#sent: seajellyx

[cynicalmusings]

i don't even go here but your brainrot post gave me some ideas

ambiguous, implied romantic, relationship, gender neutral, adepti reader. warning for: major character death, severe ptsd/depression, vivid descriptions of ptsd attacks, self harm, mentions of reincarnation, that erosion thing adepti do, inexcusably long, not proofread.

he remembers, he always does. xiao has always had a good memory. and to someone like him, with a past like his, this is a curse.

they mock him- mirages of the past, the whispering screams of the tortured and the damned, the wavering, spectral, haunting voices of his friends, even you, a voice so soft, so sweet, so undeserving of the rot that he brings, that it makes him sick. even his own voice, hoarse and broken, both pleading and condemning, the hanged man and the executioner. they claw up from deep in his gut, tearing through his lungs, withering his very bone; twisting words and memories into something awful, rotting every happy moment, corroding his very psyche as they taunt, whisper, mock- every small detail, every little thing, and endless cycle of starving and gorging on the urges. 

they plant noxious seeds into the space between ligament and muscle, so that later, they may sprout, and tear through his flesh as they wrap slowly around his throat. in these moments, he wishes they would suffocate him just a little more, and maybe then his misery would end, but it never does. perhaps, death is too good for a sinner like him. perhaps, he is meant to carry this punishment for the rest of eternity.

no one has hurt xiao more than himself, no one knows how best to torment him, than him. and it is evident in every sleepless night, every unwelcome recollection, every time his head feels as if it’s splitting with the sheer weight of the amount of ghosts living there, every time he carves his nails into his own skin, because perhaps if the physical pain can surpass the mental… but no, it never does. 

in these quiet moments, you liked to sing to him. and it helped more than he would like to admit. (even so, in small hours of the night, in vulnerable moments, xiao confesses to you, in almost silent whispers, how much you mean to him.) the urge to push you away was strong, but in moments like these, xiao is weaker than he likes to think. especially when its you. when your voice slices through the haze of delirious pain, soothes his wounds, lets him fall apart in your hands and have those same hands lovingly, meticulously, put him back together. you pretend you cannot see the way his lip trembles, the way his eyebrows cinch together and the way his breath shudders, and his lashes flutter. as the gentle moonlight gives away the shine of tears in his eyes, you tell him he’s beautiful, even in moments like these, and it breaks him in the most painfully soft way.

xiao remembers, when you both were young. all those years ago, when you dug your way into his heart, and you have never left since. when you would lie in the tall grasses of the hills of a budding liyue, side by side, just like you do now, holding one another. even as the ink stained blood soaks into his clothes, into the mud. even as your heartbeat flutters into silence, as you grow cold, stiff. even immortals cannot live forever. every living thing must suffer the same fate. xiao knows this more than anyone. but it does not make it any less painful. time and time again, he has had to watch everyone he has cared about leave where he cannot follow. and when the last person that means anything to him walks through that door, xiao can do nothing more but wait to join you.

in a moment like this, he can think of nothing else, but to sing. so that, perhaps, he might be able to return the favor. his voice is hoarse, pleading, wavering as he chokes down the sobs.

please forgive him, please. xiao knows you would, and that only makes him cry harder. even if it was his fault, his karma, his spear in your side, you would forgive him.

xiao has loved you for hundreds of years. he will love you for a hundred years more. and he loves you now, as much as he can, even as you erode away in his arms. even when he himself can feel his own heartbeat ebbing away. even when the sharp pain dissolves into a dull ache, and when someone, who he cannot recognize through the haze comes to drag him away from your body. 

xiao will love you across every lifetime. if you would do him the honor of letting him fall for you all over again. in a place where, maybe, you could live that dream of a peaceful life… with him. 

10 out of fucking 10 what the actual fuck you legend

this was so beautifully written and the angst hits in just the right spots… well done; seriously. that was really good. thank you for sending this.

[cynicalmusings]

another brainrot. i am so sorry xiao's is so long and the others' aren't. idk what happened i blacked out and awoke to a mini fic. anyways, here's another one.

ambiguous relationship, gender neutral.

warning for: whatever is implied (reader receiving) here is definitely not so good, possibly disturbing descriptions of a severe mental break, idk know heizou that well so possibly ooc, barely proofread.

your last gift to heizou was a puzzle. what a detective he was, to not notice the signs. but what signs? even now, it confuses him to no end- it sears its way into his heart and his mind, permanently nestling nausea into his gut- every moment, every memory, every word from your mouth in the days leading up to your disappearance, they bring nothing but bile to the back of his throat. there must have been something, something that could have tipped him off. but it seems like celestia was playing sick tricks on him, because he comes up empty. much like a riptide, he is pulled under in a blink, and it seems like his days blend together into dim, hazy buzz as he spirals farther into something much more cancerous than grief. what a detective he was. to have his greatest companion, his partner in crime, to have you slip from the gaps of his fingers in a split second of vulnerability. heizou curls over the surface of his messy desk, the wooden surface disappearing under mountains of research, papers, clues. he stays standing, despite the fact that he's clearly swaying on his feet, the fact that he seems so utterly close to collapsing onto the table. the evidence is useless now. they found you, days ago, and whilst it makes him sick to think that a near stranger was the one that discovered you, he knows that wouldn't have been able to stomach it. heizou slowly, deliberately, swipes each and every painstakingly analyzed paper off the desk. they all flutter to the floor, and the blank, empty surface of the wood seems to mock him. heizou leans forward, forehead against the worn table, and weeps.

how is he supposed to live with himself anymore?

some very short ones because i ran out of writing juice:

ambiguous relationship, gender neutral. warning for: basically lobotomy, i forgot how visions worked so i educatedly guessed, guilt, depression, and self harm

albedo having to nurse you back to health after you lose your vision in an accident. but he just can't stand the sight of you living as an empty husk, with empty eyes. albedo, the scientist that he is, throws himself into his work. but he knows, everyone that passes by him on the streets of mondstadt- that sees his eye bags, sees the dull look on his face, sees the way he seems more like a ghost than a living being- that whisper and stare and pity him- they all know. you are not coming back. but perhaps, just maybe. if he pulls enough all-nighters, if he exhausts himself enough searching and researching, if he forces his eyes to focus on the work on his desk, fighting the urge for sleep, maybe he can fix things. albedo wishes he were human, because a synthetic being cannot cry, even if he wants to more than anything. but at the very least, klee, poor klee, who is suffering just as much as him, doesn't have to see her big brother break.

(kind of) ambiguous relationship, gender neutral. warning for: torture, ptsd, survivor’s guilt, probably ooc.

you, a fellow matra, and cyno, your general, on a mission gone wrong. you, who has to watch him get tortured for information. it's really you that's being tormented, as you are forced to witness it, as you are forced to choose between your duty to the people, and the only one that could truly love you, the only one you could love so truly. as the information they so desperately want ebbs up into your throat, burning your tongue. cyno is strong, but not strong enough to bite back his screams, and you are not strong enough for this. you curse yourself for the thought, but perhaps he should have died there, instead of having to live on with the scars. perhaps you should have died there, instead of having to live on with the guilt. every day, you wish it were you. each time he flinches away from your touch, each heartbreaking, split second look of fear, each time you torture yourself into the endless nights you lie awake, each time that you have to wake in the morning, and remind yourself, that you have to be strong enough for the both of them now.

my good fellow, have you perhaps ever heard of the word ‘happiness’? /lh

in all seriousness, you are very, very good at writing angst. the xiao one was more than enough, and you sent in three more… you’re a legend.