#as nodt

[spaghettibastard]

Sternritter F

[yonq228]

"There's no way that fear doesn't work" (Äs Nödt)

I'm also on twitter

[shinixgami]

𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝟐 • 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

[a-lyoshka]

paralyzed with fear

[yakittydraws]

It was silly goofy meme hours last night, featuring BLEACH babes keke~

[edengarden]

There has to be something very neurologically wrong with me because I’m always drawn to a VERY specific type of character. And they all look the fucking same on some level. Here’s my character history in chronological order

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME

[theseventhveil1945]

got his ass

[rdbrainz]

creepy men!!

[waifubuki]

[itshirohi]

Just a quick little doodle of Äs because he's a silly little guy :3

[gallusrostromegalus]

AEIWAM Spolers Without Context 2: Memes Boogaloo

AEIWAM Spoilers Without Context part 1

AEIWAM now on Ao3!

[yukitoko]

As nodt. Drawn in field conditions using an old tablet and random pc. As is so good. His voice actor made an AWESOME job, voicing him.

I was very inspired by the last episode and though I'm not at home right now and don't have the opportunity to normally draw, I still took the time and tools to do it.

[yonq228]

As Nodt fanart. He's so cute

I'm also on twitter

[suukidraw]

He is so cute :)

[shinixgami]

𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐝𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐊𝐮𝐛𝐨

[sashi-ya]

𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 Äs Nödt x F! Nurse! Reader

ಇ. I had this fic saved for myself, but I honestly didn't think my heart would be that broken when his inevitable end would get animated. Don't get me wrong, I loved Rukia and Byaku's win, but... you gotta understand that for a nurse, As Nodt represents those who you couldn't save. A patient whose hand needed a squeeze, but still it was too painful for him... poor thing. ಇ. tw: medical terminology. be careful if you are sensitive to illness and death topics. it is full of little metaphors, try to understand where I was going with what I wrote. you can ask me too! ಇ. wc: 1k

Before he was even a Sternritter, As was a simple man. A suffering, yet simple man. And you knew him very well.

He was sick, bedridden. It was too painful for him to even breathe. His existence was cold, sterile, and for him so unworthy.

However, there was a Sun. A Sun that would shine a light every time it walked through the doors of his ever-pristine white room… you.

His voice has never been loud, but really, really low. It wasn’t sweet, it was very raspy, as if he was trembling in fear. His short, straight hair framed his façade, the mask giving him oxygen carved red marks on his cheeks and black eyes fixed in a boring ceiling.

Oh, but you. His only reason to smile. But did he show it to you? No. Did he tell you? Neither.

But you knew…

“Hello Äs! how are you doing today?” you ask, with a metallic tray on your hands. Who knows how many pills are in there, but all of them are equally necessary for him to stay alive.

“H- hello… g- good” he said, every time. He doesn’t feel good, he never does. But does he want for you to worry about him? No.

You come closer to his bed, leaving the tray over his tiny bedside table. Taking a swift look at his monitor, you see -as always- his heart rate slightly going up. Ah… he is at least interested in feeling something besides pain and fear about his inevitable end.

“So, Sir Nödt… I’m aware today is your physical therapy day. Nurse (male name) won’t be able to attend the hospital today, would you allow me to do it for him?” you ask. Everything should be professional. You probably were waiting a “no” but instead he took a little time to answer.

“Hmh…” he nods, as much as he could possibly move his neck without grimacing in pain.

You smile, kindly. Your look softens. You didn’t want to feel sorry, pity for him. You really thought those feelings weren’t proper. But you couldn’t help it. Your heart ached too, and you wanted to help him as much as you could… “Good! Let’s make those muscles move with utmost care! Let me put on some tunes too”

You weren’t sure about him wanting for real to do it. He never did, as your colleagues said. “He is in pain, but he is equally scared to feel pain and that freezes him even more. He won’t ever get better…”

Again, your heart ached. What do they know about getting better? Why judging him? He needed help, not critics. And… who knows, maybe, he just needed someone to believe in him to feel better.

You make sure your hands aren’t cold. You wear a mask to come close to him, you don’t want to create more problems for him, a simple germ could cost him his thread hanging life.

You take your phone and press play. A soft melody starts playing. You don’t really know when it was, but you were sure he said he likes the sound of pianos playing to relax.

 Äs widens his eyes. Extremely black orbs fix on you, he is amazed by the song filling the room, he is probably glad to hear something besides the sound of the oxygen flow on his face.

“Give your hand, please” you whisper, trying not to cover the song. You let him choose which one of his pale hands will move first.

He breathes in a considerable amount of air into his lungs, and then, with trembling motion his right bony hand reaches yours. It feels soft. Lightweight.

And so needy.

You begin to inspect his joints. Of course it’s painful for him, not only because of being sick but also because of avoiding to move them for so long. “One finger at a time” you murmur, as you can feel him desiring to grab your hand.

He goes slow. Äs wants more, but he is in pain. He is afraid.

“Don’t be scared. I’m holding your hand right now. You can try to hold mine” you encourage him. You, perhaps, wanted more and even the same way he does for him to grab your hand… Are you falling in love with a patient? A.. dying patient?

He sees you. You see him. He closes his eyes. And maybe a little smile wanted to adorn his lips. His fine, chapped, lips.

“Follow me, Äs”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ.

When he opens his eyes he isn’t lying down in a mattress. He is standing, in two feet. He is still pale, his hands show that. A cold breeze kisses his cheeks, he notices his hair is way longer now as it flows with the wind around.

He can hear kids laughing, and the greenery around feels refreshing. A park… it’s been so long since he stood in the middle of one.

Suddenly, something lands on his cold nose. It’s as soft as the wind, but it’s pink. A cherry blossom petal just flew up to where he is. And like that rosy flower, a million rain down from dark wooden trees.

“Spring? Is this Hanami?” he asks and notices he can speak louder. And when he does, it’s not painful… it’s… normal.

He slowly turns around. And again, moving doesn’t hurt. Breathing doesn’t hurt. Her arms around his waist coming from behind, either.

“Äs! Love! Turn around, I wanna take a picture of you with the Cherry Blossoms in the back!” you chime. Your camera, an old analogue one, captures the beauty of a pinkish rain that doesn’t wet but only kisses your skin with a soft, soft scent.

He is absolutely stunned by your beauty as you walk back pointing the camera lens to him. Your hair also flows. You are his nurse, his sun. What are you doing there? Why is he alive?

“Smile you silly! You are scaring me! What’s gotten into you?” you scold him, his death stare creeps you out sometimes.

As the camera shots and captures his amazed look, you walk back towards his thin arms. “Wanna have some ice cream? Or do you prefer cotton candy? Oh wait, maybe you want Takoyaki?” you excitedly jump, feeling the hard edges of his hipbones against your belly when hugging him.

“I just want to hug you for a little longer…” he murmurs. It kinda scares you, because when he ever said something sweet?

“Hug me for as long as you want, sweetheart…” you whisper, nuzzled in the crook of his neck. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, it’s so soothing to feel his chest go up and down, breathing pure air…  

Don't wake up. Don't wake up. please, just for a few moments now... Your Majesty.