Viestrus
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All We Have is the Present by Viestrus
Fandoms: 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game)
29 Jan 2026
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Summary
What if different visitors come from beyond the skies? Okhema is a city of refugees, after all.
~
In other news; The Chrysos Heirs adopt a weird kid ehe~
(Or: I need a distraction after patch 3.1, and this is my distraction. Gonna use this fic as a place to practice writing stuff too like always XD)
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To the Worldbearer, 'Strife' is a vital, lovely thing.
(No particular ties to canon, very ambiguous timeline but just take it as all of the Heirs remember everything and are just doing their jobs as Titans in their cycle--)
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Be careful what freebies you decide to take off the streets.
(And now, also watch out for what your enemies might spike you with).
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Ever had those days when you know it's going to be shit for no reason?
(I wrote this in a span of hours max, which is why it's so messy--)
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A woman inexplicably being found on the Luofu can't be a sign of another impending crisis, can it?
A.k.a, a practice fic for me to use to practice writing certain things that kind of blew up. Content warning doesn't apply for the whole story, but there are chapters where there's mild gore. Also, TW for depictions of mental illness; that's the subject I was practicing on, if you can't take potentially inaccurate depictions of mental illness or just overall want to steer clear of the subject, best to not read this.
Title taken from the song 'Anesthetize' by Porcupine Tree.
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Summary
The tears came quietly at first—a slow build, a blink too long, a hitch in breath. Then, one slipped free. A tear trailing toward his temple as his lip trembled.
Mydei kissed it as it fell.
Phainon turned his face away, a sharp breath catching in his throat—not from pain, but shame. “Don’t…”
But Mydei only kissed his cheek again, slower this time, lips dragging along damp skin like he wanted to drink the sadness from him. His hand slid behind Phainon’s head, fingers tangling gently in his hair, anchoring him.
“Don’t look away from me,” he whispered, voice heavy with restraint. “Not now.”
Phainon couldn’t speak. His body arched, breath stuttering, but Mydei’s hold never faltered. He kissed each new tear as it slipped free, murmuring nothing but breath between them. And all the while, his other hand drifted lower, stroking bare skin with the kind of control that felt dangerous in its tenderness.
It wasn’t the roughness of it that undid Phainon—it was the opposite. The unrelenting gentleness. Mydei touched him like he was made of memory and porcelain and fire all at once, like every part of him needed to be known, adored, worshipped.
Bookmarked by Viestrus
01 Dec 2025