fishdy
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Another gag.
Another hurl of his stomach.
When will this onslaught of weariness finally end?
When will he stop feeling like a crazed monster every time he draws his sword?
When will he think of himself worthy enough to accept another person’s help?
When will he start feeling like the prophesied “Deliverer”?He’s so tired. His breathing is heavy, sweat beading down his forehead as he tries to suppress the sheer amount of bile threatening to crawl up his already parched throat.
“…Eugh. Smells like cat piss and horse shit in here.”
Whenever Phainon cracks, Mydei is there to piece him together again, whether he asks for it or not.
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“Mr. Phainon, I’m currently working with an artist who hasn’t been signed yet. He commissioned me to be his producer for an album he’s very insistent on releasing, and it’s…” Hyacine trails off, at a loss for words. Phainon waits for her to continue, but it seems that she genuinely can’t find a way to describe this mysterious artist’s music.
"I-It’s not bad! Quite the opposite, actually... it’s impressive enough for Lady Aglaea to personally contact me about him.”
Well, this is interesting. If he’s an artist worthy of Aglaea’s praise, he’s sure to become a musical sensation. Her intuitions have never been wrong, neither have her compliments been devoid of truth.
“...She has her eyes on him, and wants us to be the ones to kick-start his fame.”
Phainon quit his dreams of becoming a renowned pianist years ago. It was a fleeting, silly dream that only a child could deem plausible. The adult world opens it's arms for corporate jobs, not creativity—he reminds himself, falling into the cesspits of contracts and record deals he wishes he could be signing instead of offering. But upon hearing some news, Phainon thinks his immature fantasies are worth a shot.
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“Night Raven… What, pray tell, brings you back to these depressing lands?” He whispers raspily, wiping the red from his chin and letting it stain his fingers.
Night Raven floats towards the ground with his arms folded loosely across his chest. His wings spread as he moved closer, blocking the moonlight, and for a split second, Lord of Ash swears the man faintly resembles a deity stepping down from heaven. Except Night Raven is no heavenly being, but instead the incarnation of Darkness taking the form of a fallen angel.
“Lord of Ash, I am here to take your life."
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Wind Archer’s anger was cold. Icy—something the Guardian of Fire could never get used to. It pierced through his inflammable soul, contorting into spikes that squeezed and twisted up his insides. And that cold icicle would never melt, no matter how much he’d raise his body temperature, no matter how long he’d wait.
But Fire Spirit endured it, as always. It was no new territory.
or its spring season and fire spirit burns the woods down during his visit (again)
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“But I am not flawless, Aglaea,”
He pulled the blanket to his nose, leaving only blue eyes visible. Heavy and glassy with a haze of fever.
“You are.”
.
.
Calm and calculated, a perfect conduct that betrays no emotion. It was more than enough to handle most formidable things, from Nikador’s titankin to the scheming Council. However, even with fading humanity, Aglaea knew that it is not the face to wear facing a feverish Phainon with his walls down.Bookmarked by fishdy
31 Oct 2025
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“I’m sorry, Aglaea,” his murmur is a scratchy and weak thing, yet he has no doubt Aglaea heard him. “Did Tribbie tell you where to find me?”
A delicate hand settles in his white locks, seemingly uncaring for how greasy they must feel. “Though I may be blind, the tremors of your heart do not lie, Phainon.” She scratches at his scalp, eliciting a full-body shudder. “I could pick out the sound of your strings from thousands.”
or, Aglaea caring for Phainon in a way only a mother could
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anchorite (love you very much) by orphan_account
Fandoms: 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game)
21 Aug 2025
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He eventually learned he was not a messiah, not a healer, and not a savant. Time had stripped such an illusion bare. He was a harbinger. He could replace his white coat with a hood and carry a scythe and he would feel no different. Yes, he “healed” soldiers, but for what purpose? To send them back to the jaws of death sooner or later. If fate was merciful, they would meet death on the battlefield quickly. Maybe even painlessly. If fate was unkind, they would make their way back to Jiaoqiu’s care, where he would heal them, and they would be sent back on the same, meaningless cycle. Whether soldier or healer, it was all a means to an end.
Jiaoqiu finally breaks. Moze picks up the pieces.
Bookmarked by fishdy
11 Sep 2025
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Phainon the Oryx, though now forgotten by the majority of Amphoreus citizens, used to be an integral part of everyday life; this is seen in the Oryx statues scattered all over Okhema as well as the tradition of sacrificing an Oryx at the start of the year to avoid misfortune. He is the Demigod of Sacrifice and Harvest, among other domains. He is believed to be the son of the Worldbearing titan Kephale (???, add source here) and
Suddenly, Mydei's laptop restarts.
Updating…0%
He can do nothing but stare at his screen in shock. If he were a less repressed man, he'd start crying. He actually might.
- or -
Phainon is a forgotten god and Mydei is an incredibly tired college student.
Bookmarked by fishdy
17 Sep 2025
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"You're not... Phainon, are you?" Mydei couldn't help but say. "You never... over steep the chamomile."
Phainon's hands shook even more. "I'm just," Phainon licked his lips, tongue running nervously over the seam of his lips. "Tired."
"Tired," Mydei repeated. He couldn't help but press Phainon, unnoticing of how Phainon seemed like a nervous wild animal, ready to bolt at any moment. "You never over steep the chamomile." He said once more.
Phainon didn't look at him. "I said I'm just tired," he gritted, more forceful this time.
Involuntary fear crept up Mydei's spine. It was more instinct than rationale, at this point. He knew Phainon would never hurt him on purpose. It was the Reaver.
And yet the Reaver wore Phainon's face and hurt him anyway.
Bookmarked by fishdy
21 Sep 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
THEY MAKE ME SO ILL GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD