the floral note

[pompomfanclu3]

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Will destiny remember their names in the days to come?

── ↓↓↓ ──

────୨ about me ৎ────

⌯⌲ leo/leon ⌯⌲ 25+ ⌯⌲ they/them ⌯⌲ nb butch ⌯⌲ INFP-T & 4w5 ⌯⌲ hsr and genshin player ⌯⌲ biggest pompom fan ⌯⌲ my asks are open :3 ask about writing, fics, anything!!!

────୨ current fics ৎ────

⌯⌲ The Floral Note (+150k words) ♡ ongoing: 7/? tags: alternate universe (lawyer & barista) | slow burn | metafiction | lesbians!!!! ⌯⌲ Pyre of Reverie (+9.5k words) ♡ ongoing: 2/4 tags: omegaverse (alpha/omega) | kafka is in heat | knotting | lesbians!!!!

────୨ favourite ships ৎ────

♡ Kafka/Himeko ♡ ♡ Black Swan/Constance ♡ ♡ Himeko/Black Swan ♡ ♡ Yao Guang/Evanescia ♡ ♡ Phainon/Mydei ♡

────୨ links ৎ────

⌯⌲ X/Twitter ⌯⌲ AO3 ⌯⌲ straw.page

────୨ DNI ৎ────

no minors and basic DNI. if you're a terf/transphobe/homophone/racist or any other kind of an idiot, kindly fuck off ♡

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[pompomfanclu3]

H:\DATA\PETALS\PT001\PART001

I do not have even a single strand of self-control nor restraint. Therefore, I hereby present the latest of my silly creations: PETALS. Since the whole thing is called The Floral Note, then well, consider petals as, uh, fragments. Little, completely out of order, most might never even appear in the final drafts. Including basically anything my brain wanted to turn into readable words. Because why the fuck not!

Basically, this is happening because I have been thinking about Kafka arriving at a work party and standing, of course, completely alone in the corner she has chosen this time. And then I thought, why the fuck not. Black Swan arrives with her wife. LET US SEE WHERE THIS GOES. DEFINITELY NOWHERE PURE OR INNOCENT.

Constance is wearing red tonight.

Constance is wearing red tonight?

The sentence is wrong. Kafka concludes that immediately because red is not the colour that Constance wears. She wears mostly white. Black. Very often both of those combined. She does not, however, wear red. Except, as it apparently turns out, she is wearing it tonight.

Kafka is drinking wine and she is currently having a third glass.

That sentence is also wrong. Kafka has concluded that much earlier, approximately when she looked at the second glass and realised it is empty. At work parties, Kafka never drinks more than two glasses. Right now, she is on her third. And she looks at Constance and the dress is– Kafka looks at it and then looks away immediately because looking at it is producing a response that the third glass of wine is making incredibly difficult to manage. The dress is structured in ways that suggest that Constance selected it specifically to make looking away difficult. Which she did because she always does.

Black Swan is wearing dark blue. The kind that is subtle enough to exist beside Constance's red without competing because Black Swan is an incredibly considerate wife and she has realised that Constance cannot compete without becoming psychotically obsessed about winning.

They cross the room together with Constance in front, obviously. "Three," she announces as soon as they are close enough for Kafka to hear it. If Kafka's ears were capable of doing so, they would definitely perk up at once at that.

"Excuse me?" She asks without turning towards them.

"That is most definitely your third glass."

Constance points to Kafka's hand with her chin. Kafka knows that both Constance and Black Swan noticed it immediately because these two women have clearly been present in her life for too long now. Her grip on the glass is slightly less precise and her wrist is less rigid.

"You are on your third glass of wine, Kafka. I've never seen you past two," Constance adds because Constance is a meticulous woman. If there is any context to anything she says, she will add it.

Kafka chuckles darkly. "It's a long evening, ladies."

Constance gasps dramatically and extends her arm towards Black Swan's chest as she inhales through flared nostrils. A performance Kafka has always found absolutely unnecessary.

"Swan, darling. Did you hear it too?"

Black Swan adjusts herself and arranges her entire body around her wife. Kafka has seen that particular process too many times. Black Swan compliments her wife's presence the same way rain compliments the appearing rainbow. Like they were designed to coexist.

"I did indeed, my love."

"Ladies," Constance repeats after Kafka. "You called us ladies." She flutters her obscenely long lashes with mocking shock on her face. "Kafka, sweetheart, do we need to call an ambulance?"

Kafka chuckles once more. "That won't be necessary."

"Swan." Constance is not looking at her wife. "Something is wrong."

Black Swan looks at Kafka and her assessment takes approximately 1.4 seconds. Kafka can feel it. She can always feel it. She can feel every single little data point being collected and the conclusion arriving.

"Mm," Black Swan hums as she wraps her arm around Constance's waist. "Your jaw is not fully clenched. Forty percent, perhaps. I have never seen it below fifty in professional settings."

"My jaw is fine."

"Your jaw is always fine. That is not the same as being at its usual position," Black Swan explains courteously.

She takes a glass from a passing tray with her free hand and hands it to Constance without saying anything. The tray disappears before she can take one for herself. Which is absolutely not unusual because Kafka has observed during many different occasions that Black Swan thinks about her wife before she thinks about herself. Which is why she is currently patiently waiting for another tray to appear within grabbing distance as Constance begins sipping the liquid.

"You look tired, Kafka," Constance points out after swallowing.

"I am tired."

"You are always tired. You are never visibly tired."

Constance and Black Swan exchange a look. Kafka can see it and they are not even trying to hide anything. The look communicates: something has happened. She won't tell us. She never does. Shall we? No. Not yet. Later. When the wine has done its work.

Kafka is not paranoid enough to believe that they are actively coordinating. She is, however, experienced enough with these two to know that Constance and Black Swan in proximity to one another and to someone who they both care about is a combination that can produce catastrophic results. For Kafka, specifically.

It will. In approximately one hour.

The evening continues. Kafka finishes her glass slowly, very slowly, over approximately forty minutes, during which Constance circulates and returns and circulates again and each return produces a detailed report. She reports on the clusters of people like a field agent reporting on surveillance targets. Judge Harrington is wearing a tie that suggests a recent divorce. The head of Crown Prosecution is drinking much faster than usual, which suggests that the budget review went poorly. There is also, apparently, a junior barrister who keeps looking at Kafka from across the room and licking his lips, which Constance finds both disturbing and disgusting, and who should not look at anything at all because his face is the aesthetic equivalence of a piece of rotten cheese. And not the edible one.

Eventually, Constance becomes affected by the wine.

"Terrace," she announces. That is the start.

Kafka leans on the balustrade. She puts her forearms on the cold stone and she looks at the dark gardens and she breathes. Black Swan stands beside her, also leaning, though she looks significantly more composed than Kafka. Constance stands behind both of them.

"I must admit," she starts, "that watching a woman I have been intimate with on multiple occasions stand right beside a woman I am married to while both of them look absolutely devastating is possibly one of the most aesthetically pleasing things I have experienced this year.

–––––STATUS: CRITICAL SYSTEM ERROR

"Constance," Black Swan says it with two separate intonations compressed into one. A warning alongside amusement.

"What? I am being honest. You married me because I'm honest, love. Amongst other things," Constance winks at her wife as she approaches Kafka from behind and simply wraps her arms around her neck.

From behind. Both arms looped loosely over the shoulders and crossed at the wrists somewhere near Kafka's collarbone. Constance's chin arrives on Kafka's right shoulder. Her cheek presses against the side of the jaw which should have engaged immediately but does not because Kafka has had three glasses of quite strong wine.

Kafka straightens slightly but she does not pull away because Constance's arms are pleasantly warm and they are not something unknown. "What are we doing?"

"We are standing on a terrace," Constance says directly into her ear. "And I am holding you because you looked like you need someone to hold you. You looked like a kicked puppy when you were leaning against that dreadful wall. Seriously, who hired these architects?"

Kafka turns around. Or rather, the wine decides that for her. Three glasses are apparently enough to conduct a hostile takeover of whatever part of her brain usually prevents her from doing things that the sober version of her would classify as professionally unacceptable.

She turns herself around inside the loop of Constance's arms and her back hits the cold balustrade. And then her arm moves on its own. Literally. Kafka swears on every single aeon that exists in the entire cosmos and beyond: her arm is moving on its own. Her left arm, to be exact. It wraps itself around Constance's waist and pulls with the absolute graceless urgency of someone who has been holding surfaces for the last few months instead of one particular person she wants to hold. Constance is not that person. Neither is Black Swan. But this, Kafka concludes, has to be enough for now.

"Oh," Constance gasps with delight as Kafka tightens her grip. "Well. Hello there, darling."

"Hello," Kafka hears herself say it and she– she sounds nothing like a respectable barrister. She sounds like exactly who she is at this very moment: a woman at a party she does not want to be at, who has had too much wine and whose arm is around a waist and who is not thinking about anything except the warmth under her fingertips.

"Swan." Constance sounds genuinely surprised. "Swan, she is holding me. She pulled me. Voluntarily."

"I can see that, my love."

Constance adjusts her arms around Kafka. Around her neck. They tighten and settle into something Kafka's body remembers before her brain does. That very specific weight of Constance's arms around her neck. Her body remembers it, except from a completely different terrace– or it might actually be this one but a slightly different location, she is not quite sure anymore–

Constance turns her head away towards her wife.

Presumably to say something. That is not a nuance because that is simply what people do when the person they want to talk to is not right in front of them. They turn their heads. However, that also means that a significant amount of bare skin on Constance's neck gets exposed right in front of Kafka's face. She smells of dahlias. Of course. Of course she does. Kafka remembers the smell too. She inhales deeply without even trying to hide it. And then she simply leans forward.

Without really meaning to. Kafka barely knows what her body is doing anymore because the wine is definitely working and nothing is making this situation easier. She leans forward because her lips need to touch that skin. And they do. Aeons, they do. Constance stills for a moment when they do and Kafka presses them to the pulse point not gently at all and she parts her lips slightly and breathes hot against the skin.

"Oh. Mon dieu, Kafka. Someone is hungry."

"Mmm." Kafka murmurs against Constance's neck as she opens her mouth further and licks an uneven stripe across the tendon.

"Darling, are you–" Constance tries to ask her wife.

"I am watching, my love. I am always watching you."

[pompomfanclu3]

i dont remeber when was the last time i got so invested in a fic, the way you write makes me both squeal like a teenager again and want to bite off edges of the closest available piece of furniture. your portrayal of kafka is incredible and i love how much depth youve given her, i feel like im going a little bit insane alongside her as im reading

cant wait to see more of your work!! :DD

oh my gosh!!! im so happy you enjoyed it that much waaaaaaaaaa and thank you sm for reading because holy that means you took a lot of time from your life and decided to give it to my silly writing which is an honour truly ♡

[pompomfanclu3]

Okay, so! This gimmick actually made me think a bit about that.

For starters: I genuinely think that – at least immediately after it all happened – Kafka didn't want to remain acquainted with Black Swan. She would not use the word friends, of course. HOWEVER, because of all that happened, Kafka probably ultimately concluded that she will be better off with Black Swan in her life rather than without.

HEAR ME OUT. I AM ACTUALLY FIGURING THIS OUT IN REAL TIME.

Kafka is obsessed about control. Black Swan knows things about her that nobody else does. I mean, the worst part is that Black Swan knows what Kafka sounds like during sex. Kafka realised she can either:

allow Black Swan to remain in her life and that way Kafka can remain in control regarding the things that Black Swan got to see in case she decided to betray Kafka and tell someone (which she obviously would never do, but Kafka doesn't know that)

remove Black Swan from her life and that way she would no longer know whether Black Swan kept all things she knows about Kafka to herself. Obviously, Black Swan could just tell someone and then never tell Kafka that she did, but, well– I mean, for Kafka even the illusion of control is better than no control at all.

Black Swan never told anyone and she never will. She won't even tell Himeko when she meets her. Kafka would never admit that, but over time, she has grown fond of Swan because she can see that Black Swan actually meant it and stays true to her word. Which is something priceless for someone so obsessed with control and safety as Kafka.

DOES ANY OF THAT MAKE SENSE DMNJASKNDKJSADSA

[pompomfanclu3]

listen listen ! usually himeko is so confident with flirting with kafka but being called princess would send himeko on her knees (kafka rarely does so, so kafka doesnt know the effect it has on himeko)

YES YESYESYESYES HUNDRED TIMES YES GOLDEN BUTTON YES

i usually struggle with establishing more complicated relationships over longer stories with multiple different chapters because my brain hates me and makes me a perfectionist and i can NEVER tell whether sth is actually happening too soon or too late or if its actually the perfect moment for it. BUT BUT BUT with tfn at least i am trying to be veeery careful about it and prefer to go slower than to suddenly start rushing.

anyways im rambling jansdjkhsands MY POINT IS that for now himeko will mostly be the one who makes kafka fall apart like a fucking loser but trust with time and with himeko teaching her how to flirt najskdns kafka will learn things and she will use them ..... hehe and yes she will absolutely use the fact that himeko's name means princess YES YES

i feel like with tfn theres this himeko who knows what effect she has on kafka because kafka cant hide it at all and at the same time kafka has no idea that LMAO she actually has as much of strong effect on himeko as himeko on her. i even have a draft where himeko has to literally go like "KAFKA I FIND YOU SO FUCKING ATTRACTIVE THAT I AM WET RIGHT NOW BECAUSE IM SAYING IT DO YOU UNDERSTAND" lmaoo soooo yeah. all of that will happen pinky promise!!! sry for rambling >.<

[pompomfanclu3]

Miss Independent by Ne-Yo came on shuffle and all I could think of was Kafka willingly following Himeko like a dog

Need more loser simp Kafka

loser simp kafka is genuinely my favourite thing everrrrrrrrrr

don't worry from now on she has himeko's number and himeko will be torturing her on a regular basis with texts ↻(𓄼 .̀ ̮.́)Ψ

[pompomfanclu3]

────୨ ❀ The Floral Note ❀ ৎ────

–––––STATUS: LOADING –––––H:\DATA\SCRIPT –––––STATUS: CREATING FILE \CH004 –––––STATUS: LOADING –––––H:\DATA\SCRIPT\CH004 –––––STATUS: COMPLETE –––––STATUS: READING CONTENTS

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[archive5-61]

Sunday...

[nephiamart]

The Great Performer

[pompomfanclu3]

⸻ ⟦ H:\DATA\KNOWLEDGE ⟧ ⸻

✦⌕✦ THE FLORAL NOTE RESEARCH LOGS ✦⌕✦ ⫷ARCHIVE ENTRY FROM H:\DATA\KNOWLEDGE\FORENSICS⫸

i've been researching a lot of stuff about forensics, especially bite marks and honest to god i was not expecting that this stuff would be so interesting. anyways!!! some snippets and research bits (๑>ᴗ<๑)

should've gone into forensics god damn ...

[pompomfanclu3]

hmmmmmmm lets see (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

when it comes to stelle:

stelle x march – ABSOLUTELY YES HOLY SHIT SIGN ME UP. romantically, platonically, whatever. personally, i ship them and i find them to be so fucking cute together WAAAAAAAAA

stelle x firefly – more platonically than romantically, but i can definitely see both. i feel very uhhhh paternal? id say towards firefly hahaha, but yeah, i can see it!!!

also i play as caelus so let me answer it with him in mind too:

caelus and march – absolutely not romantically, i see them as a very cutie patootie big brother and little sister duo and honestly my heart feels very warm and fuzzy whenever they interact 🥹

caleus and firefly – mayyyyyyyybe romantically, but it's a HUGE maybe. i see the platonic friendship absolutely tho

[sviteer]

Despite everything, it's still you

[sviteer]

Phainon

[sinnohqueen]

Kafka in Honkai: Star Rail x MAPPA Animation Concept Trailer — "Death in the Afternoon"

[sorrybutnotyourwaifu]

mothers

[reversedprime]

Ya'll have absolutely no IDEA on what this IMAGE does to me...

[pompomfanclu3]

i wanted to elaborate on that here because tweets are way too short to ramble about things. so!! •⩊• after going through the entire story of hsr i've always actually thought that kafka has uhhhh like two different sides?? like, she chooses who sees which one.

cause yeah, she can be intimidating as hell, just like the kafka im writing. for example, there will be many situations that will show how tfn kafka basically destroys her witnesses in courtrooms. i even have it mentioned multiple times that she was cross-examining a witness about something incredibly traumatic and she was handing the witness a tissue while she was asking incredibly uncomfortable questions without being even a little concerned/visibly emotional/anything at all.

and then she has her side that is basically just a woman who has feelings, who gets comfortable around certain people and uncomfortable around others, who is socially awkward in certain instances and who is, above all else, stupidly in love with himeko.

in tfn kafka has quite a difficult past that is slowly being explained through different scenes, but to answer the main question, i think her personality in the game does not entirely differ from someone who can be vulnerable and behave like a loser, it just depends on who she is interacting with (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡