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dulcesiabits · 3 days

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the sun is also a star, p.3.

summary: this is a continuation of the mhin and li necromancy au!!!

notes: 1.3k words, part one + two, necromancy + consequences of that, (light) body horror, obsessive/unhealthy relationships

v. The Mind Forgets but the Body Always Remembers

Everyday, Li’s body falls apart, piece by piece.

The joints are easiest to sew back on, stitching fingers and knees back into their proper position. When the bones fall out of order, it takes them a little longer to reposition them, but it’s still manageable to cut Li’s skin open and slot them back in place. But it’s the other delicate parts, the rotting flesh that they cut out to preserve on ice, the damaged hair that won’t stay put, the fingernails that slide out uselessly, that are harder to fix.

“I’m sorry,” Li tells them every morning, her new greeting for the past few weeks.

“It’s okay,” they tell her curtly. “What happened now?”

And there is always, always a new problem to fix, some part of her body that has forgotten where it should be. Their day is devoted to obsessively cataloging every miscellaneous repair that Li’s body requires. Without their constant vigilance, she’ll fall apart, and the damage will be worse if they’re not there to catch the issues immediately.

When their work bears fruit and her body maintains the semblance of normality again, they run their hands over her body, counting the outline of each bone which protrudes from her skin. 206. 206. 206. All of them in their proper place, in the proper order. Right where they should be.

When they count, Li’s eyes are half-lidded as if she doesn’t know how to close them. She doesn’t need to sleep, not anymore, but Mhin will still tenderly smooth down her eyelids, to grant her the facsimile of rest. And she’ll keep them closed, for an half hour or so, before they begin to drift open again.

Her body is easy to take care of. They know where each muscle and sinew and bone connect. They’ve lovingly outlined a diagram of her body, knowing intimately where each organ is and should be.

Her body is easy, but it’s her mind that’s more difficult to manage. It tumbles away, like a dream slipping through their fingers, and once it goes, it never returns. No, they can’t bring back her lost mind in the same way they can sew her arms into place. There are no manuscripts for that, no matter how obsessively they catalog her body.

The immaterial, the intangible: it’s Mhin’s worst nightmare. There’s no guidelines or charts on how to keep hold of memories, of the electrical impulses in her brain that make her who she is.

“What’s your name?” Mhin asks. It’s a routine integration, but they’ve increased the frequency from once to several times per day.

“Li.”

“What do you know about who you are?”

“I…” she frowns. “I’m…” Her eyes drift vacantly, her hands colder than stone in her lap.

“You’re mine,” Mhin tells her. “And I’m yours. And we’re always going to be together.”

“Mhin,” she says hesitantly.

“Yes.”

“Mhin,” she repeats, mumbling their name as slowly and often as she can, until their name turns to nonsensical ramblings on her tongue.

Mhin lets out a breath. It’ll be okay. If Li forgets, then they’ll remember for her. If Li’s body breaks down, then they’ll repair it. And if Li slips away, they’ll chain her right back down to earth.

They keep the apartment curtains closed, now, to prevent sunlight from leaking in. It ruins Li’s skin, causing it to rot faster. And Li gets clumsy, forgetful, when they’re not around, so it’s easier to stick around by her side instead, to be right there when another piece of her body falls apart. They’ve never much enjoyed the company of others, anyways.

Li sits, more quietly than a doll. She doesn’t move unless they encourage her to, doesn’t speak unless it’s on command. But it’s her. It’s still her. She’s still here, right where they can reach and touch and hold. And that’s enough. It’s what they’ve worked so hard for, to keep her close to them, in any form possible.

Mhin likes to kneel at her feet, with their head in her lap, eyes closed. Like she’s a god, and they’re a dog sleeping by the foot of her shrine. In their small world, the only people who need to exist are the two of them, and no one else.

No matter what it takes. No matter what they have to do, or who tries to get in their way. They’ll bring her back, as many times as they need to, until the rest of the world has decayed and they’re the last two people alive.

This will be a paradise all of their own.

vi. Your Past Sins Cling to You and Won’t Wash Away

Li doesn’t remember who she is.

No, that’s not quite right. She might not remember, but the person taking care of her does. They’re infinitely patient and gentle, prompting her every day to recall her name, their relationship, her past. Even when she stutters, when her brain falters, gaps in her mind where memory should be, they guide her with their voice.

“You’re mine, and I’m yours. We’re always going to be together.” It’s an unfamiliar promise, but one she repeats back anyways.

She doesn’t remember, but they remember for her. And the sketch of herself they present to her is one she doesn’t recognize. Yes, that’s it. She is given memories, but she doesn’t know them, not really.

Her name is supposed to be Li.

Li, Li, Li. Like the fruit, sweet as springtime on expectant lips. That’s how they call her name, a rich harvest of plums in their voice.

And this person is supposed to be important to her. And they are, even before they told her who she was to them, because even though her heart beats slowly and her mind swims sluggishly, struggling to retain every new bit of knowledge that person gives her, there’s a burning in her chest when they talk.

Their face, wane and pale, a full moon in her vision. They’re beautiful, and it seems they’re always close by her side. There’s never an instant in which she can’t see their hair fluttering out of the corner of her eye, their hands ready with thread and needle when some piece of her decays.

This person. Mhin. They’re called Mhin, and she doesn’t want to forget that. She doesn’t want to forget them, as it seems she’s done already, when they brought her back to them.

Mhin. Mhin, Mhin, Mhin. Her lips are too slow for her to say their name as often as she would like, so Li can only savor it in her head. Mhin. Mhin. Mhin. Like a wish, she sounds their name again and again, longing for something she can’t describe.

To be with them. To drag them close to her. To sink her fingers into their skin, to pull apart flesh and muscle until she can curl up in the hollow cavity of their rib cage forever.

Because she can feel it, too. An incessant tugging at the back of her mind, a knot and rope forming somewhere near the base of her neck, a reminder that she doesn’t belong here. That she needs to go back. That her body is only temporary, and this hollow shell can no longer contain who she is.

The pull gets stronger with each day, death’s voice growing louder from the other side of the shore where she stands, water lapping at her ankles.

But she turns away each time, even when the knot and rope tighten painfully, strangling her memories and mind. Because, here on this side, is where they are.

She has to stay. She– Li– must stay here, where they are. Because this is a truth older than memory, deeper than knowledge, an understanding built into the bones they enchanted back to life.

Mhin. Mhin. Mhin. In this world, she doesn’t need to know herself. She only needs to know them, and she will never let them go.

#liya writes #liya’s ocs #touchstarved #mhin #mhin x oc #touchstarved fanfic #touchstarved game #tucks hair behind my hair cutely #sorry guys I just really needed to get this out I was possessed by my demons

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dulcesiabits · 3 days

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this was a jy idea i briefly entertained about how reader and their mother flees the xianzhou bc reader is destined to be killed by someone they love!!! and they return to the xianzhou to learn more about their own heritage/find their mother's old belongings when she dies and run into JY... only JY is also cursed to kill the person he loves in every life who is, surprise surprise, reader! There was also gonna be diaspora themes too about like. losing culture and feeling like an outsider lol

Your death was decided before you were born.

As your mother tells you, you were still a few weeks away from delivery when your fate was divined, clear as a morning star: you were destined to die by the hands of someone who loved you. Your mother had protested at such cruelty, but the diviner had simply shook his head. It was an unavoidable fate planned long before you were but a thought in your mother’s head. Nothing could be done.

But your mother could not accept such a fate. Even if it was futile, even if she could not avoid the inevitable, she had to give you a chance at life. She fled the Xianzhou Luofu, to the northern reaches of Ji Shi space station, where you born in the early morning at the end of the year.

“You have to survive. No matter what, you have to live.”

That was the phrase you heard most often as you grew up, your mother’s hands clutching your shoulders like claws. Your future death, then, consumed your little life, like a black hole sucking in every atom around it.

Survive. Spit in the face of the aeons, of the stars, of whatever cursed you so.

#liya drabbles #honkai star rail #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #x reader

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dulcesiabits · 3 days

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Despite being eridia's self-proclaimed jack of all trades, people only really hire li when they need their packages or rivals to go mysteriously missing in the night.

(template + art comm credit)

#liya’s ocs #touchstarved #she’s my silly girl who is soooo good at punching things #but not at anything else <\3 #her imbalanced stats r so funny to me sorry.

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dulcesiabits · 4 days

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Your Li and Mhin writing made me hurt and yearn and do you understand how I will carry this in the recesses of my mind for who knows how long

Superb writing! Don't be afraid to spill about them because the the wedding (no air quotes, i stand by that it was as wedding as it could be for their circumstances and for them) scene made my heart SQUEEZE

It is actually the most flattering thing in the WORLD to hear that you're invested in my silly oc/canon ship <3 !!! They made you feel yearning and it's going to be in the recesses of your mind??? Then my mission is complete... I have succeeded as a writer...!!!!

(And I'm definitely going to be posting more about Li later haha I've been refining her lore for like. a year now lol)

I'm glad you mentioned the wedding scene bc I drew from Chinese marriage customs to write it!!! Li (李) is Chinese and Mhin is also Chinese to me. And one day, I will write diaspora-inspired fic about how they both deal with their alienation from their culture and community lmfao. There is something about having to reinvent or adapt traditions bc of lost roots...

#liya answers #im actually trying to save up money bc i want to comm like. sprite art for li lmfao #i've never actually been so invested in an oc that im commissioning multiple pieces for her #and yet. here we are

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dulcesiabits · 4 days

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hi i want to lovingly copy every word of your writing down onto paper with ink and quill and then bind it between leather covers so i can worship it like a bible hope thats ok

Omg that is MORE than okay <3 I would be so flattered if you liked my writing enough for it to be a holy object lmfao. I would even approve of anime boys being offered as sacrifices to my writing as well <3

#liya answers

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dulcesiabits · 4 days

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Having a lot of fun playing with OCs and smashing them together with canon characters like dolls guys. But I promise I will go back to my irregularly scheduled x reader fics soon LOL

#liya chats

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dulcesiabits · 4 days

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the sun is also a star, p.2.

summary: this is not a continuation of the necromany au from the first part, but instead, this fic is about two drabbles focusing on mhin's and li's relationship! the first part is focused on taking a job together, and second part imagines what mhin's monster (painful) transformation might be like.

notes: 2.5k words, part one, violence, blood, body horror, biting, licking (of wounds, tears and also of someone else's saliva on your face)

iii. A Love Like Ours is Not Love At All

The way the blood trickles Li’s face looks holy, somehow, like water poured over the head of a newborn child in church.

It’s the wrong thought to think, sacrilegious, even, when her white shirt is soaked in blood, and there’s flesh from the corpse of a Soulless clinging to her hair. She is no god or saint, but there’s still something sacred about how she makes precise cuts with her dagger, skin flaying apart, before she reaches into the cavity she’s made and pulls. Pulls, until tendons snap and muscles break and crimson seeps under her nails and there’s a perfectly formed heart in her hands, and she holds it up to her face like she could kiss it.

But then she holds the heart out to them, and Mhin takes the thing gingerly. It’s still warm and pulsing, a vain attempt to keep living with each weak beat, before they slip it into a cool stone container and snap the lid shut, where it slides into place next to four other hearts, the bottom of the container wet with blood.

“That should be enough, right?” Li says, bouncing on the heels of her feet, counting off on her fingers. “One, two, three, four… five. Five hearts.”

“We would have finished sooner if you hadn’t insisted on pulling the hearts out yourself,” Mhin snaps. “You crushed half of them. Use your dagger next time.”

“But I like pulling them out myself,” Li says, pouting. “It’s more fun that way.”

“I don’t see what’s so fun about it.” Mhin gathers the container to their chest, fingers curling over frigid stone, some sort of ice spell imbued into its foundation to keep the box cold and the hearts in pristine condition. It came with the commission from Leander, though for what purposes the hearts will be used, they can’t say. They know better than to ask.

“It feels nice,” Li says simply. And it’s always this simple with her, as if she’s guided by animal instinct and base impulses alone, living from one whim to the next. It makes her both easy to read, and frustrating to understand.

“Let’s just turn these in,” Mhin mutters.

Without a word, Li lops up to their side, a small frown on her lips, gaze snagged on something on their face. When she brings a hand alongside their cheek, rubbing her thumb against the rigid line of bone beneath their skin, Mhin can’t move away at all. They should. They know they should. But her touch is as sudden and burning as the sun.

“It’s not rubbing out,” she mumbles. Her thumb presses against their skin, harder, a pain bordering on pleasure.

“Of course it won’t,” Mhin snaps back. “You’re covered in blood. You’re probably making it worse.”

“Oh, yeah,” she responds. Her hand stills, fingers absently stroking their cheek in feathery movements, her nails scraping against their skin. Any harder, and she might draw blood.

“Stop doing something so useless,” Mhin says. Their heart is a fluttering bird in their ribcage, wings beating wildly at the walls.

“It’s not useless,” she protests. “I’m doing it because I like you.”

It’s the way she says it– guileless, honest, as if admitting her affections is the most natural thing in the world– that finally gives them enough strength to pull away from her touch. Her hands lingers, outstretched, curved around the ghost of their face, and they draw their hood closer to their face, casting it in enough shadow that Li can’t make out their expression. Not that it would matter if she saw their expression or not; it wouldn’t deter her whatsoever, no matter what face they make.

“Stop saying that,” they say reproachfully.

“Why? It’s true. I thought you liked it when people were honest.”

“Because affection is useless, and anyone can stab you in the back. I don't know why you’re so adamant on confessing to me. It’s reckless of you.”

Li dips her head, and, as unaware as she always is, presses closer to them again, her hand on their chin, tilting their face up. No, unaware isn’t the right word. She’s not unaware, she just doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about any of their attempts to draw away, pulling close whenever they try to flee, like a dog with their teeth around their leg, biting so hard they can’t shake her off no matter what they do, a permanent extension of their own body.

“I say it because I want to, I keep telling you that,” she says, like they’re the stubborn one. “Besides, even if someone were to stab me in the back, it’d be my fault for being in such a vulnerable position.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” they mutter.

Li smiles at them. Her fingers trail to their cheek again, where they continue, in vain, to rub at whatever spot of gore she’s found on their face. “What’s wrong with doing what you want, because you want to do it?”

“It’s… stupid, to not be aware of the world around you. You’re going to get in trouble.”

“Then I’ll get in trouble,” she says cheerfully. “And then I’ll get out of it. Or I won’t. That’s how it works. Mhin, you’re never gonna get anywhere if you keep thinking like this.”

“Me? I think it’s more likely that you’re going to end up dead in a ditch with your attitude.”

“And?” she says unrepentantly. “You know, if you’re too afraid to cut loose, I can show you how.”

“I don’t need you to do that. I told you it’s better to stay away from me. We should keep our relationship in a professional capacity.”

“But I’m not going to do that. It’d be boring without you. Ah, but you know…” Li bends her head down, her nose trailing along their cheek. Before they can react, her tongue is lapping against their skin, a slow, gentle, wet trail. “You’re always talking like you don’t like yourself. But I like you. So, you could just give yourself to me. I’ll take whatever you don’t want. What about that?”

They jerk away from her, pushing her shoulders with enough force that Li takes a step back. Their cheeks are burning at her brazen words, her simplistic way of thinking, the innocent selfishness at what, to her, is a perfect solution.

“What the hell are you thinking? Don’t do that again,” they spit out.

She taps her own cheek. “The blood on your face is gone. I was just helping you out.”

“I don’t need your help.” They spin around and clutch the container tightly, winter digging into their chest, as if it could soothe their own heated body.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Li calls out cheerfully. “Same time and place, okay?”

Mhin doesn’t grace her with a response as they hurry down the streets. Li is obnoxious, selfish, oblivious, unaware, and doesn’t have any care for anyone outside of her own interests. It’ll be better to stay away, to stick a knife into her stomach until she learns proper distance.

They bring their fingers to their cheek, chasing the memories of Li’s tongue slicking against their skin. Their fingers come away wet; it still hasn’t dried, and they touch their fingertips to their own lips, to press the faint taste of saliva and blood to their own hesitant tongue.

Tomorrow, she’ll be waiting for them, ready to take on another hunting mission together. Her head will perk up when she notices them. And Mhin will never be able to do anything other than gravitate unwillingly towards her, once those intoxicating golden eyes fall on their face.

iv. Even a Well-Trained Dog Will Bare Its Teeth

Mhin, Li thinks, has always been beautiful. Beautiful when their face contorts with frustration and annoyance, beautiful when they ruthlessly slip their dagger into a Soulless’s vital artery on its neck, beautiful even when their breath comes in shallow pants and blood is slicking all over their body like a second skin and they turn their dagger towards her neck before they remember who she is in the heat of battle.

And they’re beautiful, even now, when their body is being ripped apart, the monster under their skin splitting their human form open, like an insect emerging from a cocoon.

Feather stab out of their skin, bursting with a rupture of blood and sinew. Their spine, cracking out of space, deforms into something elongated and strange. She can almost hear the twisting of their muscles, the cracking of their bones, the whistling of their blood, as their flesh loosens and sloughs along their body, bleeding their own entrails onto the floor. Blood rivers down their fingers as talons rupture pitilessly from their nails, severing their own skin.

Their transformation is heralded only by their own bitten gasps and low moans of pain, and the twisting of their body like the wind, the wind before a storm, glancing through hollow spaces in their bones and whispering warnings of something unnatural on its way.

All Li can do is watch, as Mhin turns one yellowed eyed at her, pupil dilating, voice raspy and hoarse. “Go away.” Those are the last human words she can manage to hear.

She takes a step closer to them, and their body, like some creature dreamt half-formed from a primordial nightmare, shudders, flesh rippling and feathers swaying as they push away from her.

And when she takes another step again, a taloned claw– scales flickering, talons still struggling to find purchase on once slender human fingers fusing together– flashes. It’s a warning blow, careless only with desperation and not malice. Li could dodge it, as she has dodged hundreds of strikes before it, but she doesn’t alter her path as talons slice through her shoulder. What would it be like for this form of Mhin’s to hurt her? There’s a sting of pain as her flesh parts pliantly under their touch, and it’s disappointing how Mhin holds themself back from doing worse.

Mhin croons low in their throat, a pitiful cry of a cornered creature. They turn their face away from her, but there’s nowhere to go in this dim apartment, where all the curtains are drawn and windows shuttered, as if Mhin could make a nest from their broken furniture and scattered feathers and hide themself away forever.

Their blows are frustratingly weak, and only get weaker when she’s close enough to kneel in front of them, like one of the gods that she’s never believed in. Li knows how cornered animals act, and if they really want to frighten her off, then they could do better than such half-hearted attacks. They’re taller than her in their monstrous form, which is a disconcerting feeling, but the way Mhin folds themself means she can still look down on them.

Li reaches out to their face, and Mhin lets out a guttural caw, an alien scream as they shove her hand away, nicking her flesh, a denial that only makes her heart sing. She smiles and reaches out again, even as they flinch from her touch.

She forcefully grabs their face so they can’t hide again, bringing it closer to her, even as their liquid eyes, dark as a galaxy, shiver, red pupils dilating and tears pooling down their face. Mhin looks like a facsimile of a human now, with their nose pinched and downy feathers coating their face, and a strange, faint growth on their lips, hard as a shell, a half-formed beak. Their face is covered in little black buds, feathers that are still straining to grow, and she runs a thumb along one.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers, and a tremble explodes through their body as they thrash against her touch, as if the words are poison.

But Li won’t let them go, not anymore. She likes them too much to do anything other than press close to their side, even if they’ll hate her for it. How unfair of them, to want to run and hide from her in the first place.

Li runs her hands along their face and down their neck, feathers tickling her fingers. And then, she bends her head and lovingly sinks her teeth into the side of their neck, a sharp enough nip that Mhin stills at her touch. Gentle clicking rises from their throat, and Mhin slaps their hands against their mouth.

Li hums, licking at the teeth mark on their neck. It’s harsh enough to leave reddened imprints, but not harsh enough to draw blood, unfortunately. She could bite harder, if only to leave a permanent mark on them. It’s a bad habit to want to break beautiful things like this, but how else can she show her appreciation?

Gentle talons are pulling at her face until she’s eye to eye with Mhin. They bring their quivering mouth to her cheek, and press their hot tongue flat against her skin and lick. They’re lapping at the cuts marring her face, the ones caused by their frantic claws. There’s a methodical precision to their movements, even as their tongue pricks at her cut flesh.

It’s not an apology; Li wouldn’t know what to do with such a useless thing. But it is some sort of promise. Mhin pulls away, and lowers their eyes, retreating somewhere within themself.

“You’re not allowed to pull away. I told you that,” she whispers, and she curls herself alongside their body, as if she tries hard enough, she could be consumed by them.

The two of them are face to face again, and tears are still beading in their eyes. Mhin blinks them away, and she brings her lips to them and kisses their tears, licking the salt off their face. It’s a wordless, animal communication, the sort Li is best at. After all, words can fail and cloud meaning, but the body? The body will never lie, and she knows their body too well to be fooled by anything they do.

Li tugs at a piece of Mhin’s hair, covered in sweat and blood, carding through the strands with her fingers. They seem to melt at the gesture, even as their body pulses, pleasure mixing with pain, flesh and bones still creaking out of place, inch by inch.

She likes this, likes being able to run her hands along their body, to survey every new inch of them, her hands playful explorers.

“If you want, I can kill you,” Li says, arms encircling what she thinks is their torso, pulling them flush against her, tucking their head under her chin. “Okay?”

It would be lovely, too, to be struck down by them, to feel their talons crushing her windpipe and collapsing her lungs, for them to dig their claws into her heart and tear it out, the prize for a conquering victor. From Mhin, death would be sweeter than a confession, the holiest form of love Li can imagine.

No sound rises from Mhin’s throat, as if their transformation has finally tired them from communicating. The only sound she can hear is the wind of their displaced joints, and the irregular beating of their heart, a melody that will only ever belong to her.

But Mhin’s quivering arms, sliding cautiously along her back, claws grazing her skin, are answer enough.

#liya writes #liya’s ocs #touchstarved #mhin #mhin x mc #mhin x oc #touchstarved fanfic #literally I had a hard time tagging this #like . scratches head. sorry guys im a freak and li is also a freak

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dulcesiabits · 5 days

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Oh my god I’ve hit the max number of links I can put in a post. I did not even realize I could do that bye 😭 I might have to make a second masterlist or I’ll delete my author’s notes section so this current one can keep on kicking for a while longer

#liya chats

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dulcesiabits · 5 days

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flat side of a blade.

summary: Another short piece with my MC, Qilan, and Chase from @shepherds-of-haven, reflecting on their relationship together, their relationship with violence, and their similarities as people!

notes: 1.5k words, spoilers for chase's backstory, mentions of blood/violence

Qilan is seven the first time her father places a dagger in her hands. A real dagger, Ket-forged steel with a wicked shine, sharpened to a fine point. A sturdy handle, slotting perfectly into her chubby first. Pristine, black, shining.

But her father’s eyes are nothing but sad when he guides her grip, adjusting her fingers on the handle for a proper handling position. He’s a warrior, a leader. The best fighter in their mercenary company, with hair as wild as the sea spray crashing against the jagged rocks of the coastline. Her father, as far as Qilan is concerned, is the strongest man in the world.

“You have to promise me something, Qi,” her father says. “You have to remember what it means to take a human’s life.”

“Okay, father,” she asks, obedient to the last.

He kneels, crushes her shoulders like bird talons, urgency lacing his voice. “You can never forget the price of taking a life. To kill someone, so you can survive. The world is a cruel place, Qi, but you don’t have to be cruel. The things I’m going to teach you, that you have to learn… they’re not to be taken lightly. A blade is a tool, defined only by its master’s intentions. Do you understand?” Her bones creak under his tightening grip, but she dares not wince. She can only clutch the dagger tighter until her knuckles are white and the imprint of the hilt presses red lines into her palms. “Do you understand? Promise me.”

“I understand, father,” she says. It’s not quite the truth, but it’s not a lie, either. She doesn’t understand, but she wants to, at least. Not because the idea of honor means anything to her yet, vague term that it is, but because whatever it is her father needs from her, she could never bear to hurt him by rejecting it.

Her own serious face gleams like a ghost in the blade’s black edge. A human life. Could it really be worth as much as her father’s trust in her?

–

Chase is seven when his father forces a blade into his palm, a heavy dagger that rests uncomfortably in his grip, handles still too wide for his fingers to grasp.

“What is this, captain?” he asks, trying to spin it in his palm like a toy. One stern look stills his attempts, and the restrained energy quivers down to his toes. He never calls the captain “father,” as much as he wants to; it seems to upset the man somehow, though Chase can’t quite put a finger on why. But to have a father at all is a blessing, so he swallows any complaints.

“It’s a new job I want you to pick up for me, Chase,” his father says. “You’re going to learn to use that. There are some rats aboard, and I want you to help me handle them.”

“Rats?” Chase says slowly. “Why don’t we get a cat to handle them, then? It would be easier than trying to hunt ‘em ourselves.”

“Hah! Isn’t that a suggestion? Chase, these are the sort of rats that can’t be handled by a cat, do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want you to ask me any questions. I just want you to listen to me. I’m going to be teaching you some necessary skills in the upcoming weeks. Just do as I say, and make me proud. Do you understand?”

Chase stands a little straighter. “I do! I’m ready, captain.”

It’s an honor his father trusts him to handle any important tasks at all. And… maybe… if Chase does well, then his father will be proud of him, and pat his head, and tell Chase he’s proud of him. How hard can his father’s tasks be?

–

The truth of the matter is that humans are a fragile mess of nerves and arteries and meat, and one cut is often more than enough to sever the thin thread of their lives.

Sometimes, that severance is messy, despite his best efforts.

Blood stains his clothes, and his favorite daggers are coated in gore, the remains of some poor fool still clinging to their blades. Even if he cleans them, it’s a sin that Chase will never be fully able to wash off, no matter what he does. A reminder that he’ll always be that little boy, wielding weapons he isn’t old enough to grasp, chasing after the ghosts of men who will never be satisfied.

Every strike brings him back to that time, every cut of his blade dangerously close to reopening old, raw wounds which Chase has carefully sewn closed.

He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, not unless he can make a proper show out of it, another stroke to the masterpiece of his legacy.

But somehow, despite his careful steps and his calculated path, there’s one person who smashes his plans to smithereens, as she always seems to do.

Qilan finds him, as he’s slinking out of the shadows, towards the Shepherd’s compound. There are never any words with her, never any explanations. She only glances at the mess on his body, and tugs him towards a secluded corner, away from the common area, so he can wash away the blood, away from prying eyes.

Chase can’t tell whenever Qilan’s sharp intuition is a blessing, or a curse.

“You don’t have to stay,” he says, pink blood pooling into the mud. They’re at a courtyard pump, and Qilan watches as he runs water through his clothes, his hair until the water is clear again. He’s taken off his shirt, and wrings it out. “I get the appeal of seeing me like this, but–”

“Your hands are cut,” she interrupts lightly. “You grip your dagger too tightly, do you know that?”

She takes one of his hands without warning, tracing her thumb over faint scars on his wet palm. Her touch is warm against the cool water, and he wants to jerk back.

“It’s a force of habit, from when I learned it,” he says. “The blade was too big for me back then.”

A pulse of warmth, like a spring tide, flows through his hand, as his little cuts close and his skin sews itself back together. Healing magic.

“Old habits are hard to break. My father taught me to wield the dagger, and he would always nitpick my form,” she says. She runs another thumb over the back of his palm, as if surveying her new work, the unblemished skin, the cuts gone. Her fingers send shots of sunlight through his veins with each touch.

“Your old man was Ket, right? No wonder you’re so good. I always thought your form was a bit like Blade’s.”

“It might have been because of that,” she concedes. She still hasn’t pulled away. “Even for a Ket, he was strict. He didn’t want me to take people’s lives lightly.”

He should pull away now. There’s no reason to hold onto her any longer. But his hand, traitorous thing, won’t move. “How heroic of him, and of you.”

She laughs lightly. “I never had such good intentions. I just didn’t want to disappoint him.”

“I think that’s understandable,” Chase says.

Neither of them say anything for a while. What ghosts has she conjured up? It’s hard to tell when Qilan’s face is always pulled into a gentle smile. For some people, it might be reassuring, but Chase sees it for what it is: a mask, carefully calculated to set people at ease and to hoard her secrets.

He knows better than to pry, to peek at what lies underneath. Her smile is a fortress, guarding all her secrets like precious gems. Knowledge and information, he knows, are the most powerful currency in the world, and she knows better than to flaunt her wealth.

They’re alike in that aspect. Knowing where to draw their lines, to tread carefully along each other’s boundaries.

“By the way, you can always come find me if you need more healing. I’d never turn down a chance to get close and personal with you.” She smiles again, all seriousness vanishing like snow under sunlight. It’s always one step forward, two steps back with Qilan, and this is her way of smoothing over the tension.

“What if I get hurt just to spend more time with you?”

“I wouldn’t complain, Captain Trinaeste,” she says. “You know where to find me.” She spins on her heel to leave, but pauses. “You know, a dagger is one of the most difficult weapons to wield. It requires you to get close to your target, and the margin of error is wide.”

“It’s easier if you’re used to it,” he says lightly.

“That’s true. It would be difficult to try to pick up a different weapon now. But I’m glad to be with someone who understands what it’s like to fight with one.”

And then Qilan is gone, as if she was never there in the first place, and all Chase has left is the lingering warmth in his hand. But even that, too, will fade away with the water and the passing of time. The only thing that can possibly last is the mark of a blade, biting deep.

#liya writes #liya’s ocs #shepherds of haven #interactive fiction #chase trinaeste #chase trinaeste x mc #shoh #making up shit about dagger fighting guys my bad #need it for the emotional impact not the physical #also sorry guys i will never actually stop writing for chase he compels me too much #esp bc i love making qilan his narrative foil and parallel

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dulcesiabits · 6 days

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deleted scene/former draft of how the meeting between reo and reader from stars you only see during the day went LOL. Warning that this is half-edited and half-written!!!!

“I would have to think about it, Takei-san,” someone—probably Mikage—replies. You crane your head, just in time to catch the look of a boy with a flute of fizzy water in his hand. He’s cute, with uneven bangs and a dove gray suit, and probably around your age, if not a little older.

Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed. He inclines his head, smiles at you, and waves you over. Suddenly, everyone’s stares are on you for the first time that day, the boy’s attention stronger than a lighthouse. “Those shrimp look good.”

“Thanks. I didn’t make them,” you say, then kick yourself. Curse your smart mouth. With rich folk like these, it’s better to just keep silent.

The boy— Mikage— laughs. “Then you have to thank the chef for me.” He delicately scoops up one of the shrimp with his forefinger and thumb. The crowd is silent as he partakes, before a wave of hands rush toward your platter as Mikage swallows.

“It does look good, you’re right, Mikage-san!”

“You have such impeccable taste.”

“I’ve always had a fondness for shrimp myself!”

You smile tightly as you’re jostled by the sudden onslaught, elbows bumping into your sides as you’re crowded. Ah. Mikage had probably done this on purpose— waved you over to get the attention off of him. You were nothing but a sacrifice in the process.

Takei, the man who had been rude to you initially— you refuse to use honorifics with someone like him— grabs at the shrimp. “Give me some,” he snaps.

“I can go get refills—” you begin, but he snatches the platter, making you stumble.

Mikage, looking a bit regretful at shoving you into the swarm of sharks, starts to come closer, the glass still in his hand. “I’m sure there’s more than enough food for everyone, so why don’t we —”

Takei tries to yank the platter from your hands, treating like you’re nothing but an inconvenient pest on his way to suck up to Mikage, and you struggle to hold on. Mikage draws closer, and he’s right by your side when Takei finally wrestles the platter from your hands, and you collide with Mikage. He grabs your elbow, trying to steady you, but it’s too late— the two of you go down, his expensive drink sloshing over both of you as you grab at the table cloth nearby in a vain attempt for stability— but of course, that only sends you, Mikage and the tablecloth flying to the ground in a tangled heap. You screw your eyes shut, preparing for impact.

A few seconds pass before you realize you’re not in any sort of pain at all. In fact, the ground under you is really soft. And warm. And— oh shit. You open your eyes to come face to face with Mikage, who you’re lying on top of. The hall is deathly silent, a silence that crawls on your skin.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I didn’t realize— sir, just let me—” You attempt to rise, hands fumbling at the ground for purchase.

“No, it’s okay, you didn’t do it on purpose—” Mikage tries to placate you, but, as you rise, you bump into the table next to you, hard enough to send it crashing over, expensive ceramic plates and vase filled with beautiful tropical flowers cracking on the floor.

Only one thought flashes through your mind as the guests finally gasp and murmur at the damage. You’re so screwed.

“What an unmannered servant. Who hired them?”

“And to injure Mikage-san like that. Surely the family will ask for compensation.”

“How dreadful! It would be much deserved.”

You’re still standing numbly in the center of it all when someone grabs at your wrist, hard enough to bruise. “Tch. They shouldn’t have let people like you in here in the first place. Let’s see what the manager of your shitty little catering joint has to say about this behavior.” It’s Takei. He just can’t let up, can he? Asshole. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be in this situation at all.

Your free hand twitches. Would the consequences of slapping him right here and now truly be that terrible? It’s not like you could dig the hole you were in any deeper.

Just as you contemplate going through with slapping Takei, Mikage cuts in front of the two of you. “Takei-san,” he says, smiling, when his eyes are anything but. “I think you should let them go. They didn’t mean to do anything like that.”

“Hah? But they embarrassed you, Mikage. In front of everyone. They should get punished at least.”

“It was an accident. It was my fault, too, don’t you think? For not providing a better venue and… [smooth explanation here]”

“But—”

“You want to blame Mikage corporation for all of this?”

Takei pales. “N-no, Mikage-san. I see your point.”

[transition somehow here]

Mikage wasn’t as bad as you thought. He had saved you back there, after all. For a sheltered trust fund baby, he’s pretty cool. Is there something you could for him in return? You open your mouth to thank him when Mikage whirls around, eues shining likes he’s hit upon a brilliant ideas.

“Go out with me,” he says earnestly.

Your jaw drops. Ah. Never mind. You were right in your initial assessment: there really is something wrong with rich people. This boy clearly has a few screws lose.

#liya drabbles #blue lock #mikage reo #mikage reo x reader #x reader #I wanted to post this as a special when i posted the original fic #then forgor #BUT HERE IT IS BABY!! WOO!#u can also see a little of my writing process HAHA

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dulcesiabits · 7 days

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also apparently ive written around like 90k words for genshin if you include all my drafts and discarded drabbles and. um. teehee?

#liya chats

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dulcesiabits · 7 days

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My confession is that I actually have like 20k worth of words of various oc x canon writings hiding in my google docs and one day I will be silly enough to post those + my art comms +_+

#liya chats

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dulcesiabits · 7 days

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the sun is also a star.

summary: Literally just two drabbles of mhin with my oc Li where they try to bring her back to life when she dies because there is nothing sexier than obsession that even death cannot stop!

notes: 2.2k words, necromancy (descriptions of bodies + cleaning bones + emotional aftermath of bringing someone back to life)

i. I Put Every Bone of Yours Back in Place

There’s a certain clean beauty about bones, Mhin finds, that provide a reassuring and familiar weight to death.

There are 206 bones in an average human body. 80 of those bones make up the axial skeleton, and the remaining 126 bones make up the appendicular skeleton. But what Mhin finds most interesting is that a human is born with 270 bones. Somewhere, during the process of growth and development, those 64 bones are fused with other bones. To change, you must give something up. To live in the world means suffering losses, losses one isn’t even aware of.

Of course, the pages of an anatomical textbook don’t quite capture the reality of a human’s growth. There are always mutations and exceptions. Bones don’t always fuse properly, or someone may simply have been born with extra bones in their hands. It’s difficult to tell if those bones don’t affect the quality of life enough to warrant a checkup with a medical professional. No, it’s only after death that one can gauge the extent of their own deviancy, marked into their very core.

Li, thankfully, only has the average number of bones. Two hundred and six exactly, with no outlying pieces. That makes it easy for them to collect all parts of her. When Mhin lays them on the ground in a facsimile of a human’s shape, they can almost pretend it’s Li again. Her delicate wrist bones, the curve of each rib, the twist of her femur, set in their proper places. She’s beautiful, right down to her skeletal structure.

They wipe their forehead, but all it does is smear grime across their skin: rotten dirt and the faint tinge of death, blood from their own scraped fingers and flesh (from who or what they forget) caught under their nails. It had taken months for them to find her body, months of feverishly patrolling the wastelands, even begging Ais and his disgusting minions for help when weeks of searching turned fruitless. They weren’t above that, not even when their fists tightened at his little smirk. Ais would hold it over their head, they knew.

But all that mattered was that her body was found, monsters and scavengers having already nibbled on every tender part of her, clothing long since reduced to tags and tatters. Her bones shone like stars in the muck. She would be unrecognizable to anyone else, but not to Mhin. There was not a world in which they would not know her.

They had run to her body. Finally, here she was again, and they had fallen to their knees as they picked up her corpse, hugging it to their chest, gore slopping onto their chest, mindless to anything else. It didn’t matter if their shirt stained. It would be better if it stained, if her rotting flesh sunk into the fabric, so they would always carry her with them.

It took time to clean off the bones, too. That was the most exhausting part. To take her body with them into the city in the darkness of the night, to run each part under water, to scrape off all the distended flesh and severed skin without chipping her bones. To gently detangle chunks of yellowing brain matter from the hollow cavity of her skull, watching the flesh fall with a wet slap in the sink. To brush carefully around each opening, which were more delicate and prone to breakage. Through hardened muscle, dead nerves, and congealed blood. To watch the bones pile up, piece by piece, like snowfall, day after day.

Sometimes they had brought her skull to their face, to stare into the eye sockets, the rows of teeth. It was the first piece of her that they had saved. They could feel the memory of her warmth when they closed their eyes, concentrating on how the flesh that once stretched over her skull felt. Her scarred skin, her callouses, the freckle on her knuckle.

They pressed their lips to the hollow teeth, where lips should have been. Nothing but the taste of soap and death. Their first kiss, in months.

She loved to kiss them when she was still around. Mhin would reciprocate begrudgingly, their sour attitude doing little to deter her from throwing her arms around them and peppering their face in kisses. She was like an over eager affectionate puppy, and Mhin had never liked dogs for precisely that reason. But she was an exception, just barely.

The kiss they remembered most had been in her shitty apartment, kneeling in front of each other on faded red cushions. There was a pot of cooling oolong tea in front of them, and Li had found a veil somewhere that she had tossed over her head, just for fun, she claimed. It made her look like a ghost, the lace fluttering over her galaxy of hair.

Wedding rites for their people always involved family, from the little Mhin remembered of matrimonial customs. But neither of them had family left. All they had was each other. So for the tea drinking ceremony, they poured each other cups of steaming tea, raising it to their lips to sip. To honor the only family they had.

There were the three bows, too. But they remembered thinking, even then, that they wouldn’t bow to anyone. Not the uncaring heaven, not their distant ancestors. The only one they would bow to would be to the woman in front of them.

It was an unofficial ceremony. There was no one to proclaim that they now belonged to each other, no city to record whatever they were. But that never mattered. They didn’t need anyone else to prove their relationship was real.

This had been real. Li, in front of them. The bitter tea lingering on their tongue. The sunlight, filtering across the dusty air, making her holy.

They had pushed back her veil, then, and she had smiled mischievously as she grabbed their hand, before pulling the veil so it fell over both of them instead. A benediction, as soft as snow, covering the world in a gauzy, dream of white as she brought her lips to theirs.

The very night they finish cleaning her bones, they return to the wastelands. And now they are laying her bones down piece by piece, in correct anatomical order. They had studied their own textbooks feverishly, just to ensure they wouldn’t mess up the placement, not at this critical juncture. They count over each bone, an obsessive gesture they’ve repeated throughout the night. 206. 206. 206. All in order, all laid out precisely as it would be if Li was taking a nap with her arms outstretched.

The moonlight filters down. Soulless call in the distance, but their dagger is ready at their hip. For an instant, Mhin lets themself relax, and bends down to caress Li’s skull again. The intimate parts of her, which no one but them would ever know and understand.

It was thoughtless of her to leave them behind. She had always been a little scatter-brained and clumsy, prone to having the money stolen right out of her pocket despite being a self-proclaimed thief. But this was her worst mistake yet. To die without them. To rest so peacefully, while making them suffer.

It went against what she always said: that it would just be the two of them, together. And yet she had left them. She had taken on a dangerous job, an escort mission across miles of barren wastelands, soulless at every corner. She had gone out that fateful night, blowing them kisses, promising to return, and then never came home. Hypocrite. How could she do that to them?

But it was fine. It would be fine, and they could forgive her. They would be together again. Mhin was simply fulfilling the promise they made. Even if she cursed them and cried and begged for peace, they would drag her back down to earth, back to their side. It wouldn’t be right otherwise.

They stare down at her bones again. Resurrection was a forbidden art, but Leander had lent them the proper tools for the ritual, the magic and the spells, like a snake whispering in their ear. Weeks of fruitless searching on their own, and Leander was the only one who could offer them what they needed. They would take whatever hand offered them a way to save her, even if it was from someone like him.

Because they were hers, and she was theirs, and not even death would separate them. They would bring her back, and they would tie her so tightly to them that they would be together in every life after this.

Mhin took a breath, and spoke the opening words of the spell as the moonlight spilled over Li’s bones, as if she was waiting for them, too.

ii. Even if You Come Back Wrong, You’re Still Mine

“Sorry.” That’s the first word Li spoke to them, with her palms outstretched in front of her, like a scolded puppy. “It fell.”

It’s easy enough to see the bone protruding from her right hand, the finger cupped in her palms. Mhin lets out a short little sigh. Things like this had become common as of late, her body disintegrating bit by bit after the ritual.

“It’s fine,” they say, gesturing for her to sit. “We can just fix it.”

Li obediently perches on the kitchen chair, and Mhin kneels in front of her, gently taking her broken hand in their own. Her skin is cold, and no amount of rubbing could bring the warmth back into her skin. They had tried, but whatever warmth from their touch her skin absorbed would simply dissipate in a few hours.

They take out the sewing kit from their pocket, a recent benediction from Kuras. When they had tersely asked him for medical supplies, for thick, transparent thread and needles that could puncture skin, Kuras had wordlessly handed them the kit without question. There was never any judgment or pity with Kuras, but his gaze had still seared their skin.

Mhin deftly threads the needle, holding the finger in place, and makes quick, even stitches across Li’s finger. They’re good at delicate work like this, that requires intense concentration and little thought. It’s soothing how the world can always be broken down into patterns and rhythms, into familiar, repetitive motions.

When they’re done, Li stares at her own finger like a stranger.

“Open and close your hand,” Mhin instructs, and she does. The finger moves normally, and they nod.

“Mhin,” Li says, slowly, absently.

“What is it?” they snap, and she only blinks owlishly. Before, she would have shrugged off their complaints as easily as one does water, with a blindly bright and foolish smile. She might have even called them cute.

Li had never been one for quick thinking outside of a fight, but now, her mind seems to move slowly, thoughts struggling to break through the murky surfaces of her own brain. She once worked on instinct and intuition, and now all of her animal senses had been deadened to a dullness that made her stumble where she once would have leaped.

It was as much as what Vere had said, when the bastard had swung by their apartment, ears pricking at the “new amusement” Mhin had been so fixated with that it meant no one in Eridia had seen them outside their apartment in weeks. Vere had deigned to chat with his old gossip partner for a few minutes, but with each dull response of Li’s, Vere’s ears flattened against his head, a sharp, displeasurable scowl on his face. Mhin had then considered slotting their dagger right against his heart when Vere suggested that they should throw away toys that no longer worked.

Li watched them with blank eyes the entire exchange, in the same way she watches them now. There’s a veil fluttering across her gaze, and if they only knew the right words, the right actions, they could finally reach past it to grasp her hand.

“Your face…” she says, and cups their cheeks with her cool palms. They’re still kneeling in front of her, and she gazes down at them, like a blessing.

“What about it?” They lean into her touch, into the smooth skin of death.

“You look…” she frowns. “Sad.” Her words are uncertain.

“I’m not.”

“Okay,” she says.

But for a moment more, they can’t move, can’t pull away from her hands, which have always captivated them. “Li, do you remember what we talked about?” Mhin asks curtly.

She tilts her head. “Which conversation?”

They bring their hands to cover hers, trapping her touch in place. “About what we are.”

She nods, and like a pupil reciting a lesson, states, “That we’re always going to be together, no matter what.”

“Right. Just be sure to keep that in mind,” they say. “That’s the one thing you can’t forget.”

“Okay.”

They close their eyes. “You’re here now,” they repeat. “You’re here. You’re right here.”

“I’m here,” she repeats.

Learned behaviors are just as necessary as innate behaviors. And love is also something that could be learned again, as many times as needed. As long as they kept their hands on hers, then they could believe that the chill of her winter had finally melted away to spring again.

#liya writes #liya’s ocs #touchstarved #mhin #mhin x oc #mhin x mc #touchstarved fanfic #sorry idk how to tag these things when its not x reader lmfaooooo #anyways i actually have like. an insane amount of lore for li hiding in my drafts this is just the tip of the iceberg #i just think its cute to pair mhin w someone who is so oblivious self confident and selfish she just pushes past all their walls

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