there's a heartbeat that's cheering me on

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resounding loud and clear, the voice of tomorrow!

gabriel | he/they | 22 | singaporean-filipino
sup! i write fic and do art sometimes.

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i'm honoured to be commissioned to write! please dm me @cylxius.bsky.social or email me on [email protected]• prices
rate per word: $0.07 (in USD)
formula to calculate your commission cost: total number of words x rate per word = total amount to pay• examples
drabbles (300-500 words): 21USD to USD35
oneshot (1k words): 70 USD
chaptered fic (1.5k words per chapter): 100 USD per chapter!!BONUS SERVICE!!
do you have an writing idea for a ship/character/OC of yours but have no idea how to go about planning it? look no further!!i offer narrative planning assistance at a starting rate of 50USDthis includes:
> character building & character profiles (base is 3 characters, additional 10USD for a 4th character and so on)
> story plot & timeline (planning of chapters and story beats, overall narrative timeline from back story to present day)
> arc planning (e.g. bringing a character through their struggles, completing a story arc for that particular part of the story etc.)
> and many more! feel free to ask <3
> the more complex the plot i will adjust the price accordinglyANOTHER ONE??
are you a tabletop rpg player/DnD enthusiast who is having difficulty writing a fully fledged campaign? i can do that too!flat rate: 100 USD
> this includes a one-time discussion with me (me!!) on how the campaign starts and its general premise/storyoccurring rate: 50 USD per session
> this includes me as an assistant for your campaign where i can help point out and write alongside you the different plot lines, character arcs, story beats through out your entire TTRPG campaigni am also able to write short films, theatre plays though that has to be discussed separately for rates.• will do: nsfw (e.g. pwp, gore, emotional porn etc.), horror, surrealism, OC, self-insert/wolship, angst, dead dove/dark topics (REFER TO WILL NOT WRITE SECTION FOR SPECIFICS)• will not do: noncon, incest, pedophillia, sexual assault/harrassment, hateship/clearly discriminatory work for the sake of hurting others/self-gratification etci am aware that dead dove, do not eat/darker topics can include these themes and i am not adverse to writing these themes AS LONG AS THEY CONTAIN NARRATIVE VALUE. meaning that these specific events in the story/character defines the way the story progresses as they mean something to the character (e.g. a character who was SA’ed is learning how to be comfortable in their body again, racial genocide that pivots the story’s premise as one of the examples of war/character reasons/story beats, etc.) I will NOT write a character/OC/narrative that serves the sole purpose of your own projection to mistreat people.• fic excerpts
[hurt/comfort]
[porn without plot/porn with plot]
[friends/enemies/strangers to lovers (to a secret third thing) tropes]
horror/surrealism
[toxic/tragic yaoi/yuri]
character study
angst
getting together
pining

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Kaeya dreams. Kaeya dreams of liberation. Kaeya dreams of a rich promise. Kaeya dreams of an eternity lived, instead of envisioned. Kaeya dreams of knowledge found and taken. Kaeya dreams of justice served. Kaeya dreams of a war, burning and bloody. Kaeya dreams of love, passionately and selflessly given. He dreams of all these things. Things of old gods, from when his caretaker weaves tapestries of tales of Ancient Teyvat as his bedtime stories. The stories of the Seven Archons — Barbatos and Venessa overthrowing the aristocracy, Morax and how he minted the first mora from his very soul, Rex Lapis and the Adepti in Ancient Liyue, to the lost gods of the Archon War — these were a constant fantasy he lived through. But of course, to little Kaeya who is eight now, who has heard different permutations of each take since he was five, these are nothing but stories.He doesn’t think much about the divine he is supposed to. Sometimes, when people pass by the palace he hears murmurs of garbled sayings about curses from the divine. Sometimes, he hears his father talking to his caretaker about divine blood. But Kaeya only thinks about the divine when he sees them in his dreams, reenacting old tales of legendary battles before him.

dream of a golden dragon, chapter 1

Xiao does not understand many things. Xiao does not understand the reasons why humans are so afraid of him, when all he does is for their protection. Xiao does not understand why they try to be strong when they are all weak compared to the demons and beasts he fights. Xiao does not understand why Guizhong and Rex Lapis, despite being gods themselves, care so much about them and their short lives. Despite it, he does not question their rule; it was through Rex Lapis’ divine intervention a few months prior that he could stand here breathing after all. Although he can’t help but let it fester in his head when he stands to watch the village on the mountain peak — mortals so free to live under the gaze of Rex Lapis, without a care for the world — what did they exactly hope to achieve?

烟雨行舟 (Rowing Amidst A Misty Rain)

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This is where the arrow pierces him, killing his naive hope just like his siblings did when he was younger. This time it takes form in Dimitri’s expression that resembles a snarl of a beast, who lived for vengeance. A beast that knows nothing but the frigid pain that courses through his veins. This beast will grab his wrist, and Claude tears out the arrow from his heart against all self-preservation. He never followed warnings anyway. His other hand reaches to hold the prince’s face, but he hisses. Don’t touch me, Dimitri growls, you need to leave. His grip on Claude’s wrist is gentle, and it betrays his own tone of anger. In his face Claude sees a boy, alone and scarred, and it reminds him of the palace he grew up in. The darkness of it despite how the light illuminated the walls.Claude leaves without saying anything. Hilda will question his restlessness when they are in class, but he says nothing. Because nothing hurts, of course. He should have seen it coming.When the academy falls, he rewrites the memory of Dimitri in his head. He replaces the contorted visage of a beast with the fairytale prince who gleamed in the moonlight. The prince who smiled at him as he laughed at Claude stepping on his shoes, softly guiding him. Lysithea will tell him that Dimitri has changed, but he will stubbornly continue to hold the belief that his dear Mitya was still the same boy whose face reddened hearing Claude’s innuendos.The moon is high when Byleth returns, and a small feast is held to celebrate their return. Lorenz will tut at his opposition to dancing, asking about his ruefulness. Claude simply says that he’s tired. He watches the drunken waltzes on the floor with Byleth, who holds his hand behind their back in solidarity. They look at him with a crease in their brow. Claude stares beyond them, a sad smile plastered on his face out of politeness. He remembers when the dining hall was always this bright with laughter, when war was only a lesson taught in classrooms. A life before the night of the ball, where he could still trace Dimitri’s fingertips as he watched the stars dance in his eyes.

as long as you're still burning bright

The painting was one of Zhongli’s first forays into understanding human nature after the Archon War. The Hydro Archon had suggested it to him, with her deep knowledge of culture and passion of all things related to the arts. If one was to keep a memory, then wouldn’t it be best to have it in tangible form? And so that day he had picked up a paintbrush, sitting above the sea of clouds in Adeptus’ Abode, alone. Zhongli closed his eyes and painted the very first thing he saw in the darkness of his mind. The painting of his first meeting with Guizhong had then emerged like a flower in bloom from his hands, as the sun set in the horizon beyond him. The lilting song of the birds and breeze were all around him, filling his senses with the present while his mind remained in the past.When he had looked at the painting for the first time, he simply stared. A perfect rendition of the day he so cherished, and yet it felt so far away from his grasp. He had painted many others after this, but that singular moment in time had fully enraptured his being, and he kept this painting wherever he went. Even until now, when he works he looks upon that painting. Reminding him of what his sacrifice is for. But yet when does, he cannot help but feel a sense of emptiness in his heart — he remembers Kaeya’s words about letting go when the bandage is rotting. While it is perfectly logically sound, he cannot help but feel at a crossroads when thinking about it. Should he be allowed to let go of someone who is already gone? But what if letting go of her meant that he would lose the memory of her and Liyue Harbour completely? Who would take care of her people then?“... I suppose it is,” Zhongli replied after a beat, “Death surely is the only constant thing in this life,”“Indeed it is!” Hu Tao said, “In life, there is death, and in death, there is life. A balance kept to keep the masses safe. Ah, but that’s enough pondering from me today! I’ll be on my way. Thank you for your time Zhongli.”When she left, for a split moment in time, Zhongli had wondered.Zhongli had wondered, what it would be like to die.

dream of a golden dragon, chapter 4

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“Fine. Yes. I like you, go ahead and laugh, or whatever,” He spoke, finally, “Wow, looks like Kaoru’s finally the one caught in someone’s trap huh,”“Why do you say it like that?” Rei asked, “I don’t think it was something of a trap, if you feel if it is so,”“I care about what you think. Maybe too much, it’s stupid,” He stammered, “I just don’t want things to change— I don’t want you to think I’m weird. I’ve only known you for four months. And while I know what I feel is not dumb, I—”Rei took Kaoru’s gloved hand into his, and gently bumped his forehead on his. He hummed knowingly. Kaoru released a shaky breath. Rei squeezed both of his hands gently.“I understand you, Kaoru-kun,” He whispered, only for him to hear, “I feel the same way, so you don’t have to be scared. I won’t leave you.”Kaoru snapped up to look at Rei for a split second— those warm honey eyes that were like the breeze in summer— and then wrapped his hands around him. The sudden warmth on Rei’s chest was welcome, leaning into Kaoru’s touch as he wrapped the other into a tight hug. If he could afford to be a little selfish— no, from now onwards he will learn how to be a little more selfish for himself: he wants this warmth to stay with him for as long as it can. Maybe Wataru was right afterall. There is nothing more beautiful than being enraptured by one person and allowing yourself to be seen.“Man, and I was worried for nothing…” Kaoru said after a beat, removing himself from Rei’s hold.“Worried? What for?” He asked, using the back of his hand to move Kaoru’s bangs away from his face, tucking stray strands behind his ear.He fiddled with Rei’s hands. “Don’t know why. Just thought you don’t like me or something, or that I was reading too much into the situation,”“Reading too much into a person like me will give you nightmares, Kaoru-kun,” Rei teased, “But I do like you an immeasurable amount. Would you like me to show you?”

begin again

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Rei swoops into the centre of the rink like a bat to its prey and he can see that it almost catches Kaoru off guard. A sly smile finds itself creeping onto his face, almost amusingly as Kaoru tries to clamp down his surprised look. He finds his way to slither his arm around Kaoru’s waist, and lifts him.If Rei could allow himself this bit of realness — he had noticed, a few months prior, that for some reason his hands could naturally fit themselves around Kaoru’s waist quite effortlessly. It was just an off chance observation, after they were practising lifts. Like a puzzle piece, of sorts, and how his weight was just right for him to carry and how they could just click. Not that it was easy for them to talk in the beginning. It was an obstacle for them to come to terms with each other, but as soon as they did? What a beautiful blend of colour, that is.The brass ensemble from the music softens, as a quiet flute plays. Rei reaches in to touch Kaoru’s face with the back of his hand, tracing the outline of his jaw like a delicate bird, before skating backwards away to lure him into the dark. The spotlight follows Kaoru as a dim light shines on Rei, their roles illustrated clearly to the audience.Rei is a being of the dark, a rather alluring figure meant to stray Kaoru, a being of the light. But Rei’s character is not foreboding lest he is dark themed. His character is just as soft as the light is, despite his demeanour. While Kaoru’s soft being of light can be quite mischievous, and just as dark.Kaoru is beautiful, Rei thinks to himself watching the thoughtful way that he skated like a swan. Although he might be more of a fox, foxes are known to wear masks anyway, and this particular mask suits Kaoru just as elegantly.You could say that from the audience it seems that there’s a back and forth of persuasion between the two— but to Rei? He’s the one who feels hypnotised by Kaoru’s ever glowing form. Not that he would dare to complain.

at the end of the world

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“What I do,” He said, chasing air, “I do it for you.”He still cannot hold her. All around her is an outline of light, but she feels so real at this moment. His tears mix with the blood on his face. She stares at him, unfeeling. When he props himself up, she is sitting on his lap like a statue, he holds the shoulders of her shadow. With no form to hold he is shaking the air. Her eyes are hollow again. Red stains his white shirt, the cold air stinging him, reminding him that this is only a fraction of what he has inflicted on her. If he cannot withstand this, he is no one to her. Yet that is not what makes him cry. He smells the iron permeate the air, as more crimson taints his clothes. His bed. His hands, his sleeves, his—“Kovih,” He cries, voice mangled and distorted, “I do this for you.”She does not move. Eyes staring straight ahead, they glower.“I could not bear the thought—” He chokes up again, as he leaned forward to hold her but she is just a ghost, “I’m sorry.”There is no sound except for the distant ringing in his ears when she holds his face again. Hands freezing still, but clean of his blood. Clean of any impurity, like light shining through a window, perfect and transparent. Fleeting. Ephemeral. He sobs and he doesn’t know why. She brings his head down to cradle it in her arms, her chin on top of it. He sees the blood on his hands and he tries to wipe it off. She hums, quietly. A drone of a dead lullaby. A soothing melody for death. She cards her fingers through his tousled red and white hair. Heartless and empty, she speaks one last time:“You should be.”dance of the haunted

He puts his corrupted hand on her cheek, wiping a tear from it. “Do not be afraid. We will be one, like you have wanted since our childhood.”He grates his teeth against her flushed shoulder, dragging them down to her breast. Her heartbeat quickens, as she is frozen against it all. A blonde boy. Bloodied and bruised. He is standing in her hallway. He has always been there. A man, forced to be a monster, drinking blood like fine wine. A monster, forced to be human, to contend against the simple desire of familiarity—to be understood—and how defenseless any creature is to its whims. Zenos, she whispers to herself, I… I am…“Do not apologise.” He sinks his teeth into her breast as she lets out a choked scream. “You have always performed as you should.”White hair matted with blood. His hands on either side of her head. She is but a frail spotted dove in this black forest of sin. His icy skin burns her, and it is almost comforting, how it is so familiar. How his body felt more known to her than that of her beloved Hermes. How her own desire to sink and devour it all was almost parallel to his. She does not feel him enter her. She does not feel anything except for the sting and her Hermes, oh her dear Hermes, so gentle, so kind. She did not deserve him.Katleho grips this monster’s shoulders, as blood spills forth from her as he laps it up, tearing the flesh away from her body as she grows weaker and weaker still.“You are the only answer to this spell you have cast upon me,” He spoke, mouth gargled with blood, “Enchantress. Witch. Siren.”my curse, my affliction

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