solitary star

where do we belong? anywhere but here

[akiyili]

pfp  by  @  hauyenbachxuan  on  x

here  lies  me,  the  cosmos,  and  you.

𖦹   .   akiyili  or  kiyi   ,   they  .  he  pronouns   ,   gi  and  hsr  centric  sfw  writing  blog

previously named kiyiii , very inconsistent posting and currently do not take writing reqs

♡ . scara, tartaglia, aven, anaxa, ratio

masterlist.  byf.  other. 

[akiyili]

𖦹  . bane and proof of existence

testing out the trend of calling lovers by their full name on anaxa. ✧

✧ . gn!reader, pet name usage (my love, beloved). you call him naxy in one line.

✧ . i was planning to do this w/ phainon and mydei too but i got lazy so um

wc. 750+

“See you, Anaxagoras.”

The last words you spoke before shutting the door behind. You stayed in place for a few seconds, hoping to listen into whatever reaction he’ll have. To your dismay, it’s silence in his end.

Just as you contemplate admitting defeat and peek back inside, you finally hear hurried footsteps approaching the door. You step back in time as it haphazardly swoops open, and you’re met with a flinch of surprise from him, before he reigns his composure back in.

“Anaxa—”

“I have always encouraged you to tell me if something is wrong.”

The faintest twitch is let out on his face, trying to suppress a furrow of brows. His hand is still tight around the knob, and his one uncovered eye bores into yours. You can feel it, the frantic deciphering for a solution as he probably shuffles through a hundred scenarios to pinpoint which one he pissed you off in. 

“..There is nothing wrong.” “There is.” He says it with much conviction, and you, in turn, have to suppress a smile to avoid breaking this rare moment. Anaxagoras is sincere in his beliefs, but it’s not often that he lets his sincerity run without the company of audaciousness.

Here, his eye merely narrows to show a waiting quiet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He crosses his arms then, breathing out a soft scoff. “You.. never call me that.”

“Call you what?”

“Anaxagoras.”

“It’s what you prefer, isn’t it?” “It’s not what you prefer."

“I’m just fulfilling your wish this time.”

“When was the last time I asked you to fulfill such a wish?”

…

You avoid making a noise out of your chagrin, having been backed into a corner. You could never fully win back-and-forths like these, if the 10 consecutive debate champion of a student he mentored himself wasn’t enough proof of his skills. 

You sigh in finality, placing your hands on your hips. “Alright, I’m sorry. I was just messing with you.”

Like a hammer to glass, his expression cracks and shows the entirety of his feelings. It’s a whirlpool of it, but if you were to fish and slap a name on it for your discovery, it’d be exasperation. Its scientific name could be confusion, belonging to the family of relief. 

“Apologies don’t mean anything without a correction.”

“Right. I’m sorry, Anaxagoras.”

“Don’t.” 

You laugh this time. Can’t help getting another hit in. He, however, looks like his patience was the one sustaining the hits.

“Anaxa?”

“No, not that, either.”

“Nousporist’s rightful founder? Grove of Epiphany’s best professor? What about blasphemer—”

He actually rolls his eyes at you. Before you could make a comment on his audacity, he steps impossibly closer and cups your cheek with a hand, the coldness of his rings meeting your skin. His lips meet the other. And, again, before you could revel in his tender touch, his finger digs into a ticklish spot. 

You yelp, almost crying out at his betrayal as you scramble to get away from his pricklish affection. For all his declarations of being no more than a frail scholar, his strength keeps you firmly in place. 

“Okay— Okay, Anaxa, my love, I’m sorry!”

Amidst your poor escape attempts and laughs, you could feel his lips curve into a victorious smile. His hand finally gives you reprieve, settling it down on your shoulder. 

“Mhm. You pass.”

“I’m passing away after that stunt of yours.” Your eyes flick back and forth from his face to his hand. A single finger twitches and you immediately brace for another attack. You swear you’ll swat him as many times as you can if you have to. 

But the only action that follows is a brush of your hair, melting the atmosphere back into seriousness.

“There truly is nothing wrong?”

“..Yeah. I promise.”

He nods, attention trailing to a view past you.

“Didn’t you say you have to go, or was that all for show?”

You hum, tapping a finger against your chin, as the air reverts to playfulness. “How could I leave now, when you look like you’re seconds away from overthinking?”

You stumble several spaces back when his fingers threaten to close the distance between it and your ticklish spot again. You jog a few more for safety, finally turning back before you actually part. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll really head off this time! Bye, Naxy!”

You wave and he winces at the nickname before waving back. He eventually mouths a “goodbye.” As you turn to leave, 

You barely miss him mouthing “beloved.”

[akiyili]

𖦹  . pixelated parts of us

minecraft headcanons with dr. ratio, aventurine, and anaxa. ✧

✧ . no warnings, gn!reader and can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, may be ooc

✧ . im never escaping the hcs format haha i swear ill write like an actual fic soon

wc. 280+ each

───── Dr. Ratio 𖦹

☆  Grand, symmetrical, detailed builder.

☆  While he doesn’t have the time to accompany you to play Minecraft often, nor is the game in his scope of heavy interest, he likes to start large projects, see it come to fruition, and revel in the result.

☆  He’s fine by himself — the curiosity of a scholar extends even in games. However, he does delegate tasks to you if asked, ranging from collecting blocks to building alongside him.

☆  He doesn’t have any problems helping you with yours, either. He somehow memorizes which blocks goes with which, you never have to open the internet for another gradient inspiration ever again. You never have to look anywhere else at all, really.

☆  Circles are no problem, redstone is child’s play, and he has an eye for details to fill empty spaces. 

<veryratio>  I urge you to keep your composure after what I’m about to tell you. <cosmicreader>  what? <cosmicreader>  WHAT <cosmicreader>  WHAT IS IT???

His blocky character enters your screen, with a sense of foreboding as he makes the effort to meet your character’s eyes with his.

<veryratio>  Your circle is exactly a block off on one side.

He slowly (comically so) turns to the build behind him. The walls of blocks stand tall and the craftsmanship is something to be applauded for. Through the windows, the shaders make the sun hit just right.

<cosmicreader>  ratio <cosmicreader>  RATIO <veryratio>  I’m sorry. <cosmicreader>  TELL ME URE JOKING <cosmicreader>  PLEASE <cosmicreader>  NOOOKJAHSJLHLAS cosmicreader left the game.

You return with your building stripped down to the base, and he tells you that the ratio (pun not intended but you poke fun at it anyways) of blocks has been corrected. 

───── Aventurine 𖦹

☆  A wildcard through and through.

☆  Wherever you are or whatever you’re doing is what he wants, too. But there are times that he sneaks off, adding hours into his playtime, without giving out a hint of what he’s been doing.

☆  When he returns, he doesn’t hold back on praise towards your efforts. Isn’t this a rare item? Good job getting it. The building is looking great so far, keep it up. You got me a cat, just like the ones I have? Thank you!

☆  It’s one part sincerity and another part distraction from the way materials keep disappearing from your chests without notice. Whether or not you confront him about this is up to you — if you do, he says something along the lines of investments and stuff he should definitely keep in work spaces, and off your space.

<cosmicreader>  so <cosmicreader>  let me get this straight <thegoldentouch>  i know i know <thegoldentouch>  i need you to really take the grandeur in <cosmicreader>  THE REASON WHY I HAVE MISSING MATERIALS <cosmicreader>  IS BECAUSE

You close the chat window and give the freakishly large casino another once over, and you stare in both exasperation and begrudging awe. After all, the word “CASINO” written in redstone lamps flicker on and off in a nice pattern. In the corner of your vision, his character keeps switching between looking at you and looking at his masterpiece.

<cosmicreader>  you took <cosmicreader>  TWENTY ONE (21) TWO ONE <cosmicreader>  stacks of redstone dust from me <thegoldentouch>  dont worry <thegoldentouch>  the slot machines inside are all functional <thegoldentouch>  you can get it all back and more by playing a few times <cosmicreader>  ???????????????????????? <thegoldentouch>  i adore you so much you know that <cosmicreader>  AVENTURINE.

───── Anaxa 𖦹

☆  He doesn’t appear like a massive hoarder, but he somehow has everything. 

☆  Enchanted books, useless or not, are kept — even if it’s already overflowing two approaching three chests of his… all of the same kind. 

☆  He has sand and blaze farms solely to fuel his potion collection. The nether realm is his domain and he’ll traverse even the scariest (read: ancient city) land to get what he needs. 

☆  Automatic farms are generally within his expertise. While he agrees that it can sometimes dampen the experience, his focus is more on the complexity of some — like auto teleportation devices that you can’t figure out the mechanism behind. 

☆  He gives you what you ask for not because he’s all that generous, but because he simply has too much. You’ve never seen him run out of anything, ever. 

<cosmicreader>  anaxa <cosmicreader>  you are the best professor ever and i think you’re so smart and admirable <anaxagoras>  what do you want. <cosmicreader>  i need kelp <cosmicreader>  like <cosmicreader>  a shit ton of them. picture 30 stacks <anaxagoras>  ? okay <anaxagoras>  check chest 51 to 53. i might have some leftovers from my last build.

The chest number makes you swear under your breath, but all of it are thankfully numbered and paired with a tagged item frame. 

<cosmicreader>  ‘leftovers’ ?????? <cosmicreader>  YOU HAVE A HUNDRED STACKS OF KELP

You close the chest and pray to the aeons (he’ll definitely smite you for this) that your eyes are playing tricks on you, both for your sanity and his. You open the chests again, the count does not change.

<cosmicreader>  okay damn <cosmicreader>  heres a tall order then <cosmicreader>  do you have 8 silence armor trims <anaxagoras>  check chest 142. <cosmicreader>  excuse me <anaxagoras>  i have 27, if i recall correctly. <cosmicreader>  EXCUSE ME

[akiyili]

𖦹  . color in, my heart (2)

featuring scara with an artistic reader.

warnings: gn!reader, no other warnings(?)

note: part 1 but can be read as a standalone. set in an au where scara (wanderer era) escaped the game and was transported into your world

extra: uhh pt.2 after like 394140 years again, also i might start doing tartaglia content + other medias,, and i didnt rlly read this thoroughly so forgive me for mistakes or mischaracterization

wc. 1k +

Colors have grown to hold their own meanings. As an artist, you hold that knowledge like a guide. 

Blue holds melancholy, green holds peace, white holds purity..

…and red is many things. Anger, danger, passion… with romantic love being its more common theme. 

Perhaps you’ve dreamt of love or have strayed away from it— no matter your history, you never quite imagined a day like this would ever come.

A day where your obsession comes to life, slotting himself into yours as if he was always a part of it. A day where he would grit out a stubborn confession that makes your heart race as he fails to meet your gaze, a matching color creeping up on both your cheeks.

Anger towards his confusion at the predicament and inevitable danger for this blooming relationship, yet words that fall passionately like nothing else was drawn in his layer but pure, unmistakable love.

You seep red into his being, a color that he once associated with the past and has forsaken it. But in this moment, with you and you alone, it has molded into something new — something greater and something that he craves just as much as you did. 

He began to accept this perspective towards red, a hue that you shaded over with a dazzling shine that caused him not to forget, but to accept. With this change, how does your everyday palette look now?

☆  The first few days after the confession was awkward, to say the least. Even when he kept his wit sharpened on his tongue and that exterior of his seemingly melted by just a smidge, you could still spot the changes that’s only visible if you’ve been with him for months fading into years at a time.

☆  You came to accept his confession, but it was as if he had to ease himself into fully believing it, the same way he had to come to terms with his own burning feelings. 

☆  Patience was what erased the distance away. Your routine went back to as normal as it could be once several small steps were taken, and you find yourself basking in his quiet form of affection. 

☆  He stands an inch closer than usual, brushing away hair or clothing that obstructs you while you’re busy admiring a landscape for inspiration. He collects and washes or cleans the tools you use during and after your art sessions. 

☆  Despite his reluctance and numerous groans under his breath, he no longer hides his own drawings of you and several other things unless it would scar his dignity enough that it would heal in 10 years, give or take.

☆  He contributes when you spring your ideas onto him, it doesn't matter if he comments on how silly it is. An example would be matching keychains drawn in your respective styles. He treats you with great effort— albeit effort he wouldn’t admit— and attaches your creation to a pouch you bought him when he became a quarter or two more art-inclined like you. 

☆  He picks up a habit of doing several helpful things when with you, such as learning how to count money fast for when you sell your merchandise or organize items with maximum efficiency. With him around, the chances of you being robbed equates to zero, and he doesn’t hesitate to drive away anyone he deems too suspicious. 

☆  He hasn’t even realized it himself, but he slowly comes to favor an activity you share amongst all others. It’s when he would sit beside you and describe his experiences with anything, everything with great detail, while you do your best to illustrate that memory to life. He barely touches upon your interpretation, and finds that he ends up liking yours better. He draws himself into the sketch, and you do the same. Perfection — you look perfect in it.

☆  If he discovers a way back to Teyvat, would he convince you to come along? Would he stay in this new home, or would your paths diverge as if it never meant to last? The thought makes his brows furrow too harshly, and he finds himself sweeping it back into a corner of his mind until that situation actually arises.

☆  This activity can stretch well into the night, and once you decide to settle yourself into sleep, he cares for you accordingly. He picks out clothes both best to rest in and favored by you, fixes the sheets and waits until you’re deep into a dream. Even if you’re right beside him, it’s like his thoughts are the sole company in this moment, and it’s when he’s most open.

☆  He’d skim his fingers over your hair, shoulder and arm with caution, watching the rise and fall of your chest that’s a stark reminder of your humanity. And on nights where he knows he loves you too much to keep it from spilling out, his lips meet your forehead and lingers there to satiate himself until the next slip-up.

☆  He doesn’t ask for reciprocation, but the spot where his heart would be almost yearns for it. So even as he tenses up when you slowly lean in, he doesn’t push you away at all, and lets your kiss wander wherever. A safe start would be the cheek, a reassurance of love would be on the forehead, a declaration of affection would be on his lips, and the neck is saved for a different time.

☆  You had a whole life before he came into the frame, and you did your best to make it far from monochromatic. The addition of him, however, undeniably amps up all the colors in your view; shades that you hardly paid attention to in the past were now brightening, and it’s safe to assume that he feels the exact same, if not stronger.

☆  And he questions if his time with you was something he deserved, but he comes to realize that it matters less when his fingers brush against your skin and you faintly laugh when he replaces it with his lips. Deserving or not, he has it now, and it’s up to him to savor the sole muse he adores.

[akiyili]

𖦹  . color in, my heart

featuring scara with an artistic reader.

warnings: gn!reader, no other warnings

note: set in an au where scara (wanderer era) escaped the game and was transported into your world + you're a fan of scara

extra: wow. it's beennnn.. 1 yr. anyways, ill drop like 3 posts then ill see you in 2026. jk ! or not

wc. 680

☆ He's no stranger to art. After all, sword dances are within his capabilities and he has lived long enough to see different forms of it.

☆ Enter you, an artist who's hellbent on always drawing him, only straying away when you have to accomplish commissions or on rare occasions where something else interests you.

☆ He has become your muse, his face appearing whenever a pen and paper ever so boldly makes itself known to you.

☆ He finds this sort of obsession strange at first, yet eases upon seeing what you can actually do with your skills. You draw him in such a perfect way, no matter the style. Be it filled with elegance, vibrancy, or melancholy.

☆ You'd have to hide your less appropriate ones, if you're that type of artist...

☆ He'd often watch silently as you work, taking in each stroke you make and all the techniques used to better the art.

☆ He doesn't hold back from criticism when asked, either. He'll point out details you've forgotten, parts that look lacking, and what you could add for more impact.

☆ Sometimes, you'd invite him to draw whatever, be it doodles or a shared project. Digitally, he'll scribble over your artwork and watch you loudly call him out for it, with his response all watering down to a show of sticking his tongue out. All done in a separate layer, he doesn't want to incur actual anger.

☆ With each drawing session, he slowly memorized your features, and found himself idly drawing you (or sometimes, with him), making sure all drawings are stuffed far away from where you can see and reach. He'd rather relive his past thrice than face the embarrassment.

☆ He has drawings of you wearing clothing from his homeland, drawings where it's just you two sitting together, or quick sketches of you doing mundane things like cooking a quick meal.

☆ It's all so strange for him. He doesn't have a reason as to why he's reaching your obsession of drawing him, but with roles reversed.

☆ So, he doesn't question anything just yet. Doesn't question the way his hands would linger longer on you, or the way his unblinking gaze bores into your very soul. It's all under the excuse of him not wanting to make mistakes when drawing you.

☆ Well, he doesn't really use that excuse. He just brushes your curiosity aside knowing that infuriating, teasing, radiant smile of yours would surface if he slips and says he's really been staring at you.

☆ In exchange for your smile? That's not half bad, actually..

☆ There's definitely been progress regarding your relationship. Seeing as how he's often been calling you to help fix a mistake made, hand over hand as you're the one who guides his fingers to drag the pencil across.

☆ Your style seeps into his own without his control, pieces of each other are always present within your works.

☆ He stays up late at night with your slumbering state, having accidentally fallen asleep whilst trying to meet a deadline that was quickly creeping up. Indigo eyes darting to your hair, eyes, cheeks, and then your lips. Staring very intently at your lips.

☆ He silently hopes for a day where he can examine you much more thoroughly, how your arms would feel wrapped up around his being and what emotions will creep up if touches evolved into something more intimate than it is now.

☆ He needs not to hope for eternity, since you've been eyeing him long before he even arrived here, after all.

☆ Maybe tonight, with your shoulders touching and your attention focused on the tablet held by both of you, while his gaze is trained solely to your face, he'll quietly utter those words you've both been craving to say and hear, and he can take in the red tint that blooms across your face.

☆ All for artistic research purposes, of course.

[akiyili]

𖦹  . from me, for you

featuring scara and his habits around you.

Warnings: gn!reader, and may be ooc.

Notes: modern au. Just small headcanons of scara.

wc. 570

☆ Scara would be someone who replies relatively dry whenever you talk about material things you want. He remembers every single one of them however, and gifts it to you on your birthday.

☆ Adding to that, he would never not celebrate your birthday. You're someone special to him, so he'd treat the day accordingly. He would always message you or stay with you until the clock strikes exactly 12:00 to greet you.

☆ Whenever you're a little too preoccupied on your phone and the both of you need to move, he wouldn't try to divert your attention away. Instead, he'll place a hand on your neck, back, or waist, and gently drag you elsewhere.

☆ Though he teases you a lot whenever you try to ask him for help, he never denies it. He'll teach you tricks and shortcuts to use in math, and sometimes even writes you helpful notes for history. Safe to say, he has saved you more than once for exams.

☆ In addition to that, he has small and usually funny doodles around the notes (and sometimes small messages as well) for you to look at when you're feeling overwhelmed or stressed.

☆ When he knows you haven't been sleeping much and you invite him over to accompany you while you stay up, he would offer you to watch a movie or play games with him. Though, the ones he pick out are calming to watch or do, so he can hopefully make you fall asleep.

☆ If you're too shy or nervous to correct an order, he will speak up. Every single time.

☆ He takes care of his hair well, and he often finds himself laying on your lap or cuddling with you in a position that gives you easy access to his hair. He would let you style his anytime, and would even allow you to do weird hairstyles. As long as he doesn't have to go out in public with it, he's too embarrassed for that.

☆ Would eat any food you give him, doesn't matter if it wasn't to his taste. He'll gladly teach you a few of his favorite dishes as well.

☆ If you know about his dislikes for sweets but still continue to give him one, he would glare at you, but would still eat it, albeit reluctantly. You meant it as a joke and didn't expect him to actually eat it, but he loves you too much to deny anything you give him.

☆ Whenever Nahida asks Scara how he's doing, he would slip you in the conversation. Even if he seems like he's making fun of you, that blush of his and the affectionate look in his eyes are impossible to mistake.

☆ If you're a cat person, he would lead you to a few places in the neighborhood where cats would always dwell. Brings snacks for the cats, and for you, too.

☆ If your relationship isn't a secret, he would put a picture of you in the back of an ID.

☆ Would definitely buy you merch of your favorite celebrity, game, character etc. His family is rich, he would spoil you.

☆ While he isn't one to often show his affection through words, he would most definitely make it up with his actions. "Actions speak louder than words," and all.

[akiyili]

𖦹  . in sickness and in health

featuring you, down with an illness, and scara.

Warnings: gn!reader. spoilers for Scara's backstory. wanderer era.

Extra: I wrote this within like 30 minutes just because I was bored and couldn't sleep,, and i felt sick lol

wc. 850

The last thing you wished was for Scara to find out you were sick. You weren't thinking about worrying him (much), but rather, you were thinking about the amount of ridicule you would face. Of course, luck was never on your side, because he found out the next day. As expected, his first reaction to your petrified expression when he barged into your house was to let out an amused chuckle, followed by an insult made to mock. The words 'weak' and 'fragile' was thrown around, and he'd say it in-between laughs, eliciting a groan of embarrassment from you. But as you let out a particularly harsh cough, his face faintly contorts from one filled with hilarity to one of concern and remnants of fear. Memories stored away from the depths of his mechanical mind start resurfacing, the face of the nameless child and his voice made Scara's words get stuck on his throat, and even after years of copying the habits of humans, he forgets how to breathe at that moment. "... How could you neglect yourself this much, and let yourself get sick so easily?" He would say with a tone of annoyance, yet even he knew how gently he held your wrist as he led you to the nearby couch, gesturing you to sit while he goes and fetches you water and heat up some home-made soup (that he prepared all by himself before paying you a visit). You thought he would leave after he finished poking fun at you, so it was unexpected when he left late at night and arrived early once more the next day. In his hand was a plastic bag, filled with ingredients and medicine required to nurse you back into health. You stared at him with confusion, yet he merely walked past you, saying: "In your condition, you probably struggled to even open the door just now. Why don't you just let me help you, hm?" You sighed in defeat, knowing nothing would stop him at this point. You were bed-ridden the next few days, only getting up to use the bathroom. It was hard mustering the energy to stand up and do things yourself, not when your illness made you exhausted 24/7 and when Scara was practically at your beck and call.

He would remember the time when you needed to take your medication perfectly, and would gently shake you awake with slight remorse as he watches you weakly sit up. It reminded him of things he wished to forget.

You would swoon ever so slightly when he comes into your room with a bowl of your favorite food. One unforgettable moment, was when he gave you heart-shaped lavender melons without you even asking. "Just eat it." Was his only reply when you asked why. He diligently took great care of you, but not without one or two snide remarks here and there. You didn't mind one bit however, for you never experienced this side of him, and this sense of familiarity was comforting. While busy with the chore of washing the dishes, his attention was redirected to you as you walk into the kitchen with livelier energy. He may not show or admit, but it filled him with relief knowing you were to be fine in the end. He thinks about what would have happened if the child had the same fate as you, but he quickly shakes those thoughts away. Past is past, and right now, he must focus on the present. Turning off the sink and putting the dishes away to dry, he looks at you with crossed arms and a cheeky grin. "You really couldn't have done it without me. How about a thank you?" For once, you thought about suffering all over again just for him to spoil you once more. It seems you didn't hide your displeasure well enough, for he laughed just a second later. "Now now, don't look at me like that." He wipes off the excess water on his hands, before approaching you and reaching out for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. Surprise overtakes you, and you couldn't help but meet his gaze seeing actual sincerity and relief in his eyes that he could never put into words. Still, he tries, and so with a quiet voice and an averted gaze, he spoke. ".... Next time, no need to act so tough and come for me for help. For you may end up like..." His voice grew too quiet at the end, leaving you wondering what he had uttered before he abruptly cuts himself off with a sigh, letting go of your hand and ruffling your hair instead. You still couldn't process anything that happened at that moment, snapping out of it only when his voice entered your ears once more, this time from the dining area. "Come here, Nahida sent you a letter and a basket full of goods. She knows you well, I spotted a bunch of your favorites inside. No need to hold back — everything you see is yours."

"Unless you prefer my cooking? How sweet of you."