#as in blade has really bad mental health

[shentm]

outsider still doesn't feel complete to me but i'm leaving it here for now. blade pov, no beta we die like baiheng, check tags for trigger warnings

The dream catches itself on those at the center of the tragedy, locking on to the minds already half-emptied by mara. It watches, as the nights repeat, as the hunt grows farther from its purpose.

He's covered in it, clothes slick with blood, the moonlight sliding off of it and watching him through the reflection. Every time he shows up, Jing Yuan has to stay awake for hours afterward, scrubbing at the floors to rid his home of the stains and the stench of mara-stricken beasts. It doesn't help that he likes to trail his sword behind, leaving gouges that the blood flows through, pooling in divots and seeping into the cracks between. But it's not like Jing Yuan expected him to be different.

An Outsider, who participated in a horrific ritual, and became tethered to the merging of paths, a creation of a collector who found the occurrence too interesting to resist. Who was given the abundance emanator's blessing, transforming him into something thought of as prey by most of the Xianzhou Alliance. It's strange that he's still sane sometimes, occasionally managing to break the contradictory resonance of intertwined paths where the hunt and the abundance intersect.

In the shared dream he sees the echoes of those he once knew, dead beings recreated in a perfect recollection of the waking world. It's just how he remembers, an everlasting reminder of what they did. He's drawn in when asleep and awake, unable to escape the repetition of memory.

In that intersection of paths he sometimes finds the shadow of the Imbibitor Lunae running away and away, too afraid to face his crimes. He finds the corpse of a dragon protected by its unborn kin, and tears it apart instead of looking back. He fights through the same landscapes again and again, always waking up in front of the same dim lamp. The only reason he can think of for this endless repetition is that someone out there likes these memories, wants to see the moment of the sin done right.

Skin melts against skin, fire burning through hair. The wet noise of a blade squelching as it rips through meat is the only sound that interrupts the guttural screaming of those beasts, displacing the cries with blood down their throats. Their pathetic existences mirror his own. Eyes press against his brain where they grow inside his skull, amplifying the beats of his heart. A constant high pitched whine carries through the sky, staying with him wherever he goes. Physical discomfort keeps him in the dream, afraid of what deeper pain awaits with the dawn of wakefulness.

He sees her too, sometimes, guarding the path before the corpse. She sees him in return, and they always meet in a clash of swords, the moon almost close enough to touch. It watches next to them, the blue light of her own weapon brilliant against the clouded orange sky. There was never any other choice; a recreation can only travel down the path of the original, like wheels in a rut on a dried dirt road. They tell each other that the dream will end. He continues the hunt again.

The dream is an awful thing to endure. He wonders about its purpose when cleaning his blade that Jingliu so kindly returned.

Dan Feng never acknowledges him, never admits to what he did, never even calls him by name. But it's clear that despite the physical differences, he's still the same arrogant coward that lives in the dream. How else would Dan Feng manage to kill him every time with the weapon he forged with his own once-deft hands, buying useless time before his inevitable judgement?

When he wakes up it is only a brief moment of respite from the dream as clear-cutting pain reminds him of his immortality. Sleep comes with the soothing promise of comfort, but also with the knowledge that it will not be restless.

Later he joins the Stellaron Hunters, gets taken in despite being on the brink of insanity. Feels the frenzy slipping away with Kafka's words, feels the understanding leave his mind. Turns him into a docile puppet, waiting for the next command. He names himself Blade. She gives him the first genuine rest he's had in seven hundred years.

His senses are diluted with her influence, not enough to render him completely useless, but enough to clear his mind. It's mostly just his sight that's a problem, and it's easy enough to counter with his other senses. The other one is touch, but he doesn't expect that to really be important. He does most of his hunting with a sword anyways, distanced enough from his prey.

He's never gone back to the Luofu personally. Once or twice through the years he hears news of its whereabouts, and soon has those reminders taken from his mind, rendering his sleep dreamless yet again.

He doesn't go back because he's not done hunting.

But at some point it was bound to happen, the meeting of three tragic sinners and that other guy who was also there.

A mission brings him back to the Luofu, and he doesn't complain because his mind is too empty to think. He tries to think of himself as just a simple vessel to help Elio carry out his plot. A stagehand for the endless show that they try to put on. It's quite nice, being like this, the desperately needed reprieve from the eyes that always try to crawl their way back into his brain. It's not easy to forget once your body has learned.

Kafka says the mission went well. Elio says he can break the tether now. He doesn't remember any of it, except from the brief moment of clarity when Jing Yuan asked him if he was done, and then the consciousness when he wakes up later.

Jing Yuan looks the same now as he did all those years ago, except for the young shadow he keeps at his side. He's still just as radiant as the sun, the center of everything he joins. Of course a comet like himself was never meant to stay long in Jing Yuan's orbit. The sun does not need to change when a dirty snowball cuts through its orbit after centuries of desolation in the universe; the sun burns bright on its own, without a need for a secondary light.

None of them are, were, like that, just a product that reflected their surroundings instead of the magnetic core that shaped their era. Maybe that's why they're all criminals wandering the stellar seas now, shot out from the gravity well and driven by their own definitions of the hunt.

But eventually he feels the searing pain start to fade when he chokes awake on drying blood, glances over at the dissolving bodies next to him. The eyes can no longer see. Kafka helps with her lightning, and soon the only physical links left are those burning wounds inside his brain.

Between puddles of blood and dripping black stone he wakes up, and the night grows deeper but the streetlights start burning. He collaborates, strangely, with Dan Heng (a new trailblazer) to force Jing Yuan back into his bed. He sees the artificial sunrise a few times, occasionally with Kafka, and sometimes just on his own. The sight of a celestial object rising behind the clouds has been one he's not seen for a while, even if it is still a false sun.

It's done, the dream has an end. The hunt is over, its conclusion long since found.

He meets the one who couldn't let go in the waking world, both of them more alive than they should be. Neither of them deserve to be here, yet they sully the Luofu with their presence anyways, carving and gouging out a place where they no longer belong.

She meets him with the same intensity she always carries, unable to be diminished by time or a dream's veil, and he feels alive as they dance the familiar battle once again, for what may be the last time. Unlike the cycles before them, this time it feels like a breaking of bonds, like something being set free.

On the last night of his stay on the Luofu he ends up at Jing Yuan's family home after he manages to separate from the dream, and he's lucky that Jing Yuan still stays here even after seven hundred years. Conveniently, Dan Heng mentions that Yanqing would be dragging the Luofu's heroic trailblazer on some sort of sword-hunting adventure on that day.

"Yingxing," Jing Yuan says when he enters civilly through the window, "please stop dripping blood on the floor."

It's that name that breaks him into the clearest state of mind he's had for centuries. That and the newfound control over his own mind, now that the moon no longer watches him. Jing Yuan still sounds the same, calls him with the same tone of voice. When's the last time anyone's referred to him as Yingxing? When's the last time he's been able to hear that name without his consciousness slipping through the cracks?

"Jing Yuan," he responds, and he's suddenly aware of the winds outside, carrying with them a fine mist of pollen that coats everything in a layer of grit, sticking to the drying blood on his clothes. He's aware of the artificial moonlight that gazes into the room, blue in tone and so much softer than the harsh orange red in his sleep. He can feel the silence of the home, where four others once gathered and where only one stays now.

"That's not my name."

The dream tries to call to him, but its voice is quiet here.

Jing Yuan reclines on the mass of pillows he calls a bed, and when he shifts he can hear the sound of feathers scratching at their confinements. He hears his pulse in his head, reviving nerves once thought to be dead, and he can feel the tingling sensation where it creeps through his limbs.

The air is cold where it hits his skin. It's been so long since he's been able to feel the temperature. He looks at Jing Yuan, and he can see the shine in his eyes, the strands of his hair where it was only a blurred image before. The world is clearer than it's ever been. It's like getting glasses. Do they still have those?

Jing Yuan grounds him in the present, the physicality distracting him from the broken link between his mind and that all-seeing eye disguised as the moon. The moon here on the Luofu is fake, as is the rest of the sky over most of the ship. The mara-stricken here do not scream as they claw at their faces, nor do they tear apart their prey with overwhelming strength.

He can touch and be touched now, acutely aware of the blood on his face, his body, his hands, the stains across the sheets and the fabric where he dares to rip them apart, but it doesn't matter in the moment. Cauterized wounds of foreign eyes that once grew inside his head start to make their presence known again, but they don't try to regrow. Flesh, not his own, knits itself together when he lets go, and the scent of iron permeates the air.

He's never been a particularly selfless lover. He bites down again.

"Ren," Jing Yuan says, quiet with an edge of something else. The false moon silently hangs behind the clouds, diffused into a hazy shower of light. The metallic taste of blood fills his mouth.

Jing Yuan is just as pliant for him now as he was centuries ago, body remembering and opening its vulnerabilities for him so readily. The heat in his head is easily ignored in favor of the heat beneath his hands. It's easy to get lost in the chase to consume and feed, but he reins himself in with the control he thought he'd lost a long time ago.

An Outsider, on equal ground with the Luofu's general, if only for one night. An Outsider, carving his own mark into the Xianzhou's history.

He finds Jing Yuan again after all these centuries, and he's still just as passionate as he's always been, fervent energy and primal fear driving him deeper into the desperate desire to stake a claim of his own.

[xenteaart]

you are not difficult

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but it can fit any au, really) word count: no idea but it's short genre/warnings: er, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suffering w depression, implied history of SH. also implied shitty ex. so PLS keep that in mind before you read. also, it's all good in the end. author's note: it's a self comfort thing y'all but i hope you like it too.

it was yet another night where everything felt too much and you kinda hated yourself for it. bad day, maybe some hormonal imbalance due to a certain time in your cycle, history of mental illness — it's hard to put a finger on the exact cause. you're sick of trying, anyways.

chris was, of course, right there for you, and as you were falling apart in his arms, your entire soul was aching so bad that it made you want to crawl out of your own skin. it's usually like that, everywhere in your body like some sort of extreme inflammation, except physically you're perfectly fine.

"'m sorry…" you blurt out somewhere between your sobs and cries, still unable to hold eye contact with him.

"baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," chan shakes his head and keeps rubbing circles into your back, just between the shoulder blades where the ache feels the most excruciating.

"kiss me?" you squeak. almost pathetic, honestly, but it's always been your way of checking, whether he still wants you. whether he still loves you and desires you, even at your lowest, even with your mascara all smudged over your cheeks, eyes puffy and red, lips slightly irritated and swollen. even when there's a gaping black hole where the heart is supposed to be.

chris doesn't even question it, really. he simply leans in and gives you a long sweet kiss full of both a partner's tenderness and a lover's lust, so, so willing to do whatever it takes to calm the thunderstorm inside your mind and ease your struggle.

the kiss doesn't really satisfy you, the feeling is still there.

"sorry," you whisper again as you breathe out into chan's lips but the intimate contact doesn't last long. chris frowns and makes some distance between you two to look into your eyes.

"why? baby, why do you keep apologizing?" he sounds gentle but still slightly frustrated.

"i dunno? cos 'm difficult? for bein' difficult?"

there's a silence as he blinks a few times, processing and putting two and two together.

"just because it was difficult for them to love you and take care of you, doesn’t make you difficult. you are not difficult. like, at all," he puts on his serious tone, the one he uses for you when you can't see the obvious and he has to remind you.

you don't really know what to say to that, so you keep playing with the tissue paper in your hands, ripping it apart piece by piece just to keep yourself busy and focused on something other than the burning ache in your chest.

"dealing with mental health isn't easy, that one is true, baby, but it's so easy to love you. you are easy to love. even now, looking so small and in pain but it's still you, and my duty as your boyfriend is to take care of you when you can't. and, hell, you're one of the most capable people i know, so please just let me hold your hand through it once in a while, yeah?" chan speaks slowly and quietly, as if to make every single word sink in, tenderly forcing it into your stupid lovely brain that refuses to cooperate sometimes.

chris feels safe. he feels like lighting up a cookie scented candle after a long day at work. he's the feeling of the ocean timidly licking at your feet and burying them deeper into warm wet sand. chris is the first sip of coffee in the morning and the cold side of the pillow at night. he's everything worth living and trying for.

"thank you," is the only thing you manage to say, but in the way you lean back into his embrace he's able to read a lot more.

"do you want a nice mug o' hot chocolate and some fairy bread, baby?"

this question makes you hiccup and sob once again. you nod and nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck.

[beenbaanbuun]

mothers w/ mingi

words - kind of short

genres - fluff

warnings - shaving, bad relationships with family, bad relationships with food, body issues, inherited insecurity, mingi is a precarious baby

——————————————————————————

“do you think your ball trimmer will shave legs?” you turn and look at mingi who’s lay innocently on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. that is until your words sink in and his gaze shoots up to where you stand with the small contraption in hand.

“i guess so,” he shrugs as he turns his phone off and puts it straight down. you ignore the way his eyes furrow as you turn it on and inspect the blades close up. you don’t know how close the shave would be, but you guess in desperate times, that doesn’t really matter. at this point, any shave will do.

you switch it off again and nod to yourself, placing it on the dresser before going through your drawers to grab your other things ready for a shower. you pick up a plain blue pair of cotton panties that despite not being sexy at all, you’re sure mingi will find an excuse to rip off of you post shower. then you grab your comfiest sports bra that again has one too many holes to be considered sexy. finally you grab one of mingi’s shirts - an oversized one that seems to have taken permanent residence in your pyjama drawer - and begin to head to the bathroom with your boyfriend’s ball trimmer in hand too.

“hang on a second, baby,” he calls out after you, scrambling off the bed and rushing towards you until you’re close enough for him to swaddle in his grasp. arms wrap around your shoulders, pinning you to his chest, “what do you think you’re doing?”

you lean back against him, enjoying the impromptu hug more than you’d care to admit.

“shaving my legs,” you close your eyes as you inhale the familiar peppery smell of his cologne; it’s warm and invades your senses, just like him, “i lost my razor so i need to use this.”

“why are you shaving your legs?” he asks, not quite satisfied with your reply. probably because you’d stopped bothering with that sort of thing pretty soon into the relationship. it’s a lot of effort, and your hair seems to be the last thing on mingi’s mind when he saw your legs. mostly he just thinks about what’s between them and how he’s going to get to it. he hardly even pays notice to the prickly hairs that run up and down your skin.

“we’re going on holiday with my mother,” you grumble in reply, “i have to be prepared.”

ah yes; the monster-in-law…

she’s a lovely lady for the most part, inviting mingi into the family with open arms despite the fact that she obviously wasn’t expecting him when you said you were bringing a boyfriend home. its clear she doesn’t approve of the way he dresses, or the nail varnish that coats his fingertips, but that doesn’t stop her from treating him like her own son. he gets the biggest portions of her home cooked meals and the first pick of desert. she calls him handsome when she sees him wearing something she likes, and compliments his uniqueness whenever he’s wearing something that’s a little more outlandish for her old-fashioned taste. she thinks he’s brave when he colours his hair in an outlandish fashion, and gorgeous when he wears it black. all in all, she’s a pretty lovely woman once you get past the hard shell of her traditional values.

and, of course, if you ignore the way she treats you.

to be honest, mingi is impressed at how resilient you turned out after living with that woman for 18 years. constantly having your self esteem torn down can’t be good for someone’s mental health, and yet you made it out the other side with a relatively normal relationship with your body. you have a healthy relationship with food, if you don’t count the days when mingi has to coax you to eat just a little more, and the days where he’d find you scrutinising yourself in front of a mirror are, for the most part, long gone! sometimes you tell him it’s because of him you feel so comfortable in your body; he refuses to take any of the credit for your own inability to be broken.

in fact, it’s only moments like this that he begins to see cracks in those walls you’ve built up. moments when you know you’ll have to see your mum soon. it’s like alarm bells go off in your mind reminding you that you haven’t quite met her standards yet. eat less because ‘you’ve gained a bit weight recently; you ought to keep an eye on that’. shave your legs because ‘as a woman you shouldn’t have hair on your legs; it’s just not natural’. buy expensive skincare products because ‘acne? at your age? you really should take better care of yourself’. it’s these moments that mingi can see the damage done. that he really has to take care of you.

“you shouldn’t listen to your mum,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and gives you an extra tight squeeze with his gangly arms, “they’re your legs, not hers; you only ever have to do what you want to with your body.”

“i know,” you say, leaning your back into his sturdy chest. he’s so warm and cosy, so reliable and strong. the small smile that rises to your face as he holds you close is involuntary. you guess you’re just so in love that you can help it, “she’s just so hard to be around when i’m not absolutely perfect.”

“well then i don’t see the issue here,” he lets you go for just a few seconds, spinning you around until you’re facing him. once more he encloses you in his grasp, a loose grip around your waist just to keep you close, “you’re already perfect, baby.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you giggle. he laughs too. in that moment nothing matters to you but him.

“it’s not cheesy if it’s the truth,” he bends down and presses a firm kiss to your lips, “perfect, perfect, perfect baby.”

[dovedewdrop]

Scratch My Back

Masterlist

Joel Miller x reader

word count: 889

Summary: The tide is pulling you under, just like it has plenty of times before. Your husband helps you communicate.

A/N: I’ve been struggling with my mental health & looking after myself for a long, long time and I was getting myself all psyched up to get a shower but I didn’t end up getting in and decided to write this lil thing that I’ve been thinking about for a while! I hope you enjoy it and if anyone out there is reading this and is struggling too, just know that you are not alone and that if Joel Miller were real, he would scratch your back❤️

Also thank you so much for 100 followers🥹🫶🏻 really brightened up my spirits a lil bit💓

Warnings: No Outbreak. Depiction of poor mental health. Sadness. One big loving man (it’s Joel Miller) (Not a warning but I didn’t want it to seem all doom and gloom😅) No use of Y/N.

To Joel, it was just a Wednesday, your day off. To you, the ceiling was caving in. Before he left for work you were sound asleep, your thoughts at bay, laying still against the sand, he placed a gentle kiss to your temple before rolling out of bed. Now that you were awake your thoughts were thrashing against the cliffs, the mental whiplash you were facing ultimately draining your body of all its energy.

You watch the clock on the bedside table blink from one minute to the next. You thought about all if the things you should probably be doing; showering, tidying the house, preparing that home cooked meal you’d been promising your husband for over a week but all you could do was slip in and out of sleep, that was the safe option, the one that would keep you somewhat sane until he returned. You didn’t want to bother him, didn’t want to text him those three words because you knew he would stop everything for you, everything would be put on hold so that he could soothe you and you didn’t want to add that onto the ever-growing list of things to feel bad about. So you waited.

“Honey?” His voice reverberated off the walls, the sound of his gentle tone floated up the stairs. You didn’t have the energy to shout back, the sound of his boots hitting the wooden steps told you that it wouldn’t be long until he was by your side anyway. He took in the sight of the drawn curtains, the sight of you facing them, still in your t-shirt and underwear and you felt the bed dip behind you, the warmth of his body encompassing yours, his scent filling your scenes. 

“Something happen?” A gentle kiss placed to your shoulder blade, the feeling of his lungs emptying and filling behind your back soothing you. You shook your head, allowing a silence to draw over you both as Joel’s arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you further back into the curve of his body. He was always so patient with you, so tender.

“Scratch my back.”

Scratch my back, a cry for help. A promise made between two lovers. A rule established when you’d first started dating. Joel knew that you struggled with your mental health, you’d opened up to some extent, brushing him off with a ‘I’m having a tough day but I’ll be ok x’ text in the beginning, even then he gave you your space. 

One week in spring however, everything was not okay. He hadn’t heard from you in four days, no text and definitely no phone calls. At first he thought that this was your way of letting him know you were no longer interested and selfishly, he couldn’t let it end that way. So after days of mulling it over and chewing his bottom lip raw, he drove over to your apartment and that’s where he found you, dark circles engulfing your eyes, threatening to swallowing them whole, hair unwashed, apartment flooded in gloom.

He took a bath with you, washed your hair as best he could. The spring air still had a slight chill to it so he’d made sure your new set of pyjamas were on the radiator ready for bed and he laid with you in silence until you turned into his chest and he felt the wet of your tears seep into the fabric of his shirt. 

“You don’t have to talk to me.” He pressed a kiss into your hairline. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to talk to me, I mean obviously you can, when you feel comfortable and ready to but there is something I want you to do for me baby,” another soft kiss. Your eyes travelled up his face to finally look him in his eyes, those soft brown eyes that made you fall in love with him in the first place. All you could do was give a small nod, you would do anything he asked. “I want you to come up with a word or a phrase,” he continued, “so that when things get bad and you don’t feel like you can talk about it…” he trailed off, his hands drawing shapes up and down the length of your spine.

“Like a safe word?” He let out a huff of air at that, a small smile adorning his face.

“Yeah, kinda like a safe word, so I know that you’re safe,” his palm came to rest on your cheek, thumb cupping your jaw, “up here,” and his fingers tapped gently on the side of your temple.

“Scratch my back,” It was soft, the way it came out, tears threatening to spill over, “because if you promise to scratch mine, i’ll always scratch yours.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling then, the last thing you wanted was for Joel to see you like this and to become his burden, but the way he’d shown you such care and compassion made your head feel a little less foggy, you wanted to promise that you could do that in return, that it wouldn’t just be him constantly looking after you.

“Oh sweet angel.” Both of his hands were cupping your cheeks now, pressing a light kiss to your nose and then your lips.

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. | chapter 22

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 5k Summary: the past and present; levi's version Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - flashbacks, levi's pov, graphic imagery, sickness, medical conversations, panic / paranoia, mentions / canon divergence of the recently published 'bad boy' chapter (extra warnings under the cut)

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 22.

note: there is a presumed major character death in this chapter. please do not read if you are not in the right headspace for this content. mental health first xo

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He can’t shake the adrenaline.

Kinetic energy thrums through his veins, destroying his focus.

For the fifth time since he returned to headquarters, Levi’s hands dip generously into the pool of ice-cold sink water in the corner of his bedroom.

His wrists flick up, quick, to splash it across his face like the whiplash sting will somehow calm the fever in his heart.

A sixth time.

A seventh.

He’ll keep going until that look on your face from the forest is wiped from his mind.

(Until he stops thinking of the before, when he wasn't enough.)

His lungs constrict as he forces himself to breathe, slow and steady, though the exhales exit like strangled gasps.

White knuckles resign themselves to the mouth of the sink as he leans in. His shoulder blades detangle themselves, sorting out the tension, while his eyes wearily stare at his reflection from the watery mirror below.

I know you, you said.

Of course you know him.

You said a long time ago you’d always know him, as if he’s an extension of your arm leading directly to the beat of your very heart.

How could I forget someone like you? you'd muse. If anything, you'd forget me.

(As if that was ever a fucking option.)

When you were just kids wasting away in the bitterness of the Underground City, you likened yourself to a shadow following Levi’s every footstep.

How could you look at yourself as a shadow when you were always the only light in his goddamn life?

You may not remember everything that's happened to you, everything that's made you, but Levi has silently volunteered to carry every burden in the interim.

Yours and his.

Up a hill, down a slope, through the mud, against raging snow — he'll carry the essence of you until you come back.

Because he was there.

For most, if not all, of it, he was there.

Twin fingers, reaching high for the stream of morning sunlight.

Shoulder to shoulder in a mess of sheets; you swore you’d never get over the sensation — the warmth of the light.

He'd never forget.

Levi would come to know warmth far better than the sun above — like the ghost of smile peppered over your lips.

He rolled over to selfishly block your view.

You were better than the goddamn sun, he'd quickly come to realize for himself.

He'd never forget.

"Can you believe there's really a world out there like this that can be real?" you murmured into the hollow of his throat as he peppered a crown of kisses against your forehead.

That the two of you could lay on a mattress easily fitting the both of you, not threatening to cave in on itself.

That you both could live this secret life, as Captain and Lieutenant, until you were old and gray.

For a second he so foolishly believed you could, too.

In comparison to the Underground, the surface could be considered paradise.

Maybe still hell on earth in its own right, sure, but at least it wasn’t a life buried in a tomb.

The vibrant green of the trees. The dirt that didn’t always stink of rot. The endless blue sky above.

Warmth was a comfort so many took for granted.

You knew. You both knew.

Caked sweat and congealed blood. Green bruises and busted lips. An abyss of gray, nothingness.

That's what he understood best.

 — especially after she died.

His mother; the first concept he had of the sun.

And for the short few years she was alive, she was radiant. 

The withering city wasn’t so bad under her wing, even if the men who berated and belittled her were. 

Levi vowed he’d grow strong enough, brave enough, to make sure one day they wouldn’t have to live in a cramped space surviving on the niceties of traded goods — bodies for money, lies for survival.

Then Kenny entered his life and everything became violent.

Bared teeth and closed fists. Selfishness and territories.

Mine, mine, mine.

Except it was all his — that bastard took every damn cent he could make off of him and then some, oftentimes working him to the bone.

(You got a meanness, boy. Meanness that can’t be taught. No, that’s deep in your blood.)

And Levi believed him.

He believed him because no matter how easy it could’ve been to lie down and die, to maybe one day see his mother at the end of his dining table again, he was fully prepared to do whatever he had to in order to survive. 

To endure. 

To come out on top and never let anyone — not even Kenny the Ripper — destroy him.

Because he had memories to hold onto. 

People.

The rest of the world may have forgotten his mother, but Levi refused.

Hell, it was his only driving force.

He might have known violence, it may have infected his blood, but he wouldn’t lose his humanity and disappoint her.

And when Kenny set him up for a betting fight, usually it was with men twice his size and triple his age.

Little kids were never on the roster, but you — you were an exception.

New, but just as ferocious.

A girl, sure, but you landed the punches on him so many others couldn’t.

He remembers the way your neck felt under his bony fingers. How your teeth clenched together. How you growled like a feral animal.

One more second of that fight and you would have been able to overtake his lead — he was too busy staring, searching.

Memorizing someone who had endured, too.

You said you were a shadow.

Levi knew shadows.

If you were a shadow, then maybe he would've ignored you.

Maybe he would have left you the hell alone.

(Because at the end of the day, all of this is his fault. The memory loss, the injuries — all of it.)

After the gun fired and the crowd scrambled, Levi couldn’t leave you well-enough alone.

He couldn’t let you find your own way in the maze of a miserable mausoleum where your bodies would eventually find peace together, perhaps even side by side.

All Levi could do was selfishly keep tabs, watch your fights, see that piece of shit you called Mother berate and harass you in the comfort of alleyways hidden from plain sight.

If you didn’t die in the rings, then chances are she would have sold you off — resigning you to live out the rest of your days like his mother.

He saw the way the world was cruel to her.

He’d be damned if he didn’t stop the world from being cruel to you.

So at the end of the day, yeah, it’s all his fault.

If he hadn’t convinced you to join his two-person operation all those years ago;

If he had pushed you harder before the final job to hate him;

If he had figured out a loophole in Erwin’s ignorance of what you are to him to push you into another division that wasn’t the goddamn Scouts, claiming disruption or inciting violence—

If, if, if—

So many possibilities, so many scenarios, where he holds your fate so selfishly against his own chest in fear of dissolving it.

Yet he was so willing to finally let you go.

To do the right thing now that you’re on the surface.

Now that you are free.

An invisible string that gleams crimson is tied to his ring finger.

It dips under the sink and snakes across the wooden floorboards of his bedroom, into the hallway, and straight to you.

If only he had caught you the first time.

If only.

.

.

.

.

.

.

  In the aftermath of falling straight to the forest floor, dust kicks up all around him, invading his lungs and choking him out.

It burns, but it doesn't deter him.

Here he has only one objective.

One goal.

“James?”

He calls your name, hoping to hear something.

Anything.

The only sound that answers is the bristle of the tree branches above.

A scene so ghastly concludes with serenity and the weightless chirps of birds.

Coughing, Levi swipes at the cloud of dirt with his hands, dropping his dulled blade to the earth.

It clunks as violently as he’s moving, scrambling to find your silhouette anywhere in this goddamn mess.

"C'mon, damn it," he growls to himself, swiping at the murky air.

One step, then another.

You can't be far.

He'd fallen down with you, trying to break both of your falls, but the momentum was far too great.

At the last second, he rolled away from you thinking you'd lean in and follow.

You did not follow.

—then he sees it.

You’re not vertical, head up and feet outstretched in a daze.

You’re horizontal, lying face-down in the dirt.

Motionless.

“James?!”

Levi repeats your name, louder this time, before nearly vomiting from how much debris he’s inhaled.

He wretches, arm wrapped around his stomach, teeth grit.

He manages to get ahold of himself, to stave off the sickness, before he drops to the ground and crawls to you on hands and knees like a child.

“James, hey—”

The world stops, then and there.

You don't move. You don't respond.

His hand halts in a hover over your body, painfully aware that he cannot pull you upright carelessly.

It's so quiet down here.

Quiet, as if...

Slowly his watering eyes widen, his mind going to the place where logic can follow.

“...James,” he murmurs, voice dissolving. 

He decides to then scoop the once-hovering hand to inch it under your wrapped emerald cloak. His other hand cradles the back of your neck, mindful of the worst case scenario.

The sickening heaviness of your body greets him as he turns you over, carefully, to find your lips parted and eyes closed.

He can't tell if you're breathing.

You look like you're sleeping.

No.

No, this isn't what it looks like.

“James, shit, wake up—”

His words crack, throat dry.

“Wake up.”

Louder this time, like anger might jolt you.

Where he goes, you’re meant to follow. 

You’ll follow his voice. You’ll follow it and you’ll wake up and he’ll never forget how you scared the living shit out of him.

(Even if he will eventually forgive you for dedicating your fucking heart to a cause you didn’t even believe in.)

Logic battles with emotion.

Reality fights with fate.

Cradling the back of your head with immense care, Levi takes action and head ducks to press against your chest, desperate to find —

There.

It’s faint, but a heartbeat is still there.

“Don't do this,” he pleads under his breath. “Don’t you up and fucking quit on me now. I know you can hear me.”

The wheeze of overworked gear flies past his head in a semi-circle.

Several boots land to his west, hasty in their descent.

Luckily his head is turned to the east.

(He can hide the growing terror from his squad. He can buy himself more time to harness his panic and push it away.)

“Captain?” It’s Eld, wasting no time to rush over. He hears the quick taps of his boots running right for him. “Captain, what the hell happened?”

“James?!” Petra yelps, and he can hear Oluo gasp with finality.

No.

No, you aren’t dying.

Not today. Not tomorrow.

“Wait, don’t,” Gunther interjects suddenly.

Levi assumes it’s to keep the rest of the squad back from crowding the scene.

The blonde scout drops to his knees beside his captain, panting heavily. Levi can smell the stench of sweat and exertion radiating from his uniform.

“Captain Levi,” Eld urges once more.

“We have to get her back to the Walls," he forces himself to say, voice steady.

Levi lifts his head with practiced precision.

He meets Eld's worried gaze with a deadened stare.

"Is she...?"

"Her heartbeat is faint," Levi answers the question Eld doesn't have to finish, "but it’s there.”

Eld's face falls.

Levi hates it.

I just said it's there, damn it. Don't consider her dead. Don't.

“She saved us!”

A meek voice peeks out from behind Eld's back.

Levi Squad turns in unison — a well-oiled machine built for crisis — to find Miro Squad riding to the clearing with the extra horses.

The entire squad looks haunted, worse for wear, but they still stayed.

They still fought to the bitter end.

Like true Scouts.

Miro hops off of their horse, running over to the group first.

“Several titans attacked us. If it wasn't for the Lieutenant, we would have all been eaten alive. Please, if we can help in any way, we owe her.”

They bow as one of the other shaken Scouts pulls Levi's horse by the reins from around the back of the formation.

“Sir, Scout Rini is a doctor," Miro continues.

“A doctor?” Oluo blurts incredulously. “Out here? In the field?”

“Formerly a doctor,” Rini anxiously states while dismounting from his horse, "before I joined the cause. I — I would say I could treat her here, but there’s nothing I can do. Too much blood loss. If we can get her inside the Walls—”

“Are we going to keep wasting time talking?” Levi growls, glaring daggers at the rest of the group. “I’m not letting her bleed the hell out. Help me get her on my horse.”

No one hesitates.

Both squads rush to his aid, lifting you with utmost care.

Twenty pairs of hands and ten bodies working in tandem to make sure they don’t jostle your neck or hurt your spine.

The captain only lets go of you to hoist himself up on his black stallion, before bringing you close to his body in a side-saddle.

He can ride one-armed and keep you steady.

He refuses to believe otherwise. 

Because Levi sees it on their faces — beyond the faintest breath against his hand, there’s next to no indicators that you’ll survive.

But they don’t know you.

Not like he knows you.

“Don’t you die on me,” he murmurs against the crown of your head, lips close enough to count as a kiss.

Then he’s off.

He speeds off like a bullet on his horse, crouching over with his jaw so clenched he can feel his teeth nearly cracking.

Forward. His only goal is to push forward — past the trees, past the old villages, and doesn’t stop to look back.

“You’re not allowed to die.”

From this distance the other won't be able to hear, but you might. So he keeps talking.

Come back to me.

“Still got all that shit you wanted to do up here, right? You remember that?”

Levi wishes you could answer.

He wants to believe you would if you could.

“You still gotta get those dumbass cats of yours. You know how many of those filthy things are on the streets? You can fill an entire fucking house for all I care.”

Anything.

He’ll do anything, at this point.

“Didn’t give me a chance to… to find a damn house, to figure everything out—”

A whole world left to discover.

(You asked for his last name. A last name worth nothing, yet somehow it still held something for you. God damn it, he’d give you that last fucking name in every lifetime so long as he could still keep you in this one.)

He stops speaking when Gunther and Eld take it upon themselves to push their horses to their limits, flying past him.

They surge forward in their journey to the nearing Walls, determined to carve a seamless entrance for Levi to enter. 

Eld leans back and holds an arm up high, shooting off a red flare for the Garrison Regiment stationed at the perimeter to see:

Danger.

(Once they reached the gates, they could explain everything. A red flare is enough for now.)

Flicking his wrist to snap the reins, his horse picks up the pace and gallops harder.

Levi pulls you into his chest, ignoring the tremble in his limbs.

From fear or adrenaline. 

From both.

“We have an injured Scout, but she’s still alive!” Eld shouts to the Garrison Regiment above with an urgency Levi’s never heard from the typically stoic man. “We need a wagon and medics, now!”

Between the flare and Eld’s command, the action is already set in motion.

The gears churn, slowly opening the large stone gate just enough for humans to clear in passing. 

Eld and Gunther are first.

Levi, not far after. 

The others, including Miro Squad, arrive seconds later.

Several Garrison soldiers pull up to the gate with a wagon suitable for approximately eight, maybe ten people.

Levi continues to hold you protectively to his chest as they prepare, cradling your neck with the utmost care.

One false move and the light goes out. 

(He knows how easy it is to take a human life.)

“Levi!”

He hears the wail of Hange’s voice in the midst of the panic.

His eyes search for them in the commotion, body stonelike, only to spy their unruly ponytail flying in the wind — with Moblit not far behind.

And...

Commander Erwin?

The tall blonde causes the crowd to divide in half, shoulders adorned with the Scout emeralds.

Hange and Moblit look just as horrified as he feels.

They run right up to the side of his horse calling your name, but their voices are all but mumbles to him.

Not when Erwin’s eyes bore into his.

Although the commander's expression is one of stone, Levi can sense what Erwin wants to say.

Unspoken deja vu; they’ve seen how this played out before.

Except this time, Levi has you in one piece.

He made it back this time.

He didn't forsake you.

(And he isn’t letting a titan take you from him. Not like Isabel. Not like Furlan.)

“Levi, what happened?!”

Hange rips him out of his trance, bringing him back to gruesome reality.

Medics finally arrive on the scene. Below him he can see Scout Rini directing them, immediately stepping back into his former occupation with ease.

On the sidelines, the remainder of Miro Squad huddles together.

Eyes watery and body trembling, some cry into their hands.

Some hide their faces in the shoulders of their comrades.

She’s not dead yet, he wants to snap at them. Don’t act like she’s gone. Not yet.

(If he repeats it enough, then can he make the impossible true?)

“She played hero, that’s what fucking happened," Levi seethes after he manages to find his voice, forcing it not to crack. "Saved a goddamn squad on her own against orders. She needs a doctor. I don’t know—”

“They need to take her, Levi,” Hange interrupts with an understanding softness in their tone. “Let her go.”

The captain’s under eye trembles.

“I’m going with her on the—”

“You will,” Hange promises, nodding quickly, “but you have to let her go so they can start working — before it’s too late.”

They're right.

The medics are waiting, just on the other side to receive her.

Slowly Levi unfurls his arms, one by one, and helps gently transfer you to the people he's entrusting your life to.

As soon as you're off of his lap, however, Levi swivels his legs off of his horse to follow suit.

Hange’s eyes widen as he dismounts, but Levi’s too busy watching them set you down in a sea of blankets and gauze. 

“Levi, your shirt. It’s…”

Briefly he turns his chin to glance up at his comrade, registering what they're saying before looking down:

Maroon.

Deep, deep maroon.

His once-white button down is stained with a mixture of grimy dirt and blood.

“It isn’t mine," is all he can think of saying back.

Hange's expression shifts in seconds, a certain slant of pity he hates witnessing.

He doesn't have the energy to fight Hange, Erwin, any of them.

Not when he has to get to you.

He has to stay with you no matter what.

With that statement lingering in the air, Levi abandons Hange to trudge over to the wagon. In one swift motion, the captain hops over the siding of the transport.

His knees fall just above your head, settling in place for the ride to the hospital.

Most of the medics are too busy ripping up your uniform to check for deep gashes and broken bones, documenting them as they gear up to leave, but a few glance at Levi with uncomfortable shock.

Then one brave soul speaks.

“Sir, we’ll need you to stay back.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Levi firmly states.

“But it—”

“The wagon fits ten. If you have a problem with it, we can talk later. She's on my squad.”

She's my responsibility, damn it, and I'm failing her.

The wagon dips once again in newfound weight, and a pair of knees come into view.

On the other side of James’ head rests Hange.

“I’m going, too," Hange states firmly.

Levi can feel his expression smoothing, one of reluctant gratitude.

He catches the sentiment, buries the emotion down his throat, and drops his chin to focus on James.

“C’mon, c’mon!" they shout to the medics for him. "Let’s go! We can't waste anymore time, damn it!”

With Hange’s order, the wagon takes off. 

In the initial jolt, Levi abruptly reaches both of his bloodied palms to rest on either side of your head, keeping it in place as the horses run the wagon to the Trost hospital.

The medics and Doctor Rini continue working amongst themselves, with Hange on the ledge observing.

Seconds feel like hours.

It's agony.

“We’re almost there,” he murmurs under his breath, to you and you alone. “Just a little longer, alright? We’re in the Walls. You went back and saved almost an entire squad by yourself, you overachieving piece of shit. So don’t give up now, damn it. Keep fighting.”

Despite not being alone this time, the captain is unwilling to stop talking for a single moment.

He can sense Hange’s eyes boring down the back of his neck, but he doesn’t care for decorum.

He doesn’t give a shit if this brings more questions at his front door.

This may be your last few moments with him.

So he won’t leave.

(He never left Mom, and he sure as fuck isn’t leaving you.)

“She’ll need extensive surgery.” 

A rogue murmur catches his attention.

When Levi looks up, he sees one of the medics addressing the doctor scout. Gravity brings a grimace to her face. 

A second medic frowns. “Do you think she’s going to—”

“Don’t say it,” Rini replies softly. “What she needs is our undivided attention. This is a Lieutenant of the Scouts, and she saved my life. Treat her life as your highest priority.”

Levi decides to say nothing.

There is nothing to be said — no argument will change the outcome.

As the wagon finally arrives at Trost medical, they’re received by staff with a gurney.

They begin prepping you to be transferred, but—

In a flurry, Hange gasps and leaps out of their seat to fiddle with your neck.

The sudden touch completely throws him off, causing him to protectively curl around you.

“The hell are you doing?”

“Her necklace, Levi,” Hange swiftly states, their own voice shaking. “The doctors could break it during surgery. You know she’d never let us live it down if they destroy it.”

His heart seizes.

Hange’s act of kindness isn’t lost on him.

You loved that damn thing. 

No, you love.

You’re still there.

It isn’t just a mere memory yet.

Belatedly nodding, the dark-haired man clears his throat. "Yeah, she'd be pissed."

"I thought so," Hange exhales, finally detaching the clasps.

It's the first time he's seen you without it since you were teenagers.

(Doesn't look right, being off your neck like that.)

Eventually the medics successfully transfer you to the awaiting gurney.

Without another word to Hange or himself, the team dedicating to saving your life run into the building.

Everything was a flurry until there was nothing.

Silence.

Levi’s shoulders slump as he’s forced to watch you disappear from his sight.

There wasn’t a chance to save Furlan or Isabel.

They’d been destroyed, limb from limb, before he could stop it from happening.

He’d managed to get you this far, but…

Now it was out of his hands.

His fists clench, determined to keep your blood close, protected, in his palms.

(Helpless.)

“Do you want to hold it for her?”

Hange’s voice enters his mind as he slowly turns his chin, blue-grey eyes finding the taller scout frowning.

Their eyes are glassy in a way he refuses.

Mourning.

Slowly they extend their arm, unfurling their fingers.

A lump forms in the middle of his throat at the sight of the glittering silver in their palm, the pendant still just as beautiful as the day you accepted his gift.

“Keep it, Four Eyes, and give it back to her when she wakes up.”

(If he touches it, then you might actually disappear. He already possesses enough keepsakes from the dead with a self-inflicted burden to carry them all. The world may have forgotten them, but he hasn’t. He won’t.)

“Levi…”

“She’s going to live, Hange.” 

Whether he says it to convince Hange or himself, Levi doesn’t know. Perhaps it’s for both of them.

He knows how much they adore you.

He’s no stranger to the fact that you’ve made your own home outside of him — they love you as much as he loves you.

“She’s a fighter. Always been once, ever since we were kids.”

The lack of shock in Hange’s gaze makes him wonder how much you’ve told them about the two of you.

“She’ll fight tooth and nail to get the hell back here.”

“I know she will,” Hange laments.

A blanket of silence envelops them as they continue to wait for any news outside of the hospital, together.

The longer he waits, the closer he feels to being ten years old again.

Alone.

So fucking along and so goddamn terrified to wait for the truth.

Because it’s either one or the other.

You live, or your story ends.

Levi inhales, holding his breath.

And holds.

And holds, childishly wishing it could be enough for the both of you.

Like if he doesn’t let go until you gasp for life, then he can save you.

He can keep you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

  He finally exhales, giving in to the collapse of his shoulders.

He can’t save you, just as much as he can’t keep you.

Levi knows this.

He’s known it since the second you woke up in that hospital bed without an ounce of warmth in those eyes of yours.

That was when he made his choice to leave you be, to give you a running shot at the life the two of you had always talked about.

He thought one day was grueling.

Impossible.

One day became one week.

One week into months.

He stayed away, but at what cost?

He hasn’t slept right in this bed.

He barely eats.

He opts to show his face at the mess hall with his standard cup of black tea to keep up the appearances.

If the real you died that day, then he was certain he died right alongside you.

Now, within six agonizing months, you’ve saved yourself — chose yourself — to still somehow end up right back where he left you.

(That kiss, tattooed with the permanence of the loss of you, still burns his lips from yesterday.)

You might remember.

You might know who you really are.

You might know him.

The sink below rattles.

It takes a second, but when he shifts his dissociative stare to his thumb, he notes the tremble.

He grips tighter, squeezing, before giving up. He pushes away from it altogether, cradling his forearm to suppress it himself. 

Focus.

Find your sanity and ease it back.

Maybe you won’t say what he wants to hear, but he promised like a fool.

Don’t push me away. Don’t shut me out.

I won't, he promised. I’ll never.

Hearing the horses whinny to a halt outside, he scrubs his face with his hand and chooses to turn on a heel to stalk towards the door.

He’ll scope out how everyone’s doing, make a cup of tea, mull all this shit over—

Then he opens his door to your face.

You stand before him, hand raised like you were about to knock.

Frozen in time just like he feels.

James.

Levi can’t feign indifference when he stares back at you, not when it’s almost unsettling how much more… you, you look right now. 

Life radiates from a dead body. You’re not apologetic in getting caught, just apologetic that you nearly slammed the knuckles of your fist into his face.

For a moment, there’s silence. 

He can hear the other scouts talking amongst themselves downstairs.

And before he can say a word, you speak.

“Can we please—”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t let you finish.

There’s no reason.

Rip the bandage off the congealed blood.

Call it a day, if he is meant to lose it all.

His hand extends the door on its hinge, inviting space for you.

“Yeah, might as well.”

You step in, and Levi prepares for the worst.

.

author's note: a lot of you had asked for levi's pov on the events that went down, and i've been waiting to get his side of the story.

thank you for reading the final few chapters of this journey. you are all so very wonderful for the encouragement, the engagement, etc. on both here and ao3. i hope all of my rebloggers have a good night's sleep and a little treat; you are the soul of this story.

[r0s3s-ang3l]

Sad Outsiders Hcs.

(TW!!! Ed, Disorders, Mental Health, ETC!)

Dallas:

He has tried to kill himself before.

He has scars on his wrists and burn marks on his arms from his lighter and blade... Johnny does weekly arm and wrist checks on Dally.

Dallas fasts sometimes, because most of the time he hates eating or just doesn't have money for food.

Dallas had OCD.

Johnny:

He has autism and PTSD.

He has also tried to kill himself many times. (Not as much as Dally)

The gang caught him in the act of him harming himself.

Johnny has panic attacks a lot, from loud noises, and yelling. (Fireworks, Rumbles, the gang fighting etc.)

He always stays at the lot because he thinks he is a burden if he stays at the Curtis's house.

He has dry and cracked skin, and cigarette burns on his hands and fingers.

Ponyboy:

He has tics when he is stressed or drinks caffeine.

He gets insanely upset when he doesn't make the Darry proud.

He has nightmares about his parents dying.

He cries when he is angry, stressed, anxious, etc.

When his parents died, he did not eat, sleep, or even go to school.

He gets stressed over having a 75 or a 80 on a test or class.

He never really gets sleep because the gang (aka Steve and Two-bit) blasts music till 3 in the morning, or he is up all night studying for tests and upcoming exams/assignments.

Darry:

When his parents first died, he thought he wouldn't be able to pay bills, or take care of Pony and Soda so Pony and Soda had to stay in a boy's home for a few weeks ill Darry got custody of them.

Darry has anxiety.

He thinks he anyways has to be perfect, so sometimes if something is not perfect, he starts panicking...

Two-bit:

Two-bit really hates his body, he looks up to Darry and wants to be like him.

He had a girlfriend and got her "pregnant", he was very happy till he figured out it wasn't his, he wanted to be a dad badly.

He was a really good guy, when his dad left that's what cause him to be a thief and shoplifter.

Half of the gang thinks he is insanely annoying. Except: Pony, Soda, and Johnny

Sodapop:

He tries his hardest to not cry all the time because "Greasers Don't Cry."

When his parents died, he never got to say goodbye.

He self-harmed himself after that..

The reason he wears flannels all time is because his dad uses to wear them, and Soda wants to be like him to make Pony and Darry happy.

Steve:

(I could not find a gif of him looking sad-)

He hates his looks, his teeth and his life.

He thinks anyone he dates will just dump him when they see his smile.

Thats why he rarely smiles.

Soda is the only one that can cheer him up.

Author's Note: Sorr this is bad!!! I will try and get more fics and hcs out! Stay gold <3

[a-random-hsr-sideblog]

I yap about Avens text messages and my interruptions of them

Onto Aventurines text messages; it shows he doesn’t really know how to form a friendship without giving up literally everything and views them as transactional, this is also very much shown throughout the entire Penacony main quest line.

He willingly gives money to people for good luck on upcoming partnerships and collaborations. I think this also references a little bit of his love language as well with other instances later in his texts; specifically text chain 4 with his love language being gift giving.

“If all goes well, we may still have a chance to meet again” him going against Achron was (from my interpretation) an attempt on his own life. That is how I read this text conversation. “Lets say goodbye for now, friend. Aventurine sends you his heartfelt gratitude and utmost respect.” He obviously respects the TB and cares about him, wants his journey to go well especially with “may joy reign over your journey.” This whole text chain is very obviously up for interpretation but my own is its his way of pretty much saying goodbye, not expecting to survive the Nihility entirely because of “this is a scheduled message”.

In the third text chain you get if you summoned and successfully got him he goes onto say “now that my mission in Penacony has come to an end, I can finally use my phone in the open”. What this tells me is something we don’t know went on between him getting “killed” by Achron and meeting up with Boothill that we do not see. Especially with the line of “it felt like I was in jail” I suspect this is when his mental health slowly started to improve probably because of getting treatment, this thought comes later in the text chain with him and TB.

I genuinely do think he had some sort of death because of him saying “after taking that one strike from that Emanator’s blade, I waded into a river wider than any I have ever seen in my life” which we now know is the Nihility; Aventurine genuinely thought he had died when he ended up there hence “I thought I had reached the end of my life”. I think he is trying to learn to be happy and accept good things in his life but I also think at the same time he is disappointed that he is alive, “but… as you can see, I’m still alive, and I’m happy about that”. The reason I say he is disappointed is again the IPC Stonehearts preview with Aventurine and Sugilite.

I wonder if what he means by “Aventurines death was a necessary part of the plan” means he killed off part of himself after the fight with Achron and wondering through the Nihility.

“Fortunately, I met a Knight of Beauty and narrowly escaped death with his help” what this tells me is that he was 100% prepared to die; however, Argenti saved his ass and probably gave him a stern talking to. What they talked about we will never know but Aventurine’s mental health obviously started to improve after that moment.

“But I have been having various nightmares these past few days, waking up drenched in sweat every single time”. There are a few ways we can interpret this specific message; either its nightmares about everything that happened to him in Penacony, nightmares about his past/reliving traumatic moments in his life via his dreams, or both. “Thankfully the IPC has arranged for a Doctor of Chaos, to give me a thorough examination, and things have improved” now if we take into account the whole “it felt like I was in jail” he was probably either hospitalized for a check up but the “thorough examination” bit tells me it was probably mental health related. I could entirely be reaching here.

“The dreamscape may be a bustling place, but there aren’t many ‘friends’. I gotta find ways to make do, wouldn’t you say?” Its obvious to me the only people he genuinely trusts that are alive especially with this line are both the TB and Dr. Ratio. The only way he knows how to make friends is with mind games and really bad plans, and he is lucky if anyone sticks around after that. It’s one of the biggest reasons I love AvenCaeTio as a ship because they all trust each other in some capacity. “Thanks for helping me through the tough times. Hope I wasn’t a bother” shows me he has so little confidence in his relationships he does everything he can to either self distruct it or get the other person to leave and is shocked when people like Caelus and Ratio stick around and still talk to him; you can see this again in the Penacony story line and with his ending message of “guess I’ll find fun somewhere else, see ya”.

I have to make a part two cause of the 10 photo limit 😭😭😭😭. This is all you will get till tomorrow I think LOL

[ddarker-dreams]

hmmm.... i have a question. not really a question, more like rambling actually.

so we know that n darling doesnt want to get attached with blade, she mostly sees him as her fuckbuddy for a bit which i think is funny, hence she is his long term long distance low commitment gf.

but im actually curious on blade's view on this relationship. does he feel mutual about this? i mean, clearly he doesn't, but im dying to know the specifics.

does he not prod on the topic because he knows n darling would ultimately be his anyway? (based on... whatever elio's script says) or does he just... not care for any specifics and just already considers her his gf without said gf even knowing 😭😭 actually both theories sound more or less similar.

im so excited for ch 5, ive been rereading nexus over and over again lol (and of course... ch 3 and 4 has the most reads for certain reasons im sure you know)

me thinking of a way to respond without accidentally delving into spoiler territory GJKJDF

i will say that the answer to this question is different pre and post chapter 4. i can come back and give the latter after chapter five is posted.

OKAY, so. initial impression (after saving n darling from alister's knife attack in ch1), was... nothing really. a slight pull and nothing else. at that point, he knew the specifics of his job, which he didn't view differently from the hundreds of jobs he'd be assigned before. he doesn't usually bother thinking about the greater picture. he considers himself a weapon who will simply do as he's told until elio fulfills his end of their agreement.

for a while after that, he finds n darling kinda weird. he doesn't get why n darling thanked him and made her synalink offer when it's pretty obvious she doesn't like the stellaron hunters. it wasn't clear to him yet that in the same way he considers himself a weapon, n darling views herself an integral organ to eris. n darling's gratitude wasn't so much that he saved her life — but that he saved eris' 'life.'

he didn't actively try to understand her because he wouldn't care to. the sole reason he picked any of this up is just from the sheer amount of time they spent coexisting. it's inevitable he'd become familiar with her to some extent. there's that, and well... n darling is rather stunning. an assignment where he basically gets to stare at a beautiful woman for days on end isn't something he's complaining about.

what served as a turning point is the nectar guide incident.

(i didn't expect for this to get so long good god but here's blade's mental health going 📉 as his journey to tap n darling begins)

when he comes to, the sight he's greeted with is this high stationed individual weeping for him and desperately tearing her clothes in a attempt to stop his bleeding. he cannot recall a time when anyone has bothered to do so, since it's known no matter how awful an injury he suffers, he'll regenerate eventually. that aforementioned slight pull grows stronger.

regarding blade's reaction to n darling poking around in his psyche uninvited, that wasn't what actually upset him. it was the possibility he'd be less attentive to her safety if he were to go around searching for survivors. for some inexplicable reason, this irked him.

then, at this exchange in ch3:

“Can it really be considered a sin if it’s beyond your control?” 

“It won’t always be,” he replies. “Until then, I can’t allow myself to forget. You must get why.” 

You wish you didn’t. 

it finally dawns on blade that he and this diva-who-pretends-she-isn't-a-diva actually share common ground. that they're both stuck in this self-perpetuated cycle of guilt and admonishment for circumstances that weren't entirely their fault. he doesn't know what to do with this information and stuffs it away for safekeeping.

then another turning point goes down:

the dissonance between lear's id and ego/superego culminates to such a degree that n darling goes unresponsive, the psychic backlash is that bad. blade doesn't understand the specifics. all he sees is this woman he's begrudgingly intrigued by collapsing to the ground with blood rushing from her nose, while her noisy friend and quiet friend rush around. eventually, he can roughly piece together what happened from these tidbits: n darling's aversion to physical contact (seen in ch1 when he reaches for her wrist and she freezes up, then once more when she avoids him after the nectar guide incident).

n darling then confirms this: "What you’re referring to is a precaution my mother suggested. In the past, strange reactions have occurred after I came into direct contact with someone."

along with well-intentioned nona's exclamation: "i yelled at him that if he hurt lear you would turn his mind into goop"

blade wouldn't have thought to configure lear into things as soon as he did had nona not given this slip of information. he already had suspicions that lear and n darling had some sort of Situation between them, because lear isn't slick and makes googly eyes @ n darling like nobodies business, but this. this is different. he could write lear's googly eyes off as a crush, which is whatever. but n darling caring for lear to such a degree that she's fine with risking her wellbeing because she likes being around him that much? hence:

You’re so swept up in your thoughts, that it takes you a while to notice how Blade’s been staring at you. This in and of itself is nothing new. He’s been your shadow ever since forced this arrangement. It irritated you at first, but that blistering offense eased into acceptance. His vigilance felt befitting of a guard. Taking in your surroundings, assessing any threats; such is his prerogative. 

How he’s eyeing you now feels different. It’s as if he’s looking through you, not at you. 

“Is something wrong? You’re making such a scary expression,” you joke. 

at that point, blade is Not Happy to an extent that confuses even him (ch5 will go into why).

then he happens to be brooding in the distance, as he's prone to do, when he sees n darling looking absolutely defeated (post the convo with caicias and chrysus). he feels this need to do something about it, remembers how often she drinks that ambrosia tea, then makes some for her. he really was going to just leave it and then give her space, but, alas:

"Your body springs up of its own accord. You balance the teacup in one hand and reach out to him with the other, your fingers fanning out, ready to sink into whatever they can. Everything happens in the blink of an eye. Your free hand succeeds in finding a destination — settling on the abrasive finish of his bandages. 

You feel another texture alongside it. 

It’s smooth, cold, and visible through the interstices of his winding bandages. 

His skin."

this contact quite literally Awakens something in him (👁👁),

"Blade’s gripping your comforter hard enough for his knuckles to turn bone white. He’s leaning forward, as if ready to pounce, yet lucid enough to exercise some semblance of self-control. He reminds you of a starved animal trapped in a cage, salivating over a piece of meat hanging outside the bars. Goosebumps cover your body. This isn’t simple lust… it’s visceral, some primitive desire too overwhelming to be understood.

You’re the one he’s staring at with this unbridled yearning.

Yes, he’s teased you. Pushed your buttons and riled you up. Not so subtly flaunted the strength that lets him maneuver you like you weigh nothing. You might have status and mastery in your given field, but he’s participated in the annihilation of worlds; the end of civilizations that span back since time immemorial.

He should be the one in charge.

Yet as you stand here, witnessing how he tortures himself by not pouncing on you like he easily could, a thought is planted.

He’d really do anything you asked if it kept this from ending."

from this point to where chapter 4 ends, blade's brain is in some sort of caveman mode. he wakes up. thinks about fucking n darling. fucks n darling. waits around impatiently until he can fuck n darling once again. fucks n darling again. goes to (half) sleep. rinse and repeat.

not only is his mara manageable when he's around n darling, but he gets this thrill too? it's a high unlike anything he's experienced in the miserable centuries he's been cursed with immortality. he isn't really worried about the specifics of their relationship, so long as he can keep railing her on every surface around. n darling's body, how she carries herself with such confidence, the way she pokes and prods at him; he's obsessed. addicted. nothing short of feral.

every stage on his hierarchy of needs has been replaced with n darling.

[thebottomfromhell]

can i request a uppermoons x female reader who is like jinx from arcane (you can watch arcane on netflix!!)

I have watched Arcane, good show, saying it as a person who never played LOL. It's one of those series where one minute leaves 3 hours discussion of a topic, and Jinx is wonderful in it. I love what they do with her, showing her struggles with her mental issues and the violent and political world around her, one having to accept that she is very hard to deal with as everyone is trying their best and failing at whatever they are doing.

Let's see if I can make her justice.

Female Reader like Jinx (Arcane ver) interacting with the Uppermoons

Warnings: Small Hantengu, Cannibalism, Unhealthy relationships, Mental health issues and neglect, Bad coping mechanism, Implied polyamory (can be read with Hantengu and all the clones, some or just one), Excesive use of violence, Bullying, Mentioned non-character human death amd Slight angst.

Gyutaro (ft. Daki):

If Gyutaro had a yen for every girl that got attached to him in an unhealthy manor creating a dynamic of co-dependance due several mental issues that remained unsolved because his over-protectiveness and his comforming nature, he would have two yen. Which isn't much, but it's weird it happened twice, specially with how ugly he is. But Daki doesn't mind and you seem to like his unsettling face and body. Gyutaro is not against taking care of you both, he doesn't mind and will gladly make his life about someone he loves for the sake of having any worth and purpose...

The problem, or one of them, at least, is that Daki nor you like Gyutaro taking care of the other. You both seem to want the older demon for yourselves, having him comforting you, making every tiny bit of ick and pain go away. "I was here first! I was with him before you! I will be here when you are gone! You are only a phase! Get lost and stop bothering my onii-chan!" "Shut up! If I am a phase then why are you so bratty about it! Just accept that your brother likes me better than you! Right Nichi-nichi?" You talk to a blade from a dead slayer that you turned into a snake toy, hearing what it has to say. Nichi-nichi agrees with you, "of course you are more likable than that Daki bitch", you knew it would agree. And yes, Nichi-nichi pronouns are it/them, thank you very much.

Gyutaro just puts himself in between you both, letting you grab one of his arm and pull as she grabs the other. "Enough! Ne, both of you! Stop insulting each other, ne." He scolds both of you, not minding as both of you play with his arms, Daki bringing his hand to her face to have Gyutaro comforting her. "Onii-chan! Onii-chan, Y/N was mean to me!" Really, he has no idea how to deal with you both. What is he even meant to do, last time he chose Daki as the winner of the argument you not only tried to harm her but harmed yourself in the process. And he can't just... not side his little sister. The worst part is that he doesn't want you to leave, and you don't want to leave neither.

"Please, ne.. stop fighting." He pulls both of you into a hug, letting his sister nuzzle against his stomach and you against his hack, using his hands to sooth both of you, sighing when you both relax enough to the point you are almost asleep. Seriously, what is he meant to do?

Gyokko:

"STOP STEALING MY MATERIALS, YOU CRAZY WOMAN!!" He screams on top of his lungs as you stole some bones and katanas, besides some paint and ceramics to build a 4 bladed gun with shark appereance... with his stuff. "What?" You ask him, seeing his horrified look at the materials spread on the floor, some even wasted, to make... to make.. "What even is that?" He ask, not really knowing what to say, feeling his head is going to explode. "You like him? His name is Fishbones! He is a fish, just like you! Say "hi" Fishbones! "Hello Gyokko, is very nice to meet ya"."

Fishbones... fishbones, of course. WHY THAT PIECE OF TRASH HAS A NAME! WHY ARE YOU- WHY?! "My head hurts." He really doesn't know how to deal with the insane, with you. He means, you are fun to be around, always helpful to kill people and fetch materials of all times, you are also very creative and a piece of joy... most of the time. Other times you just behave like a brat, and he would usually get rid of you by now but he guess it was his mistake to warm up to you.

"Hey! It's rude to ignore people, Mer-artist. Fishbones is sad now!" You move Fishbones so the "face" looks down for him to be able to express his sadness. Sometimes Gyokko is just so rude! He should thank the gods that he is funny and has the best materials for art, or else you wouldn't stick around. He makes a weird face, which you guess could also be a normal face since his face is weird, and you just tale Fishbones closer to you. "Don't worry, Fishbones. The ugly mermaid is just like that, he will warm up to you." You reach your ear closer to hear what he has to say as Gyokko decides to ignore you for now, and god that was funny, you laugh at Fishbone's voices. "Hahaha! Good one!"

"Why did I do this to myself?" He ascts as he sees you running away to play... he should have just killed you the day he met you. For real.

Hantengu + Clones:

Hantengu... stands you. You are not the safest person to be around and not only he feels intimidated by you, but also a bit afraid. You are always on something, so, while he appreciates you and likes you, he prefers leaving you to his clones most of the time, who can entertain you and keep up with you easier. That doesn't stop you from pulling him off his safe space, taking in your hand when he is small and running around with him. "AHHHH! EEEEAAK! LET ME GO, PLEASE LET ME GO!" You only laugh and keep running as Karaku laughs while Urogi flies over your head, playing with you. "I will catch you! I will catch you!" "Try to catch me! But I have Hantengu! I am the queen of the ga-" you are interrupted with Sekido and Aizetsu arriving.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING! CAREFUL WITH THE MAIN BODY!" He says angrily as he walks where you are, everyone in their places without moving, until Sekido tries to reach your arm, making you dodge and keep running. "Catch me if you can!" Everyone stays dumbfounded for a while as Hantengu begins to scream again, grabbing himself on your fingers as the anger clone starts to build up fury as Karaku and Urogi begin laughing. "This is so sad, Hantengu looks like he will throw up. You are all just torturing the poor thing." Knowing he won't be heard, the sad clone just steps aside as Sekido explodes. "Y/N YOU FUCKING-"

He was about to strike you with the power of his staff but Karaku stops him as Urogi keeps chasing you. "Hey, hey, Sekido. Don't get so angry or you will be the one hurting the main body!" All the arteries seem to want to explode with some veins in the anger clone body, who just looks at the pleasure clone before stabbing him "THEN YOU GO GET THEM, YOU LAZY FUCK!" Karaku laughs as he heals "Ok! Guys! I was told to play with ya all!" This, again, angers Sekido as you all start chasing each other, except for Aizetsu who was waiting for everyone to calm down before inserting himself in all the action.

You like this group, it's mostly cozy and there is always someone willing to pay attention to you, to take care of you, listen to you. There are no expectations, just fun, being able to be a chaotic as you want, and you get to prove who you are in battle. "Got you!" Urogi lands on top of you, the impulse making you throw Hantengu in the air, being catched by Aizetsu's spear. "I think that was enough for today. It's making me sad." "Hahaha, great catch you both!" "Thanks!" "So scary! So scary!" "Can't you all stop causing trouble?!" Ypu would not change them for nothing. "That was great! Who wants another game?" "YES!" "NO!"

Nakime:

Look, you are a lovely woman, Nakime thinks it's endearing how you make your own projects and build up little things, as chaotic as they mey turn. You have like 7 rooms and 5 hallways to destroy as you wish in her castle, where you create your tinckets. She is very patient with you, listening to your problems when you want to talk about them, which you barely do, and gives you space when you need it. Sure, she doesn't talk as much as you probably wished she did, and Nakime does have her responsibilities, she still doesn't understand...

What did she ever do to you to blow up her room?! Nakime doesn't need to sleep, but of course she keeps a place for herself, one with luxuries and things she would have liked to have as a human, and now the surfaces are all burned up with the place destroyed. Her books, dresses, extra biwas... all gone. She doesn't even know how to react, the biwa of her Blood Demon Art almost slipping through her fingers. No words come from her mouth as you stand there, also burned but not as harmed as you could be. "Hey! Haha... this is not what it looks like."

Nakime then comes out of her shock. "What happened?" She knows better than to word it as "what did you do" since... you are not stable, at all. She understands that, and she also understand you have different needs from her, that your way of interacting with the world is naturally... other. Nakime likes to think that her stability is something that you need, something that will be good for you, as long as she can keep everything under control, as long as you both are in the castle. "I... wanted to make you a gift... but it didn't work like I wanted." You are guilty, you know how much Nakime loved the things in her room and you ruined it.

No, what are you talking about? You didn't ruin anythin, you had good intentions, you wanted to be helpful. That is enough, righ? You don't need to feel guilty about it, right? Right?! Nakime takes a deep breath before putting her hands in the side of you face gently, you can feel her loong nails scare away the ick and noise of your self doubt as her palms, not soft nor harsh, comfort you. "Ok. How about you lead me to your rooms next time." She is angry, but she also understand that her anger will be harmful, so as long as she can control everything... it will be fine. "Ok, next time!" You rush to put aside any bad feeling, relying in Nakime's stability for it.

Akaza:

He has to take care of you, he understands... you are a woman, and you are sick. Not the typical sick that can be cured, not that it ever bothered, but a sick more like... like Douma, not that Akaza will ever admit it. You have problems, a lot of them, and most lead you to cause problems. He understands that you want to prove your worth at the same time you just want to be able to live your life, he really does... but you need to stop. You need a break. To try and heal and it's awful because he can't nurse you as he should-

"Pinkie-flake! What are you thinking about? Your frown can basically shout in my ear." He doesn't get startled even when you break his concentration as you jump over his back, wanting a bit of attention. Akaza is nice, too worried for it to be healthy for either of you, as far as you are concerned, but he served as the best source of comfort. Now, if only he dared to let you fight, then things would be much better. Still, you like him a lot, Akaza lets you rambles and pays attention to you, trying to find solutions to your problems and is always around, so you never feel lonely or abandoned. "C'mon! Smile for me!" You say as you move to sit on his lap.

It's an innocent gesture, unlike what anyone would think, and Akaza understand that you want, need, the physical contact as he moves his arms to hold you in a more stable way. "C'mon 'flakes, say something!" He only looks at you for a while, not having idea what to say, or to do, besides embrace you close. It's a bit scary to not know what to do with you, because you do need help even if you don't want to accept it. Help that he can't give. "I'm thinking." Is all the can mutter.

You are not fine with not being told what is happening, so you start to poke his cheek with your finger, making sounds effects when you do. Akaza still lets's you be, berely noticing when the finger is replaced by a knife, stabbing the side of his mouth, blade meeting his teeth and tongue with the metalic taste of blood and the weapon itself. He turns to see you as he heals. "Oops... my bad." You laugh nerviiusly as you put the knife away, and Akaza feels like he is about to cry at the loss. "It's ok. It doesn't really affect me." "like if affects on you", he doesn't say.

Douma:

"Y/N! Can I ask you a favor? I have a pretty lady in my room, could you go there and make me dinner while I finish speaking with a recent follower of mine?" You do, eager to prove that you can do it, eager to test a new item you made with materials Douma gave you, you want to show you appreciate it, that you can help. You just want to help. So you do, as much as you can, even if that includes killing an innocent woman. If you are affected by it or not, it's not your priority.

"Well, it's a bit messy here." He comments, you over did it, you can admit that, but it's not like Douma minds. On the contrary, he seems cheerful at it. "Not that I would left the place better, my killings are almost clean, but I am a messy eater." He sits besides you as you smirk and laugh "Oopsie." He only laughs with you as he picks up a piece of leg and takes a bite, blood splashing in his face, making you laugh louder. "So..." he starts after chewing a little, swallowing before he continues. "How was your day?"

You start to ramble about it, making jokes and comments, sharing the moments with Douma as he listens, or is very good pretending at the least. He is interactive, but a paranoid part wonders if it's because he grew up doing this, he knows how to react, but does he actually care? Still, you would not just stop coming to Douma, who is not only a good resource of... everything, honestly, but he is just great. He lets's you do as you want, makes sure to listen, you both can have fun together, gives you chances to prove yourself. Really, why would you dislike Douma? Because he is fake? New flash, not everyone is as honest as they like to pretend they are.

Douma finds you entertaining, odd and new, exciting. He understand that you are both weird, that you should have been in a way that was not the same results as expected. Something is wrong with you, just like something is wrong with every demon he has met, himself included. Maybe one day he can turn you into one, would be hell of a demon lady, might even reach the Kizuki system. But those are thoughts, right now he is pretending he can help you, when honestly, nobody can. "Oh, really? Tell me more."

Kokushibou:

Kokushibou doesn't know what to do with you, rambling and using objects as toys, he thinks you as childish. It doesn't help the fact that you are sensitive, getting upset quite easily, but hiding it most of the time. Not that he would like to be responsible for your feelings, he can barely deal with his, so both of you shutting them down seems good enough. "Shi-Bobo! How've ya been! Missed me?" Urg, and the nickname. Seriously, he doesn't even know if you mean it as "death-eye-eye" or "death-moo-moo", why are you calling him that?

"It's not appropriate to call me that." Is the only thing he says, ignoring his question asn you walk around him playfully, slowly and gracefully before suddenly jumping on hin, graving yourself by his shoulders as you put a knife in his throat. Is it even a nichirin one? "C'mon, give a girl a break. It's always "blah blah blah rules! Blah blah etiquette! Blah bla blo-bloring-boring!" Say something fun for once!" His answer? Silence.

"Urg! You are so boring." You put the knife away, losing interest due the lack of reaction. Is it really too much to want something to happen? Something fun! A distraction from... ya know... everything. You really like Kokushibou, he is pretty and elegant, sometimes shy, which makes him easy to mess with. Other times he is just stoic, reacting at nothing, so you always have different buttons to press. So you move around him again before suddenly cutting one leg of his hakama pants and a little bit os skin. He didn't dodge due the surprise and the fact you didn't really hurt him... well, his pride is hurt with a leg exposed.

"What is wrong with you?!" He almost screams, almost, as he raises his voice and face becomes red ah he looks bashed and angry at you at the same time, you didn't know that mix was possible before him. "Awww. Is Shi-Bobo embarrased that his leg got exposed? Is he afraid to be grabbed by it? Big strong demon not liking the attention?" He reaches his sword, genuinely questioning if he should draw it out and slain you. He takes a few breaths, calming down, clearly flustered as you keep talking, not bothering with the fact he is doing his best to ignore you, but then.... "Run or I will end you." Some seconds of silence before you laugh and start running. "Sure, let's play tag! You're it!" He really doesn't know why he bothers to try with you. Really.

[signanothername]

PTSD war dad Hightide who drinks to forget but always remembers headcanons please

EEEEEEEEE OK HEAR ME OUT

I like to think that after a while of being a front participant in the war and witnessing so much death, torture and destruction, Hightide’s mental health went downhill, and with PTSD and depression weighing on his shoulders, he turned to drinking as a coping mechanism

The thing is tho, that coping mechanism became destructive really fast, one moment he drinks to forget the next he’s an alcoholic unable to stop, and for a really long while Hightide himself isn’t at all aware of how far he’d gone, too engrossed in his grief and anger to truly realize what’s become of him

Optimus and those around Hightide notice it tho, and OP deems Hightide unable to continue in the battlefield, so he’s demoted to only work with and train younger soldiers who need preparation to work in the front line

His demotion only serves to add fuel to fire and his drinking problem gets a lot worse, this time however, Hightide is aware of how bad it’d gotten and that makes him feel ashamed, and so he tries to quit drinking all on his own multiple times only to get back to the same cycle

That only makes OP more concerned and after a while? Hightide is retired from the field entirely under OP’s orders (ahem i like to think that’s why he never shows up in tfp cause at that point he’d been retired for years)

His retirement was the push he needed, so he starts working on his alcohol problem all with the help of OP and very few close friends, and after a long journey of trial and error and so many relapses, he’s able to minimize his drinking to a healthy level, only to quit drinking entirely after so many years, having replaced his coping mechanism to a much healthier one (usually in the form of physical exercise)

Servo was given to him by a close friend to help him keep busy and to keep an eye on him so he won’t relapse

At this point you’d never see Hightide touch a drink, he gets nauseous even thinking about drinking again, he still gets cravings, but is too scared of another relapse even after years of stopping

His trauma still haunts him, but so does the thought of becoming an alcoholic again and that (to some extent) is a motivator for him to stay as far away from drinks as possible

After meeting the rescue bots, Hightide asked OP to become a rescue bot himself, and actually becoming one helped Hightide feel more at peace with himself, since rescue work still has danger so he gets the adrenaline rush he needs that’s been integrated into him after years of war but it’s a lot less traumatizing than working as a soldier

Also he’d never tell you but being around Blades helps him forget, even if for a moment <3333

His drinking problem has given him so much anxiety and that anxiety amplifies when he sees one of the young bots drinking (cough mostly Blades cough) and he may or may not be keeping an eye on them to make sure they don’t end up like how he did

[luzxii]

spooky month characters walk in on y/n who selfharms

characters: kevin, radford, streber, rick

content warnings: self harm, blades, mentions of suicidal thoughts

notes: these headcanons are not intended to romanticize or make light of a serious issue, the goal of this writing is to discourage said actions and encourage those whom are dealing with these things to get help. if you or a loved one is dealing with the things mentioned in text, please reach out to someone you trust. you are loved.

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kevin

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You’ve been working at the Candy store for a while now, you were just having a really bad day.

Kevin creaked open the back door of the candy store, clearly exhausted; asking for some help cleaning up the store before his shift ended.

He stopped in his tracks once he got a good look at you, realizing you were bleeding out.

“ … Y/N?! what are you doING- I– “

 He could barely comprehend what was happening at first. He stood there in shock for a moment, completely frozen in place seeing you like that.

Once he took it in, He panicked. Kevin would stumble up to you and grab you by the hands; trying to stop you from causing any more harm to yourself. He didn’t at all realize that you were feeling like this, a part of him couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault for not being considerate. He couldn’t help but feel anger, not at you but at whatever was making you feel so horrible.

“ shitshitshitshIT.. “

He’d cuss under his breath, trying to keep any blood from getting on him. It clearly hurt him a lot to see you doing this to yourself, just holding your hands; even shaking a little.

He’d just question why, why did you do this to yourself? He understood to a degree however, he himself has had self destructive thoughts even if he never acted on them; especially to the degree of self harm. He was painfully unlucky, especially with Skid and Pump. But he just wished he could’ve stopped this before it started happening.

Kevin stayed for extra time to clean up the blood stains on the floor as well as your arms.

From then onward he said his sarcastic remarks and offhand comments less around you; wanting to be more respectful and considerate now that he knew what you were dealing with.

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radford

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“ I’m ready for the movie! I’ve got some popcorn and everything. “

He barged into your room holding a bag of freshly popped popcorn, a grin on his face; excited for the movie you planned to watch together at your house. The harsh realization of what he walked in on was enough for him to drop the popcorn all over the floor; his grin wiped from his face entirely.

“ …Dude… “

He went really quiet, He seemed heartbroken. He sat right next to you, you tried to cover your arms, but Radford already saw everything.

He took off his glasses, he could see without them; yet his vision was blurry with further objects. He looked at your arm, a big frown on his face. He tried to reach out to it but backed his hand away, not wanting to risk agitating your wounds.

“ How long have you been doing this? Have you told anyone? “

He seemed genuinely concerned, asking question after question to make sure he could help you the best he could. He just had no idea what to do. He wanted you to be happy.. You aren’t his first friend who's self harmed, but he never saw it firsthand and never really prepared to. He just stood by your side and made sure you were safe.

“ You can .. talk to me, y’know? You’re safe here.. “

He’d stick by his friends' sides for anything. He’s helped Kevin and Rick through a lot of things, and he was fully prepared to try his best to help you.

He treated you around the same as before afterwards, yet took your mental health into account and kept it in mind in your interactions.

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streber

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Streber let out a huge gasp at first, springing to you and holding you close, absolutely distraught to see you in so much pain. He didn’t realize it was self harm at first, just seeing you in distress was enough to bring him to this point.

“ Y/N, ARE YOU OKAY!? I’M SO SORRY I WASN’T HERE SOONER! OHMYGOD– “

He trailed off when he noticed the blade you were holding, gazing from it then to you. 

“ Wait. Are you.. You’re hurting yourself, aren’t you?  “

“ I’m sorry, Streber..”

His entire dramatic persona dropped for a second. He was naturally an exaggerated person, but certain topics brought him back down to earth for a moment.

The next thing you knew, Streber began to cry. He was a very emotionally driven, and finding out you were hurting yourself? That definitely was enough to cause him to break. It just made him so distraught to imagine you doing that, he couldn’t handle it anymore.

He yanked you into a hug, weeping into your shoulder. You tried not to stain his shirt with your blood, Streber didn’t seem to care. He loved you, he could put up with a little blood. He wished he could take all of those awful thoughts away from you, he’d take them on himself if it meant he could rid you of them.

From then on he always tried to check up on how you were doing more often,  wanting to make sure you were safe and taking care of yourself.

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rick

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You were silently crying in your apartment room, only to hear your door slowly crack open; to be met with your current roommate Rick.

I headcanon that Rick himself has had a history with suicidal thoughts and self harm, so if anyone can relate to how your feeling; its him.

He wouldn’t say a word, just observing you at first; keeping his blank facial expression with no sign of any emotion. However deep down he just took this situation very seriously, he didn’t want to alarm you or make things worse with excess reaction.

You watched him right back, trying to catch your breath; yet you didn’t feel it was any use hiding yourself near him.

He took the knife from you, stoic as before. Then leaving the room, returning soon after with some plaster bandages and other medical supplies; having put on gloves to avoid contaminating the wounded area.

Rick patiently cleaned your injuries then wrapped the bandaging around them, taking time with every swerve to not risk hurting you any further.

He placed a hand on your back in case you needed extra support once he completed, just staying present near you.

Rick didn’t think he was good at consoling people, but he knew it was unsafe to leave you alone like that for very long.

“ I get how you feel. “

You were still sniffling and he could see it, he’d rub your back up and down and pulled you a little closer.

From that day onward, Rick was able to understand you a little more. He wasn’t one to do or say very much but he tried to show his support in you improving; he knows for a fact that self harm isn’t worth it and that you deserve to get better, even if it's rare for him to say that out loud through his usual pessimism.

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[lowkeyrobin]

just saw you wrote for heartstopper...

tao x elle till i die

anyhow idk if you'd do this ( tw by the way) but charlie comforting a friend who also deals with self harm? sorry to be depressing

take care of yourself!

-💿

OMG TAOELLE HAS MY HEART 💔💔💔 ; but yeah of course, take care of yourself too 💿, otherwise I'll beat you up or smthn idk ; also sorry if I got a little too deep w this. (basically the whole premise of this sh and mental health so please be wary. very much leaned into The Ghosts We Keep. the sh scene literally got my stomach twisting and turning I didn't go that far don't worry dhsjns) ; also this is a bit of a mix of a oneshot & preference. if you don't wanna hear about the sh, just scroll down some 👍 ; also I do write for mental health stuff so dw! just be wary when reading bc I don't wanna trigger anyone

CHARLIE SPRING ; comfort for both of us

summary ; you and Charlie both struggle w sh, but you don't know he does while he knows about your struggles

warnings ; language, talk about and depictions of self harm and mental health

word count ; 839

masterlist

You told Charlie about your struggles with mental health and self harm, unknowing to his own struggles with those topics. That poor boy was all about others before himself, something you knew was a bit of a problem.

You'd been friends with Charlie since 7th year, but were never close to Tao, Elle, or Isaac, or even Nick for that matter, considering you barely knew them and never had classes with them either.

You sit on the cold, hard tile in your bathroom, waiting for Charlie. You frantically texted him earlier once you realized what you'd done to yourself, and he quickly sent back a text that he was on his way over.

That was twenty minutes ago.

You knew you could count on Charlie, seemingly your only friend, but Christ, he walked so utterly slow.

It made you rethink all your choices before, and why you did it. Jesus, you were just being dramatic, nothing was that serious. Nothing is ever that serious for you to hurt yourself, you're just being dramatic about it now.

The feeling of pressing the razor blade to your skin wasn't even relieving, nor did it feel anywhere near good anymore. It hurt, really bad, all the way through, as you hoped your body would numb up but it never did. You were supposed to be clean.

But now your wrists are still dripping blood onto the tile below, creating fine, slightly transparent pools of crimson that'd stain the tile. You were too scared and in too much pain to do anything, just begging and waiting to hear your parents welcome him in and for him to open the door next to you.

Finally, you heard it. The door opening, your parents welcoming him with a bit of question as it was seven on a Saturday, then the footsteps walking down the hall, then the knock at the door. It was light and repetitive, like there was some super secret code and you couldn't let him in otherwise.

You lightly smile at that, and pull down on the door handle, cracking it open. You scoot over on the floor, not trying to sit in your blood. His eyes immediately widen as he pushes the door open, in response to the shock he quickly enters the room and shuts and locks the door behind him.

"This is definitely worse than what you said" He comments with concern.

Adrenaline is still streaming through your veins as you shrug. "Mostly just the blood. Help me, please"

He nods, helping you up to your feet so you could sit on the countertop next to the sink. Thank God freestanding sinks weren't trendy anymore, he couldn't bend down any longer, he needed you above him for this, it made everything much easier.

He quickly grabs a washcloth and soaks it in cold water, and wipes up all the blood off the floor while he instructs you to just hold the wounds over the sink so anything dripping out would go down the drain. They hurt immensely but you pull through without crying in front of him.

He sneaks into the hallway to grab the first aid kit and sets it down, looking for gauze. He hands you two lukewarm washcloths, clean ones, and rests them over your arms, soaking up any leftover blood in a comforting manner. He finds the gauze and some tiny scissors, and removes one washcloth, and gets to work on wrapping the gauze and then the bandage around it.

"Sorry for making you come over so late for this" You mumble.

He raises an eyebrow before he answers. "It's not that big of a deal"

You wanted to fight with him on that, but you were much too tired and it wasn't worth it anyways.

He wraps up your arms, and looks up at you, his hands gently holding yours. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You shrug, "I was clean. It just kinda happened, I guess"

after that, you're spending a lot more time together, going out to eat, adventures, doing fun things, etc

he introduces you to his friends as well because you seem very lonely in and out of school

always checking in on you

you eventually find out about his sh and you become sh buddies (name by you)

always comforting and reassuring each other

trauma bonding 🔛🔝

lots of movie nights where you guys just kinda chill out and find comfort in one another

Nick's totally fine w charlie going to you for help, as long as he's in the loop. he knows you two understand sh and your mental health better than he could for charlie

lots of words of affirmation and quality time

lots of just doing hobbies to get your minds off of things (he recommended this bc drumming helps him when he's upset)

lots of writing out and talking out your thoughts, no matter how dumb or cringe it sounds

you get matching I ❤️ hot moms shirts because why not

gifting yourselves to treats after simple tasks 💀 (me)

[0and0its0doctor0]

So I'll leave you gagged and bound

(Song that inspired the fic) Unsub!Spencer Reid x Reader Aaron Hotchner x Reader TRIGGERS: Kidnapping, Light blood, Forced kissing, Knives, minor violence, mentions of drugs Summary: You have been dating Aaron Hotchner for a few months and when he introduces you to the team Spencer Reid can't help but fall in love. The problem is Spencer's mental health is declining and fast. When he gets fired and realizes he has nothing to lose...he takes you. Will Aaron find you in time?

WC: 1,925

Why was your head throbbing? Your eyes blinked slowly open and you winced at the harsh overhead light that assaulted your blurry vision, Spencer was standing directly in front of you. You tried to move and that was when you realized you couldn’t. You tried to scream. “Shh. Shh. Shh.” Spencer said gently caressing a hand along the length of your face. His thumb wiped the drool dripping down your chin from the cloth that was stuffed in your mouth. His fingers trailed down your arms to the rope wrapping your wrists together behind the chair that you were bound to. He checked the tightness making sure that they weren’t hurting you, not yet at least. 

You whimpered as he caressed your face again and you sharply turned your head away from the touch. He roughly grabbed your chin, squeezing it and turning your face back so you were looking at him again. “None of that. Eyes forward.” He said, giving you a smile as he leaned forward and kissed your lips the best he could with the gag in your mouth. His thumbs gently brushed the tears off your cheeks and you lunged at him not getting very far since you were tied to a chair. Spencer chuckled and took a step back clapping. “Now there’s the fire I fell in love with.” He said fondly. 

You struggled violently in the chair, the rope digging into your sore flesh. The rope burn was the least of your worries at the moment. You tried arguing and yelling but your words were distorted and muffled by the cloth. This wasn’t exactly how you were planning on spending your day. You were walking to your car in the parking garage after visiting Aaron when you were hit over the head with something hard. You could feel blood trickling down the side of your face. You still couldn’t believe it was Spencer Reid standing in front of you. You had met Spencer when Aaron introduced you to the team. You had been dating Aaron for a few months now and had met the team a small handful of times. You tried to talk again even though your words just came out as more drool. 

“Let's get this off you.” He said leaning forward to unwrap the towel from your face. “Why are you doing this?” You asked, a shakiness to your voice. “Well Hotch fired me. Something about mental health. I was becoming ‘unhinged.’ I had feelings for you the second Hotch introduced you to us. I realized now, I really had nothing to lose and I wanted you bad, so I decided if I can’t have you, no one gets to have you.” He said, holding the knife up watching as it glinted in the light. 

You gulped and winced as the blade touched the skin of your shoulder. He drug it across your skin watching as goosebumps followed in its wake till he got to the strap of your dress. A quick flick of the wrist and the strap fell down, he repeated the action on the other side and watched with fascination as the fabric slipped down to pool at your hips leaving you in a bra. You struggled against your binds again. “Ah Ah. That will get you nowhere.” He said brushing back a strand of hair. 

—----------------------------------

“Hey Hotch what’s wrong?” David asked, looking at Aaron who was staring at his phone as it sat on the desk in front of him. “She always texts me or calls me when she gets home. It’s like an unspoken rule. But it’s been over an hour since she left and she hasn’t contacted me. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.” Aaron said with a sigh dragging his hand over his face. “Did you try calling her?” David asked and Aaron looked up, his brows furrowed deeply. “6 times no answer. Which just really isn’t like her. I have a bad feeling.” Aaron said, grabbing his phone and standing up. “I’m just going to see if Garcia can pull up the garage cams just to make sure she got to her car okay and left. Just to have a little piece of mind.” He said walking over to Penelope's office. He knocked on the door then stepped inside.

“Hey Garcia, can you pull up the garage camera footage? I just want to make sure she gets to her car and takes off.” He fidgeted nervously with a pen in his hand and Penelope nodded, pulling up the footage. When he saw your car still sitting there he got concerned. “What if I try to ping her cellphone and see where it is? Maybe she walked to the coffee shop down the street or something?” She suggested and Aaron frowned for a moment not really comfortable with the invasion of privacy but eventually agreed. Penelope typed quickly. “Okay. It’s still in the parking garage which is kind of weird.” Penelope looked up just as Aaron walked out of her office.

Aaron made his way to the parking garage and saw your car still sitting in its parking spot. When he walked up and saw your phone on the ground next to several spots of blood he felt his heart sink into his stomach. He ran back to Penelope’s office and threw the door open. “Pull up the garage cameras for the last hour. Fast Forward.” He ordered, watching the screens intently. When he saw a person in a hoodie walk up and nail you over the head he cursed. “Can you zoom in and see who it is?” He asked and she typed on her keyboard trying to pull up a better angle. “Nothing.” She then got an idea and pulled up the traffic camera facing the parking garage entrance. “It was Spencer.” She gasped looking back at the computer screens, she was hoping that she was wrong even though she knew she wasn’t.

—--------------------------------

A hand caressed your face again, that seemed to be one of his favorite things to do and his thumb brushed across your bottom lip. You kissed his thumb just to draw it in a little so you could bite down hard. He smacked you across the face and you could taste blood in your mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He said gently touching the red mark on your face. You flinched away from his touch and he pouted. “You know Aaron will find me. You know he will kill you.” You said glaring up at the man who simply shrugged. 

“I know. It’s not like I’m exactly hiding. They’re probably tracking my car or my cell phone right now. It will lead them to one of the old abandoned warehouses in the Fremont district and they will come bursting in. Bla bla bla.” He said running a hand through your hair. “But till then you are mine.” He said leaning forward to kiss you again, this time shoving his tongue in your mouth and groaning slightly as he tasted the faint spots of blood from biting your lip when he smacked you. 

“You see, I used to be a really successful Agent. Sure I had some problems with Dilaudid and other things but I worked hard and I contributed to the team. But then I started developing signs of mild schizophrenia and I panicked. I didn’t want to end up like my mother. So I started taking medication but the medication just wasn’t working. And it started getting worse. Started affecting my work. And I guess Hotch started to notice. Well now here we are.” He said pacing again. You kept quiet but started rubbing your wrists together feeling the ropes start to loosen. You just had to hope that Aaron was tracking Spencer’s car or cell phone or something. Which thankfully he was. 

You felt the ropes slip from your wrists, your feet weren’t tied to the chair and you were glad you were wearing boots today. When you heard the sound of sirens approaching you noticed Spencer started to panic a little bit. He walked up to you and placed both hands on either side of your face. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” He said and you leaned back a little managing to deliver a decent kick to the center of his chest knocking him down. You stood up and booked it to the door, throwing it open just as he grabbed you from behind and yanked you back. “Clever but not clever enough.” He said holding the knife to your throat as the rest of the team stood in a line with their guns drawn. 

“Spencer, I need you to drop the knife and let her go.” Aaron said his voice was calm and level as he looked at the two of you. “You know I can’t do that Hotch.” Spencer said with a sigh. “Come on Reid, we can get you help.” Derek said with a frown. Aaron holstered his weapon and stepped forward causing Spencer to step back and press the knife tighter against your skin drawing little droplets of blood. “Come on Spencer. She didn’t do anything to you. You don’t need to hurt her. Deep down I think we both know I’m the one you want to hurt. I fired you.” He said taking another hesitant step forward. Spencer bit his lip and looked at his previous team, his family, all standing there. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He said quietly, it was like his reality was starting to shift back to normal. 

You felt like your heart was going to explode out of your chest with how fast it was beating at the moment and you winced as the knife pierced your skin a little bit more. He sighed and shoved you towards Aaron roughly causing you to hit the ground right at his feet. Spencer dropped the knife and dropped to his knees putting his hands behind his head. Aaron rushed forward to pick you up in his arms and quickly run you to the other side of the SUV putting you out of harm's way as Derek and Emily both came forward to handcuff Spencer. Derek pulled him into a hug not really sure what else to do.

You felt tears on your cheeks and you started sobbing as Aaron wrapped his jacket around your shoulders buttoning it up to cover up your bra. “Hey shh. It’s okay. I have you now.” He said leaning in to kiss you repeatedly. You were quiet but shaking like a leaf as the paramedics checked you out. After putting a few bandaids over the cuts he made and giving you an ice pack for the rope burn you were cleared to go home with Aaron who quickly took you back to his apartment. 

You changed into one of his shirts and he pulled you into bed holding you close to his chest with his hand resting over your heart so he could feel the steady beat under his fingers reminding him that you were still alive. “I’m so sorry.” He muttered into the side of your neck as he placed kisses against your skin. “It wasn’t your fault.” You tried to reassure him. He nuzzled into your shoulder and held you even tighter, almost making it hard to breathe. “I love you. So much.” He said and you finally smiled for the first time that night. “I love you too.” You said kissing his forehead as he rested his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat.  

[nikethestatue]

Not a question, just a statement. I honestly don’t really care about a ship war. I think everyone is allowed to interpret and root for whoever they want. But what I don’t understand, past so many cannon signs, is how people genuinely believe that the next book could be Azriels. Let alone Gwyn. At the end of ACOWAR, we end with Feyre and Rhys flying in the sky, a gift of being together. It’s their conclusion as the main couple in the series. The next book is a NOVELLA. Novellas are always books that either are prequels (like assassin blade for example) or a change in direction for a series. The latter is ACOFAS. We still have Feyre and Rhys POVs because they will always be main characters, but we begin to hear the voices of other characters: Mor, Cassian and Nesta. This is not an accident. It’s laying down the ground work for the rest of the series. Specifically, we see Nesta and cassian begin their journey of reluctant mates. And the beginning of Nestas story of healing and growth. We also see Cassian’s care for the women in Illyria not training. We also see some things about Mor (like her estate) that we never saw in the plot. We also see a glimpse in to what might have happened with Eris. Could this be in terms of her past, powers and love life? What else do we see in ACOFAS? The continuation of Elain and Lucien not having a connection, and we actually see Lucien and hear from his own mouth about being in the Band of Exiles. What else do we see? Azriel stating he doesn’t spy on Lucien (and he’s a spymaster?? With him saying it’s an invasion of Elain’s privacy: with RHYS thinking it’s more just not to know what they are doing) and then the taking of the plate scene with Azriel being upset with his brother for not waiting for Elain. We see her give Az the headache powder, and him having such a joyous laugh that Feyre never heard before. His eyes being bright. Them sitting and going over the garden plans at three in the morning when everyone else is going to bed. What else do we see? Az not wagering on Lucien coming to solstice while looking out of the window at the garden. What else? Cassian not wanting to wager on women training consistently in Illyria. What else? Amren telling Feyre that Elain has her own problems to focus on, with a pointed look. I could LITERALLY go on. This novella that people give a 3 star rating and saying that is boring is FILLED with plot starting events. Let’s look at ACOSF:

what happens:

Nesta is lost in her trauma and mental health issues

She is forced to train with Cassian, or be sent to the human realms and is sent to the House of Wind

Cassian and Nesta become physical, but there is still that emotional boundary, even though we all know there is something there. THEY also know something is there. Reluctant mates.

who comes into the plot? ERIS. We still don’t know what happened with Mor, but he becomes more visible in the plot. Which was shown in ACOFAS through Mor when she goes to the court of nightmares. She talks about it.

what else happens? The valkayie. A women specific training plot. An an Illyrian women (emerie) comes into play. And she ALSO was in ACOFAS mind you.

Lucien and the band of exiles are in this book as well, and we see cassian’s account of the dynamic between the three of them.

we also see Az being more aloof than usual, and cassian mentions this several times. He sees him brooding way more. And he specifically mentions how he doesn’t need to buffer Mor and Az anymore like he used to. That Az seems to have finally given up after 500 years

we get INTRODUCTED to Gwyn here. Note how she was NOT in ACOFAS? Emrie was, because she feeds into the Illyria plot here. Gwyn has a specific plot of being Nesta’s friend. And also just a bad ass women who overcomes such terrible events in her life to become a true warrior. And to become nesta’s first true friend. People forget that Feyre has Mor and Amren, Elain has Nuala and Cerriwden (sorry if that’s wrong) and Nesta FINALLY has two friends. And how many is in each? 3. Just like the bat boys and the band of exiles. Like Lucien also finally gets 2 friends. (Also want to point out. Notice how Feyres two friends involve Rhys? How Nesta and cassian are involved in training with the Valkaryie? Does this allude to Elains relationship with the wraiths being a connection to Az? Does the band of exiles mean something for Lucien? That’s up to interpretation).

what happens at last? Nesta and Cassian stop fighting their feelings and become mates.

what else happens? The plot around the troves and koschei thickens. And Elain starts to push that she is willing to help the IC. Building into her own book…? Ya. Literally. Not to mention the plot with Koschei that also has Azriel involved “I was waiting to meet you” vibes.

so where did so many of these plot points come from? Literally from the little boring novella that people want to skip over. It’s the literal building blocks for the rest of the ACOTAR series… and I’m totally missing points in it as well. These are JUST off the top of my head. And I read ACOFAS last year lol. The next book is Elains book. And the novellas? Could be Mor or Gwyn or Lucien. It could be Vassa as well.. But the main plot revolves around the sisters and the bat boys. There’s so much cannon that makes it hard to imagine that it won’t be Elain and Az next. But I don’t even wanna go there. I don’t hate any of these characters. They are all literally so flawed, that if we are only looking at flaws, we should hate them all. If we can all go from hating Nesta to having a better understanding at bare minimum or even LIKING her.. then why not for Elain? Since the beginning it’s clear that Elain has been undervalued and not considered. Being she is seen as weak. Always just deemed the pretty useless one. Like she is an SEER. Something just as rare as a shadow singer. And SJM has continuously implied she will not put women against each other. I really loved Gwyns role in Nesta’a story, and I’m not ruling out her being a lightsinger (because why else was that even brought up in ACOSF?? And why does she bring up singing with Az?? Because he’s a shadow singer? Doesn’t seem necessary unless it alludes to something. Nothing is random for SJM). BUT if she isn’t, then I’m still glad we got to see her. I think a telling sign, past the bonus, is that Gwyn went back to the library. If the next book was going to focus on her, she would not be going back. She would be moving forward. But she isn’t ready.. training or not. And that’s OKAY. She could still be a part of the plot, which might be implied in her being in the bonus. But the bonus takes place in the middle of the book mind you. And tbh I PERSONALLY feel it is to add to the plot in a lightsinger way. But that’s just my own interpretation. You can have your own if you want! And like she went through a fucking lot. The next book is clearly Elains journey, which involves Az and Lucien. And in that, it involves Vassa and Koschei.

so anyways, sorry for the super long rant. But I hope this makes sense to people? The ship war can be fun, but I think we seriously need to stop being so mean to people just because they envision a different person with one of the main characters. In all honesty, I trust SJM to follow through on whoever Elain is with. Who Az is with.Who Lucien is with. Who Gwyn is with. Who Mor is with. Who Emerie is with. And even who Eris is with. She is the CREATOR of these characters. And we can speculate, but in the end she truly knows what’s best. She hasn’t been wrong yet… even Amren and Varian is cute as fuck lol. So anyways. Thank you for reading. And let’s all just be happy we get some time in this world!!!

But that's why the other side specifcially HATES ACOFAS and actually recommends skipping it because 'there is nothing there. It's a Christmas Special'.

Whereas, as you said, Anon, ACOFAS is a blueprint for what would be happening going forward and the future stories.

When it comes to Elriel, we see Lucien being the point of contention between them, so we know that this will be addressed and would play a significant part in the book. We know that the Elriel relationship would probably come as a surprise to many and that it will start secretly. Kind of under everyone's noses, but also people keep missing the signs. I think the biggest misinterpreter of signs will be Rhys, because he, again and again, presents a narrow POV which is completely misaligned with what is happening around him. I think there is also something to be said about Rhys really not knowing his closest friends and confidants--I think that that needs to be dealt with as well.

Yes, I think it's fun to ship, but i think there needs to be some logical foundation to shipping and basic understanding of text. There is a logical flow to books and then there is crackshipping. I've noticed that in this fandom, crackshipping has become an art form. People start believing in their own theories a little too much.

Like SJM went and killed Sigrid in the fist 1/3 of the book, whereas we spent so much time on her in HOSAB. Who is to say she won't do the same with Gwyn? I think unless it's a main, readers need to be cautious with their wild theories and their excessive confidence.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hello! May I get some headcanons for Honkai Star Rail (Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt, Jing Yuan, and Blade) for a shy!s/o who when they sing can manipulate the environment around them?

Usually, in combat, they hum very quietly as a boost, but when their alone and singing with their heart its as if the universe itself bends to their will? (Like if they're singing a song while feeling bittersweet and reminiscing on memories, projections of said memories will appear.) Essentially, the more that the song matches with the passion reader has with their performance ((humming -> singing (while still) -> full on preforming)) , the stronger the effect is, enough to influence (on a subconscious and concious level) and power boost an entire army to their desires.

The power comes at a cost of a decline in mental stability becoming depressively manic (think like no-self preservation, unhealthy-coping mechanisms, and crying while laughing hysterically) due to the exhaustion resulting from its strain. Due to its effects and the fact that the reader genuinely enjoys singing, they have extremely good control over these powers and only sing in front of people they trust or as a last resort to sway the tides in battle.

Thank you! :)

-🪷

Hi 🪷Anon! Thank you for your request! This was a really cool concept! I haven't written for Blade before so hopefully I got his character right. I hope you like your headcanons!

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Characters: Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt Yang, Jing Yuan, Blade x gn! Reader

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You have singing-based powers. What do the characters think of this ability?

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Caelus loves listening to his s/o sing. He knows the effect it can have on them so whenever they sing for him, he always makes sure to listen carefully and appreciate every second.

He also loves watching the projections that appear when his s/o is singing and reminiscing. At first, he was worried it was an invasion of privacy, especially if the memories are painful or deeply personal.

But his s/o has reassured him that if they’re singing those sort of songs with him around, they don’t mind him seeing those memories.

I see Caelus as someone who has a pretty decent voice so he’d love it if his s/o would teach him how to fine tune his singing so he can join in if he knows the tune.

Gets very concerned when his s/o is fighting and opens their mouth. Of course he’ll be there for them if they need to sing and their mental health takes a downhill turn as a result, but he would much prefer it if that didn’t happen.

He’ll do whatever he can in the moment to protect his s/o so they don’t need to sing in battle.

Really good at supporting his s/o during moments of bad mental health. He hates how helpless it makes him feel when they’re crying and laughing hysterically but he’ll sit beside them and provide them with whatever comfort he can.

Dan Heng is a lot more cautious about his s/o using their power at all. He hates seeing his s/o's mental health drop after they exert a lot of power while singing so he has the mindset of it's better if they keep their singing to a minimum.

However, he won't force his s/o to stop singing. He knows they enjoy it and, as long as it doesn't hurt them, he likes listening to the hum while they're working.

Dan Heng can't deny that the archives feel more homely when his s/o is there with him, singing softly to themselves.

When in battle, Dan Heng will do his best to sway the tide before his s/o feels backed into a corner.

If his s/o does sing and their mental health drops as a result, he will take them somewhere quiet and stay with them as long as they need.

It hurts to see his s/o so depressively manic but he’ll stay by them. The last thing he wants is to make things worse but not giving them the support they need.

Welt likes music. He’s got a lot of records and is always on the look for more. So he loves listening to his s/o sing.

He probably won’t join in, even though he probably has a decent voice. He much prefers listening to music than making it. He might be persuaded to dance with his s/o though…

However, as soon as it comes to battle, Welt is doing his best to make sure no singing comes out of his s/o.

He struggles to help people when they’re emotionally unstable so no matter how much he cares about his s/o, he finds it hard to be around them. And that makes him feel infinitely worse.

So to avoid the emotional pain it causes both Welt and his s/o, it’s easier if he just helps prevent his s/o from needing to use their powers.

If it’s unavoidable and his s/o’s mental health does take a sharp downhill turn, Welt will be there for them of course but he needs to sneak out sometimes under the pretence of making sure the Star Rail is still on course.

He needs a moment to compose himself.

Jing Yuan can't help but think about the many ways his s/o's ability could be beneficial in battle the moment he finds out about it.

As soon as he finds out about the side effects though, he's going to do everything in his power to prevent them from putting themselves in that position again.

Another one who loves listening to his s/o sing. He'll probably fall asleep if it's a relaxing tune. If he doesn’t immediately fall asleep and he knows the song, he might hum along. He’s always careful not to drown out his s/o’s singing though.

Those are the best sleeps he's had in years.

In battle, Jing Yuan trusts him s/o to do what they think is right in the moment. Unlike the others, he won’t go out of his way to prevent them from using their powers.

That’s not to say he doesn’t care! Certainly not. When his s/o is suffering the negative effects of their powers, Jing Yuan is there for them every step of the way. He just trusts them to make their own decisions.

Blade seems indifferent about his s/o’s singing and he’s showing no signs of changing that tendency any time soon.

But deep down, he can’t imagine anything he likes more than their voice. The underlying understanding of trust and comfort is just as beautiful as the music itself.

To even be in a relationship, Blade would have to have a very deep and strong connection with the other person. So he’s glad those feelings are reciprocated.

He also finds the projections captivating. If his s/o looks away from the projections and spares him a glance, they’ll see that he’s completely absorbed in the images. If he gets called out though, he’ll deny it.

In battle, Blade trusts his s/o. Whether they use their powers or not, he believes they will do whatever they need to in the moment to make sure they survive.

In moments of bad mental health, Blade will just keep his s/o company. He’s not great with emotions, especially soft ones. But he’ll do what he can for the person he loves.

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[bumblingbabooshka]

Read a fic about Tuvok having a history of self harm. It's a very short fic but it really interested me! So I wanted to doodle some stuff based on it - the first page is my interpretation of a certain summarized scene:

The concept of Tuvok's own self harm effecting T'Pel so viscerally was what got my attention most of all (as you can see) - I can imagine how much guilt that must have put on him and it's another, alien, dimension to struggling with mental health and one that would be interesting in Tuvok's position where he's now for the first time completely disconnected from his family and only has to contend with himself and his own mind. Once again, Vulcan identity is so fascinating!!! I love seeing what people do with it!

Page One: T'Pel bandages Tuvok's wrists in silence. She looks up at the man himself who's also watching the process. "It is done," she says. He does not seem to have heard her. "Tuvok," she prompts. He looks up. Speaking telepathically, he says "Yes. Your 'turn'." with some bitterness. He begins to bandage her wrists as she watches him. "There is no need for guilt," she says. Tuvok states "This is...familiar." We see a younger Tuvok; He is a teenager who appears disheveled and disturbed by the news he is receiving. An unseen individual, perhaps a guardian, says to him: "T'Pel is in the hospital." We see two knives, showing the passage of time. One is a common kitchen knife while the other is a ritual blade - they are both bloody. The guardian's words continue: "Tuvok. I implore you, stop." We see several women without defining facial features. They are both specific and representative - T'Pel and Janeway are clear and represent 'wife & friends' while the other Vulcan figure is perhaps 'family' (she could be Tuvok's mother, daughter, etc). "If not for her sake..." the unseen voice continues. "Then for your own." At that we see Tuvok appearing disturbed once again, however time has advanced. He is now aboard Voyager and lines emanating from him indicate that his bond to those previous figures has just been broken. For who's 'sake' does he have to preserve himself now? We see Tuvok alone in a severely darkened room - there appears to be a cushion in front of him. Is it for meditation or for a blade to sit upon? He appears to be bleeding. The word 'Stop' is in bold, hanging over him. It is unclear whether this is something he is thinking or the true end of his guardian's plea. Page Two has several unconnected Images. One: Tuvok is an incredibly disheveled looking teenager wearing an outfit indicating he is currently residing in the temple he was banished to at that time. He is looking down at his scarred wrist with an impassive yet very tired expression. He looks up, thinking "I feel...calm." An arrow pointing to him informs us that he has just unlocked a bad coping mechanism. Ostensibly as a 'quick fix' to the distress he was feeling at that time. Two: Tuvok is the same age but time has advanced a bit, indicated by his change in clothes. He is bandaging his wrists, looking as disheveled as ever. His 'quick fix' doesn't seem to have improved his health. He repeats mentally that this is the 'last time' - it can be assumed that he is referring to self harming. Three: Tuvok is an ensign under captain Sulu. This is his first stint in Starfleet. He is asked a question by a doctor, indicated by a question mark. "They're very old scars, doctor." Tuvok replies dismissively. Four: Tuvok is the same age but time has advanced a bit. He is lying on his bed in uniform, staring out at nothing in particular. The room is darkened and drenched in shadow. There is the indication of blood. An arrow looming over him states that he has relapsed. Five: A young Kathryn Janeway offers Tuvok a cup of what might be tea. "I'm here for you," she says, with a very concerned expression. Tuvok does not look at her. He sits with his steepled hands in his lap, staring down. He remains expressionless. There is a doodle of a ship identified as the USS Wyoming to orient us in time. Six: Tuvok and T'Pel hold hands and stare into what would be one another's eyes. Their facial features have been wiped clean. Tuvok's face is almost fully encased in an amorphous darkness which stretches across the space between them and leaks out of a hole in the middle of T'Pel's face which is being 'filled' by said darkness. The text above reads "All your rot bleeds into her." The darkness no longer has humanoid shape - there is a small white figure in its midst. It is unclear whether the darkness is emanating from the figure or threatening to swallow them. The text above reads "There isn't a scar on her that wasn't put there by you."