#chrysalisgaze

[pyropalle]

The door creeked slightly, the entrance to her home illuminated with the sunlight of midday, opened to show the silhouette of a both familiar and nostalgic person. Her pinkish hair flowed down into a cascade, long and pretty, so much alike to her own. Naturally, when they shared some common blood, came from the same parent, the same household.

Her letters reached her every now and then, however, Crosseyra was confident Crystal got the gist of her life at present. The last time they saw each other was at her wedding, celebrating her union to the Scribe of the Akademiya, getting drunk on fine wine and pouching food from the waitresses. Now, three years later, her sister was paying a visit to meet Rowan's newborn baby, a three-months-old little girl named Farah.

"How was the travel?" Crosseyra asks while guiding her through the house, the living room, where Farah was laid on top of her stomach, on the carpet, learning to keep her head up. "You were in Nod-Krai, right?"

Crystal Slevant ( @chrysalisgaze ) / Starter Call

[goldenfists]

melt into me prompts // not accepting i don't know how i ever lived without this. without you. ( @chrysalisgaze )

the wilds stretched endlessly around them, a sea of silver‑washed grass swaying under the moon's benevolent gaze. far from the opulence of thrones, far from the vile snarls of war that had defined his every breath [ ... ] he found her once again in their hidden sanctum; a secret hollow cradled by ancient oaks and embraced by gentle scents of feral flowers. it was their ritual: slipping away under the cover of dusk to savour the silence, the stars and the moon. no gazes watched, no whispers followed.

she lay beside him, her petite structure a delicate silhouette against the dark, hair spilling across the grass as if ink it was, breath soft as petal‑fall. the moon painted her in ethereal strokes: it was silver that limned her curves, umbras pooling in the hollows of her collarbone, spheres reflecting starlight as if they were twin constellations. he had traced her earlier with calloused hands, kisses flowering along her forehead, her wrists, her cheeks. he had not wasted a minute: he compensated every second apart with touch and feel, with observing and memorising. they rested tangled, his whole structure a shield around her, warmth comforting the structure meant for war.

the confession pierced in, and his chest responded with a tightness, a growl of emotion rumbling feral. he turned his head, aureate spheres drinking her in, the fondness swelling until it threatened to crack his ribs. she was his hidden world, no matter the betrayal, no matter how they parted ways. she was all that mattered. without a word, he shifted, colossal structure moving ⸻ one arm slid beneath her shoulders, the other hooking under her knees, gathering her as easily as feather. she yielded like water to stone, structure molding to his whilst he drew her up, settling her fully into his lap. he helped her straddling his thighs, her weight a perfect anchor against the broad plane of his chest. his hands splayed warm across her back, digits tracing the delicate knobs of her spine, pulling her until no space remained betwixt them. ❝ i don't know either... ❞ one palm cupped the nape of her neck, thumb stroking circles over her pulse, the other arm banding secure around her waist.

up close, her scent enveloped him: wildflowers crushed underfoot, faint salt of complexion, the subtle musk of her earlier journey to find him. her warmth seeped into him, chasing away the ghosts of battles long past, and he buried his lineaments in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, tiers brushing her skin in feather‑light kisses that bloomed gently. ❝ it always feels like breathing after drowning too long... ❞ he murmured against her throat, vox a gravelly whisper. ❝ i don't care about anything else anymore... ❞ it was a confession that was kept locked deep inside, shielded by the weight of his responsibilities, of the promise he had made. ❝ only you. always you. i would burn it all for another night like this, right here, with you in my arms. ❞

a confession blossomed by sentiments, by an ephemeral detachment from the war he had to embrace, from the hand that he took and kissed a promise of loyalty and permanence. he retreated from the comfort of her neck to meet her gaze, lineaments carved by both sorrow and love, by want and gloom. ❝ but i can't... ❞ he barely whispered, the molten gold of his spheres dimming with the admission. ❝ and you can't either. not anymore... ❞

[stalwartembers]

♡ for kirito, yolo

Attraction Levels? || Accepting!

@chrysalisgaze

●●●●● | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●○ | INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ○○○○○ | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

[malafxde]

your  hair's  a  mess.  let  me  brush  it. / gabs...

Where it Hurts! || Accepting!! || @chrysalisgaze

Gabriella had been sitting on the edge of Crystal’s bed like she didn’t quite know what to do with her own body, shoulders tense, hands folded too tightly in her lap, still dressed in the plain servant’s uniform that always felt a size too small for the life she’d been forced to live. The room was quiet in that particular way her spaces always were not empty, not cold, just intentionally still, as if the walls themselves knew how to keep secrets. Rain had found her earlier. Not the gentle kind, either; wind-driven and sharp, the sort that slapped wet strands across her face while she hurried through the courtyard with a tray held above her head like a useless shield. By the time she’d made it inside, her hair had half-dried in uneven waves, tangling at the nape of her neck and frizzing around her temples. She’d tried to fix it in the washroom mirror, but her fingers had only made it worse.

Crystal’s voice came from close by, calm and matter of fact, as if stating an obvious truth. The witch froze like she’d been caught stealing. Her first instinct was to refuse not because she didn’t want it, but because she did. Because the idea of being cared for so simply, so gently, made something inside her tighten with suspicion and longing all at once. Kindness in the manor usually had teeth. Kindness usually meant payment. But her wasn’t asking like it was a favor. She wasn’t making it a transaction. She was making it… normal. Gabriella swallowed, eyes flicking down to her hands. One thumb worried the other, a nervous, repetitive motion. “It’s fine,” she tried, but the words came out weak, unconvincing. Her hair tugged slightly when she shifted, reminding her exactly how not fine it was.

She exhaled, slow and shaky, then finally lifted her gaze; hazel hues soft, guarded, and a little embarrassed. “I— I’m sorry,” she said, as if her appearance were another failure on a long list of them. “I didn’t have time to… after today.” A beat of silence passed. Her shoulders sank a fraction, as if surrendering to something she didn’t want to admit she needed. “…Okay,” she relented quietly. “If you want to.” She turned just enough to offer her back, movements careful, almost hesitant—like she was afraid a sudden shift would break the fragile safety of the moment. Her hands gripped the edge of the mattress for balance, knuckles pale against the fabric.

Then, after another breath, she added—softer, almost rueful—“Just… don’t laugh at me.” Her mouth tried for a smile and only managed something small and crooked, the kind that looked like it had to fight its way out. “I know it’s a mess,” she murmured. “But it’s been a long day, and apparently my hair decided to suffer with me.” Her shoulders eased another degree, her head tipping forward slightly in quiet permission. She didn’t say what she was really thinking—that this felt dangerously intimate, that the idea of Crystal’s attention on her like this made her chest ache in a way she didn’t know how to name. Instead, she let the moment be what it was: simple. Close. Soft. And that, somehow, was the most terrifying thing of all.

[malafxde]

i'm  at  a  loss  for  words. / (despite being a loss for words crystal yelled at me for the last 45 minutes) coughs for gabs

Ramsay Show! || Accepting!! || @chrysalisgaze

Gabriella didn’t move at first. Crystal’s voice still rang in the air like a struck bell: forty-five minutes of it, sharp and relentless, words thrown like knives that never quite landed anywhere clean. The room felt smaller for it, corners crowded with tension, the curtains too still, the fire too low. Even the dust in the light looked nervous. The witch blinked once, slowly, as if her body needed the time to catch up with the absurdity. A laugh tried to crawl up her throat. It wasn’t humor, not really. More like disbelief with teeth. She swallowed it down until it turned into something manageable, something that wouldn’t get her in trouble. She was still a maid. Still beneath the boots and gowns of this place, even when the world insisted, she was something else in the dark.

Her hands were folded in front of her like she was being inspected. She realized, distantly, that her fingers were white at the knuckles. The witch exhaled through her nose and tilted her head, just enough to look at Crystal from under her lashes, hazel eyes bright with the kind of restraint that came from being cornered too many times in one lifetime. “At a loss,” she repeated softly. She let the silence stretch, controlled and deliberate. Let her own words hang there and rot a little. Her lips parted again. Her voice stayed quiet, but there was an edge now, polished, not wild. The edge of someone who’d learned that staying calm could be sharper than shouting.

“If that was you being eloquent,” she murmured, “I’d hate to see what you sound like when you actually have something to say.” She should’ve felt smug. She didn’t. The bitterness was real, but underneath it was something softer and uglier: hurt. The kind that didn’t announce itself. The kind that sat behind the ribs and made breathing feel like work. Gabriella glanced away, jaw tight, eyes flicking to the floor as if it might offer her somewhere to put the feeling. Her shoulders still sat high, defensive—like her body expected another wave to hit. “I understand you’re angry,” she said, forcing steadiness into each word. “I understand you’re… whatever this is. Conflicted. Protective. Guilty.” Her mouth twisted faintly. “Possessive, if we’re being honest.”

Her gaze snapped back up. “But don’t stand there and act like you’ve been struck mute by tragedy.” She stepped forward just one step, but it changed the air between them. Close enough to be heard without raising her voice. Close enough that it was a choice, not an accident. “I’m the one who stood there and took it,” The witch said. “Every accusation. Every lecture. Every second of you telling me what I am, what I’m becoming, what I’m allowed to do, what I’m not.” Her throat tightened. For a second, her composure threatened to fracture. Then she steadied it again, like pressing a bruise and pretending it doesn’t hurt. “If you’re at a loss for words,” she said quietly, “maybe try being at a loss for cruelty.”

Her hands unclasped at last, fingers flexing as if waking up. She didn’t reach for Crystal. She didn’t plead. She didn’t apologize to make the room easier. Instead, she lifted her chin, eyes shining with something that looked dangerously like dignity. “And if you’re done,” Gabriella added, voice low and trembling only at the very edges, “I’d like to go back to being treated like a person.” A pause. Then, softer, betraying the truth beneath all the sharpness. “Not a problem you can scream into submission.”

[malafxde]

i  know  that  we  could  hurt  each  other. / for gabs ...

Ramsay Show! || Accepting!! || @chrysalisgaze

The corridor outside Crystal’s rooms was too narrow for the kind of silence that lived in it. Gabriella stood with her back to the wall, knuckles white around the bundle of linens she’d never deliver. A smear of dried blood darkened the edge of her cuff, someone else’s problem that had become hers, like everything in this estate. The candles along the hall trembled with each draft, light stuttering over gilded frames and the carved mouths of angel statues that looked more like they were screaming than praying. She’d come here on purpose. Not because it was safe; nothing was safe, but because her door was the only place the air didn’t feel like it belonged to Lady Dimitrescu’s lungs. But tonight felt… different. Sharper. Like the castle had shifted its weight and decided to pay attention.

Her fingers twitched at her side. She hadn’t meant to let her power slip earlier. Hadn’t meant for the lamp glass to spiderweb when Bela’s voice got too close, or for the moths in the pantry to swarm like a living curtain when Daniela laughed at her fear. Little things. Defensive things. Witch things. And now she was here, standing too near her, the space between them charged like a storm cloud. Crystal’s voice broke it, low and honest in a way that didn’t soften the truth. Gabriella’s breath caught so hard it almost sounded like a sob. For a heartbeat she didn’t move. The words lodged under her ribs; heavy, undeniable because it wasn’t a threat. It was recognition. The kind that saw the edges of them both and didn’t pretend those edges weren’t sharp.

Her gaze dropped to her own hands, as if she might find the answer in the faint tremor of her fingers. She remembered the way Crystal’s butterflies could turn the air into a weapon, remembered the ease with which she could become beautiful danger. And she remembered herself—what rage did to her, what fear could unlock, how quickly she could become something that didn’t ask permission. The witch swallowed. When she looked up, her eyes were bright, but steady. “We could,” she agreed, voice soft and hoarse. “I think… we already have. Not with teeth or claws.” Her throat tightened. “Just by being close enough to want more than we’re allowed to have.”

Her laugh came out small and bitter, gone as soon as it appeared. She shifted her weight, the linens slipping slightly in her grip. Then she let them fall onto the nearby table like surrender, freeing her hands—empty palms, a quiet offering. “I’ve hurt people before,” she said, and the confession sat on her tongue like iron. “Not always on purpose. Sometimes because I panicked. Sometimes because I… wanted them to stop.” Her shoulders lifted with a shallow breath. “And sometimes because it felt easy.” That last part cost her. You could see it in the way her jaw set, the way she forced herself not to look away.

Gabriella took a careful step closer; not rushing, not assuming. Like approaching something wild that might bolt if startled. Her voice dropped, intimate without being sweet. “But I don’t want to be careless with you.” She paused, eyes flicking to Crystal’s mouth and then back to her eyes like it was a mistake she couldn’t help making. “I don’t want us to become another kind of hunger,” Gabriella murmured. “Something that consumes until there’s nothing left.” Her hands hovered at her sides, fingers flexing once as if fighting the urge to reach. When she finally moved, it was small: she lifted one hand and pressed it to her own chest, right over her heartbeat, as if anchoring herself there.

“I can promise you this,” she said quietly. “If I ever feel myself slipping, if my fear turns into something ugly: I’ll tell you. I’ll step back before I make you bleed for loving me.” The words hung between them, trembling with the kind of truth that made the air feel thin. And then her expression softened just a fraction, just enough to let the longing show under the caution. “But if you’re saying this because you’re afraid,” she added, voice gentler now, “then… come here anyway. Not to be reckless.” She inhaled, slow. Steady. “Just to be real.” Her eyes didn’t flinch. “Because I think the difference is… I know we could hurt each other.” A beat. “And I still want to choose you carefully.”

[malafxde]

you'll still be the death of me. / gabs :">

Afraid of the Dark! || Accepting!! || @chrysalisgaze

Gabriella didn’t realize she’d been bleeding until Crystal’s thumb came away red. It wasn’t much, just a thin line at her hairline where she’d clipped the edge of a crumbling doorway during her escape, or maybe where a nail had caught her in the scuffle earlier. In the manor, injuries didn’t announce themselves with pain right away. Not when adrenaline kept her upright, not when survival demanded she ignore everything that wasn’t the next breath. But Crystal saw everything. The corridor they’d ducked into was narrow and cold, lit by a single candelabra that trembled with each distant rumble of the castle’s living pulse. The witch stood with her back to the wall, chest rising and falling too fast, trying to pretend she wasn’t shaking. Trying to pretend she hadn’t almost been caught. Again.

Crystal’s gaze stayed on her like a knife made of velvet—sharp, intimate, impossible to escape. Her fingers caught Gabriella’s chin with a gentleness that made her flinch harder than any slap would’ve. And then Crystal spoke, low and rough with something that sounded too close to fear. The words hit Gabriella like a shove. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Not because it was cruel, Crystal wasn’t cruel like the others. It was worse than cruelty. It was truth, threaded with that infuriating tenderness she always tried to disguise as irritation. The witch swallowed, throat tight. Her hands hovered uselessly at her sides, fingers flexing as if they didn’t know whether to reach for Crystal or push her away. Her eyes dropped to the smear of blood on Crystal’s glove, and shame crawled up her spine like a living thing.

“Don’t say that” she managed, but it came out smaller than she wanted more plea than command. She lifted her gaze again, and her voice sharpened, brittle at the edges. “Don’t, don’t make it sound like I’m some… curse you can’t shake off.” A humorless breath escaped her. “Like I’m contagious.” Her laugh was short, hollow, and it didn’t match the way her eyes glistened. Gabriella shoved a hand into her hair, smearing soot and sweat across her forehead without meaning to. The movement made the cut sting, and she winced, angry at herself for even reacting. Angry that her body insisted on reminding her she could still be hurt.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” she said, quieter now, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “I didn’t ask to be dragged here. I didn’t ask to become… whatever I am in this place.” Her gaze flicked away, as if looking at Crystal directly would make her crumble. “And I especially didn’t ask you to—” To care. To notice. To make room for her in a world that only took. Her voice cracked on the last thought, so she bit down on it like it was a weakness. The witch pressed the heel of her palm against her sternum as though she could physically hold herself together. The pounding there felt too loud, too vulnerable. She hated how Crystal could pull the truth out of her without even trying.

“If I’m going to be the death of you,” she whispered, forcing herself to meet Crystal’s eyes again, “it’ll be because you keep stepping in front of the blade meant for me.” The confession hung between them—sharp, ugly, sincere. She took a step closer before she could overthink it, close enough that she could feel her presence like heat in the cold corridor. Gabriella’s hands rose, not touching, just hovering near Crystal’s wrists as if she didn’t trust herself with contact. “I don’t want to ruin you,” she said, voice trembling. “I don’t want you dragged down with me, into all the rot I’ve had to learn how to live inside.” Her throat tightened. “But you stand there and look at me like I’m… something worth saving.”

Her breath shuddered out. “And it makes me selfish.” Gabriella finally let her fingertips brush Crystal’s glove, barely a touch, light as a moth’s wing, like she was afraid the closeness would burn. Her eyes softened, grief and longing twisting together until they were indistinguishable. “So don’t you dare die for me,” she murmured. “Not because you’re reckless. Not because you think I need it.” Her jaw clenched, a flash of anger, at fate, at the manor, at every hungry thing that had ever reached for her. “If you’re going to be mine in any way… be mine alive.” Her hand fell away again, as if she didn’t deserve the comfort of holding on. Then she leaned her forehead briefly against the cold stone wall, closing her eyes, letting the chill bite into her skin until it steadied her.

When she opened them, her voice was a little calmer—still aching but controlled. “I can handle being hated,” Gabriella said softly. “I can handle being hunted. I can handle being a monster.” A beat. “But I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, almost inaudible, “with someone who looks at me and stays.”

[malafxde]

NO NONIE. I love you Spooks and the work you have, the inspiration and having you in the dash is super delightful! I am so happy to see you around and you are one of the writers that inspire me to continue 💜💜

ANONYMOUSLY TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT ME. I CAN’T REPLY/COMMENT, JUST PUBLISH.