to research it icl so im basing the subscription stuff off my understanding of patreon
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Setlist for Failure | Track I: Origin Point of Failure
Pairing: Blade x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1.9k [in actual shock rn i wrote smth under 5k...]
Content Warnings: reader is an onlyfans model, mentions of; non-sexual nudity, sexual nudity, shibari, lingeire
series masterlist | masterlist | ao3
a/n: hello... this is the beginning of blade fumbling the same baddie over and over again while thinking he is fumbling two different baddies. all while he has millions of people willing to throw themselves at him hahahaha.
For all that the man claims it is Blade's fault for never having a password on his phone–his banking apps are locked, so why does the phone have to be as well? Blade doesn't understand it–at the end of the day, it is in fact, Jing Yuan's fault and Jing Yuan's fault alone.
Usually Blade would lay the accusation at Kafka's feet, since the woman has on more than one either downloaded dating apps onto his phone or used his card details to buy him porn; all with that infuriating smile as she tells him to "Live a little, Bladie." Except he isn't with the Stellaron Hunters when his bank informs him of a monthly charge by something called OnlyFans, he is–and has been for the past several weeks–on leave in the Xianzhou dealing with personal matters.
That is to say Jing Yuan had kept texting him about the latest spout Blade's older brother was having with the venerable CEO of Dragonvista Pharmaceuticals, and begging him to come try to corral his brothers–apparently Dan Heng wasn't having any luck. He could curse Jing Yuan for appealing to his need to show Dan Heng up, and he does curse Dan Heng a little.
In fact, going to his messages he opens up his chat with Dan Heng. Absently noting that they hadn't talked in nearly six months, the last time being when Dan Feng had wanted to try having a family dinner; despite the fact only he and Yingxing still lived in the Xianzhou full time.
Bladie 🔪 to Annoyance-in-Law 2
Fuck you.
Blade exits out of his texts, ignoring the bubbles that had popped up almost immediately and the subsequent notifications popping up at the top of his screen as Dan Heng angrily replies to him.
He goes back to his bank app and stares at the charge again, trying to remember what he had being doing last month. …all he can think of is the massive argument Dan Feng and Yingxing had been having, that Blade had been dragged into in a piss poor attempt to mediate between them.
Getting dragged into an argument between those two, was worse than when his co-workers started rowing in the middle of their synched periods or what Blade "affectionately" refers to it as–hell week. Blade envies Elio for being busy organising things all the time, he never gets dragged into the cat-fights Kafka, Firefly and Silver Wolf get into. Hm.
Bladie 🔪 to The Meowanager 🐈⬛
Fuck you.
Blade returns again to the bank charge, and oh hadn't he given his phone to Jing Yuan to hold during his brother's argument with his temperamental spouse? Well that solved the issue of how the charge had happened, opening up his browser he intends to figure out what inane subscription Jing Yuan has signed him up for now.
Blade stares at the result in equal parts disbelief and resignation, because of course, this is just like Jing Yuan. Sometimes Blade thinks that Jing Yuan and Kafka conspire together in an effort to make him turn as gray as his brother, truly he doesn't see any other way there is only ever one of them pulling this type of shit at a time.
Then again, their plans to get him laid would probably be twice as bad if they were conspiring. …perhaps Blade should start praying to Lan again, as thanks that those two haven't teamed up yet. What he doesn't know yet is that it would be too late for that, but he will when he gets back to Asdana.
Blade holds back a sigh and clicks on the link to the website, navigating with some difficulty to the log in screen. At the very least Jing Yuan has done him the service of clicking save password, because all he has to do is put in his email before the website finishes the process itself.
Blurred images greet him when it loads, and Blade is suddenly glad that he's currently alone in his hotel room. In fact, he is doubly glad that Yingxing hadn't insisted on him staying in the Dragonvista estate. Despite reading what the website was, it hadn't occurred to Blade that the images might show up upon logging in.
This must be a sort of page to go looking for accounts similar to ones you are subscribed to already, at least that is what Blade assumes. He had only had a vague awareness of these sorts of platforms, had thought it was good for whoever needed or just wanted to do that sort of work and hadn't put much more thought into it.
Still.
Bladie 🔪 to Dozing Meow 🐱
Die.
Blade reopens his browser, carefully clicking through the website until he finds the payment options.
What he intends to do is simple; he wants to cancel the subscription Jing Yuan had arranged, close the website and then forget about it all together. What he does is entirely different; he cancels the subscription, and then instead of exiting the website he accidentally clicks on KintsugiBunny's profile link.
His mouth goes dry instantly, heart suddenly a sharp staccato in his chest as he stares at someone who may as well have been hand crafted from his deepest fantasies. Your face isn't in any of the images he scrolls through, a smart thing to do if this is just a side hustle for you, but your body. Aeons.
Soft looking hands with even softer looking skin that is clad in lingerie set after lingerie set, red, black, blue, gold; a fetching shade of plum purple rope that makes him tighten his grip on his phone, the case creaking in his hold until he forces himself to relax his hand.
Blade truly thinks he could kill Jing Yuan right now: for setting this account up, for somehow finding the one person who seemed to have spawned from all of Blade's fantasies, and as a message notification pops up on the website and Blade reluctantly clicks on it to read your message he thinks he could kill him for this as well.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hi, um I just got a message that you unsubscribed but your payment for this month has already gone through?
You didn't put a reason, so I was wondering if you wanted a refund..?
Your anxiety practically radiates through the screen, and Blade is forcibly reminded that some of the people working jobs like these have no other options if they want to survive. It puts a sour taste in his mouth, the idea that someone as soft and sweet looking as you–who should be being pampered by someone–being forced to take on a job like this just for the money.
Blade has the irrational urge to spoil you, he certainly has enough zero's in his account to give you anything you wanted after all.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hello..?
You do know that your read receipts are on right?
Blade is seriously going to kill Jing Yuan next time he sees him, he's no longer joking.
Chat between KintsugiBunny 🐰 & Edgelord 🎸
Edgelord 🎸: No.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Is that a no to the refund or to knowing your read receipts being on?
Edgelord 🎸: Both.
Edgelord 🎸: I don't need the money. Keep it.
Edgelord 🎸: I want to give you more.
Why did he send that, you were going to think he was some kind of creep.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Oh. Were you trying to change your subscription tier, but cancelled it on accident then?
Edgelord 🎸: I'm. Not the best at technology.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: That's okay! If you want, you can tell me what tier it is you want to change to and I can do it from my end :>
Blade stared at his screen, he had no clue how to answer that; because on one hand if Blade hadn't accidentally clicked on your profile he really would have been cancelling the subscription, but on the other if you did it he wouldn't have to ask Jing Yuan to set it up again for him.
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one.
It couldn't be that much, right? Even if it was Blade barely spent his money on anything, he had more than enough zeros in his account to pay for your highest tier. As well as enough interest to pay it, in all the picture he had seen before your first message; you were so beautiful, he had already been dreading having ask Jing Yuan to help him resubscribe to you.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: What
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I mean, are you sure? The highest one, and not the next one up?
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one. Don't worry, I can afford it.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Well… if you're absolutely sure…
Blade finds your hesitation cute, but it is completely unnecessary.
Edgelord 🎸: I'm certain.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Okay, I'll do it right now for you! It should only charge you the difference between your previous tier and your new one :>
Edgelord 🎸: It's fine if it charges the full price.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I've done it, so you should be charged today sometime or in the next few days.
Edgelord 🎸: Thanks.
Edgelord 🎸: Have a nice night Bunny.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: oh
KintsugiBunny 🐰: You too !!
Blade's lips quirk up as he exits the website, resisting the urge to scroll through more of your photos only by reminding himself he had to be up early for a flight tomorrow; and Blade would like to take his time enjoying your hard work. Thinking of his flight makes him double check that his alarm is on though, nose wrinkling at the 4AM marked down. Even if he's used to catching flights at all times of the day due to his job, he still doesn't like it.
Rolling his shoulder absentmindedly he got up from the couch in his hotel room, moving over to plug his phone into his charger next to the bed. Leaving it there he goes and has a quick shower, stepping back into the room fifteen minutes later; a towel slung low around his waist and another down his back, to catch the lingering water dripping from his braid.
He can hear his phone ding with the familiar sound of his banking app, but ignores while he pulls a pair if sweats on. Sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, Blade picks up his phone curious to see how much his new subscription cost considering how shocked you had been over him picking it.
"Heh," Blade can't help it when he snorts, an amused smirk overtaking his lips as he looks down at the new charge. He shouldn't be amused, with how shocked you had been this was clearly a lot of money to you. Blade just can't help it though, with how little he spends his money this may as well be the equivalent of a fancy coffee to him.
New charge: $59.99 by OnlyFans.
Blade has to laugh at it, because if he doesn't he thinks he might demand to know who made you think so poorly of your body; and then kill them for it. Seventy dollars for your highest subscription, in Blade's opinion that should be the minimum amount a person should be paying for access to your account.
He supposes he might actually need a password on his phone from now on, just so Jing Yuan can't find out about this if nothing else. That's a problem to figure out tomorrow though, for now he needs to get to bed if he doesn't want his early flight to completely fuck him over.
a/n: despite this being a for fun thing i do have a plot in mind hehe !! be prepare to enjoy much more of blade being a failure at social interaction and fumbling. also disclaimer i have no idea how onlyfans works and i dont rlly want to research it icl so im basing the subscription stuff off my understanding of patreon
Setlist for Failure | Track I: Origin Point of Failure
Pairing: Blade x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1.9k [in actual shock rn i wrote smth under 5k...]
Content Warnings: reader is an onlyfans model, mentions of; non-sexual nudity, sexual nudity, shibari, lingeire
series masterlist | masterlist | ao3
a/n: hello... this is the beginning of blade fumbling the same baddie over and over again while thinking he is fumbling two different baddies. all while he has millions of people willing to throw themselves at him hahahaha.
For all that the man claims it is Blade's fault for never having a password on his phone–his banking apps are locked, so why does the phone have to be as well? Blade doesn't understand it–at the end of the day, it is in fact, Jing Yuan's fault and Jing Yuan's fault alone.
Usually Blade would lay the accusation at Kafka's feet, since the woman has on more than one either downloaded dating apps onto his phone or used his card details to buy him porn; all with that infuriating smile as she tells him to "Live a little, Bladie." Except he isn't with the Stellaron Hunters when his bank informs him of a monthly charge by something called OnlyFans, he is–and has been for the past several weeks–on leave in the Xianzhou dealing with personal matters.
That is to say Jing Yuan had kept texting him about the latest spout Blade's older brother was having with the venerable CEO of Dragonvista Pharmaceuticals, and begging him to come try to corral his brothers–apparently Dan Heng wasn't having any luck. He could curse Jing Yuan for appealing to his need to show Dan Heng up, and he does curse Dan Heng a little.
In fact, going to his messages he opens up his chat with Dan Heng. Absently noting that they hadn't talked in nearly six months, the last time being when Dan Feng had wanted to try having a family dinner; despite the fact only he and Yingxing still lived in the Xianzhou full time.
Bladie 🔪 to Annoyance-in-Law 2
Fuck you.
Blade exits out of his texts, ignoring the bubbles that had popped up almost immediately and the subsequent notifications popping up at the top of his screen as Dan Heng angrily replies to him.
He goes back to his bank app and stares at the charge again, trying to remember what he had being doing last month. …all he can think of is the massive argument Dan Feng and Yingxing had been having, that Blade had been dragged into in a piss poor attempt to mediate between them.
Getting dragged into an argument between those two, was worse than when his co-workers started rowing in the middle of their synched periods or what Blade "affectionately" refers to it as–hell week. Blade envies Elio for being busy organising things all the time, he never gets dragged into the cat-fights Kafka, Firefly and Silver Wolf get into. Hm.
Bladie 🔪 to The Meowanager 🐈⬛
Fuck you.
Blade returns again to the bank charge, and oh hadn't he given his phone to Jing Yuan to hold during his brother's argument with his temperamental spouse? Well that solved the issue of how the charge had happened, opening up his browser he intends to figure out what inane subscription Jing Yuan has signed him up for now.
Blade stares at the result in equal parts disbelief and resignation, because of course, this is just like Jing Yuan. Sometimes Blade thinks that Jing Yuan and Kafka conspire together in an effort to make him turn as gray as his brother, truly he doesn't see any other way there is only ever one of them pulling this type of shit at a time.
Then again, their plans to get him laid would probably be twice as bad if they were conspiring. …perhaps Blade should start praying to Lan again, as thanks that those two haven't teamed up yet. What he doesn't know yet is that it would be too late for that, but he will when he gets back to Asdana.
Blade holds back a sigh and clicks on the link to the website, navigating with some difficulty to the log in screen. At the very least Jing Yuan has done him the service of clicking save password, because all he has to do is put in his email before the website finishes the process itself.
Blurred images greet him when it loads, and Blade is suddenly glad that he's currently alone in his hotel room. In fact, he is doubly glad that Yingxing hadn't insisted on him staying in the Dragonvista estate. Despite reading what the website was, it hadn't occurred to Blade that the images might show up upon logging in.
This must be a sort of page to go looking for accounts similar to ones you are subscribed to already, at least that is what Blade assumes. He had only had a vague awareness of these sorts of platforms, had thought it was good for whoever needed or just wanted to do that sort of work and hadn't put much more thought into it.
Still.
Bladie 🔪 to Dozing Meow 🐱
Die.
Blade reopens his browser, carefully clicking through the website until he finds the payment options.
What he intends to do is simple; he wants to cancel the subscription Jing Yuan had arranged, close the website and then forget about it all together. What he does is entirely different; he cancels the subscription, and then instead of exiting the website he accidentally clicks on KintsugiBunny's profile link.
His mouth goes dry instantly, heart suddenly a sharp staccato in his chest as he stares at someone who may as well have been hand crafted from his deepest fantasies. Your face isn't in any of the images he scrolls through, a smart thing to do if this is just a side hustle for you, but your body. Aeons.
Soft looking hands with even softer looking skin that is clad in lingerie set after lingerie set, red, black, blue, gold; a fetching shade of plum purple rope that makes him tighten his grip on his phone, the case creaking in his hold until he forces himself to relax his hand.
Blade truly thinks he could kill Jing Yuan right now: for setting this account up, for somehow finding the one person who seemed to have spawned from all of Blade's fantasies, and as a message notification pops up on the website and Blade reluctantly clicks on it to read your message he thinks he could kill him for this as well.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hi, um I just got a message that you unsubscribed but your payment for this month has already gone through?
You didn't put a reason, so I was wondering if you wanted a refund..?
Your anxiety practically radiates through the screen, and Blade is forcibly reminded that some of the people working jobs like these have no other options if they want to survive. It puts a sour taste in his mouth, the idea that someone as soft and sweet looking as you–who should be being pampered by someone–being forced to take on a job like this just for the money.
Blade has the irrational urge to spoil you, he certainly has enough zero's in his account to give you anything you wanted after all.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hello..?
You do know that your read receipts are on right?
Blade is seriously going to kill Jing Yuan next time he sees him, he's no longer joking.
Chat between KintsugiBunny 🐰 & Edgelord 🎸
Edgelord 🎸: No.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Is that a no to the refund or to knowing your read receipts being on?
Edgelord 🎸: Both.
Edgelord 🎸: I don't need the money. Keep it.
Edgelord 🎸: I want to give you more.
Why did he send that, you were going to think he was some kind of creep.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Oh. Were you trying to change your subscription tier, but cancelled it on accident then?
Edgelord 🎸: I'm. Not the best at technology.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: That's okay! If you want, you can tell me what tier it is you want to change to and I can do it from my end :>
Blade stared at his screen, he had no clue how to answer that; because on one hand if Blade hadn't accidentally clicked on your profile he really would have been cancelling the subscription, but on the other if you did it he wouldn't have to ask Jing Yuan to set it up again for him.
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one.
It couldn't be that much, right? Even if it was Blade barely spent his money on anything, he had more than enough zeros in his account to pay for your highest tier. As well as enough interest to pay it, in all the picture he had seen before your first message; you were so beautiful, he had already been dreading having ask Jing Yuan to help him resubscribe to you.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: What
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I mean, are you sure? The highest one, and not the next one up?
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one. Don't worry, I can afford it.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Well… if you're absolutely sure…
Blade finds your hesitation cute, but it is completely unnecessary.
Edgelord 🎸: I'm certain.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Okay, I'll do it right now for you! It should only charge you the difference between your previous tier and your new one :>
Edgelord 🎸: It's fine if it charges the full price.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I've done it, so you should be charged today sometime or in the next few days.
Edgelord 🎸: Thanks.
Edgelord 🎸: Have a nice night Bunny.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: oh
KintsugiBunny 🐰: You too !!
Blade's lips quirk up as he exits the website, resisting the urge to scroll through more of your photos only by reminding himself he had to be up early for a flight tomorrow; and Blade would like to take his time enjoying your hard work. Thinking of his flight makes him double check that his alarm is on though, nose wrinkling at the 4AM marked down. Even if he's used to catching flights at all times of the day due to his job, he still doesn't like it.
Rolling his shoulder absentmindedly he got up from the couch in his hotel room, moving over to plug his phone into his charger next to the bed. Leaving it there he goes and has a quick shower, stepping back into the room fifteen minutes later; a towel slung low around his waist and another down his back, to catch the lingering water dripping from his braid.
He can hear his phone ding with the familiar sound of his banking app, but ignores while he pulls a pair if sweats on. Sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, Blade picks up his phone curious to see how much his new subscription cost considering how shocked you had been over him picking it.
"Heh," Blade can't help it when he snorts, an amused smirk overtaking his lips as he looks down at the new charge. He shouldn't be amused, with how shocked you had been this was clearly a lot of money to you. Blade just can't help it though, with how little he spends his money this may as well be the equivalent of a fancy coffee to him.
New charge: $59.99 by OnlyFans.
Blade has to laugh at it, because if he doesn't he thinks he might demand to know who made you think so poorly of your body; and then kill them for it. Seventy dollars for your highest subscription, in Blade's opinion that should be the minimum amount a person should be paying for access to your account.
He supposes he might actually need a password on his phone from now on, just so Jing Yuan can't find out about this if nothing else. That's a problem to figure out tomorrow though, for now he needs to get to bed if he doesn't want his early flight to completely fuck him over.
a/n: despite this being a for fun thing i do have a plot in mind hehe !! be prepare to enjoy much more of blade being a failure at social interaction and fumbling. also disclaimer i have no idea how onlyfans works and i dont rlly want to research it icl so im basing the subscription stuff off my understanding of patreon
Setlist for Failure | Track I: Origin Point of Failure
Pairing: Blade x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1.9k [in actual shock rn i wrote smth under 5k...]
Content Warnings: reader is an onlyfans model, mentions of; non-sexual nudity, sexual nudity, shibari, lingeire
series masterlist | masterlist | ao3
a/n: hello... this is the beginning of blade fumbling the same baddie over and over again while thinking he is fumbling two different baddies. all while he has millions of people willing to throw themselves at him hahahaha.
For all that the man claims it is Blade's fault for never having a password on his phone–his banking apps are locked, so why does the phone have to be as well? Blade doesn't understand it–at the end of the day, it is in fact, Jing Yuan's fault and Jing Yuan's fault alone.
Usually Blade would lay the accusation at Kafka's feet, since the woman has on more than one either downloaded dating apps onto his phone or used his card details to buy him porn; all with that infuriating smile as she tells him to "Live a little, Bladie." Except he isn't with the Stellaron Hunters when his bank informs him of a monthly charge by something called OnlyFans, he is–and has been for the past several weeks–on leave in the Xianzhou dealing with personal matters.
That is to say Jing Yuan had kept texting him about the latest spout Blade's older brother was having with the venerable CEO of Dragonvista Pharmaceuticals, and begging him to come try to corral his brothers–apparently Dan Heng wasn't having any luck. He could curse Jing Yuan for appealing to his need to show Dan Heng up, and he does curse Dan Heng a little.
In fact, going to his messages he opens up his chat with Dan Heng. Absently noting that they hadn't talked in nearly six months, the last time being when Dan Feng had wanted to try having a family dinner; despite the fact only he and Yingxing still lived in the Xianzhou full time.
Bladie 🔪 to Annoyance-in-Law 2
Fuck you.
Blade exits out of his texts, ignoring the bubbles that had popped up almost immediately and the subsequent notifications popping up at the top of his screen as Dan Heng angrily replies to him.
He goes back to his bank app and stares at the charge again, trying to remember what he had being doing last month. …all he can think of is the massive argument Dan Feng and Yingxing had been having, that Blade had been dragged into in a piss poor attempt to mediate between them.
Getting dragged into an argument between those two, was worse than when his co-workers started rowing in the middle of their synched periods or what Blade "affectionately" refers to it as–hell week. Blade envies Elio for being busy organising things all the time, he never gets dragged into the cat-fights Kafka, Firefly and Silver Wolf get into. Hm.
Bladie 🔪 to The Meowanager 🐈⬛
Fuck you.
Blade returns again to the bank charge, and oh hadn't he given his phone to Jing Yuan to hold during his brother's argument with his temperamental spouse? Well that solved the issue of how the charge had happened, opening up his browser he intends to figure out what inane subscription Jing Yuan has signed him up for now.
Blade stares at the result in equal parts disbelief and resignation, because of course, this is just like Jing Yuan. Sometimes Blade thinks that Jing Yuan and Kafka conspire together in an effort to make him turn as gray as his brother, truly he doesn't see any other way there is only ever one of them pulling this type of shit at a time.
Then again, their plans to get him laid would probably be twice as bad if they were conspiring. …perhaps Blade should start praying to Lan again, as thanks that those two haven't teamed up yet. What he doesn't know yet is that it would be too late for that, but he will when he gets back to Asdana.
Blade holds back a sigh and clicks on the link to the website, navigating with some difficulty to the log in screen. At the very least Jing Yuan has done him the service of clicking save password, because all he has to do is put in his email before the website finishes the process itself.
Blurred images greet him when it loads, and Blade is suddenly glad that he's currently alone in his hotel room. In fact, he is doubly glad that Yingxing hadn't insisted on him staying in the Dragonvista estate. Despite reading what the website was, it hadn't occurred to Blade that the images might show up upon logging in.
This must be a sort of page to go looking for accounts similar to ones you are subscribed to already, at least that is what Blade assumes. He had only had a vague awareness of these sorts of platforms, had thought it was good for whoever needed or just wanted to do that sort of work and hadn't put much more thought into it.
Still.
Bladie 🔪 to Dozing Meow 🐱
Die.
Blade reopens his browser, carefully clicking through the website until he finds the payment options.
What he intends to do is simple; he wants to cancel the subscription Jing Yuan had arranged, close the website and then forget about it all together. What he does is entirely different; he cancels the subscription, and then instead of exiting the website he accidentally clicks on KintsugiBunny's profile link.
His mouth goes dry instantly, heart suddenly a sharp staccato in his chest as he stares at someone who may as well have been hand crafted from his deepest fantasies. Your face isn't in any of the images he scrolls through, a smart thing to do if this is just a side hustle for you, but your body. Aeons.
Soft looking hands with even softer looking skin that is clad in lingerie set after lingerie set, red, black, blue, gold; a fetching shade of plum purple rope that makes him tighten his grip on his phone, the case creaking in his hold until he forces himself to relax his hand.
Blade truly thinks he could kill Jing Yuan right now: for setting this account up, for somehow finding the one person who seemed to have spawned from all of Blade's fantasies, and as a message notification pops up on the website and Blade reluctantly clicks on it to read your message he thinks he could kill him for this as well.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hi, um I just got a message that you unsubscribed but your payment for this month has already gone through?
You didn't put a reason, so I was wondering if you wanted a refund..?
Your anxiety practically radiates through the screen, and Blade is forcibly reminded that some of the people working jobs like these have no other options if they want to survive. It puts a sour taste in his mouth, the idea that someone as soft and sweet looking as you–who should be being pampered by someone–being forced to take on a job like this just for the money.
Blade has the irrational urge to spoil you, he certainly has enough zero's in his account to give you anything you wanted after all.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hello..?
You do know that your read receipts are on right?
Blade is seriously going to kill Jing Yuan next time he sees him, he's no longer joking.
Chat between KintsugiBunny 🐰 & Edgelord 🎸
Edgelord 🎸: No.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Is that a no to the refund or to knowing your read receipts being on?
Edgelord 🎸: Both.
Edgelord 🎸: I don't need the money. Keep it.
Edgelord 🎸: I want to give you more.
Why did he send that, you were going to think he was some kind of creep.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Oh. Were you trying to change your subscription tier, but cancelled it on accident then?
Edgelord 🎸: I'm. Not the best at technology.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: That's okay! If you want, you can tell me what tier it is you want to change to and I can do it from my end :>
Blade stared at his screen, he had no clue how to answer that; because on one hand if Blade hadn't accidentally clicked on your profile he really would have been cancelling the subscription, but on the other if you did it he wouldn't have to ask Jing Yuan to set it up again for him.
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one.
It couldn't be that much, right? Even if it was Blade barely spent his money on anything, he had more than enough zeros in his account to pay for your highest tier. As well as enough interest to pay it, in all the picture he had seen before your first message; you were so beautiful, he had already been dreading having ask Jing Yuan to help him resubscribe to you.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: What
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I mean, are you sure? The highest one, and not the next one up?
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one. Don't worry, I can afford it.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Well… if you're absolutely sure…
Blade finds your hesitation cute, but it is completely unnecessary.
Edgelord 🎸: I'm certain.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Okay, I'll do it right now for you! It should only charge you the difference between your previous tier and your new one :>
Edgelord 🎸: It's fine if it charges the full price.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I've done it, so you should be charged today sometime or in the next few days.
Edgelord 🎸: Thanks.
Edgelord 🎸: Have a nice night Bunny.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: oh
KintsugiBunny 🐰: You too !!
Blade's lips quirk up as he exits the website, resisting the urge to scroll through more of your photos only by reminding himself he had to be up early for a flight tomorrow; and Blade would like to take his time enjoying your hard work. Thinking of his flight makes him double check that his alarm is on though, nose wrinkling at the 4AM marked down. Even if he's used to catching flights at all times of the day due to his job, he still doesn't like it.
Rolling his shoulder absentmindedly he got up from the couch in his hotel room, moving over to plug his phone into his charger next to the bed. Leaving it there he goes and has a quick shower, stepping back into the room fifteen minutes later; a towel slung low around his waist and another down his back, to catch the lingering water dripping from his braid.
He can hear his phone ding with the familiar sound of his banking app, but ignores while he pulls a pair if sweats on. Sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, Blade picks up his phone curious to see how much his new subscription cost considering how shocked you had been over him picking it.
"Heh," Blade can't help it when he snorts, an amused smirk overtaking his lips as he looks down at the new charge. He shouldn't be amused, with how shocked you had been this was clearly a lot of money to you. Blade just can't help it though, with how little he spends his money this may as well be the equivalent of a fancy coffee to him.
New charge: $59.99 by OnlyFans.
Blade has to laugh at it, because if he doesn't he thinks he might demand to know who made you think so poorly of your body; and then kill them for it. Seventy dollars for your highest subscription, in Blade's opinion that should be the minimum amount a person should be paying for access to your account.
He supposes he might actually need a password on his phone from now on, just so Jing Yuan can't find out about this if nothing else. That's a problem to figure out tomorrow though, for now he needs to get to bed if he doesn't want his early flight to completely fuck him over.
a/n: despite this being a for fun thing i do have a plot in mind hehe !! be prepare to enjoy much more of blade being a failure at social interaction and fumbling. also disclaimer i have no idea how onlyfans works and i dont rlly want to research it icl so im basing the subscription stuff off my understanding of patreon
Setlist for Failure | Track I: Origin Point of Failure
Pairing: Blade x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1.9k [in actual shock rn i wrote smth under 5k...]
Content Warnings: reader is an onlyfans model, mentions of; non-sexual nudity, sexual nudity, shibari, lingeire
series masterlist | masterlist | ao3
a/n: hello... this is the beginning of blade fumbling the same baddie over and over again while thinking he is fumbling two different baddies. all while he has millions of people willing to throw themselves at him hahahaha.
For all that the man claims it is Blade's fault for never having a password on his phone–his banking apps are locked, so why does the phone have to be as well? Blade doesn't understand it–at the end of the day, it is in fact, Jing Yuan's fault and Jing Yuan's fault alone.
Usually Blade would lay the accusation at Kafka's feet, since the woman has on more than one either downloaded dating apps onto his phone or used his card details to buy him porn; all with that infuriating smile as she tells him to "Live a little, Bladie." Except he isn't with the Stellaron Hunters when his bank informs him of a monthly charge by something called OnlyFans, he is–and has been for the past several weeks–on leave in the Xianzhou dealing with personal matters.
That is to say Jing Yuan had kept texting him about the latest spout Blade's older brother was having with the venerable CEO of Dragonvista Pharmaceuticals, and begging him to come try to corral his brothers–apparently Dan Heng wasn't having any luck. He could curse Jing Yuan for appealing to his need to show Dan Heng up, and he does curse Dan Heng a little.
In fact, going to his messages he opens up his chat with Dan Heng. Absently noting that they hadn't talked in nearly six months, the last time being when Dan Feng had wanted to try having a family dinner; despite the fact only he and Yingxing still lived in the Xianzhou full time.
Bladie 🔪 to Annoyance-in-Law 2
Fuck you.
Blade exits out of his texts, ignoring the bubbles that had popped up almost immediately and the subsequent notifications popping up at the top of his screen as Dan Heng angrily replies to him.
He goes back to his bank app and stares at the charge again, trying to remember what he had being doing last month. …all he can think of is the massive argument Dan Feng and Yingxing had been having, that Blade had been dragged into in a piss poor attempt to mediate between them.
Getting dragged into an argument between those two, was worse than when his co-workers started rowing in the middle of their synched periods or what Blade "affectionately" refers to it as–hell week. Blade envies Elio for being busy organising things all the time, he never gets dragged into the cat-fights Kafka, Firefly and Silver Wolf get into. Hm.
Bladie 🔪 to The Meowanager 🐈⬛
Fuck you.
Blade returns again to the bank charge, and oh hadn't he given his phone to Jing Yuan to hold during his brother's argument with his temperamental spouse? Well that solved the issue of how the charge had happened, opening up his browser he intends to figure out what inane subscription Jing Yuan has signed him up for now.
Blade stares at the result in equal parts disbelief and resignation, because of course, this is just like Jing Yuan. Sometimes Blade thinks that Jing Yuan and Kafka conspire together in an effort to make him turn as gray as his brother, truly he doesn't see any other way there is only ever one of them pulling this type of shit at a time.
Then again, their plans to get him laid would probably be twice as bad if they were conspiring. …perhaps Blade should start praying to Lan again, as thanks that those two haven't teamed up yet. What he doesn't know yet is that it would be too late for that, but he will when he gets back to Asdana.
Blade holds back a sigh and clicks on the link to the website, navigating with some difficulty to the log in screen. At the very least Jing Yuan has done him the service of clicking save password, because all he has to do is put in his email before the website finishes the process itself.
Blurred images greet him when it loads, and Blade is suddenly glad that he's currently alone in his hotel room. In fact, he is doubly glad that Yingxing hadn't insisted on him staying in the Dragonvista estate. Despite reading what the website was, it hadn't occurred to Blade that the images might show up upon logging in.
This must be a sort of page to go looking for accounts similar to ones you are subscribed to already, at least that is what Blade assumes. He had only had a vague awareness of these sorts of platforms, had thought it was good for whoever needed or just wanted to do that sort of work and hadn't put much more thought into it.
Still.
Bladie 🔪 to Dozing Meow 🐱
Die.
Blade reopens his browser, carefully clicking through the website until he finds the payment options.
What he intends to do is simple; he wants to cancel the subscription Jing Yuan had arranged, close the website and then forget about it all together. What he does is entirely different; he cancels the subscription, and then instead of exiting the website he accidentally clicks on KintsugiBunny's profile link.
His mouth goes dry instantly, heart suddenly a sharp staccato in his chest as he stares at someone who may as well have been hand crafted from his deepest fantasies. Your face isn't in any of the images he scrolls through, a smart thing to do if this is just a side hustle for you, but your body. Aeons.
Soft looking hands with even softer looking skin that is clad in lingerie set after lingerie set, red, black, blue, gold; a fetching shade of plum purple rope that makes him tighten his grip on his phone, the case creaking in his hold until he forces himself to relax his hand.
Blade truly thinks he could kill Jing Yuan right now: for setting this account up, for somehow finding the one person who seemed to have spawned from all of Blade's fantasies, and as a message notification pops up on the website and Blade reluctantly clicks on it to read your message he thinks he could kill him for this as well.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hi, um I just got a message that you unsubscribed but your payment for this month has already gone through?
You didn't put a reason, so I was wondering if you wanted a refund..?
Your anxiety practically radiates through the screen, and Blade is forcibly reminded that some of the people working jobs like these have no other options if they want to survive. It puts a sour taste in his mouth, the idea that someone as soft and sweet looking as you–who should be being pampered by someone–being forced to take on a job like this just for the money.
Blade has the irrational urge to spoil you, he certainly has enough zero's in his account to give you anything you wanted after all.
KintsugiBunny 🐰 to Edgelord 🎸
Hello..?
You do know that your read receipts are on right?
Blade is seriously going to kill Jing Yuan next time he sees him, he's no longer joking.
Chat between KintsugiBunny 🐰 & Edgelord 🎸
Edgelord 🎸: No.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Is that a no to the refund or to knowing your read receipts being on?
Edgelord 🎸: Both.
Edgelord 🎸: I don't need the money. Keep it.
Edgelord 🎸: I want to give you more.
Why did he send that, you were going to think he was some kind of creep.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Oh. Were you trying to change your subscription tier, but cancelled it on accident then?
Edgelord 🎸: I'm. Not the best at technology.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: That's okay! If you want, you can tell me what tier it is you want to change to and I can do it from my end :>
Blade stared at his screen, he had no clue how to answer that; because on one hand if Blade hadn't accidentally clicked on your profile he really would have been cancelling the subscription, but on the other if you did it he wouldn't have to ask Jing Yuan to set it up again for him.
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one.
It couldn't be that much, right? Even if it was Blade barely spent his money on anything, he had more than enough zeros in his account to pay for your highest tier. As well as enough interest to pay it, in all the picture he had seen before your first message; you were so beautiful, he had already been dreading having ask Jing Yuan to help him resubscribe to you.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: What
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I mean, are you sure? The highest one, and not the next one up?
Edgelord 🎸: The highest one. Don't worry, I can afford it.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Well… if you're absolutely sure…
Blade finds your hesitation cute, but it is completely unnecessary.
Edgelord 🎸: I'm certain.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: Okay, I'll do it right now for you! It should only charge you the difference between your previous tier and your new one :>
Edgelord 🎸: It's fine if it charges the full price.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: I've done it, so you should be charged today sometime or in the next few days.
Edgelord 🎸: Thanks.
Edgelord 🎸: Have a nice night Bunny.
KintsugiBunny 🐰: oh
KintsugiBunny 🐰: You too !!
Blade's lips quirk up as he exits the website, resisting the urge to scroll through more of your photos only by reminding himself he had to be up early for a flight tomorrow; and Blade would like to take his time enjoying your hard work. Thinking of his flight makes him double check that his alarm is on though, nose wrinkling at the 4AM marked down. Even if he's used to catching flights at all times of the day due to his job, he still doesn't like it.
Rolling his shoulder absentmindedly he got up from the couch in his hotel room, moving over to plug his phone into his charger next to the bed. Leaving it there he goes and has a quick shower, stepping back into the room fifteen minutes later; a towel slung low around his waist and another down his back, to catch the lingering water dripping from his braid.
He can hear his phone ding with the familiar sound of his banking app, but ignores while he pulls a pair if sweats on. Sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, Blade picks up his phone curious to see how much his new subscription cost considering how shocked you had been over him picking it.
"Heh," Blade can't help it when he snorts, an amused smirk overtaking his lips as he looks down at the new charge. He shouldn't be amused, with how shocked you had been this was clearly a lot of money to you. Blade just can't help it though, with how little he spends his money this may as well be the equivalent of a fancy coffee to him.
New charge: $59.99 by OnlyFans.
Blade has to laugh at it, because if he doesn't he thinks he might demand to know who made you think so poorly of your body; and then kill them for it. Seventy dollars for your highest subscription, in Blade's opinion that should be the minimum amount a person should be paying for access to your account.
He supposes he might actually need a password on his phone from now on, just so Jing Yuan can't find out about this if nothing else. That's a problem to figure out tomorrow though, for now he needs to get to bed if he doesn't want his early flight to completely fuck him over.
a/n: despite this being a for fun thing i do have a plot in mind hehe !! be prepare to enjoy much more of blade being a failure at social interaction and fumbling. also disclaimer i have no idea how onlyfans works and i dont rlly want to research it icl so im basing the subscription stuff off my understanding of patreon
Series Synopsis: World famous bassist Blade of the heavy metal band Stellaron Hunters has been found FUMBLING a baddie?! Not only has the HIGHLY SOUGHT AFTER rockstar been fumbling a baddie, but our sources say the baddie in questions is an OnlyFans model! Read more at furboboweekly.com for the latest scoop about it! ERROR 404 Page Not Found.
Status: ongoing
Pairing: Blade x GN!Reader
Current Word Count: 1.9k
Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader is an onlyfans model, band au, modern au, non-sexual nudity, sexual nudity, shibari, technically unwilling prostitution (?), borderline sugar daddy blade, identity porn, blind dating
main masterlist | ao3 version
a/n: i have no clue how many parts this is gonna end up being, this is just a for fun series if im being completely honest !!
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Pairing: Flame Reaver x GN!Reader, One-Sided Irontomb xReader
Word Count: 3.3k
Content Warnings: reader pov, unreliable narrator, canon-typical violence, semi-graphic gore, described blood and violence
previous chapter | series masterlist | masterlist | next chapter
a/n: a shorter chapter this time but it's a necessary interlude get to the next chapter and also a couple of big reveals here hehehe
When the light dims and you can see again there is a crystal shaped like a flame hovering in the hook of the sickle, a strange shape embedded in the middle of it. A square with two lines curving from the top corners to the opposite corners on the bottom, the inside of the flame looks as if the veil of evernight has been trapped inside of it.
The whispering you can always hear in the back of your mind goes silent, but you don't take notice of it; transfixed by the sight of the glittering gem hovering in front of you. Screeching metal knocks you out of your trance, blinking you watch as the Champion drew it's claymore back.
It acts faster than you can react, thrusts its weapon forward before you can even think to bring up the sickle in your hand. Your body jerks as it drives the claymore through your chest, gurgling on your own blood as it raises it's weapon making you slide down the blade slowly.
A wet gasp escapes you, golden blood spraying over the Champion and the sickle. There is a ringing in your ears as you drop the sickle, hands trembling weakly as your blood soaks the ground below you. Your eyelids feel heavy as you blink, you feel as if you are outside your body as you drop the sickle.
Wrapping your hands around the claymores guard, a poor attempt to stop yourself sliding even further down the blade. Out of the corner of you eye you spot your blood disappearing again, the silver sickle glowing as it soaks it up like a sponge. It reminds you again of him, Reaver, your friend that always looks so tense until you or your flock would distract him from his thoughts.
If you die he will be all alone in this world, who then, will care to distract him from the endless weight upon his shoulders?
You drag your eyes away from his sickle on the ground, back up the body of the Champion to the crystal hovering between you and it. You don't know how you know, but if you grab it you're sure you will survive even this; even impaled throat to gut on a blade from that blackened tide, this flame will reforge you into something everlasting.
You don't want to leave him all alone, ███ █████ ████ ██ ███ ███ █████. Gritting your teeth you reach up with one hand, vision blurring into two then four then eight as you drop down the claymores blade. It hurts, it hurts, every part of you feels like it is on fire, like it has been consumed by the flames covering your wheat fields.
Blinking slow you watched through your fractured gaze as your hand connects with the crystal, so cold against your hand that it burns hotter than the flames around you. Or perhaps you are loosing feeling in your body as your blood drips to the ground, absorbed by the sickle.
"What wo███ you d█ to survi██?" A distorted voice asks, emanating from the crystal and seeping down deep into your ████. The Champion's empty hand approaches you again, this time grabbing you by the scalp; it's claws digging into your skin and blurring your vision even more with gold.
This is pain like nothing you have ever felt before in your life, and yet it is clarity you have also never had before in your life. Unless something happens you will die here, "death", it is something you have never consciously noticed happening despite all the long years you've lived for.
Death — the end of a person or organism.
Is that what happened to the little hummingbird, when she disappeared and left behind that doll for you? If you die here, will there be anything left of you for Reaver to keep? Even if you did would he find it before the flames and the Tide swallowed it whole?
Anything, to survive you would do anything, anything to not leave him all alone again. You do not know what he looks like, and yet you do not want to imagine what expression would paint itself across his face were Reaver to find your cooling corpse.
This clarity, this fresh new "curse" of life you have been given is hollowing. You've been alone for so long, unable to even notice due to your own ██████ ████. Reaver too, has been alone, likely longer than you have and all the while able to feel it.
Leaving him all alone again, after having given him a companion; the very idea of it sparks the flickers of rage, a strange unfamiliar feeling, deep within you that over powers your usual ██████.
"Anything…" You rasp out, another splutter of golden blood spraying from your lips. That brilliant colour that has cradled you all your life, now slowly plucks at the threads making up the tapestry of your soul, starts to unravel you at the seams.
"What ██uld y██ do to ██ve h██?" It asks next, voice growing more distorted and yet you are still able to understand it clearly. For some reason you feel like you know who it is, that that voice has whispered endless promises of good things and an end to your loneliness in the past.
Another flickering flame appears within your chest, saving him; you want it so badly, but could you? No, it does not matter if you can't. For him who had kept you company despite the heavy burden on his shoulders, for him whose mind was so fractured and still treated you with more humanity than most people and never look at you in pity.
It did not matter to you if you could do it, you would make it so the world had no other choice but to concede to your desire. Everything gives in to Time when exposed to enough of it, so you would simply fold it over the world again and again no matter how many times it takes you.
"Every… thing…" Your voice wavers, black encroaching on the edges of your vision as you struggle to stay awake. Someone as kind as him doesn't deserve the harsh fate he has, and you refuse to let him deal with it alone after he has saved you from yours.
"W███ wou██ ███ do if I t███ you he won't █████ after Era N███?" Is the final question the voice asks you, and it gores you in the same way the claymore through your chest is doing.
No, no, no. That can't be right, that can't be; in the faint memories you have of the hummingbird telling you about Era Nova, she say it's supposed to be for everyone. It has to be lying, that voice it must be an agent of Zagreus. He has to be lying to you, you don't want to enter a new █████ if it means returning to an existence without Reaver in it.
"You're ly… ing." You snarl weakly, you plead desperately as tears prick your eyes. You don't want to be alone again, you don't want him to disappear while remaining a monster in other peoples memories. Letting go of the claymores you reach up with your other hand, choking on your blood once again as you wrap both of your hands around the crystal as tightly as possible.
Tight enough that even as darkness encroaches on your sight you can feel it, grounding you into the present. Your heart feels like it will beat out of your chest, like it will writhe itself into enough knots it breaks apart; it is a strange sensation, almost as strange your new ability to notice things.
"████ █████ ███ ██ ██ █ ████ ███ ██ █████ █████ █████ ███ ████?" The question is repeated, yet the voice sounds almost… distressed to see you in such anguish, or perhaps distressed to see you impaled.
You don't know why the voice seems to care about you, it feels–sounds–familiar to you but even with your new clarity you cannot place it to anyone you have known. You don't think on it for very long though, you don't have the time to think about a mysterious voice you may or may not know when you are bleeding out.
Faintly you can hear it ask the same question a third time, but you already know what your answer is; if he has to die, than you will make sure that he isn't alone. You refuse to let Reaver die a lonely death, you will make sure to stay close to his side no matter what may happen in the future.
"He can't… get rid of… me." You snarled, grip tightening even more on the crystal flame until you can feel it piercing the flesh of your palms. Through the few clear spots in your vision, you can see the tips of the flame piercing through the back of your hands.
As long as you can breath, Reaver will not die alone; it does not matter what you have to do, or what you have to give to make this come true. You have decided on this course of action, and you will force the world to kneel to it.
A flickering light shines through your hands, growing brighter and brighter until you are forced to close your eyes again. The next breath you take in is surprisingly pain free, the flame cupped in your hands pulsing once, twice and then dissolving; filling you with warmth as power floods through your body.
It feels as if everything has slowed down to a crawl as you open your eyes once more, ignorant to the way they glow with divine light as you look upon the Champion in front of you. Reaching out you set a hand on its chest, watching dispassionately as it unwinds and dissipates into dust taking the claymore with it.
Without the weapon impaling you, you fall to the ground; feet thudding softly against the blackened soil, you stumble and sway a little. Your boot hits something and your gaze is drawn downwards. Down, down, down. Past the hole in your clothes where the claymore used to be, down to the gleaming silver sickle sitting in the dirt untouched by filth.
A familiar red headed little doll sits on the blade, just as clean and spotless despite the fact you are sure it had been drenched with your blood. It confuses you, but you are also glad; Triantafyllia didn't deserve to be dirtied by you, not when she had already given herself up to keep you company even after death.
Blinking you wonder just what it is that Reaver entrusted you with, to have held that Flame and soak up your golden blood like a bloodthirsty sponge. Regardless you bend over and grab it with one hand, barely paying attention to the monsters approaching you as you grab the doll with your other hand.
Smoothing your thumb over it gently, you wrap it up in quantum energy and tuck it away safely in the inventory you have only just realised exists. At least this way you do not have to worry about loosing her, something you are grateful for as you stand back up and sweep your gaze over the still burning fields.
Those vision in the flames still flash in the corner of your eyes, but with the blade in your hand and the Flame in your chest, you barely have to think before the memories are snuffed out. It makes focusing easier, not having the sound of endless distorted screams echoing in your head with each glimpse of the past that had been shown to you.
Now you can focus on what's important, getting rid of all these monsters before the adrenaline █████████ had given you runs out. You hold your hand out towards the Black Tide's monstrous children–the hand that had held Triantafyllia's doll–and remember–actually remember–something she had told you about her student.
That she was a skilled seamstress who could tie the golden threads of people's fates together, the memory gives you an idea. You aren't sure if it will work, but that familiar voices whispers encouragement in your ears–and oh, it had been doing that all your life, hasn't it?–and so you give it a try holding your hand out.
The monsters all freeze and jerk in place like a bunch of puppets on strings, though instead of the shimmering golden threads you had imagined; the familiar pale lilac of your quantum energy wraps around their limbs, like lines of fishing wire gleaming iridescently within the light of the flames.
It shocks you that it worked, yet at the same time part of you feels like you have done this hundreds–millions–of times before. You don't even have to think of what to do next, there is no frantic pondering on how you are supposed to proceed now that the monsters are restrained. Raising your other hand you swing the sickle, watching it hook around seemingly thin air–before it wavers like a mirage, interference fading away to reveal the gleaming lilac strings straining around the blade.
Tightening your grip on Reaver's sickle–"It's the c█████████ █████ ██ ████ ███████ ██ █████." your shadow whispers to you–you pull it sharply towards yourself, watching as the threads fray and eventually snap. For a moment nothing happens, although the air grows tense and the flames seem to slow down to a crawl, silence creeping across the fields.
And then all of a sudden sound rushes back in as the threads snap, snap, snap! Each one echoing louder than the last, and with each one that snaps another monster dissolves into dust. For a moment after they have all dissolved you think it is over, no more monsters spawning right as another had been cut down and unwittingly you start to relax.
Only for the Black Tide to crash against the river bed, the reddish-black liquid spilling into your fields; quenching the flames as the Tide seems to reach for you, and monsters spill from it all of them focused on you. Something that sounds almost like guilt seeps into your shadow's voice, as it urges you to hold out just a little longer.
You don't know why worry thickens it's voice as much as the weird guilt it seems to feel, despite how many monsters there are you have never felt more powerful than you do right now. The Black Tide will not be what kills you, your Death has already been written down many times and it has never come to you in the form of drowning, this one too will be faced with air still in your lungs.
It occurs to you, as you hook the sickle around another skein of thread, that you should not know this information. A problem for another day.
Dust fills the air around you as this new surge of monsters dissolves as the strings snap, over and over again dust fills the air as you cut through the threads of fate. Eventually it is so thick in the air that the roaring flames start to die down, those black spots returning to your eyes as your energy starts to wane.
In the background you can hear creaking, like something is about to give in and collapse. The first time you heard this sort of sound was when the World wept and shattered, the little fairy waking up as the hourglass was flipped once more. The last time you heard it was when the future consumed herself, drowning the World in memories.
Blinking sluggishly you look around to try and see what could be making that noise, you can barely see through all the dust and charred wheat; yet you can make out enough to see that the barn had already collapsed, and your house was far enough away to have escaped the flames. The sound is familiar and yet you can't quite place it, the knowledge dancing just outside the reach of your fingertips.
"When those bugs all left you here alone, remember?" Your shadow whispers to you, it's voice feeling like a gentle caress down your spine. There is a faint pressure against your lower back–a phantom hand covering the freshly knitted together skin–steading you in place as your vision spins again.
Glass shatters in the air again as your memosprite returns to your side, one of Peritas' fractals setting Heliotrope down before they merge together. Your hound circles around you, making you wonder if unlike you he can see your shadow. A chill snaps you out if your thoughts, and when you glance down Peritas and Heliotrope are gently pressing their noses against where your wound had been.
For a moment you think about telling them it was fine, but the way slight tremors are wracking your body and the fact your shadow is the only reason you are standing stay your tongue. Instead you reach down and pat them once each, your breath stuttering as the pain from before starts to return.
Distracted as you are by the two of them fussing over you, you forget about the strange creaking until a deafening crash makes your ears ring. Alarmed your head snaps up, nothing at all looks different and yet you feel like everything around you has changed in ways you cannot recognise.
A chill creeps down your spine–your shadow tenses where it is holding you–there are eyes on you, but no one nearby–it disappears making you stumble–something shifts out the corner of your eyes and you turn your head. Flame Reaver is standing statue still on the other side of the river, one step out of a portal as he presumably stares at you.
Those eyes disappear when you look at him, which is strange because Reaver hasn't turned his head away from you.
You take a step towards him without thinking, the sight of him making you relax; the last of your adrenaline slipping away in his presence, causing you to stumble as your legs nearly give in. It returns to you then, your shadow–your constant companion–it's voice a low hiss as it tells you to be more careful even as it holds you up with gentle hands.
Pertias and Heliotrope bracket you on either side, and that combined with it's hands and the sickle you cling to keep you upright for a few more steps. But without the adrenaline rushing through your veins, and your energy near spent completely after killing so many monsters you struggle to stay conscious.
You trip over something as your visions swims, the sickle falling out of your hand and Peritas is forced to stop supporting you to drag Heliotrope away so his curling horns don't impale you. You wonder why he would bother, your memosprite should know as well as you do that impalement is not what your death will be.
For a moment you think you will collide with the ground–despite the way your shadow tries to pull you back up–only to collide with something that feels like it has been left out under Aquila's unblinking stare for weeks on end. You have just enough energy left to look up and see what it is, feeling arms gently lifting you up as you catch a glimpse of Reaver's mask and slip into unconsciousness.
The last thing you hear is a solemn whisper from your shadow, "The moon shall eclipse you, and like the sun you will watch as it leaves; taking alongside it your heart."
It is something you have heard a million times before. It is has been your lullaby for a thousand years.
a/n: did anybody that has been reading this guess peritas was a memosprite? im curious
Pairing: Flame Reaver x GN!Reader, One-Sided Irontomb xReader
Word Count: 3.3k
Content Warnings: reader pov, unreliable narrator, canon-typical violence, semi-graphic gore, described blood and violence
previous chapter | series masterlist | masterlist | next chapter
a/n: a shorter chapter this time but it's a necessary interlude get to the next chapter and also a couple of big reveals here hehehe
When the light dims and you can see again there is a crystal shaped like a flame hovering in the hook of the sickle, a strange shape embedded in the middle of it. A square with two lines curving from the top corners to the opposite corners on the bottom, the inside of the flame looks as if the veil of evernight has been trapped inside of it.
The whispering you can always hear in the back of your mind goes silent, but you don't take notice of it; transfixed by the sight of the glittering gem hovering in front of you. Screeching metal knocks you out of your trance, blinking you watch as the Champion drew it's claymore back.
It acts faster than you can react, thrusts its weapon forward before you can even think to bring up the sickle in your hand. Your body jerks as it drives the claymore through your chest, gurgling on your own blood as it raises it's weapon making you slide down the blade slowly.
A wet gasp escapes you, golden blood spraying over the Champion and the sickle. There is a ringing in your ears as you drop the sickle, hands trembling weakly as your blood soaks the ground below you. Your eyelids feel heavy as you blink, you feel as if you are outside your body as you drop the sickle.
Wrapping your hands around the claymores guard, a poor attempt to stop yourself sliding even further down the blade. Out of the corner of you eye you spot your blood disappearing again, the silver sickle glowing as it soaks it up like a sponge. It reminds you again of him, Reaver, your friend that always looks so tense until you or your flock would distract him from his thoughts.
If you die he will be all alone in this world, who then, will care to distract him from the endless weight upon his shoulders?
You drag your eyes away from his sickle on the ground, back up the body of the Champion to the crystal hovering between you and it. You don't know how you know, but if you grab it you're sure you will survive even this; even impaled throat to gut on a blade from that blackened tide, this flame will reforge you into something everlasting.
You don't want to leave him all alone, ███ █████ ████ ██ ███ ███ █████. Gritting your teeth you reach up with one hand, vision blurring into two then four then eight as you drop down the claymores blade. It hurts, it hurts, every part of you feels like it is on fire, like it has been consumed by the flames covering your wheat fields.
Blinking slow you watched through your fractured gaze as your hand connects with the crystal, so cold against your hand that it burns hotter than the flames around you. Or perhaps you are loosing feeling in your body as your blood drips to the ground, absorbed by the sickle.
"What wo███ you d█ to survi██?" A distorted voice asks, emanating from the crystal and seeping down deep into your ████. The Champion's empty hand approaches you again, this time grabbing you by the scalp; it's claws digging into your skin and blurring your vision even more with gold.
This is pain like nothing you have ever felt before in your life, and yet it is clarity you have also never had before in your life. Unless something happens you will die here, "death", it is something you have never consciously noticed happening despite all the long years you've lived for.
Death — the end of a person or organism.
Is that what happened to the little hummingbird, when she disappeared and left behind that doll for you? If you die here, will there be anything left of you for Reaver to keep? Even if you did would he find it before the flames and the Tide swallowed it whole?
Anything, to survive you would do anything, anything to not leave him all alone again. You do not know what he looks like, and yet you do not want to imagine what expression would paint itself across his face were Reaver to find your cooling corpse.
This clarity, this fresh new "curse" of life you have been given is hollowing. You've been alone for so long, unable to even notice due to your own ██████ ████. Reaver too, has been alone, likely longer than you have and all the while able to feel it.
Leaving him all alone again, after having given him a companion; the very idea of it sparks the flickers of rage, a strange unfamiliar feeling, deep within you that over powers your usual ██████.
"Anything…" You rasp out, another splutter of golden blood spraying from your lips. That brilliant colour that has cradled you all your life, now slowly plucks at the threads making up the tapestry of your soul, starts to unravel you at the seams.
"What ██uld y██ do to ██ve h██?" It asks next, voice growing more distorted and yet you are still able to understand it clearly. For some reason you feel like you know who it is, that that voice has whispered endless promises of good things and an end to your loneliness in the past.
Another flickering flame appears within your chest, saving him; you want it so badly, but could you? No, it does not matter if you can't. For him who had kept you company despite the heavy burden on his shoulders, for him whose mind was so fractured and still treated you with more humanity than most people and never look at you in pity.
It did not matter to you if you could do it, you would make it so the world had no other choice but to concede to your desire. Everything gives in to Time when exposed to enough of it, so you would simply fold it over the world again and again no matter how many times it takes you.
"Every… thing…" Your voice wavers, black encroaching on the edges of your vision as you struggle to stay awake. Someone as kind as him doesn't deserve the harsh fate he has, and you refuse to let him deal with it alone after he has saved you from yours.
"W███ wou██ ███ do if I t███ you he won't █████ after Era N███?" Is the final question the voice asks you, and it gores you in the same way the claymore through your chest is doing.
No, no, no. That can't be right, that can't be; in the faint memories you have of the hummingbird telling you about Era Nova, she say it's supposed to be for everyone. It has to be lying, that voice it must be an agent of Zagreus. He has to be lying to you, you don't want to enter a new █████ if it means returning to an existence without Reaver in it.
"You're ly… ing." You snarl weakly, you plead desperately as tears prick your eyes. You don't want to be alone again, you don't want him to disappear while remaining a monster in other peoples memories. Letting go of the claymores you reach up with your other hand, choking on your blood once again as you wrap both of your hands around the crystal as tightly as possible.
Tight enough that even as darkness encroaches on your sight you can feel it, grounding you into the present. Your heart feels like it will beat out of your chest, like it will writhe itself into enough knots it breaks apart; it is a strange sensation, almost as strange your new ability to notice things.
"████ █████ ███ ██ ██ █ ████ ███ ██ █████ █████ █████ ███ ████?" The question is repeated, yet the voice sounds almost… distressed to see you in such anguish, or perhaps distressed to see you impaled.
You don't know why the voice seems to care about you, it feels–sounds–familiar to you but even with your new clarity you cannot place it to anyone you have known. You don't think on it for very long though, you don't have the time to think about a mysterious voice you may or may not know when you are bleeding out.
Faintly you can hear it ask the same question a third time, but you already know what your answer is; if he has to die, than you will make sure that he isn't alone. You refuse to let Reaver die a lonely death, you will make sure to stay close to his side no matter what may happen in the future.
"He can't… get rid of… me." You snarled, grip tightening even more on the crystal flame until you can feel it piercing the flesh of your palms. Through the few clear spots in your vision, you can see the tips of the flame piercing through the back of your hands.
As long as you can breath, Reaver will not die alone; it does not matter what you have to do, or what you have to give to make this come true. You have decided on this course of action, and you will force the world to kneel to it.
A flickering light shines through your hands, growing brighter and brighter until you are forced to close your eyes again. The next breath you take in is surprisingly pain free, the flame cupped in your hands pulsing once, twice and then dissolving; filling you with warmth as power floods through your body.
It feels as if everything has slowed down to a crawl as you open your eyes once more, ignorant to the way they glow with divine light as you look upon the Champion in front of you. Reaching out you set a hand on its chest, watching dispassionately as it unwinds and dissipates into dust taking the claymore with it.
Without the weapon impaling you, you fall to the ground; feet thudding softly against the blackened soil, you stumble and sway a little. Your boot hits something and your gaze is drawn downwards. Down, down, down. Past the hole in your clothes where the claymore used to be, down to the gleaming silver sickle sitting in the dirt untouched by filth.
A familiar red headed little doll sits on the blade, just as clean and spotless despite the fact you are sure it had been drenched with your blood. It confuses you, but you are also glad; Triantafyllia didn't deserve to be dirtied by you, not when she had already given herself up to keep you company even after death.
Blinking you wonder just what it is that Reaver entrusted you with, to have held that Flame and soak up your golden blood like a bloodthirsty sponge. Regardless you bend over and grab it with one hand, barely paying attention to the monsters approaching you as you grab the doll with your other hand.
Smoothing your thumb over it gently, you wrap it up in quantum energy and tuck it away safely in the inventory you have only just realised exists. At least this way you do not have to worry about loosing her, something you are grateful for as you stand back up and sweep your gaze over the still burning fields.
Those vision in the flames still flash in the corner of your eyes, but with the blade in your hand and the Flame in your chest, you barely have to think before the memories are snuffed out. It makes focusing easier, not having the sound of endless distorted screams echoing in your head with each glimpse of the past that had been shown to you.
Now you can focus on what's important, getting rid of all these monsters before the adrenaline █████████ had given you runs out. You hold your hand out towards the Black Tide's monstrous children–the hand that had held Triantafyllia's doll–and remember–actually remember–something she had told you about her student.
That she was a skilled seamstress who could tie the golden threads of people's fates together, the memory gives you an idea. You aren't sure if it will work, but that familiar voices whispers encouragement in your ears–and oh, it had been doing that all your life, hasn't it?–and so you give it a try holding your hand out.
The monsters all freeze and jerk in place like a bunch of puppets on strings, though instead of the shimmering golden threads you had imagined; the familiar pale lilac of your quantum energy wraps around their limbs, like lines of fishing wire gleaming iridescently within the light of the flames.
It shocks you that it worked, yet at the same time part of you feels like you have done this hundreds–millions–of times before. You don't even have to think of what to do next, there is no frantic pondering on how you are supposed to proceed now that the monsters are restrained. Raising your other hand you swing the sickle, watching it hook around seemingly thin air–before it wavers like a mirage, interference fading away to reveal the gleaming lilac strings straining around the blade.
Tightening your grip on Reaver's sickle–"It's the c█████████ █████ ██ ████ ███████ ██ █████." your shadow whispers to you–you pull it sharply towards yourself, watching as the threads fray and eventually snap. For a moment nothing happens, although the air grows tense and the flames seem to slow down to a crawl, silence creeping across the fields.
And then all of a sudden sound rushes back in as the threads snap, snap, snap! Each one echoing louder than the last, and with each one that snaps another monster dissolves into dust. For a moment after they have all dissolved you think it is over, no more monsters spawning right as another had been cut down and unwittingly you start to relax.
Only for the Black Tide to crash against the river bed, the reddish-black liquid spilling into your fields; quenching the flames as the Tide seems to reach for you, and monsters spill from it all of them focused on you. Something that sounds almost like guilt seeps into your shadow's voice, as it urges you to hold out just a little longer.
You don't know why worry thickens it's voice as much as the weird guilt it seems to feel, despite how many monsters there are you have never felt more powerful than you do right now. The Black Tide will not be what kills you, your Death has already been written down many times and it has never come to you in the form of drowning, this one too will be faced with air still in your lungs.
It occurs to you, as you hook the sickle around another skein of thread, that you should not know this information. A problem for another day.
Dust fills the air around you as this new surge of monsters dissolves as the strings snap, over and over again dust fills the air as you cut through the threads of fate. Eventually it is so thick in the air that the roaring flames start to die down, those black spots returning to your eyes as your energy starts to wane.
In the background you can hear creaking, like something is about to give in and collapse. The first time you heard this sort of sound was when the World wept and shattered, the little fairy waking up as the hourglass was flipped once more. The last time you heard it was when the future consumed herself, drowning the World in memories.
Blinking sluggishly you look around to try and see what could be making that noise, you can barely see through all the dust and charred wheat; yet you can make out enough to see that the barn had already collapsed, and your house was far enough away to have escaped the flames. The sound is familiar and yet you can't quite place it, the knowledge dancing just outside the reach of your fingertips.
"When those bugs all left you here alone, remember?" Your shadow whispers to you, it's voice feeling like a gentle caress down your spine. There is a faint pressure against your lower back–a phantom hand covering the freshly knitted together skin–steading you in place as your vision spins again.
Glass shatters in the air again as your memosprite returns to your side, one of Peritas' fractals setting Heliotrope down before they merge together. Your hound circles around you, making you wonder if unlike you he can see your shadow. A chill snaps you out if your thoughts, and when you glance down Peritas and Heliotrope are gently pressing their noses against where your wound had been.
For a moment you think about telling them it was fine, but the way slight tremors are wracking your body and the fact your shadow is the only reason you are standing stay your tongue. Instead you reach down and pat them once each, your breath stuttering as the pain from before starts to return.
Distracted as you are by the two of them fussing over you, you forget about the strange creaking until a deafening crash makes your ears ring. Alarmed your head snaps up, nothing at all looks different and yet you feel like everything around you has changed in ways you cannot recognise.
A chill creeps down your spine–your shadow tenses where it is holding you–there are eyes on you, but no one nearby–it disappears making you stumble–something shifts out the corner of your eyes and you turn your head. Flame Reaver is standing statue still on the other side of the river, one step out of a portal as he presumably stares at you.
Those eyes disappear when you look at him, which is strange because Reaver hasn't turned his head away from you.
You take a step towards him without thinking, the sight of him making you relax; the last of your adrenaline slipping away in his presence, causing you to stumble as your legs nearly give in. It returns to you then, your shadow–your constant companion–it's voice a low hiss as it tells you to be more careful even as it holds you up with gentle hands.
Pertias and Heliotrope bracket you on either side, and that combined with it's hands and the sickle you cling to keep you upright for a few more steps. But without the adrenaline rushing through your veins, and your energy near spent completely after killing so many monsters you struggle to stay conscious.
You trip over something as your visions swims, the sickle falling out of your hand and Peritas is forced to stop supporting you to drag Heliotrope away so his curling horns don't impale you. You wonder why he would bother, your memosprite should know as well as you do that impalement is not what your death will be.
For a moment you think you will collide with the ground–despite the way your shadow tries to pull you back up–only to collide with something that feels like it has been left out under Aquila's unblinking stare for weeks on end. You have just enough energy left to look up and see what it is, feeling arms gently lifting you up as you catch a glimpse of Reaver's mask and slip into unconsciousness.
The last thing you hear is a solemn whisper from your shadow, "The moon shall eclipse you, and like the sun you will watch as it leaves; taking alongside it your heart."
It is something you have heard a million times before. It is has been your lullaby for a thousand years.
a/n: did anybody that has been reading this guess peritas was a memosprite? im curious
Pairing: Flame Reaver x GN!Reader, One-Sided Irontomb xReader
Word Count: 3.3k
Content Warnings: reader pov, unreliable narrator, canon-typical violence, semi-graphic gore, described blood and violence
previous chapter | series masterlist | masterlist | next chapter
a/n: a shorter chapter this time but it's a necessary interlude get to the next chapter and also a couple of big reveals here hehehe
When the light dims and you can see again there is a crystal shaped like a flame hovering in the hook of the sickle, a strange shape embedded in the middle of it. A square with two lines curving from the top corners to the opposite corners on the bottom, the inside of the flame looks as if the veil of evernight has been trapped inside of it.
The whispering you can always hear in the back of your mind goes silent, but you don't take notice of it; transfixed by the sight of the glittering gem hovering in front of you. Screeching metal knocks you out of your trance, blinking you watch as the Champion drew it's claymore back.
It acts faster than you can react, thrusts its weapon forward before you can even think to bring up the sickle in your hand. Your body jerks as it drives the claymore through your chest, gurgling on your own blood as it raises it's weapon making you slide down the blade slowly.
A wet gasp escapes you, golden blood spraying over the Champion and the sickle. There is a ringing in your ears as you drop the sickle, hands trembling weakly as your blood soaks the ground below you. Your eyelids feel heavy as you blink, you feel as if you are outside your body as you drop the sickle.
Wrapping your hands around the claymores guard, a poor attempt to stop yourself sliding even further down the blade. Out of the corner of you eye you spot your blood disappearing again, the silver sickle glowing as it soaks it up like a sponge. It reminds you again of him, Reaver, your friend that always looks so tense until you or your flock would distract him from his thoughts.
If you die he will be all alone in this world, who then, will care to distract him from the endless weight upon his shoulders?
You drag your eyes away from his sickle on the ground, back up the body of the Champion to the crystal hovering between you and it. You don't know how you know, but if you grab it you're sure you will survive even this; even impaled throat to gut on a blade from that blackened tide, this flame will reforge you into something everlasting.
You don't want to leave him all alone, ███ █████ ████ ██ ███ ███ █████. Gritting your teeth you reach up with one hand, vision blurring into two then four then eight as you drop down the claymores blade. It hurts, it hurts, every part of you feels like it is on fire, like it has been consumed by the flames covering your wheat fields.
Blinking slow you watched through your fractured gaze as your hand connects with the crystal, so cold against your hand that it burns hotter than the flames around you. Or perhaps you are loosing feeling in your body as your blood drips to the ground, absorbed by the sickle.
"What wo███ you d█ to survi██?" A distorted voice asks, emanating from the crystal and seeping down deep into your ████. The Champion's empty hand approaches you again, this time grabbing you by the scalp; it's claws digging into your skin and blurring your vision even more with gold.
This is pain like nothing you have ever felt before in your life, and yet it is clarity you have also never had before in your life. Unless something happens you will die here, "death", it is something you have never consciously noticed happening despite all the long years you've lived for.
Death — the end of a person or organism.
Is that what happened to the little hummingbird, when she disappeared and left behind that doll for you? If you die here, will there be anything left of you for Reaver to keep? Even if you did would he find it before the flames and the Tide swallowed it whole?
Anything, to survive you would do anything, anything to not leave him all alone again. You do not know what he looks like, and yet you do not want to imagine what expression would paint itself across his face were Reaver to find your cooling corpse.
This clarity, this fresh new "curse" of life you have been given is hollowing. You've been alone for so long, unable to even notice due to your own ██████ ████. Reaver too, has been alone, likely longer than you have and all the while able to feel it.
Leaving him all alone again, after having given him a companion; the very idea of it sparks the flickers of rage, a strange unfamiliar feeling, deep within you that over powers your usual ██████.
"Anything…" You rasp out, another splutter of golden blood spraying from your lips. That brilliant colour that has cradled you all your life, now slowly plucks at the threads making up the tapestry of your soul, starts to unravel you at the seams.
"What ██uld y██ do to ██ve h██?" It asks next, voice growing more distorted and yet you are still able to understand it clearly. For some reason you feel like you know who it is, that that voice has whispered endless promises of good things and an end to your loneliness in the past.
Another flickering flame appears within your chest, saving him; you want it so badly, but could you? No, it does not matter if you can't. For him who had kept you company despite the heavy burden on his shoulders, for him whose mind was so fractured and still treated you with more humanity than most people and never look at you in pity.
It did not matter to you if you could do it, you would make it so the world had no other choice but to concede to your desire. Everything gives in to Time when exposed to enough of it, so you would simply fold it over the world again and again no matter how many times it takes you.
"Every… thing…" Your voice wavers, black encroaching on the edges of your vision as you struggle to stay awake. Someone as kind as him doesn't deserve the harsh fate he has, and you refuse to let him deal with it alone after he has saved you from yours.
"W███ wou██ ███ do if I t███ you he won't █████ after Era N███?" Is the final question the voice asks you, and it gores you in the same way the claymore through your chest is doing.
No, no, no. That can't be right, that can't be; in the faint memories you have of the hummingbird telling you about Era Nova, she say it's supposed to be for everyone. It has to be lying, that voice it must be an agent of Zagreus. He has to be lying to you, you don't want to enter a new █████ if it means returning to an existence without Reaver in it.
"You're ly… ing." You snarl weakly, you plead desperately as tears prick your eyes. You don't want to be alone again, you don't want him to disappear while remaining a monster in other peoples memories. Letting go of the claymores you reach up with your other hand, choking on your blood once again as you wrap both of your hands around the crystal as tightly as possible.
Tight enough that even as darkness encroaches on your sight you can feel it, grounding you into the present. Your heart feels like it will beat out of your chest, like it will writhe itself into enough knots it breaks apart; it is a strange sensation, almost as strange your new ability to notice things.
"████ █████ ███ ██ ██ █ ████ ███ ██ █████ █████ █████ ███ ████?" The question is repeated, yet the voice sounds almost… distressed to see you in such anguish, or perhaps distressed to see you impaled.
You don't know why the voice seems to care about you, it feels–sounds–familiar to you but even with your new clarity you cannot place it to anyone you have known. You don't think on it for very long though, you don't have the time to think about a mysterious voice you may or may not know when you are bleeding out.
Faintly you can hear it ask the same question a third time, but you already know what your answer is; if he has to die, than you will make sure that he isn't alone. You refuse to let Reaver die a lonely death, you will make sure to stay close to his side no matter what may happen in the future.
"He can't… get rid of… me." You snarled, grip tightening even more on the crystal flame until you can feel it piercing the flesh of your palms. Through the few clear spots in your vision, you can see the tips of the flame piercing through the back of your hands.
As long as you can breath, Reaver will not die alone; it does not matter what you have to do, or what you have to give to make this come true. You have decided on this course of action, and you will force the world to kneel to it.
A flickering light shines through your hands, growing brighter and brighter until you are forced to close your eyes again. The next breath you take in is surprisingly pain free, the flame cupped in your hands pulsing once, twice and then dissolving; filling you with warmth as power floods through your body.
It feels as if everything has slowed down to a crawl as you open your eyes once more, ignorant to the way they glow with divine light as you look upon the Champion in front of you. Reaching out you set a hand on its chest, watching dispassionately as it unwinds and dissipates into dust taking the claymore with it.
Without the weapon impaling you, you fall to the ground; feet thudding softly against the blackened soil, you stumble and sway a little. Your boot hits something and your gaze is drawn downwards. Down, down, down. Past the hole in your clothes where the claymore used to be, down to the gleaming silver sickle sitting in the dirt untouched by filth.
A familiar red headed little doll sits on the blade, just as clean and spotless despite the fact you are sure it had been drenched with your blood. It confuses you, but you are also glad; Triantafyllia didn't deserve to be dirtied by you, not when she had already given herself up to keep you company even after death.
Blinking you wonder just what it is that Reaver entrusted you with, to have held that Flame and soak up your golden blood like a bloodthirsty sponge. Regardless you bend over and grab it with one hand, barely paying attention to the monsters approaching you as you grab the doll with your other hand.
Smoothing your thumb over it gently, you wrap it up in quantum energy and tuck it away safely in the inventory you have only just realised exists. At least this way you do not have to worry about loosing her, something you are grateful for as you stand back up and sweep your gaze over the still burning fields.
Those vision in the flames still flash in the corner of your eyes, but with the blade in your hand and the Flame in your chest, you barely have to think before the memories are snuffed out. It makes focusing easier, not having the sound of endless distorted screams echoing in your head with each glimpse of the past that had been shown to you.
Now you can focus on what's important, getting rid of all these monsters before the adrenaline █████████ had given you runs out. You hold your hand out towards the Black Tide's monstrous children–the hand that had held Triantafyllia's doll–and remember–actually remember–something she had told you about her student.
That she was a skilled seamstress who could tie the golden threads of people's fates together, the memory gives you an idea. You aren't sure if it will work, but that familiar voices whispers encouragement in your ears–and oh, it had been doing that all your life, hasn't it?–and so you give it a try holding your hand out.
The monsters all freeze and jerk in place like a bunch of puppets on strings, though instead of the shimmering golden threads you had imagined; the familiar pale lilac of your quantum energy wraps around their limbs, like lines of fishing wire gleaming iridescently within the light of the flames.
It shocks you that it worked, yet at the same time part of you feels like you have done this hundreds–millions–of times before. You don't even have to think of what to do next, there is no frantic pondering on how you are supposed to proceed now that the monsters are restrained. Raising your other hand you swing the sickle, watching it hook around seemingly thin air–before it wavers like a mirage, interference fading away to reveal the gleaming lilac strings straining around the blade.
Tightening your grip on Reaver's sickle–"It's the c█████████ █████ ██ ████ ███████ ██ █████." your shadow whispers to you–you pull it sharply towards yourself, watching as the threads fray and eventually snap. For a moment nothing happens, although the air grows tense and the flames seem to slow down to a crawl, silence creeping across the fields.
And then all of a sudden sound rushes back in as the threads snap, snap, snap! Each one echoing louder than the last, and with each one that snaps another monster dissolves into dust. For a moment after they have all dissolved you think it is over, no more monsters spawning right as another had been cut down and unwittingly you start to relax.
Only for the Black Tide to crash against the river bed, the reddish-black liquid spilling into your fields; quenching the flames as the Tide seems to reach for you, and monsters spill from it all of them focused on you. Something that sounds almost like guilt seeps into your shadow's voice, as it urges you to hold out just a little longer.
You don't know why worry thickens it's voice as much as the weird guilt it seems to feel, despite how many monsters there are you have never felt more powerful than you do right now. The Black Tide will not be what kills you, your Death has already been written down many times and it has never come to you in the form of drowning, this one too will be faced with air still in your lungs.
It occurs to you, as you hook the sickle around another skein of thread, that you should not know this information. A problem for another day.
Dust fills the air around you as this new surge of monsters dissolves as the strings snap, over and over again dust fills the air as you cut through the threads of fate. Eventually it is so thick in the air that the roaring flames start to die down, those black spots returning to your eyes as your energy starts to wane.
In the background you can hear creaking, like something is about to give in and collapse. The first time you heard this sort of sound was when the World wept and shattered, the little fairy waking up as the hourglass was flipped once more. The last time you heard it was when the future consumed herself, drowning the World in memories.
Blinking sluggishly you look around to try and see what could be making that noise, you can barely see through all the dust and charred wheat; yet you can make out enough to see that the barn had already collapsed, and your house was far enough away to have escaped the flames. The sound is familiar and yet you can't quite place it, the knowledge dancing just outside the reach of your fingertips.
"When those bugs all left you here alone, remember?" Your shadow whispers to you, it's voice feeling like a gentle caress down your spine. There is a faint pressure against your lower back–a phantom hand covering the freshly knitted together skin–steading you in place as your vision spins again.
Glass shatters in the air again as your memosprite returns to your side, one of Peritas' fractals setting Heliotrope down before they merge together. Your hound circles around you, making you wonder if unlike you he can see your shadow. A chill snaps you out if your thoughts, and when you glance down Peritas and Heliotrope are gently pressing their noses against where your wound had been.
For a moment you think about telling them it was fine, but the way slight tremors are wracking your body and the fact your shadow is the only reason you are standing stay your tongue. Instead you reach down and pat them once each, your breath stuttering as the pain from before starts to return.
Distracted as you are by the two of them fussing over you, you forget about the strange creaking until a deafening crash makes your ears ring. Alarmed your head snaps up, nothing at all looks different and yet you feel like everything around you has changed in ways you cannot recognise.
A chill creeps down your spine–your shadow tenses where it is holding you–there are eyes on you, but no one nearby–it disappears making you stumble–something shifts out the corner of your eyes and you turn your head. Flame Reaver is standing statue still on the other side of the river, one step out of a portal as he presumably stares at you.
Those eyes disappear when you look at him, which is strange because Reaver hasn't turned his head away from you.
You take a step towards him without thinking, the sight of him making you relax; the last of your adrenaline slipping away in his presence, causing you to stumble as your legs nearly give in. It returns to you then, your shadow–your constant companion–it's voice a low hiss as it tells you to be more careful even as it holds you up with gentle hands.
Pertias and Heliotrope bracket you on either side, and that combined with it's hands and the sickle you cling to keep you upright for a few more steps. But without the adrenaline rushing through your veins, and your energy near spent completely after killing so many monsters you struggle to stay conscious.
You trip over something as your visions swims, the sickle falling out of your hand and Peritas is forced to stop supporting you to drag Heliotrope away so his curling horns don't impale you. You wonder why he would bother, your memosprite should know as well as you do that impalement is not what your death will be.
For a moment you think you will collide with the ground–despite the way your shadow tries to pull you back up–only to collide with something that feels like it has been left out under Aquila's unblinking stare for weeks on end. You have just enough energy left to look up and see what it is, feeling arms gently lifting you up as you catch a glimpse of Reaver's mask and slip into unconsciousness.
The last thing you hear is a solemn whisper from your shadow, "The moon shall eclipse you, and like the sun you will watch as it leaves; taking alongside it your heart."
It is something you have heard a million times before. It is has been your lullaby for a thousand years.
a/n: did anybody that has been reading this guess peritas was a memosprite? im curious
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Pairing: Flame Reaver x GN!Reader, One-Sided Irontomb xReader
Word Count: 3.3k
Content Warnings: reader pov, unreliable narrator, canon-typical violence, semi-graphic gore, described blood and violence
previous chapter | series masterlist | masterlist | next chapter
a/n: a shorter chapter this time but it's a necessary interlude get to the next chapter and also a couple of big reveals here hehehe
When the light dims and you can see again there is a crystal shaped like a flame hovering in the hook of the sickle, a strange shape embedded in the middle of it. A square with two lines curving from the top corners to the opposite corners on the bottom, the inside of the flame looks as if the veil of evernight has been trapped inside of it.
The whispering you can always hear in the back of your mind goes silent, but you don't take notice of it; transfixed by the sight of the glittering gem hovering in front of you. Screeching metal knocks you out of your trance, blinking you watch as the Champion drew it's claymore back.
It acts faster than you can react, thrusts its weapon forward before you can even think to bring up the sickle in your hand. Your body jerks as it drives the claymore through your chest, gurgling on your own blood as it raises it's weapon making you slide down the blade slowly.
A wet gasp escapes you, golden blood spraying over the Champion and the sickle. There is a ringing in your ears as you drop the sickle, hands trembling weakly as your blood soaks the ground below you. Your eyelids feel heavy as you blink, you feel as if you are outside your body as you drop the sickle.
Wrapping your hands around the claymores guard, a poor attempt to stop yourself sliding even further down the blade. Out of the corner of you eye you spot your blood disappearing again, the silver sickle glowing as it soaks it up like a sponge. It reminds you again of him, Reaver, your friend that always looks so tense until you or your flock would distract him from his thoughts.
If you die he will be all alone in this world, who then, will care to distract him from the endless weight upon his shoulders?
You drag your eyes away from his sickle on the ground, back up the body of the Champion to the crystal hovering between you and it. You don't know how you know, but if you grab it you're sure you will survive even this; even impaled throat to gut on a blade from that blackened tide, this flame will reforge you into something everlasting.
You don't want to leave him all alone, ███ █████ ████ ██ ███ ███ █████. Gritting your teeth you reach up with one hand, vision blurring into two then four then eight as you drop down the claymores blade. It hurts, it hurts, every part of you feels like it is on fire, like it has been consumed by the flames covering your wheat fields.
Blinking slow you watched through your fractured gaze as your hand connects with the crystal, so cold against your hand that it burns hotter than the flames around you. Or perhaps you are loosing feeling in your body as your blood drips to the ground, absorbed by the sickle.
"What wo███ you d█ to survi██?" A distorted voice asks, emanating from the crystal and seeping down deep into your ████. The Champion's empty hand approaches you again, this time grabbing you by the scalp; it's claws digging into your skin and blurring your vision even more with gold.
This is pain like nothing you have ever felt before in your life, and yet it is clarity you have also never had before in your life. Unless something happens you will die here, "death", it is something you have never consciously noticed happening despite all the long years you've lived for.
Death — the end of a person or organism.
Is that what happened to the little hummingbird, when she disappeared and left behind that doll for you? If you die here, will there be anything left of you for Reaver to keep? Even if you did would he find it before the flames and the Tide swallowed it whole?
Anything, to survive you would do anything, anything to not leave him all alone again. You do not know what he looks like, and yet you do not want to imagine what expression would paint itself across his face were Reaver to find your cooling corpse.
This clarity, this fresh new "curse" of life you have been given is hollowing. You've been alone for so long, unable to even notice due to your own ██████ ████. Reaver too, has been alone, likely longer than you have and all the while able to feel it.
Leaving him all alone again, after having given him a companion; the very idea of it sparks the flickers of rage, a strange unfamiliar feeling, deep within you that over powers your usual ██████.
"Anything…" You rasp out, another splutter of golden blood spraying from your lips. That brilliant colour that has cradled you all your life, now slowly plucks at the threads making up the tapestry of your soul, starts to unravel you at the seams.
"What ██uld y██ do to ██ve h██?" It asks next, voice growing more distorted and yet you are still able to understand it clearly. For some reason you feel like you know who it is, that that voice has whispered endless promises of good things and an end to your loneliness in the past.
Another flickering flame appears within your chest, saving him; you want it so badly, but could you? No, it does not matter if you can't. For him who had kept you company despite the heavy burden on his shoulders, for him whose mind was so fractured and still treated you with more humanity than most people and never look at you in pity.
It did not matter to you if you could do it, you would make it so the world had no other choice but to concede to your desire. Everything gives in to Time when exposed to enough of it, so you would simply fold it over the world again and again no matter how many times it takes you.
"Every… thing…" Your voice wavers, black encroaching on the edges of your vision as you struggle to stay awake. Someone as kind as him doesn't deserve the harsh fate he has, and you refuse to let him deal with it alone after he has saved you from yours.
"W███ wou██ ███ do if I t███ you he won't █████ after Era N███?" Is the final question the voice asks you, and it gores you in the same way the claymore through your chest is doing.
No, no, no. That can't be right, that can't be; in the faint memories you have of the hummingbird telling you about Era Nova, she say it's supposed to be for everyone. It has to be lying, that voice it must be an agent of Zagreus. He has to be lying to you, you don't want to enter a new █████ if it means returning to an existence without Reaver in it.
"You're ly… ing." You snarl weakly, you plead desperately as tears prick your eyes. You don't want to be alone again, you don't want him to disappear while remaining a monster in other peoples memories. Letting go of the claymores you reach up with your other hand, choking on your blood once again as you wrap both of your hands around the crystal as tightly as possible.
Tight enough that even as darkness encroaches on your sight you can feel it, grounding you into the present. Your heart feels like it will beat out of your chest, like it will writhe itself into enough knots it breaks apart; it is a strange sensation, almost as strange your new ability to notice things.
"████ █████ ███ ██ ██ █ ████ ███ ██ █████ █████ █████ ███ ████?" The question is repeated, yet the voice sounds almost… distressed to see you in such anguish, or perhaps distressed to see you impaled.
You don't know why the voice seems to care about you, it feels–sounds–familiar to you but even with your new clarity you cannot place it to anyone you have known. You don't think on it for very long though, you don't have the time to think about a mysterious voice you may or may not know when you are bleeding out.
Faintly you can hear it ask the same question a third time, but you already know what your answer is; if he has to die, than you will make sure that he isn't alone. You refuse to let Reaver die a lonely death, you will make sure to stay close to his side no matter what may happen in the future.
"He can't… get rid of… me." You snarled, grip tightening even more on the crystal flame until you can feel it piercing the flesh of your palms. Through the few clear spots in your vision, you can see the tips of the flame piercing through the back of your hands.
As long as you can breath, Reaver will not die alone; it does not matter what you have to do, or what you have to give to make this come true. You have decided on this course of action, and you will force the world to kneel to it.
A flickering light shines through your hands, growing brighter and brighter until you are forced to close your eyes again. The next breath you take in is surprisingly pain free, the flame cupped in your hands pulsing once, twice and then dissolving; filling you with warmth as power floods through your body.
It feels as if everything has slowed down to a crawl as you open your eyes once more, ignorant to the way they glow with divine light as you look upon the Champion in front of you. Reaching out you set a hand on its chest, watching dispassionately as it unwinds and dissipates into dust taking the claymore with it.
Without the weapon impaling you, you fall to the ground; feet thudding softly against the blackened soil, you stumble and sway a little. Your boot hits something and your gaze is drawn downwards. Down, down, down. Past the hole in your clothes where the claymore used to be, down to the gleaming silver sickle sitting in the dirt untouched by filth.
A familiar red headed little doll sits on the blade, just as clean and spotless despite the fact you are sure it had been drenched with your blood. It confuses you, but you are also glad; Triantafyllia didn't deserve to be dirtied by you, not when she had already given herself up to keep you company even after death.
Blinking you wonder just what it is that Reaver entrusted you with, to have held that Flame and soak up your golden blood like a bloodthirsty sponge. Regardless you bend over and grab it with one hand, barely paying attention to the monsters approaching you as you grab the doll with your other hand.
Smoothing your thumb over it gently, you wrap it up in quantum energy and tuck it away safely in the inventory you have only just realised exists. At least this way you do not have to worry about loosing her, something you are grateful for as you stand back up and sweep your gaze over the still burning fields.
Those vision in the flames still flash in the corner of your eyes, but with the blade in your hand and the Flame in your chest, you barely have to think before the memories are snuffed out. It makes focusing easier, not having the sound of endless distorted screams echoing in your head with each glimpse of the past that had been shown to you.
Now you can focus on what's important, getting rid of all these monsters before the adrenaline █████████ had given you runs out. You hold your hand out towards the Black Tide's monstrous children–the hand that had held Triantafyllia's doll–and remember–actually remember–something she had told you about her student.
That she was a skilled seamstress who could tie the golden threads of people's fates together, the memory gives you an idea. You aren't sure if it will work, but that familiar voices whispers encouragement in your ears–and oh, it had been doing that all your life, hasn't it?–and so you give it a try holding your hand out.
The monsters all freeze and jerk in place like a bunch of puppets on strings, though instead of the shimmering golden threads you had imagined; the familiar pale lilac of your quantum energy wraps around their limbs, like lines of fishing wire gleaming iridescently within the light of the flames.
It shocks you that it worked, yet at the same time part of you feels like you have done this hundreds–millions–of times before. You don't even have to think of what to do next, there is no frantic pondering on how you are supposed to proceed now that the monsters are restrained. Raising your other hand you swing the sickle, watching it hook around seemingly thin air–before it wavers like a mirage, interference fading away to reveal the gleaming lilac strings straining around the blade.
Tightening your grip on Reaver's sickle–"It's the c█████████ █████ ██ ████ ███████ ██ █████." your shadow whispers to you–you pull it sharply towards yourself, watching as the threads fray and eventually snap. For a moment nothing happens, although the air grows tense and the flames seem to slow down to a crawl, silence creeping across the fields.
And then all of a sudden sound rushes back in as the threads snap, snap, snap! Each one echoing louder than the last, and with each one that snaps another monster dissolves into dust. For a moment after they have all dissolved you think it is over, no more monsters spawning right as another had been cut down and unwittingly you start to relax.
Only for the Black Tide to crash against the river bed, the reddish-black liquid spilling into your fields; quenching the flames as the Tide seems to reach for you, and monsters spill from it all of them focused on you. Something that sounds almost like guilt seeps into your shadow's voice, as it urges you to hold out just a little longer.
You don't know why worry thickens it's voice as much as the weird guilt it seems to feel, despite how many monsters there are you have never felt more powerful than you do right now. The Black Tide will not be what kills you, your Death has already been written down many times and it has never come to you in the form of drowning, this one too will be faced with air still in your lungs.
It occurs to you, as you hook the sickle around another skein of thread, that you should not know this information. A problem for another day.
Dust fills the air around you as this new surge of monsters dissolves as the strings snap, over and over again dust fills the air as you cut through the threads of fate. Eventually it is so thick in the air that the roaring flames start to die down, those black spots returning to your eyes as your energy starts to wane.
In the background you can hear creaking, like something is about to give in and collapse. The first time you heard this sort of sound was when the World wept and shattered, the little fairy waking up as the hourglass was flipped once more. The last time you heard it was when the future consumed herself, drowning the World in memories.
Blinking sluggishly you look around to try and see what could be making that noise, you can barely see through all the dust and charred wheat; yet you can make out enough to see that the barn had already collapsed, and your house was far enough away to have escaped the flames. The sound is familiar and yet you can't quite place it, the knowledge dancing just outside the reach of your fingertips.
"When those bugs all left you here alone, remember?" Your shadow whispers to you, it's voice feeling like a gentle caress down your spine. There is a faint pressure against your lower back–a phantom hand covering the freshly knitted together skin–steading you in place as your vision spins again.
Glass shatters in the air again as your memosprite returns to your side, one of Peritas' fractals setting Heliotrope down before they merge together. Your hound circles around you, making you wonder if unlike you he can see your shadow. A chill snaps you out if your thoughts, and when you glance down Peritas and Heliotrope are gently pressing their noses against where your wound had been.
For a moment you think about telling them it was fine, but the way slight tremors are wracking your body and the fact your shadow is the only reason you are standing stay your tongue. Instead you reach down and pat them once each, your breath stuttering as the pain from before starts to return.
Distracted as you are by the two of them fussing over you, you forget about the strange creaking until a deafening crash makes your ears ring. Alarmed your head snaps up, nothing at all looks different and yet you feel like everything around you has changed in ways you cannot recognise.
A chill creeps down your spine–your shadow tenses where it is holding you–there are eyes on you, but no one nearby–it disappears making you stumble–something shifts out the corner of your eyes and you turn your head. Flame Reaver is standing statue still on the other side of the river, one step out of a portal as he presumably stares at you.
Those eyes disappear when you look at him, which is strange because Reaver hasn't turned his head away from you.
You take a step towards him without thinking, the sight of him making you relax; the last of your adrenaline slipping away in his presence, causing you to stumble as your legs nearly give in. It returns to you then, your shadow–your constant companion–it's voice a low hiss as it tells you to be more careful even as it holds you up with gentle hands.
Pertias and Heliotrope bracket you on either side, and that combined with it's hands and the sickle you cling to keep you upright for a few more steps. But without the adrenaline rushing through your veins, and your energy near spent completely after killing so many monsters you struggle to stay conscious.
You trip over something as your visions swims, the sickle falling out of your hand and Peritas is forced to stop supporting you to drag Heliotrope away so his curling horns don't impale you. You wonder why he would bother, your memosprite should know as well as you do that impalement is not what your death will be.
For a moment you think you will collide with the ground–despite the way your shadow tries to pull you back up–only to collide with something that feels like it has been left out under Aquila's unblinking stare for weeks on end. You have just enough energy left to look up and see what it is, feeling arms gently lifting you up as you catch a glimpse of Reaver's mask and slip into unconsciousness.
The last thing you hear is a solemn whisper from your shadow, "The moon shall eclipse you, and like the sun you will watch as it leaves; taking alongside it your heart."
It is something you have heard a million times before. It is has been your lullaby for a thousand years.
a/n: did anybody that has been reading this guess peritas was a memosprite? im curious
Pairing: Flame Reaver x GN!Reader, One-Sided Irontomb xReader
Word Count: 3.3k
Content Warnings: reader pov, unreliable narrator, canon-typical violence, semi-graphic gore, described blood and violence
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a/n: a shorter chapter this time but it's a necessary interlude get to the next chapter and also a couple of big reveals here hehehe
When the light dims and you can see again there is a crystal shaped like a flame hovering in the hook of the sickle, a strange shape embedded in the middle of it. A square with two lines curving from the top corners to the opposite corners on the bottom, the inside of the flame looks as if the veil of evernight has been trapped inside of it.
The whispering you can always hear in the back of your mind goes silent, but you don't take notice of it; transfixed by the sight of the glittering gem hovering in front of you. Screeching metal knocks you out of your trance, blinking you watch as the Champion drew it's claymore back.
It acts faster than you can react, thrusts its weapon forward before you can even think to bring up the sickle in your hand. Your body jerks as it drives the claymore through your chest, gurgling on your own blood as it raises it's weapon making you slide down the blade slowly.
A wet gasp escapes you, golden blood spraying over the Champion and the sickle. There is a ringing in your ears as you drop the sickle, hands trembling weakly as your blood soaks the ground below you. Your eyelids feel heavy as you blink, you feel as if you are outside your body as you drop the sickle.
Wrapping your hands around the claymores guard, a poor attempt to stop yourself sliding even further down the blade. Out of the corner of you eye you spot your blood disappearing again, the silver sickle glowing as it soaks it up like a sponge. It reminds you again of him, Reaver, your friend that always looks so tense until you or your flock would distract him from his thoughts.
If you die he will be all alone in this world, who then, will care to distract him from the endless weight upon his shoulders?
You drag your eyes away from his sickle on the ground, back up the body of the Champion to the crystal hovering between you and it. You don't know how you know, but if you grab it you're sure you will survive even this; even impaled throat to gut on a blade from that blackened tide, this flame will reforge you into something everlasting.
You don't want to leave him all alone, ███ █████ ████ ██ ███ ███ █████. Gritting your teeth you reach up with one hand, vision blurring into two then four then eight as you drop down the claymores blade. It hurts, it hurts, every part of you feels like it is on fire, like it has been consumed by the flames covering your wheat fields.
Blinking slow you watched through your fractured gaze as your hand connects with the crystal, so cold against your hand that it burns hotter than the flames around you. Or perhaps you are loosing feeling in your body as your blood drips to the ground, absorbed by the sickle.
"What wo███ you d█ to survi██?" A distorted voice asks, emanating from the crystal and seeping down deep into your ████. The Champion's empty hand approaches you again, this time grabbing you by the scalp; it's claws digging into your skin and blurring your vision even more with gold.
This is pain like nothing you have ever felt before in your life, and yet it is clarity you have also never had before in your life. Unless something happens you will die here, "death", it is something you have never consciously noticed happening despite all the long years you've lived for.
Death — the end of a person or organism.
Is that what happened to the little hummingbird, when she disappeared and left behind that doll for you? If you die here, will there be anything left of you for Reaver to keep? Even if you did would he find it before the flames and the Tide swallowed it whole?
Anything, to survive you would do anything, anything to not leave him all alone again. You do not know what he looks like, and yet you do not want to imagine what expression would paint itself across his face were Reaver to find your cooling corpse.
This clarity, this fresh new "curse" of life you have been given is hollowing. You've been alone for so long, unable to even notice due to your own ██████ ████. Reaver too, has been alone, likely longer than you have and all the while able to feel it.
Leaving him all alone again, after having given him a companion; the very idea of it sparks the flickers of rage, a strange unfamiliar feeling, deep within you that over powers your usual ██████.
"Anything…" You rasp out, another splutter of golden blood spraying from your lips. That brilliant colour that has cradled you all your life, now slowly plucks at the threads making up the tapestry of your soul, starts to unravel you at the seams.
"What ██uld y██ do to ██ve h██?" It asks next, voice growing more distorted and yet you are still able to understand it clearly. For some reason you feel like you know who it is, that that voice has whispered endless promises of good things and an end to your loneliness in the past.
Another flickering flame appears within your chest, saving him; you want it so badly, but could you? No, it does not matter if you can't. For him who had kept you company despite the heavy burden on his shoulders, for him whose mind was so fractured and still treated you with more humanity than most people and never look at you in pity.
It did not matter to you if you could do it, you would make it so the world had no other choice but to concede to your desire. Everything gives in to Time when exposed to enough of it, so you would simply fold it over the world again and again no matter how many times it takes you.
"Every… thing…" Your voice wavers, black encroaching on the edges of your vision as you struggle to stay awake. Someone as kind as him doesn't deserve the harsh fate he has, and you refuse to let him deal with it alone after he has saved you from yours.
"W███ wou██ ███ do if I t███ you he won't █████ after Era N███?" Is the final question the voice asks you, and it gores you in the same way the claymore through your chest is doing.
No, no, no. That can't be right, that can't be; in the faint memories you have of the hummingbird telling you about Era Nova, she say it's supposed to be for everyone. It has to be lying, that voice it must be an agent of Zagreus. He has to be lying to you, you don't want to enter a new █████ if it means returning to an existence without Reaver in it.
"You're ly… ing." You snarl weakly, you plead desperately as tears prick your eyes. You don't want to be alone again, you don't want him to disappear while remaining a monster in other peoples memories. Letting go of the claymores you reach up with your other hand, choking on your blood once again as you wrap both of your hands around the crystal as tightly as possible.
Tight enough that even as darkness encroaches on your sight you can feel it, grounding you into the present. Your heart feels like it will beat out of your chest, like it will writhe itself into enough knots it breaks apart; it is a strange sensation, almost as strange your new ability to notice things.
"████ █████ ███ ██ ██ █ ████ ███ ██ █████ █████ █████ ███ ████?" The question is repeated, yet the voice sounds almost… distressed to see you in such anguish, or perhaps distressed to see you impaled.
You don't know why the voice seems to care about you, it feels–sounds–familiar to you but even with your new clarity you cannot place it to anyone you have known. You don't think on it for very long though, you don't have the time to think about a mysterious voice you may or may not know when you are bleeding out.
Faintly you can hear it ask the same question a third time, but you already know what your answer is; if he has to die, than you will make sure that he isn't alone. You refuse to let Reaver die a lonely death, you will make sure to stay close to his side no matter what may happen in the future.
"He can't… get rid of… me." You snarled, grip tightening even more on the crystal flame until you can feel it piercing the flesh of your palms. Through the few clear spots in your vision, you can see the tips of the flame piercing through the back of your hands.
As long as you can breath, Reaver will not die alone; it does not matter what you have to do, or what you have to give to make this come true. You have decided on this course of action, and you will force the world to kneel to it.
A flickering light shines through your hands, growing brighter and brighter until you are forced to close your eyes again. The next breath you take in is surprisingly pain free, the flame cupped in your hands pulsing once, twice and then dissolving; filling you with warmth as power floods through your body.
It feels as if everything has slowed down to a crawl as you open your eyes once more, ignorant to the way they glow with divine light as you look upon the Champion in front of you. Reaching out you set a hand on its chest, watching dispassionately as it unwinds and dissipates into dust taking the claymore with it.
Without the weapon impaling you, you fall to the ground; feet thudding softly against the blackened soil, you stumble and sway a little. Your boot hits something and your gaze is drawn downwards. Down, down, down. Past the hole in your clothes where the claymore used to be, down to the gleaming silver sickle sitting in the dirt untouched by filth.
A familiar red headed little doll sits on the blade, just as clean and spotless despite the fact you are sure it had been drenched with your blood. It confuses you, but you are also glad; Triantafyllia didn't deserve to be dirtied by you, not when she had already given herself up to keep you company even after death.
Blinking you wonder just what it is that Reaver entrusted you with, to have held that Flame and soak up your golden blood like a bloodthirsty sponge. Regardless you bend over and grab it with one hand, barely paying attention to the monsters approaching you as you grab the doll with your other hand.
Smoothing your thumb over it gently, you wrap it up in quantum energy and tuck it away safely in the inventory you have only just realised exists. At least this way you do not have to worry about loosing her, something you are grateful for as you stand back up and sweep your gaze over the still burning fields.
Those vision in the flames still flash in the corner of your eyes, but with the blade in your hand and the Flame in your chest, you barely have to think before the memories are snuffed out. It makes focusing easier, not having the sound of endless distorted screams echoing in your head with each glimpse of the past that had been shown to you.
Now you can focus on what's important, getting rid of all these monsters before the adrenaline █████████ had given you runs out. You hold your hand out towards the Black Tide's monstrous children–the hand that had held Triantafyllia's doll–and remember–actually remember–something she had told you about her student.
That she was a skilled seamstress who could tie the golden threads of people's fates together, the memory gives you an idea. You aren't sure if it will work, but that familiar voices whispers encouragement in your ears–and oh, it had been doing that all your life, hasn't it?–and so you give it a try holding your hand out.
The monsters all freeze and jerk in place like a bunch of puppets on strings, though instead of the shimmering golden threads you had imagined; the familiar pale lilac of your quantum energy wraps around their limbs, like lines of fishing wire gleaming iridescently within the light of the flames.
It shocks you that it worked, yet at the same time part of you feels like you have done this hundreds–millions–of times before. You don't even have to think of what to do next, there is no frantic pondering on how you are supposed to proceed now that the monsters are restrained. Raising your other hand you swing the sickle, watching it hook around seemingly thin air–before it wavers like a mirage, interference fading away to reveal the gleaming lilac strings straining around the blade.
Tightening your grip on Reaver's sickle–"It's the c█████████ █████ ██ ████ ███████ ██ █████." your shadow whispers to you–you pull it sharply towards yourself, watching as the threads fray and eventually snap. For a moment nothing happens, although the air grows tense and the flames seem to slow down to a crawl, silence creeping across the fields.
And then all of a sudden sound rushes back in as the threads snap, snap, snap! Each one echoing louder than the last, and with each one that snaps another monster dissolves into dust. For a moment after they have all dissolved you think it is over, no more monsters spawning right as another had been cut down and unwittingly you start to relax.
Only for the Black Tide to crash against the river bed, the reddish-black liquid spilling into your fields; quenching the flames as the Tide seems to reach for you, and monsters spill from it all of them focused on you. Something that sounds almost like guilt seeps into your shadow's voice, as it urges you to hold out just a little longer.
You don't know why worry thickens it's voice as much as the weird guilt it seems to feel, despite how many monsters there are you have never felt more powerful than you do right now. The Black Tide will not be what kills you, your Death has already been written down many times and it has never come to you in the form of drowning, this one too will be faced with air still in your lungs.
It occurs to you, as you hook the sickle around another skein of thread, that you should not know this information. A problem for another day.
Dust fills the air around you as this new surge of monsters dissolves as the strings snap, over and over again dust fills the air as you cut through the threads of fate. Eventually it is so thick in the air that the roaring flames start to die down, those black spots returning to your eyes as your energy starts to wane.
In the background you can hear creaking, like something is about to give in and collapse. The first time you heard this sort of sound was when the World wept and shattered, the little fairy waking up as the hourglass was flipped once more. The last time you heard it was when the future consumed herself, drowning the World in memories.
Blinking sluggishly you look around to try and see what could be making that noise, you can barely see through all the dust and charred wheat; yet you can make out enough to see that the barn had already collapsed, and your house was far enough away to have escaped the flames. The sound is familiar and yet you can't quite place it, the knowledge dancing just outside the reach of your fingertips.
"When those bugs all left you here alone, remember?" Your shadow whispers to you, it's voice feeling like a gentle caress down your spine. There is a faint pressure against your lower back–a phantom hand covering the freshly knitted together skin–steading you in place as your vision spins again.
Glass shatters in the air again as your memosprite returns to your side, one of Peritas' fractals setting Heliotrope down before they merge together. Your hound circles around you, making you wonder if unlike you he can see your shadow. A chill snaps you out if your thoughts, and when you glance down Peritas and Heliotrope are gently pressing their noses against where your wound had been.
For a moment you think about telling them it was fine, but the way slight tremors are wracking your body and the fact your shadow is the only reason you are standing stay your tongue. Instead you reach down and pat them once each, your breath stuttering as the pain from before starts to return.
Distracted as you are by the two of them fussing over you, you forget about the strange creaking until a deafening crash makes your ears ring. Alarmed your head snaps up, nothing at all looks different and yet you feel like everything around you has changed in ways you cannot recognise.
A chill creeps down your spine–your shadow tenses where it is holding you–there are eyes on you, but no one nearby–it disappears making you stumble–something shifts out the corner of your eyes and you turn your head. Flame Reaver is standing statue still on the other side of the river, one step out of a portal as he presumably stares at you.
Those eyes disappear when you look at him, which is strange because Reaver hasn't turned his head away from you.
You take a step towards him without thinking, the sight of him making you relax; the last of your adrenaline slipping away in his presence, causing you to stumble as your legs nearly give in. It returns to you then, your shadow–your constant companion–it's voice a low hiss as it tells you to be more careful even as it holds you up with gentle hands.
Pertias and Heliotrope bracket you on either side, and that combined with it's hands and the sickle you cling to keep you upright for a few more steps. But without the adrenaline rushing through your veins, and your energy near spent completely after killing so many monsters you struggle to stay conscious.
You trip over something as your visions swims, the sickle falling out of your hand and Peritas is forced to stop supporting you to drag Heliotrope away so his curling horns don't impale you. You wonder why he would bother, your memosprite should know as well as you do that impalement is not what your death will be.
For a moment you think you will collide with the ground–despite the way your shadow tries to pull you back up–only to collide with something that feels like it has been left out under Aquila's unblinking stare for weeks on end. You have just enough energy left to look up and see what it is, feeling arms gently lifting you up as you catch a glimpse of Reaver's mask and slip into unconsciousness.
The last thing you hear is a solemn whisper from your shadow, "The moon shall eclipse you, and like the sun you will watch as it leaves; taking alongside it your heart."
It is something you have heard a million times before. It is has been your lullaby for a thousand years.
a/n: did anybody that has been reading this guess peritas was a memosprite? im curious
