#suicide impact

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

umehara appears (again)

I know he’s a prolific VA but tell me why I keep getting jumpscared by this man 😭 This is like the 7th time where I’ve consumed media, went “wow, this voice is nice and it sounds kinda familiar!”, then looked up the VA and found out it was UMEHARA… I don’t think I’ve run into any other TWST VA in the stuff I play/watch to this frequency…

AnYWAY

I wanted to share that Umehara voices this character in a recent GBF story event; it’s a younger version of a 68-year old butler-knight ex-mercenary named Sevastian. In the past, he was known as Wolfe and??? His hair actually looks similar to Leona’s (color and length) and he’s basically this world’s version of a beastman (Erune) and also his cleavage is showing.

Over the course of the story, Wolfe falls in love with a woman. All GBF story events are fully voiced, SO WE CANONICALLY HAVE A L*ONA VOICE CLIP OF HIM SUGGESTING TO ADOPT A Cheka CHILD WITH A HUMAN 💀 AS WELL AS OTHER ROMANTIC LINES… (I mean, yeah, Umehara has also voiced in real otome games but I feel this character is the closest in tone and attitude to Leona, making his lines the most transferrable to TWST.)

P.S. Okay but picture L*ona in this fit, I think he’d kill it—

We also get various lines that feel like things Leona has actually said before or would actually say:

“You’re really going to ignore what I just said and invite me along?” I swear to god Leona has said this before to both Silver and Rook for being overly friendly or insistent that he join them for an activity.

“I, on the other hand, wish you could vacate my life permanently,” sounds like a sarcastic formal comeback he’d pull out when forced to put on airs but he still wants to insult the other person. HIS PETTY ERA………………. ……. …… ….. … . .. ….. .. . … .. . . .. . . .

Those are only two examples, but there’s a lot more on the actual event story OTL

I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS, IT’S A PERSONAL ATTACK ON L*ONA SIMPS/j

[alicentflorent]

I just wanted point out that how helaena was acting does align with being suicidal - suddenly taking on a calm demeanour, suddenly being at peace with the loss of her son, telling her mother that she forgives her which gives closure on her relationship with Alicent when people suddenly go from deep depression to seemingly at peace they very well could be experiencing suicidal ideation or actively planning their suicide and with helaena being a dreamer on the show she likely already knows how her end will play out and that it won’t be long before she is reunited with her child in death while her mother lives on and experiences the loss of her own children so helaena did her the kindness of letting her know she is forgiven and that helaena isn’t in pain anymore, because soon enough she won’t be.

[vaugarde]

im abt to rb a post on this anyways but tbh i dont know how you can finish isat and go “siffrin wasnt punished enough”.

the fella has killed themselves several times, what more do you want from him?

[reactionimagesdaily]

(asks with rizz) are there any tf2 reaction pics?

[falling for the rizz] anything for you darling

[neuvifuri]

[trans-cuchulainn]

i wish there was a way to psychically send someone a little pulse of energy that says "a stranger a long way away is thinking of you with care"

[prime-adeptus]

Vient la douleur

Neuvillette lives in the aftermath.

Pairing: Neuvillette x GN!Reader

Content: Major character death, suicide, implied/referenced self-harm, grief/mourning, past relationship. More narration than dialogue. (~3.2k words)

Note: Just working through some things :') I gave this my all, so please be kind and let me know what you think!!

Read on AO3

There are a lot of things Neuvillette could liken you to.

You were the sun, shining bright on the gloomiest of days with your joyful disposition and beautiful smile. You were his favourite melody, someone he could listen to for hours and hours on end. You were his rainbow roses and windwheel asters, the flowers of love and freedom. You were everything a romantic could ever dream of, even if you never saw it in yourself. You were the missing piece he needed all along.

Most important of all: you are his beloved, the one who held his heart in their hands.

Solitude was far from a stranger. Though Fontaine is hardly a place with a scarce population, he was more used to being by himself. He didn’t join in the hustle and bustle of the city, and he didn’t play house like the children did. Instead, he found a hobby in watching the vibrance of human life alone from the sidelines, learning in trial and error what it meant to live. Emotions didn’t come as easy to him as it would to the average person. He could feel a raging inferno in his chest or a chill trickling down his spine, but he’d never have the words for it. All he could do was watch the skies change with his thoughts in the form of a downpour or a tempest.

But in solitude, he also met you.

You came into his life like a whirlwind, as only the best kind. You met him without fear but with eagerness and excitement that he couldn’t help being mesmerised by. Your smile was the first thing he noticed about you. He remembers how it reached your eyes and how it showed the dimples in your cheeks. He didn’t know it at the time, but those would become one of his favourite sights in his life.

“Monsieur Neuvillette!”

You called him with a sense of familiarity that, oddly, he was comforted by. He understood then what the poets meant when they said it felt like the world had stopped for them. In a matter of a few seconds, he felt like he’d known you for years, just because of how warm you felt. Whether it was by chance or by fate matters little to him; regardless of what it had been, it brought you into his life.

Every love song he’d heard from the opera’s chanteuses began to make sense. ‘Love at first sight’ is truly a curious phenomenon. Exploring the depths that are human emotions then was a journey that led to more questions than answers. How do humans know when they’re in love? How do humans know when they’ve met ‘the one?’ He supposes he’ll never get a solid answer to these questions, but he’ll take one in the form of you. Perhaps he never needed to ask. Perhaps all he had to do was wait for the day your souls intertwined.

One chit-chat led to a conversation, and those conversations led to a routine. He’d see you at the park in the evenings and then walk you home when he felt it was getting late. Some days, he’d sit with you in a gazebo away from the crowd and just watch many lives pass by. Though your conversations mostly consisted of you talking and him listening, he liked it. He liked how expressive you were, how he always wanted to see more. The wonder in your eyes was something he’d grown fond of very quickly, but that wasn’t the only thing about you that he’d fallen in love with.

Just seeing you interact with your surroundings alone made it clear that you loved everything. From the city to its people, from the flora to the fauna, there wasn’t a single thing you weren’t happy to see. You brought colours into his life, showed him the vibrant side of the world he hadn’t seen yet. He was almost envious of how carefree and outgoing you were. A friendly smile, a gentle wave, some small talk about the weather; socialising came naturally to you. It fascinated him and warmth would blossom in his chest every time he saw how animated you could get. But there was no room for envy, nor was there a need to be. You were a breath of fresh air and you felt like home.

You liked to tell him that there’s always something good waiting for him the next day. That daybreak is a sign that you’ve lived for another day even when you don’t feel like you did anything valuable. I just look forward to every day! you had said, giving him a grin that always left him stumbling for words. It didn’t answer his inquiry, but it was enough. It appeared to him that you loved life, and getting to be happy with others is only a part of what makes it so special for you.

He didn’t have much to do outside of the Court. His free time was mostly spent reading or water tasting. Sometimes he’d bring work home just to ensure he recorded everything correctly. It was quite an average routine that changed when he met you. The moment you met, his days became livelier. It must’ve been quite the sight for Fontainians indeed, to see their Chief Justice taking afternoon strolls with a dessert in hand. He didn’t care for the hearsay that inevitably circulated from his new activities. What mattered was that you were becoming an integral part of what used to be mundane and changing it for the better.

It was not often that he had the time for leisure. Still, he found it difficult to deny you anything, and so he’d always find a way to make time for you. That time would be spent in the gardens or restaurants, occasionally in the front seats of the Opera Epiclese if there was a show you wanted to see. When it got dark, it would be spent in the comfort of his home with you on his lap as he read to you. Sometimes you’d fall asleep in his arms and your lips would curl into a small smile when you felt his lips touching the crown of your head. Affection wasn’t something he was used to as it wasn’t exactly a necessity, but he found himself craving yours.

The puzzle pieces fell into place on their own as if there was a telepathic bond between you and him. There was never a label for what you two were. The papers would call you lovers or companions, depending on what they caught on camera. It didn’t matter much to him, either. What he knew was that there was a bond, something that intrinsically linked your hearts to one another, and it made every day feel like summer.

Before long, he realised that you were right. Something good awaits after every daybreak, something that will brighten up his day and light up his heart with joy, and for him, it was you.

—

Time flows like water, unending and always in motion. The world turns and the days go by, turning into months and years that pass in a blink of an eye. Time is a witness to every step one takes and it remembers every story that unfolds. Time is what Neuvillette has plenty of and it is kind to him. He learns and adapts to the world as it changes around him without haste, letting years of knowledge build him into the person he is today.

Time, however, treats people like you differently.

Where he never aged, you did. Where it didn’t wear him out, it did to you. The glimmer in your eyes grew more dull over the years. Your smiles became rarer, and you no longer talked to those you considered your friends. You never told him why you were changing. It was as if your heart had betrayed you, making what used to shine bright grow dimmer and dimmer until it was completely extinguished.

In the face of it all, you still had plenty of love to give. You still held him every night as he sought for solace in your arms. You still listened to his curiosities and indulged in everything he had to ask. At the same time, it felt as though you were too far for him to reach you. As though you were fading deeper into the darkness until the only echoes he could hear were his own. His heart ached to see you this way, and for someone as meticulous as he is, he was at a total loss.

Even then, he refused to leave you. He will always love you no matter what you become. He’d love you in every way and he’d love you through thick and thin, through the calm and the tumultuous.

Six hundred and ten days have passed, and it continues to hold.

You left with everything he was and behind a letter in your wake. In it was an apology that etched its words into his bloodstream and a memory that appears every time you cross his mind. In it also came a promise that you’d find him in your next life no matter how long it takes, for your soul has found a home in him. And finally, in it was a wish: that you wanted him to live without regret, just like how you never regretted your time with him.

‘You can find happiness again without me,’ you wrote. Your tears stained the paper where ink seeped and blurred some of the words. His heart aches to think of the guilt you carried with you even after death. Of how afraid you must’ve felt as the poison flowed into your system, and how alone you must’ve been.

The sight is still engraved into his very vision: your limp, lifeless body with both old and fresh scars across your skin, the vial of poison on the floor and the sealed letter in your hand. Composure was second nature to Neuvillette, but none of it was to be seen when he found you. His hands were shaking as he took you into his arms and held you close. His heart felt heavy as if it was coming to a stop. Emotions brewed within him like a storm, volatile and disorderly, but not a word left his lips.

By the time Sigewinne arrived, reality had sunk in, and every prayer he had shattered like glass. The rainstorm lasted for weeks after that. Only by the fourth did the rain finally stop and even then, the skies seemed to be in a permanent state of gloom with the clouds shrouding the sun and stars. Fontaine eventually got back its clarity much later, and people seemed to already move on from the strange natural phenomenon that had occurred.

Six hundred and ten days have passed, and he still misses you as much as he did that spring.

Life without you felt more like dusk than daybreak. The splash of colour had melted away and days felt longer without someone waiting for his return. His home is eerily quieter and more hollow. Your favourite trinkets were never moved from where they were placed on the shelves. The book he’d been reading to you every night stays open and unturned on the table. His own home had turned into a paradox—you were here, but you also weren’t.

How strange, he thinks, how he still feels so acutely alone even with everything you left behind. He’s been through grief time and time again, but it never gets easier. If anything, this is perhaps the most harrowed he has ever felt.

The cemetery had begun to feel more familiar than it should. He hears everything that people say there. He hears them talk about how they wish they could see their loved one welcoming them back home. He hears them talk about how they wish they could just hear their loved one’s laughter one last time. How they wish they had professed their love before it was too late, how they wish they could say all the things they never dared to say. In this, he is not alone. His thoughts flow in that very same direction.

Neuvillette is not a selfish man. There is nothing he heavily desired that he’d do anything to obtain. And yet, he wonders if he should and could be just this once. Everything he wants is you. Every face in the crowd he sees is you, and every song he hears is in your voice. If he had just been more selfish and demanded you to stay, would he have been able to stop you? Would you still make the same decision?

He wakes up every morning to a cold and empty bedside. He leaves without a kiss goodbye. He comes home with no one to welcome him back. Suddenly he has returned to where he once was, alone and closed off from the world around him. Being by himself isn’t as daunting as it used to be, but nothing could ever replace you. With you, loneliness hardly existed. Without you, he has returned back to where he started.

Tick, tick, tick. The clock is the only sound he can hear on this dreary night as he watches it strike twelve. His eyes stay trained on his reflection in the glass, hoping that he’ll see you coming up to embrace him from behind like you used to.

You never do.

Yet another date on the calendar is crossed out. The ring glimmers in the moonlight from where it lays in its velvet box. He’d imagined it playing out in his mind, from the proposal to the look on your face as you told him yes. It was a gift that he spent a long time preparing and waiting for. A surprise that would always make you smile whenever you thought about it.

It was meant to be a promise, one that he would keep for as long as you’d let him.

But you never got to celebrate your birthday, and so he lets the candle’s flames die out on their own. With a heavy heart, he puts the ring back where it was on the shelf. Some plans go awry, but he can’t give up yet. There will come a day when he meets you again, and only then can he finally tell you everything he wanted to say.

For now, they remain unspoken. The promise is never made, and he alone is the witness.

—

Neuvillette wakes up to a world without colour.

Everything around him is painted in different shades of grey, from the trees swaying in the wind to the crystal-clear water in the fountain. Faceless passers-by are scattered across the plaza, talking amongst each other in hushed and intelligible words. As he walks down the stone path, he becomes acutely aware that this is merely a dream. And yet, he is completely lucid; he can feel the breeze against his skin and hear the birds chirping in the distance. His body moves at its command, continuing down the path to the destination only it could know.

He finds himself atop a grassy hill that overlooks the horizon where he can see a person standing on the edge. Your back is turned, but there’s no mistaking it—he’d recognise you from anywhere. It goes far deeper than memory. It's his instinct, his life, and he’d always choose you no matter what decision he has to make. He comes to a halt just as you finally look at him, and what was only a vignette bursts into vivid colours.

The world is no longer grey as vibrance returns to where it belongs. Neuvillette’s breath gets stuck in his throat the closer you approach him. You aren’t in the clothes he’d last seen you in. You’re dressed in white and you hold a bouquet of rainbow roses in your hands, every piece of it in full bloom.

“You’re here!”

This is a dream. He knows he is. But it sounds exactly like you, looks exactly like you, and he’s missed you so deeply that he’ll happily stay in this trance a while longer. He parts his lips to speak, but no words come out. There’s a light burn in his nose and behind his eyes the longer he looks at your joyful self. Without realising it, a tear rolls down his cheek, and he finds that he can finally breathe.

His hands shake as he reaches for you. Before he can revel in feeling you beneath his touch after so long, your skin turns cold and you melt into his hands until nothing is left behind but water. Only remnants of the mirage he’d just seen are left behind. And as if they never returned, the world turns grey once more before it completely fades into the dark.

Now, Neuvillette finds himself in his bed.

Rain pitter-patters against the window beside him and behind the shower is the sunrise, coming up ever so slowly. He casts a glance at your side of the bed and it is still empty, devoid of your warmth. It constantly reminds him of how cold and empty this place is, a stark difference from what it was when you were around. The sun has not yet risen. Hues of dark blue spread across the sky and obscure the stars, casting a dreariness upon the entirety of Fontaine.

The chill nips at his cheeks as he leaves his abode and makes his way to the cemetery in silence. He remembers the path to your grave like the back of his hand, a bitter fact he lives with, but he reigns himself in. The bouquet of Lumidouce bells in his hands suddenly feels much heavier as he gazes down at your picture. It’s already beginning to lose its colour thanks to the time and weather, so he reminds himself to replace it as soon as he can.

He gingerly puts the bouquet down on your altar. He imagines how you’d chide him seeing him in this state, how you’d wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close. He wonders if you have returned to the cosmos or the seas and if you’d be able to feel how much he yearns to be with you again. If there is an afterlife, is it a place where you are happy and free of every burden you carried? If he listened to the waters, would he be able to hear you calling his name?

(Six hundred and eleven days have passed, and his questions remain unchanged.)

Deep in his heart, Neuvillette fears that there will come a day when he forgets the way you looked or the way you sounded. Your voice has already become distant in his mind; it won’t be long before the years take you away from him again. Perhaps time isn’t as kind to him as it used to be.

But for you, he must continue to live, as much as he wishes he could turn back time and spend more of it with you. For you, he must fulfil your wish and honour you the best way he can. For you, he will hold on and wait for the next time you’ll grace him with yourself and your love.

Not once have I regretted my time with you, you had written.

He wonders if you’ll ever know that he feels the same way.

[xrosegorex]

Sometimes I can't take sagau seriously bc I know damn well if I was in genshin I'd accidentally make a few unfunny jokes about my trauma and shit (like I do with my friends) and everyone would either be like 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ OR they'd begin planning to execute my ex father

Like I just imagine-

Me: *trips and falls and scrapes my knees*

Aether: Are you okay? Did that hurt?

Me: Not as bad as when my dad beat me 👍

Aether: When your dad what

OR

Childe: *cooking for his siblings or whatever*

Me: Let me cut the vegetables. I'm great at cutting.

Childe: What do you know about cutting? You don't even know how to fight

My wrists: 😃

OR EVEN

Me: *outright states that I want to die in the most casual way possible*

Everyone in Teyvat:

[wistfullywaiting2]

Somewhere along the line of Sumeru the Genshin devs realized they could just make things sad for no reason and in Fontaine they realized they could just include fucking murder what

[aphel1on]

actually i'm not over the new developments in scaramouche's still-unfolding arc from simulanka yet. we are getting to watch him basically in real time gradually unrepress the ability to feel emotions other than hatred, rage, and despair, and slowly get in touch with the softer parts of himself that despite what he may have believed were only ever buried, never lost. this is quite possibly one of the best "Redemption as Recovery, Recovery as Redemption" arcs i have seen play out in media and it drives me crazy that it's in a fucking gacha.

we saw hints of his personal development in the inter-darshan championship such as when he gave tighnari water, and then nahida set him up to make more connections in life when she enrolled him in school. but the amount of progress he shows in simulanka makes me stupid emotional. he could at least argue that nahida sent him to keep an eye on things so he HAD to help tighnari. but no one was watching over his shoulder to make sure he helped the little toy guys! he just did that!! all on his own!! and CERTAINLY no one made him get that invested in mini durin. he saw himself in that funky paper dragon and just got wildly attached wildly fast. the feelings i had when he told mini durin he wanted to be friends, it was like i was a 10-year-old who just discovered the power of friendship trope in a shounen anime for the first time ever or something. it's downright silly how impactful that little display of earnestness was to me.

this is a character that we've seen be suicidal on screen 2-3 times depending on how you count it, and to see him extend such empathy to a creature that reminds him of himself, and how he's started to feel safe enough to express his gentleness and to pass on the same type of kindnesses nahida showed to him at his lowest, just really gets to me in the best way.

...of course, because it is a fucking gacha, a lot of this character development and plot beats are time-gated behind limited-edition events to force you to keep logging on, and will later only be available in people's youtube recordings.

...but still!!

[mycenalucentipes]

Rekindle My Flames || Diluc x gn!reader

HI SO I also write Genshin :'D, figured I might post it here too. This is crossposted from ao3. Except thered, I'm for some reason mycenaLucentipes. So I'll probably change my name here to reflect that beceauseee mushrooms, anywayS =============================================

Summary: You’re depressed, but up until this one night, you had been amazing at masking and hiding it away. Diluc stumbles in on your dying flame and wants to help relight it.

All the passion for life is gone, minus your love for Diluc? The depression just…its a cloud of sadness that’s hard to escape

Just a short venting one-shot :’)

TW: Angst, depression, low will to live / implied suicidal thoughts, crying, cursing, generally sad depressing theme, but there is comfort ending : )

Word count: 1,966

a/n: I think I made it entirely gn this time. I hope so. I'm sorry if I messed up somewhere or if Diluc is ooc. But i feel like if he really loved someone romantically, I think he would be sweet and bashful and caring towards them.

Diluc was mad. 

Diluc was mad at himself.

How had he not noticed earlier? He could he not notice the love of his life suffering silently with so much pain?

His love shouldn’t need to bear that much pain in their heart. They didn’t deserve that, no. 

They deserved the shining stars, the flowing rivers, the ripest of all fruits, the whole universe. They deserved it all.

You were his star that guided him through the lonely world he created for himself. You were his everything. He swore his love for yet set his flames to blaze even brighter and more powerful than before. 

You are his everything. 

So how could he not notice?

Just a couple days ago, you casually strolled in Angel’s Share at 20:00 with the traveler and Paimon, humming your favorite song. No more than 15 minutes later came Kaeya and Venti stumbling towards the bar where you and travel sat. The atmosphere was a lively one that night. 

Upon your arrival, Diluc’s gaze followed you with gentle, tender eyes for his love. He began mixing your favorite drink before you even had to open your mouth. Once he finished yours and carefully slid it in front of you, he began mixing a cocktail up for the traveler. Although a bit wary of serving them alcohol, you assured him more than a dozen times that they were well over the age to start drinking. 

Your eyes lit up as you felt the cool drink glide down your throat. “Diluc, sweetflower! This is amazing! Whatever you’ve mixed into here, is really hitting the spot,” you cheered, holding your glass up with a large grin adorning your face. It was fruity, with a hint of mint among the blend. Diluc knew just how you liked it. He offered a soft small back as he tried not to blush at the compliment and the nickname. Oftentimes, you would give him random, sweet nicknames. 

As the night went on, he carefully observed you, happily singing and cheering along to whatever the drunken bard was playing. You, Kaeya, and Traveler had wrapped an arm around each other, swaying back and forth with a drink in hand. 

Looks can be deceiving. Didn’t anyone ever tell him that?

Every once in a while, he noticed your features go blank. Void of all emotion. Stuck in between a drunk Kaeya and tipsy traveler, your movements were lifeless, but your body still swayed with the other companions’ arms wrapped around your shoulders, and yours on theirs. 

“Dearest, are you alright? You look like a puppet hanging from our arms,” Kaeya would slur out when he noticed the weight on his shoulder increase. You would always snap back into reality with a smile and nod your head. It was enough to fool him. Surely if he wasn’t drunk, he might have noticed how your smile never met your eyes. 

Every once in a while, he noticed your entire demeanor go quiet. Spaced out and dissociated from reality. He wondered if you were okay, but didn’t know how to ask or he would be swept away by another customer.

From other previous times, he would notice a far off look in your features, empty eyes void of life. You always brushed it off as just being “tired”. He didn’t want to pry. 

Diluc was always a stoic man and didn’t appreciate others prying into his mind, so he was hesitant to prod you for more.  He was still learning to accept the help and comfort you so warmingly gave. For not being a pyro wielder, he swore that your soul was warmer than his would ever be. 

Until that one night. That one night where he found you. He’s thankful it wasn’t life threatening. But archons, his mind raced with all of the worst scenarios that could come. 

Diluc stirred in his sleep, wearily reaching out for your warmth that was no longer beside him. It was about 3 in the morning by now. Not finding you next him, Diluc was more alert now. He quickly sat up, breathing turning short as he frantically looked around the bedroom. There was no trace of you.

It was 00:00 when Diluc finally came to bed. Then it was 01:00 when you carefully slipped out from his embrace and softly headed for the door, heading for the city. 

Where had you gone? Diluc was sure that you were in bed when he climbed in next to you, pulling your body close to his. He remembered as he mumbled weary apologies and sweet nothings as he drifted off to sleep, feeling safe with you by his side. 

Diluc quickly changed out of his sleepwear and rushed out the door and down the stairs of the mansion. He called your name out, worry laced into his voice. When you were nowhere to be found within the confines of the mansion, Diluc grabbed his coat, deciding to head into the walls of Mondstadt. He knew you had an art studio there with a small shop on the main level. 

As he neared your shop, he could see a faint light flickering from the second floor. There you were. Why were you here at this hour? Diluc timidly wrapped his fingers around the door knob, testing if it would turn. Finding it to be unlocked, he gently opened the door and stepped in. Once he closed the door, he froze.

It was eerily quiet.

He could only hear the blood rushing through his ears and his heart pounding erratically in his chest. Not wasting another second, Diluc ran up the stairs, skipping one in a panic to reach you. As he neared your studio door, he froze once again in hesitation to open the door. What would he find on the other side? Why did he hesitate to open the door? 

In his moment of hesitancy, he heard small whimpers and light sniffles. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You were still alive. Diluc swung the door open, gaze darting directly to you. 

His heart shattered when his eyes landed on you. You looked so small and broken, huddled into yourself, tears streaming down your face. Diluc slowly made his way over to you, nearly tripping over debris. Wait, debris? 

He carefully scanned over the room as he continued his walk towards you. Those few steps it took to get to you felt like he was in a nightmare and couldn’t reach what he was looking for in time. He felt as if he was trudging through slimes. 

Paint cans were discarded around the floor with color pooling out from them, vibrant hues of paint coated the floor, shards of canvas framing were split and splintered into piles. Some of your unfinished works were cruelly sliced through the center while others were haphazardly slashed. 

Once he finally made it over to you, Diluc sank down to the floor beside you, enveloping you into his strong arms. In his embrace, it felt as though the fiery essence of his pyro vision wrapped you in a cocoon of warmth and protection. 

“My love,” Diluc’s deep voice pierced the heavy silence, a gentle murmur barely above a whisper, “if you would like, you are free to share your troubles with me, I’m here for you.” His tender words only seemed to unravel you further. You choked back a sob, trying to form words. It’s been a long time since you’ve been met with such sincerity and caring from someone. Asyou struggled, Diluc soothingly rubbed circles into your back. 

“You don’t have to tell me right away, love, I’m not going anywhere,” He whispered sweetly with his low voice. This only made you cry harder, except there were no more tears, just broken sobs and heaving breaths. Diluc’s other hand gently moved to gently stroke the back of your head, gently urging it closer into his chest. 

“D-Diluc,” your voice was soft, yet rough from the hours of screams and sobs, “c-can we just go…go h-home?” Your words were whispered in a plea, exhaustion prominent in your gaze as you looked in Diluc’s crystal, red eyes. 

His heart ached as he met your gaze. He noticed how tired, red, and glassy your eyes looked. 

Really, how could he not notice how tired your eyes were? 

“Of course, my love,” he murmured softly, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead before gently helping you to your feet. “Are you alright to walk? Or…,” Diluc’s cheeks reddened with bashfulness as he tried to voice the option of carrying you. Of course, if you needed, he would have you off your feet in a heartbeat. As you pondered an answer, he shrugged his coat off, tenderly draping it around your shoulders. 

“I-I’m alright to walk,” you stuttered out. Despite this, you clung to his side as he guided you out into the cool air of the night with care. The whole walk home, he held you close with an arm tightly wrapped around your shoulders. 

As you reached the familiar sight of the Dawn Winery, you felt a small spark of endearment within your broken soul. Diluc led you into your shared bedroom, helping you remove his coat and draping it over the chair. He then picked you up, gently setting you on the bed, pulling the covers over you. You tugged the covers closer to your chest as your gaze followed his form, changing into his sleepwear and finally crawling in bed next to you. 

He shuffled closer to you, pulling you into his embrace once again with one hand stroking the back of your head. 

“Diluc?” You softly whispered, head still buried in his chest.

“Mm?” He tiredly hummed out.

“C-can I– Can we talk…uhm, I-I want to–,” you fumbled for words, not knowing how to articulate your thoughts into actual words.

“Of course, love, of course we can,” Diluc gave a small nod as he replied, squeezing you in reassurance. You loved how well he understood you, even when you were at a loss for words. A few stray tears slipped out with a couple of sniffles to follow. He only tightened his embrace again, still soothingly stroking the back of your head. 

“For now, let’s try to get some sleep. You must be exhausted,” Diluc suggested gently, voice tender with care. He felt you snuggle closer into his warm embrace. He hoped this could ease the pains of your inner storm, if only slightly. 

Nodding in agreement, you allowed yourself to surrender to the embrace of sleep. You listened to his steady heartbeat, a rhythmic lullaby, that slowly lulled you into a deep slumber. 

Once Diluc heard you slowed but steady breathing, he felt his whole body relax. He could feel his throat tighten as his own tears threatened to escape from the corners of his eyes. Oh how he wanted to take away all of your pain so you wouldn’t have to suffer any longer. He knew you would most likely struggle to accept any help or comfort on your own. But he wanted more than anything to reassure you over and over that you could come to him any time. You were his top priority and he would never let you forget that.

He was determined to learn to read you better as well as help you feel confident in confiding in him. Working on feelings and emotions with someone else was foreign land to him as well, but if it was for you, he would go to the moon and back in his efforts to help you.

Diluc was so head over heels for you. You were the brightest star in his galaxy and the kindest, fiercest flame that he had ever encountered. 

[even-disco-baby]

YOU — “No. There is still a chance.”

DOLORES DEI — “You think so?” Her voice is weary.

EMPATHY — Everything about her is weary. She is the Innocence of weariness, of heroically borne suffering.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — That is the picture you have painted for yourself, at any rate.

YOU — “You looked back. That’s the memory, the moment, that I can’t stop returning to. You looked back. I had a chance, for just that moment…”

DOLORES DEI — She meets your eye, gaze still forever cast back over her shoulder. Time stops. The stars are stilled, the ocean silent. There is *nothing* beyond this memory. Nothing at all. All of infinity is contained in this single moment when anything and everything was possible.

“Oh, Harry…” She sighs, soft as eiderdown. “We never had any chance.”

And just like that, the wave of time collapses under its own weight, obliterating everything. This moment was six years ago. She is gone from here. Gone, gone…

PAIN THRESHOLD — You cannot leave. There was nothing outside of this moment, and now there is nothing at all. It’s all gone. There is no point. I’m sorry. I can’t do this any longer.

VOLITION — Please, don’t say that…

“Okay. Well, fuck me, then.”

“How would *you* know?! You gave up! You didn’t even try!”

“We *must* have had a chance, at some point… Doesn’t everyone get a chance, if nothing more?”

“How could you say that…?”

DOLORES DEI — “Because it’s true,” she says, matter-of-fact. “There is no moment in time that you can turn back to, no branching paths, no infinity. There is only what happened. I looked back… and then away.” She closes her eyes, turning her back to you.

“The moment ended. *We* ended. That is all.”

SHIVERS — A wave crashes against an unseen shore, ocean spray tickling the back of your neck. You shiver, but no one shivers with you. You are alone in this intersection. Why are you here?

“Why can’t *I* end?! Why can’t this all just stop? Please, make it stop…”

“Ended? I’ve barely even started! I got a chance to start completely over as somebody new! I don’t need you anymore! You’re just dead weight to me now.”

“No. That wasn’t the real ending. We’re a part of something so much bigger than this intersection, telling a story that encapsulates all of history! There’s *more* to this, it *means* something.”

“Then… What am I supposed to do now…?”

DOLORES DEI — “No, Harry.” She turns back to you again now, and she looks… sad.

“We were not metaphors. We were people. Our narrative was not intelligently designed. It simply followed the patterns of history, because those are the only patterns we *know.* We tried to create something new, but we failed. There is no narrative reward for our failure, no satisfactory ending. There is only the immutable past and the unknowable future.”

RHETORIC — There is no assurance of what is good or deserved or what may bring relief. There is no assurance of punishment, either. There is no assurance of anything. Not even of a future. I don’t know what to say to make this bearable.

VOLITION — Even so… As long as you live, *something* is promised. Can you live with that?

I can’t, I just can’t do this anymore…

I can. It’s enough.

I don’t know. I just don’t know.

I can at least try for a little longer…

VOLITION — That’s all I ask. That’s enough.

[joshy-tomato]

If Arle had killed Furina on that faithful night and learned about her 500 year suffering after I don't think Arle would not mentally recover because it's like she killed Clervie again.

Two people who had suffered for their people's freedom from their cruel fate. She could had possibly "save" Furina by not meeting the same fate as Clervie but history repeats itself.

Anyways leave this here for you to cry and think about it, good day 😊

The thing is, given the immortality curse Furina wouldnt have died. And isnt that worse, seeing the wound heal its. Seeing Furina take death as Clervie took and endured Crucabena's abuse.

And Arlecchino can see Furina looks almost disapointed this didn't kill her, this didnt free her, she has to keep suffering, keep enduring the abuse and isolation. Is the same look and demeanor Clervie had, the wish for death as only option to stop the pain. And Arlecchino knows she cant save Lady Furina now, because she will never trust her, she is just another reason for why she will yearn for death.

Just like Crucabena did to Clervie.

The apple doesnt fall far from the tree, and Crucabena did well raising and grooming Peruere to be the future king. She is just like mother after all. She feels just like mother.

[abnomi]

random assorted headcanons for Turbo because I like thinking and having fun !!!! 🎉

Read More to Find Out...or are you too scared?... i bet ur too scared ahaha youre too scared Lol! Hahaahaaa!!!

The steering wheel of his kart is covered in bite marks, similar to how one would bite their favorite pencil. he bites things to mark his territory because Nobody is gonna touch that unless they want all of his diseases (150+).

i just know he was fighting to restrain himself not to chew on any of the candy civilians

when it comes to music, he doesn't see the point of listening to it. he doesn't have enough patience to really take it in; to him, it's just a thing that exists and not much more than that ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ ∵⁠ )⁠_⁠/⁠¯

adding onto that point, this guy listens to metal clanking sounds and loud engine roaring for entertainment because he likes things that would overstimulate any normal person. turbo is incredibly sensory-seeking and will do anything for The Sensations

someone should take him to a heavy rock concert i think it would change him a little. keep that thang on a leash

related to being sensory-seeking, i think he would absolutely love running his hands over random textures. if anyone has run their hands along a wall while walking alongside it...He does that...If u know u know... he is SO stimmy its unbelievable. Unreal.

very pain-tolerant. he'll whine and complain about it for attention, but physical hurt really doesnt bother him much until it gets in the way of what he wants to do.

funnily enough, he is very picky when it comes to temperature. he can handle getting ran over but if its 1° too hot or cold he'll start nagging and nagging for it to go back to normal. turbo really needs his own enclosure i think it'd do him a lot of good

this is a more popular headcanon and its canon-leaning, but he's an artist :-] he usually sticks to graffiti art because its generally considered more "rebellious and cool" but he also sketches cars, design decals, and other stuff when hes alone!

i would love to see his process of character designing king candy because i dont think he really knew what he was doing

he was just like "ok what does a generic king look like. uhhhhh.... 1, old and jolly like santa claus.... 2.... uhh crown..... 3......... purple.... FUCK YEAH im so good at this!!!!🔥🔥🔥"

i just noticed how his design has like 0 actual candy motifs aside from his bow being a candy wrapper and his shoes having those little gumdrop end pieces. what was he THINKING

while King Candy has a lisp, i think it's a coverup for his actual voice because of how goofy and recognizable it is. Overall its the same as his regular voice, he just gets silly with it. i noticed that he still does retain some of his lisp when hes screaming his lungs out at Vanellope, however, so maybe he genuinely does have a lisp that makes itself known when furious :3

another thing i noticed is how he hisses his S's. very cool very cool the reptilian

@/tasticturbo made a post abt how he has tinnitus from the constant noise in his game and i couldnt agree more

AND THE PRESCRIPTION GLASSES. where did he get those...he needs to See

side note, the aforementioned account has made so many interesting analyses on turbo and theyre all so insightful. i recommend u check them out

i think he gets migraines from stress. constant buzzing or pain flood his head but hes like "IDGAF i need to DO something at ALL TIMES no matter what"

hes like a shark in that way. if hes not moving he'll die instantly. idk a lot about sharks or if thats how it works srry but im going off of what the Worms are saying to me and i dont have much to work with

i think a really big contributer as to why he lacks in the self care department is because he fails to notice that something in his body is wrong. hes far too distracted on something he thinks is more important than remembering to Eat Food or Drink Water or Wash Himself or

he's like "WHY DO I FEEL LIKE SHIT ALL OF THE TIME!!! I HATE MY LIFE" and he hasn't slept in 4 days

hes so me. Sorry.

i dont think turbo is necessarily suicidal, but the way he behaves shows a clear disregard for his own safety and wellbeing. he thinks that he knows what he needs but he really doesnt :-[ i think he has some kind of immortality complex, feeling untouchable and like nothing could get to him. as scared as he was when ralph was about to turn him into sloppy mush, he didnt take the threat very seriously. like it was some kind of joke

his kart regenerates every time his game starts up, so what if he smashed it into buildings for fun. He's the number one fan of car accidents. he is all about that shit

i think his living space would literally be a garage btw. its a place to sleep and a space for his car all in one!! he thinks its very convenient and awesome but i think he is coping. he has some old dingy stained sheetless mattress that he has never washed in his life and its covered in dirt and smoke particles. no wonder he has such heavy eye bags Dude Please

the turbo twins have a garage used in a similar way, and while its still pretty shitty, they still at least TRY to maintain it. they just fight a lot over who has to care of it. nobody taught them how to take turns ever

but this aint about them. maybe another day

i think that turbo would find comfort in garbage and keeping it around because its familiar to him. a big clean empty space would make him so mad and if anyone moves even an inch of scrap off to the side he will throw a fit. he generally doesnt pay attention to his surroundings but when its his personal space he is 1093 times more neurotic

i think the big empty castle he stole wouldve been a big transition for him. maybe it helped him clear his mind a little more to practice his tricky schemes...it helped him get more subtle

thats all i have for nowww ty for reading ^_^ if anyone else has any wacky ideas pleeeease tell me i would love to hear them!!

[lionbearfox]

Finally finished this one!! I love these two and their dynamic i wish we saw more of them in game (+ a bonus below the readmore)