#i’m here for the ride though

[cecilxa]

soft cries best violent minds

summary: cyno's not the best at feelings, but he'll try his damn hardest for you

contents: hurt/comfort, character heavy (?), gn!reader, tighnarisibling!reader (teeny tiny mention)

cw: reader crying (can be implied as to having a breakdown/panic attack), low to mild violence

a/n: based of off this ask (tw)

Cyno can hear you crying. In the small, well ventilated huts of Gandharva Ville, he can hear your sobs echo off the walls back into his heart. With every tear he knows you shed, with every breath you gasp out to take, his heart twinges every time, each newest thump even more shattering than the last. It's not right, he thinks, you don't deserve pain; you deserve joy, hope and laughter. Anything but sorrow.

Cyno believes in the ways of justice, in the ways of fairness and equality, so why do you think you deserve to feel this way? He can’t see anything past his rose-tinted glasses, his perfectly imperfect impression of you, and even if he was blindfolded, gagged and deafened, he knew he'd find his way back into your arms. So why are you sad, why do you think it’s worth it, why- oh why- does Cyno not help you in a time of need?

He knows the answer to that. The polearm he’s wielding is a dead giveaway. How much blood has been shed by the cool surface of his deadly weapon? How many screams has he heard, begging for mercy, receiving it in the form of divine retribution? There’s no going around it. First and foremost, the General Mahamatra’s ultimate instinct would be to hunt whoever, or whatever, hurt you. No matter how long it would take, no many how many long days and nights he would have to endure, he would find them, and he would judge them. Judge them using the might of his strength, and the harshness of the desert sand.

He doesn’t dare enter your hut. He’s afraid that he’ll lash out in anger- mouth setting in a grim frown- eyes dulling, emotionless, as he’ll demand you, in his low, dangerous voice, to tell him who hurt you. Cyno keeps a sharp mind, and he knows that anything that he’d do in anger would only hinder, not help, the situation even more. There’s only one thing that he values over justice, and that’s the smile on your face.

Frowns don’t settle quite right on your features, especially when paired with sorrowful eyes glassy with tears, and he can’t help but feel his heart twanging however much longer you’re crying for. If he were to be the reason for your red-rimmed eyes staining even more vermillion, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

So what to do? He knows Tighnari might make you feel better; the inside jokes you share with each other from growing up as siblings might make you giggle, and you’d take on that soft smile he knows he loves. He may even call out for Collei, who’ll ask you to help her with a new job she’d taken on. Anything to stop the pain rooted in your system; anything to make you happy.

At this moment, for perhaps the first time in his harsh life, Cyno is indecisive. He cannot, and will not leave you- his morals involving you forbid him from doing so- but the things he would try to do to help will only leave you crying even more. He will not let that happen either. Tighnari and Collei would be called, but Cyno feels something in his chest that doesn’t let him shout out for them. Throat closing up, mouth drying, he’s suddenly very aware that his body is not allowing him to speak. His mind is racing, thinking of ways that would make you feel better, anything to stop the tears from flooding his heart, when a feeble voice calls out his name.

“Cyno…?”

Something snaps in him.

Immediately, and without hesitation, he pads into the room as quietly and quickly as he can. Kneeling down on the floor in front of your figure, sitting down on the bed, he gazes up at your crystal face. He doesn’t know how someone can look so much like a broken angel; it’s an oxymoron in any sense. You’re still as captivating as when you grin at him in excitement, but there’s a hollowness in your eyes, which makes his heart crack ever so slightly, the same way your sobs make him choke up as well.

Maybe something overtakes Cyno, but what happens next surprises him. Thoughts of violence and retribution seep out of his mind, leaving him with an instinct to comfort you. He cups your face, kisses both your cheeks, eyes softening, as his thumbs settle on your eyelids, dainty as a battle-worn hand could be.

The General Mahamatra may not know how to make you laugh out in raucous joy; he may not know how to distract you from your problems, but he knows how to get rid of things that don’t belong. Two gentle thumbs softly brush away every last teardrop you shed. It might’ve been an hour, two hours, five minutes, but Cyno is still there, wiping away. Your tears haven’t let up, but at least your breathing has stabilised. It’s quiet, but neither of you mind.

The sound of cheerful birdsong interrupts the silence, yet Cyno carries on, polearm stashed away in a dark corner of your room.

a/n: as always, likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! mental health is important, don't neglect it!

[headfullof-ideas]

Some more headcanon-drawings…things…i have doodles

I actually had these done for a while now, just…never posted them. Idk why. Im trying to get some drawing done today, though for whichever project it’s for, I don’t know

[cosien]

Goodbye little ones <3

[nottoxicfr]

Talking about living in a place like Texas to people who live in other states is really a game of roulette because over half the time, that person will either quote retweet-style dunk on the political situation in the state or suddenly reveal to me their overpowering disdain of everyone who lives in Texas and hasn’t left yet.

The rest of the time, I’ll be asked if I’ve ridden a horse. The answer is yes. I fell and the horse laughed at me.

[crossbackpoke-check]

favourite tag novel, you said? well, i have a few but there are a couple i really love (i'm on anon bc this is a sideblog so i can't post links smh) but anyway:

the little juraj/arber locker room vid. you wrote it like a mix of domestic fluff/romcom and pointing out the size difference even though they're both pretty big guys?? be still my heart. also juraj gives off so many giant puppy vibes and i love him for it

the mcdrai moment after connor gets injured. i've only been in this fandom a short time but i already know mcdrai are pretty popular (one of the reasons i didn't pay much attention as i'm more of a rarepair girlie) but that set and your tags have actually gotten me invested in them?! like, the tenderness? and the way connor seems so stunned by it? plus the oilers video coach thirdwheeling in the bg hehe (anyway, i have a potential new ship thank you)

i'll stop now but if you ever see your tags added onto any rbs of mine (with credit ofc) that's because they're amazing and everyone else should see them too. (ps, i hope the change in your life goes smoothly for you and you feel better soon!)

- @softvikings

i had to just sit down and look at this ask for like. three hours i’m not even kidding and this response still does not convey how deeply touched i am 🥹😭 it’s going in a bulleted list because looking back at all of them made ME feel feral all over again

juraj/arber is such a sleeper pairing to me as in I forget that the montreal canadiens exist (sorry) and then i see everyone on their team and get activated (screaming about juraj paying arber back with dinner for PROTECTING HIM)

as someone who also initially had no mcdrai emotions (rip dylan strome i still love your narrative deeply) i think the experience is universal… they’re so deeply unhinged about each other that i can’t even put it into words but My God Are There Narrative Implications

kissing you (with consent) full on the mouth and blessing you to be in my tags any time you want!!!! peer review and collaboration at its finest 🥰💕🥹

[wallissa]

did I ever talk about the fact that I wrote a fic where Homelander has a wet dream about Starlight and Soldier Boy*. What an intense ride. Really fun stuff though.

*he's there for moral support. With his shield and everything. top notch stuff I have to say.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Somehow I feel like being more physically active is making me aggressive and more prone to violent thinking

[strwrs]

I’m doing my capstone project at a local university and hELP my mentor is a professor and wants me to “assist” with his motor learning class today

[moonmoonthecrabking]

mischa and constance are bluey buddies pass it on

[crying-pan420]

The cyclone Roller coaster disaster

The six members of the St.Cassian Chamber choir boarded the cyclone roller coaster on Monday, September 14th, 6:17pm. And at 6:19 the same roller coaster’s front axle broke. Causing it to derail at the apex of the loop-de-loop, hurling the children to their deaths. Each had their own love, dreams and fears, each barely leaving a mark on their world, yet as they fell everything seemed to stop like they were the only ones that mattered. When the Cyclone derailed everything had changed.

At first they all screamed in terror, of course they would, this was the end, but as they fell 5 screams changed to 4, to 3, to 2, to none. At first their screams went unheard, blending in with the ruckus of the fair but not for long. Everyone stopped to stare, to gawk, to marvel at this tragic event, yet despite the children's deaths people still watched in joy, interest, fascination, this was the most interesting thing to happen here for years. These children's deaths were a show to them, something they could sit, watch, enjoy and pray it never happened to them. Their deaths spread like wildfire through the town ‘til even the trees had known.

But back to the children, the first to stop screaming was Penny, not because she had chosen to but because her head was sliced off her head and flung into the distance, gone forever, the most forgettable girl in town now unrecognisable. Her body went limp in the back seat, being recklessly thrown about, along with the boy next to her, Ricky who had felt as though every time he made contact with the cart, his organs rearranged themselves. The second to stop was Constance Blackwood, her screams shortly turned into laughter, she sobbed through uncontrollable bouts of laughter, she wheezed short unsteady breathes as their inevitable death drew nearer, she was dying yes but she had lived. She had so many memories in uranium. Why should she be embarrassed by them? She looked back over and regretted so much, she wished she could’ve told everyone, her parents, her brother, the choir how much they meant to her but still out of the choir she was the only one to die happy.

Noel was the next to stop screaming, when the cyclone began to derail he had clung onto Mischa for dear life, his chipped fingernails digging into the fabric of Mischa jumper and the other protectively grabbed ahold of him. Noel died mid air, his organs began to shut down as he neared the ground and his body went limp in Mischas arms, in a way he had the least tragic death, he died before feeling the impact of hitting the ground, the pain. His life wasn’t tragic, just mediocre. Yet as his hand fell from Mischas back the other boy screamed louder possibly even louder than Ocean but he wouldn’t let him go, that would make all of this real, that would make it all speed up and he couldn’t let that happen, Mischa would hold onto this ignore reality for as long as he could. Ricky was next, his battered body slammed against every surface it could, lacking another person to help secure him like the others did. Ricky died upon impact like Mischa, Ocean and Constance did, and it hurt. He died as soon as he hit the ground but atleast that meant the pain didn’t last as long. Ocean was the next to stop screaming, the one before Mischa. Her legs along with Constance's were squished, deformed, broken. Ocean knew before they boarded the ride it was dangerous, the rickety support and the stench of alcohol that drained off the carnie were signs she shouldn’t have ignored, but this was Constance's favourite ride and she had promised, it was a tradition after all. However when it derailed her brain screamed at her to say something like “I knew it!” or “I told you so!” but she couldn’t speak, breathe or move. She couldn’t do anything but wait for her death, for all her hard work to amount to nothing, for her name to be quickly forgotten, everything she had feared.

The last to die was Mischa, he had brought his phone onto the Cyclone and was messaging Talia, she had said she loved him, for the first time, he almost started crying but instead he began to message her back. Just before he went to hit the send button the cart fell along with his phone, he could never respond. He would die leaving Talia without an answer, without her knowing for sure he loved her too. He tried to hold it together, to keep his pride with his gangsta persona but when Noel died in his arms he couldn’t, He cried, screamed, but he couldn’t look. He could only listen as each and everyone one of his friends died, and he could do nothing. He couldn’t protect them or save them or anything. When it finally hit the ground he was still alive, it gave him hope that maybe, maybe he could at least tell Talia he loved her but he died before the Ambulance ever arrived.

And that was the end of the choir, forgotten to the world for who they were and remembered as a cautionary tale.

[victory-cookies]

my sisters thing may have gotten around to the parents by accident. fuck fuck fuck this is really not great

[hella1975]

HER

[boomerang109]

what if capitalism is making the one job i thought was possible for me feel unattainable not because i haven’t literally been doing it since age 13 but because it’s not well paid enough so until you get into a higher position you have to work multiple jobs and i knew that i always knew that but. fuck. why is adulting going to be so exhausting. what if this really is the best time of my life? being a depressed college student? what if it’s downhill from here?

[arthyritis]

:( <- is sleepy

[nazumichi]

blinks my big wet eyes,, I changed my mind

[sodacowboy]

jesus christ