"If what I write in the book of travellers can, when read by others at some future date, also entertain them on their journey, then fine. If they don't read it, or are not entertained, that's fine too." -- Fernando Pessoa
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About me:
Hi! I'm Rach (she/her), 26, INTJ, aspiring writer with too much time on her hands and no Big Idea™️ yet, so here I am, playing with fictional men like puppets, mwa ha ha
I'm big into gaming, anime, history, and classic lit, so I like to draw inspiration from all over! You will be finding dashes of existential angst in even my soft and silly fics, sorry 🥀🥀🥀
Currently writing for: Love and Deepspace!
NOTE: This blog is anti-AI. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI or chatbots, or to be reposted. If any of my moots encounter issues with AI/ plagiarism, pls let me know so I can signal boost!
Inspired by a convo with @always-just-red <333 I kept forgetting to post it even tho it's been written for like several days now. Oops
Warnings: fluff, short & sweet, old married couple, domestic bliss, domestic fluff, old man Sylus
Word Count: 527
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The slow life was never in the cards for Sylus. Or, at least, he had a hard time ever imagining a future like it. After living surrounded by gunfire and explosions, indulging in the chaos and flames and bloodshed, how could someone ever leave that life behind for normalcy? For day-to-day mundanity?
Rather easily, he thinks now, in hindsight.
The chair rocks slowly back and forth, pushed along by his own legs that creak at the knees. Yours is nudged gently along by his Evol, cushioning your ankles and deteriorating joints.
The house he bought is idyllic - of course it is. A quiet property with lots of land, and lots of room inside for a lifetime with you. Not without its own security measures; when you've caused as much death and destruction as he has, your head is never safe, even after so many years of wiping your hands clean.
You reach over, wrist resting on the arm of his chair, to hold his hand. Your fingers twine together, palms wrinkled. Like two pieces of a well-loved puzzle, slotted together for the millionth time. He smiles, moving your conjoined hands to your armrest to save you from the strain. His thumb rubs over your knuckles.
"Look at them," you say with a chuckle. Your eyes, framed by glasses, follow the movement of Luke and Kieran in the yard beyond the porch. They've grown up into proper men in their own right. Between them, two more kids run around, sharing the boys' faces despite coming from different mothers. They all run around, laughing and squealing and having fun in the mid-afternoon sun. "They haven't changed much, have they?"
He huffs. "No, they haven't," he agrees. He still sees the boys he adopted. Who sought him out, trying to kill him as their final goal before a fate worse than death. They're just as mischievous. Just as energetic. Just as foolhardy. And just as much his boys as they once were.
His eyes turn to you. You haven't changed much either, he thinks. Even wrinkled and grey, your eyes still shine as bright as they had in your twenties, your mouth still smiles the same, and your laugh overflows like a pot boiling over with joy.
You feel the weight of his staring and turn to meet his gaze. He doesn't shy away from being caught. He hasn't since you were a few months into dating. His smile just widens, crinkling around the corners, bunching up around his eyes. "What?"
He keeps staring for a moment longer, squeezing your hand carefully in his own. "Thank you."
You glance at the cup by his other hand, almost empty, unaware of the true depth to his words. "It's only lemonade."
He huffs. "It's more than that," he says, exposing his soul to you, as easy as breathing.
Before you get a chance to say anything else, two young children are squealing your names and running up the porch steps with muddy shoes, hands cupped around bugs or frogs. Luke and Kieran chase after, something in their own hands and big matching grins.
I usually write Xavier being such a menace, so here's some really, really mushy Xavi for a change 💕⭐ (fun fact: when I first typed out 'sketch lines' in this, I typed 'sketch limes' by accident, so this drabble is ruined for me now)
Drabble game explained here! | Other drabbles: 1 | 2 | 3
The field is a shade of green you can only learn by night. Blue-hued, erring on silver. It trembles on breaths of breeze, drawn in and out— rising, falling. At the centre of everything, you lie on a picnic blanket, unmovable. You’ve haven’t stirred for almost an hour.
“Where do you even start?” you sigh, your eyes speckled with stars.
“Hm?” Xavier blinks slowly. His shoulder’s a short breadth from yours, and his gaze, just as cosmic.
You’re frowning up at infinity. “Knowing all that,” you clarify. “Making sense of it. It’s so… vast.”
And your knowledge is surface-level— amalgamated from glimpses of Caleb’s old astronomy textbooks, and throwaway lines in sci-fi films. Xavier’s is intimate: an anatomy peered through the drag of a scalpel, not second-hand diagrams. He chuckles.
“You don’t. Not knowing is the fun part.” His hand stretches towards the sky. “You get to chart it yourself. Bit by bit. Star by star.”
Warm light forms at the tip of his forefinger; you watch him sketch lines with his Evol, spiderweb-thin. Stars are connected. Stitched into figures and creatures.
“Until…” he murmurs, concentrating, “the sky is a storybook. Just for you.”
Unlimited combinations. He draws constellations you recognise, and then? One you don’t. You point, squinting. “What’s that one called?”
Xavier smiles. “I haven’t decided yet. I was hoping… we could name it together.” His hand lowers; he looks at you sideways. “So… what do you think?”
Story Content Warning: Political talk over sapient beings (not just humans), discussion of death of a side character due to political views (It's a sentence - nothing in depth.)
Master List || -> Day 2
Day 1 - Ruin
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It was a sleepy town that put in the request. One that was tucked neatly in a valley, building a growing trade route that carved through the rocky peaks. They had claimed that there was a monster in the cave up the looming mountain. One, if left unchecked, would lay the town and the future road to ruin.
Part of your duty as a knight was to travel to remote areas such as these to handle such requests.
It had taken longer than expected to make the journey. The rough trek to the mountain would have to wait until tomorrow.
one of my earliest fic concepts that i unfortunately abandoned bc i got distracted after releasing the first part of unnatural affinity was a road trip with all five of the lads guys.
it’s a crack fic obviously and just pure chaos as they argue and bicker with each other. i figured reader would drive bc all of the guys kept arguing they should be the one to drive. i imagine they would take turns in the passenger seat giving directions and such. (zayne is obviously the best passenger). I think rafayel would claim motion sickness midway through and take shotgun for the rest of the drive. i think caleb and sylus would have aux revoked but for different reasons. xavier supplies snacks.
the car almost catches fire bc sylus ragebaits rafayel into using his evol. the hood is covered in frost for the rest of the ride when zayne tries to put it out. one of the headlights busted after xavier got mad at caleb. a black hole appears on the highway at one point, courtesy of caleb. just general chaos.
