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DEAR READER
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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Not today Justin
YOU ARE THE REASON

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@omgopalsapphire
Belly of the Beast
[✧ Masterlist ✧]
Word count: 2,3k
Tags: Ashveil x gender neutral reader, hurt/comfort, definitely not canon-compliant, but I wanted to write something where the shadow inside of him isn't entirely malevolent; it basically acts like a puppy for Ashveil's darling
CW/TW: mentions of blood/injury, tight spaces, this could be considered soft/safe vore, you have been warned
Synopsis: Ashveil mentions a way to get his hunger under control for a little while, and you want to help him. While he's 100% sure that it would not harm you, it's obviously extremely weird and nerve-wracking, which is why he has never brought it up before.
AO3 Link
It's happening again. Clawing at his insides, desperate to break free from the nails holding it down like a mere insect in a collection, this ancient corpse still refuses to rest, and even less so in the arm of an old wolf. The Voracity is acting up again, and Ashveil is his own sacrificial offering to appease the beast. No matter how much blood he gives, how much pain, it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough to fill the void within him.
Well. Maybe something is. Or rather, someone.
The song of catastrophe morphs men into beasts
lone ranger 🥀
💜💛🩵❤️ choose one mydei! (he can't)
so uhm i cannot unsee mydei in the new white fox skin,,,
letz just say my wallet will b crying🤡🤡🤡
WE ARE SO BACK
Hug Me!
Summary: HSR characters react to you asking them for a hug! (ft: Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Boothill, Himeko & Aglaea)
GN!Reader, assumed romantic relationship
JING YUAN
• At first, he sort of chuckles at the request. He finds it a bit silly that you had to ask, though if you get upset at him or embarrassed that he laughed at you, he'll reassure you that he just finds it cute, and that's all.
• He'll lean back on his chair and open his arms for you with a closed-mouth smile, head tilted as he raises his eyebrows in a "well?" gesture.
"Come now, don't keep me waiting."
You’re minding your own business when suddenly Blade appears in your periphery, leaning against your doorframe and watching you through half-lidded eyes, head angled like he’s sizing up a piece of meat.
Not that it fazes you. “Oh, hi Bladie.”
The man grunts in lieu of greeting and shifts audibly so that his arm now supports him against the doorframe. He looks rather awkward, but his gaze is still boring into you like molten lava, and now you’re slightly unnerved. You stop what you were doing and swivel your chair around to face him. “Why are you-”
“Are you a construction worker?” he asks suddenly. “Because you are”—he pointedly plays with a loose bandage, pulling it taut over his wrist—“building.” His eyes never leave yours.
You stare at him for a beat before breaking the uncomfortable silence with, “…What?”
“I…don’t know. Silver Wolf said you would understand.” He looks at you expectantly. “So?”
“So, what?”
“Did it work?”
You shake your head, hapless. “I don’t know what emotions that should make me feel.”
“Silver Wolf said you would feel—what was the word—ah. Rizzed up.”
Sighing, you offer him a smile. “I think you should take less advice from Wolfie.”
“But you are rizzed up, aren’t you?”
You laugh and stride up to him, bringing him into a much-needed embrace.
He buries his face in the crook of your neck, planting a kiss on your collarbone. “Just answer the question.”
Still grinning, you pat his head. “Yes, Bladie. For sure.”
HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!🌈 Rushed tf outta this aaaa, so glad I finished on time
Mydei with mom
too clingy for this weather!
redraw of my first phaidei <3
Boyfriend! Blade x Quiet! Reader
The Stellaron Hunters were loud in their own ways. Silver Wolf filled every silence with the clicking of her games. Kafka spoke like every sentence was part of a script only she could read. Sam’s heavy footsteps echoed through the base like distant thunder and Blade, Blade carried silence like a weapon.
So maybe that was why the two of you fit together so naturally. You were quiet in a different way. Soft-footed. Patient. The type to sit beside someone for hours without demanding conversation. Most people found Blade intimidating, impossible to approach, but you never looked at him with fear. You simply existed beside him and somehow, that became everything to him.
At first, the others thought your relationship was impossible. Blade barely tolerated people. He disappeared for days, came back soaked in blood and exhaustion, and answered questions with grunts or cold stares. Yet whenever you entered the room, something in him eased.
Not softened completely, Blade would never truly become gentle in the way ordinary people understood, but the sharpness dulled around the edges. Kafka noticed it first.
“You know,” she hummed one evening, watching Blade silently wrap a bandage around your wrist after a mission, “you’re the only person he lets touch him without threatening violence afterward.”
Blade shot her a glare. You only blinked quietly at her before resting your head against Blade’s shoulder. The room went still. Because Blade froze. Not from anger. From uncertainty. Like he still couldn’t believe someone would choose closeness with him so easily.
Slowly, carefully, his hand moved to the back of your head. Protective. Possessive. Gentle enough that nobody else would’ve believed it if they hadn’t seen it themselves.
“Don’t move,” he muttered quietly.
You didn’t. Silver Wolf nearly dropped her console. Blade was not good with words. He never would be. But he learned your habits better than anyone. He noticed when crowds overwhelmed you and silently moved in front of you without asking. He remembered the exact tea you liked despite pretending he didn’t care. When nightmares woke you up, he would sit beside your bed in silence until your breathing steadied again.
Sometimes you wondered if Blade understood how much affection hid inside those tiny actions. Then there were moments like this. You sat together in the dim lighting of the Hunters’ base, your fingers lightly tangled with his. Blade rested with his eyes closed, your shoulder against his arm. Peaceful. Rare.
“You’re staring,” you whispered.
Blade opened one eye slightly.
“Just checking you’re still here.”
Your chest ached softly at the honesty in his voice. Because beneath the immortal swordsman, beneath the violence and grief and endless exhaustion, Blade loved with terrifying intensity. You squeezed his hand once.
“I’m not leaving.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then Blade leaned down, pressing his forehead lightly against yours.
“Good.”
And in Blade’s world, that was practically a confession.