BooBooTheFool



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  1. Public Bookmark 86

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    “Lord Phainon has such a thick face,” Mydei hears in the Marmoreal Market one day.

    He doesn’t turn, but he does tune out the hawking of the merchants some more to hone in on the conversation. Phainon is fairly fit, though, he ponders, half amused and half bemused, as he picks up a pomegranate. Surely if anything, his arms are thicker than his face?

    Or, how Mydei tries to find something that makes Phainon blush.

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    27 Jan 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 28

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    “I think I evened the score a bit while you were out, you know,” Phainon calls over his shoulder.
    Still no response from Mydei, only the sound of corrupted flesh tearing. Phainon supposes that in itself is response enough. He yanks his sword from the neck of his last opponent and stands, trying to catch his breath. Yet his uneasiness lingers still, rising thickly into his throat.
    The hairs on the back of his neck rise as his instincts scream at him to move. Corruption surges towards him from behind, and he tightens his hand on the hilt of his sword once more, whirling on his attacker—
    —and he stabs Mydei straight through the upper chest, just beneath his collarbone.

    Phainon and Mydei investigate a village drowned by the black tide. When Mydei falls, something else gets back up.
    (or: phainon has to fight mydei's black tide-possessed corpse)

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    17 Jan 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    When Phainon finally moved to Castrum Kremnos—the city he’d daydreamed about since childhood—he expected many things: difficult dialects, lovely cuisine, and locals built like war gods. He did not expect to flirt with a man he assumed was a priest.

    “So… I read Nikador’s scriptures once. Very inspiring. Huge fan.”

    Finger guns.

    Pew pew.

    A silence worthy of a sacred text.

    Unfortunately, that “priest” happened to be the Crown Prince.

    Even more unfortunately, the Crown Prince thought he was cute.

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    16 Jan 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 65

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    It was a cultural miscommunication. The product of a cultural difference. Phainon was certain of it. After all, Phainon had hardly been aware of the implications when he first arrived in Okhema. It wasn’t until he attended a class on Okheman theatre at the Grove and they were halfway through analysing a play script from Era Bellica that he was exposed to the symbolism for the first time. 

    The girl next to him had taken pity and timidly whispered the answer to his question. 

    Throwing apples was a ploy at seduction.

    By the way Mydei happily crunched at the apple perfectly matched to the one he had thrown with every intention for Phainon to catch, and the lack of scandalised attention from the surrounding Kremnoans, tossing apples clearly did not carry the same meaning in Kremnos as it did in Okhema.

    A cultural difference over apples leads to some self-inflicted torture on Phainon’s behalf. After all, if Mydei is ignorant to the symbolism then there’s no harm to Phainon indulging in a little fantasy.

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    05 Jan 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 75

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    “I’m sure he’ll come back soon!” Trianne had told him, patting his head. “He should’ve told you, De. Of course you’d badly miss him, you’re his best friend!” 

    “I’m going to rip his head off,” Mydei mutters under his breath. Wait. “What? I don’t miss him. Why would I miss him? We’re all Chrysos Heirs and I’m—we’re not even best friends. I’m sure it was something important, if he had to leave without telling me.”

    He sees a flicker of pity in Trianne’s eyes. He groans. And fuck Phainon, wherever he is.

    Or, Phainon disappears. Everyone thinks he misses him, for some reason.

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    29 Dec 2025