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@helldevour
⸻ 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥. independent and private blade from hoyoverse's honkai: star rail. heavily based on headcanons and personal interpretations of source materials. mutuals only. low activity. not spoilers free. do not interact if you're under 21. established august 16, 2023. as written by taco (30+, they/them).
very heavy warnings for: suicidal ideation. death. torture. violence. gore
blogroll. @drachenblood @ordervessel sparing. @risingluv @petrokhelidon
𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄. 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄. 𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍. ㅤindependent and private NEUVILLETTE from hoyoverse's genshin impact. ㅤheavily based on headcanons and personal interpretations of source materials. mutuals only. low activity. not spoilers free. ㅤdo not interact if you're under 21. established september 28, 2023. as written by taco (30+, they/them).
It cuts like a thousand swords, each reminder that this man is no longer the one he used to cherish, used to love, would have spent the remainder of a lifetime with even knowing Yingxing would eventually pass away while Jing Yuan would remain. In the end, that is exactly what had happened and so he thought he'd made his peace with it. It had hurt, of course. They'd never even gotten the chance to have that wedding, Jing Yuan never got the chance to call him husband. The knowledge that it had been Dan Feng to play that ending in hand only adding insult to injury and yet he'd moved on, eventually. He'd made his peace with it somehow. Had even managed to forgive the High Elder years later, when that forgiveness didn't mean anything anymore.
But this? Watching Blade wearing the features of his past lover, his fiance, but seeing none of the warmth, none of the recognition, none of the love, is a special kind of torture.
Yet, he still lets him into his own. He's still brewing him tea, still regaling him with stories, despite the snappish responses in turn. Because throughout it all, no sentiment has ever been as dangerous as idle hope and he supposes he's always been a fool for it.
He's grateful for the change of topic, even if his heart cannot scrounge up the same amount of levity anymore. At least his hand doesn't shake on the cup as he sets it down for his guest before taking a seat himself, wincing as the movement pulls at his injury. He quirks a small smile at the finch on his shoulder, giving it a small piece of a biscuit he'd added to the cups before watching it fly off. " They're very uncomplicated creatures. Nothing hidden in their desires. " A nice change compared to everything else.
At the mention of Yanqing, his brow furrows, another rueful chuckle escaping. " I would assume he is, if he's not already training for the next confrontation. There is no stopping it once he gets an idea in his head; and each failure comes with its own lesson after all, " A lesson he hopes the boy has learned now. He's not quite ready yet. " One that I was taught long ago by my own master. " His finger runs along the rim of his teacup. " He will surpass me soon enough, however. And when the time comes for my end, I can trust him to follow through. "
𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬, his lungs, his very heart, to ash. Such is its fire, and when he would know what that sensation, having licked away by flame before. His hands close tight around his tea, the heat of it neither soothing nor painful. A small and worthless distraction when held in consideration of present situation. Sitting in the middle of the Arbiter General’s home, sharing tea with him, exchanging pleasantries as if they were no more than old companions. Or perhaps something more.
“Jing Liu.” The name falls from him serrated as a field of broken glass. His very flesh recoiling in memory of her blade, the cold touch of ice as searing as one pulled from the flame. “She was your master.” As she had been his, in all its painful and cruel tutelage. And she might have had a hand in that boy’s training as well, remembering too technique that child had turned against him and Imbibitor Lunae. He can’t conceal his sneer. That woman is no longer here, but he knows with a certainty that rests deep and sure within his soul, that their paths will cross.
Memory can be both resilient and fragile both. Moments in time that can be scattered as ash in the wind while others carved into his very soul. He’d woken once to a life renewed with nothing, no name, no recollection. And yet memory persisted, returning to him as a slow and inexorable force, undeniable even as he’d turned himself from whatever he’d been before. The name of his past that should be as meaningless to him now as the man who sits before him. And yet he finds his gaze turning to the general, drawn to the golden eyes that shine as pieces of the sun. He himself a man who’s been left to the bitterest elements, unable to deny the warmth that he sees there.
He all but shakes his head, frustration mounting at his own weakness. What is this indulgence when it serves him little. When soon he’ll be away from the Luofu, with Kafka’s talent muddying the waters of his memory so that even this small, shared moment will be gone. “You should rest,” he decides. His tea is hardly touched, but he’s never had an interest for it. Something stronger would have suited, though with Jing Yuan in his position now, wine would likely be the last thing he needs. “You need rest.” Already he sees how pale the general has become, only a few moments out of bed and he’s worsened considerably. “Return to your bed. I’ll see to things here.”
PRIVATE / LOW ACTIVITY MULTIMUSE featuring roronoa zoro + other various npcs from ffxiv, resident evil, genshin impact and hsr as written by curry ( she/her. 30+ ). this blog is mostly iconless and not spoilerfree. as a sideblog, i will follow back from my main blog @ritterblood.
CARRD
so I did the thing i said I would do
you know my gay little gremlin mind used to believe that the reason blade was there at the statue of dan feng for the todd quests was because of of lingering memories/feelings he still harbored for him and it could still very well be the case since i firmly believe that people can have more than one reason for why they do what they do...
but also the realization that it's avery likely he's drawn to the place because the high cloud quintet in all their overdramatic ridiculousness decided to make their hang out spot the place that had the giant statue of their friend.
it was probably yingxing's idea. arrogant craftsman wanted to make the proud high elder squirm.
ㅤㅤthere's a rueful smile that pulls at the wizards lips , replacing a distinct expression of fascination that was there only moments prior . he lifts his hands up in defeat , placating his harmless nature to the others callous words . ㅤㅤ"ㅤbold words for someone that was a corpse only moments prior ,ㅤ"ㅤhe betrays that harmlessness with his poor attempts at humor , the smile morphing from rueful to relaxed in a moment . ㅤㅤ"ㅤyou , my friend , have quite the interesting story , don't you ?ㅤ"ㅤand oh is gale ever so curious . he's already squandered 8 lives , like that of a cat , and yet can't exactly stop his hands from wanting to take a peak in dangerous corners . ㅤㅤthere's something in this man , he decides , yet does not pry . there's something in both of them , unspoken . but quite the story . ㅤㅤ"ㅤneed help up ?ㅤ"ㅤhe asks , formally ignoring the others warning .ㅤ"ㅤcan only imagine the backache death leaves you with .ㅤ"
𝐈𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞. The autonomous functions that forces breath into his lungs and his blood to pump through his body. Each wretched beat of his heart is a hateful percussion that has him turning away from the individual in question, too tired to be reeled into whatever game of words he seems to be playing. His sword is heavy in his grasp, but he clings to it regardless, too much like a child with a stuffed toy in the wake of a nightmare. Only this reality is the nightmare that he can’t seem to escape.
He runs his bandaged hand through his unruly bangs, the frayed edges catching against dark strands. He’ll have to make a point of finding fresh dressings later, no doubt the ones wrapped around his chest have become bloodied and torn, which would mean his garments would need tending to as well. He closes his eyes, feeling the weight of those tasks, but grasping for them all the same. Tabulating what must be done to chart his own course for coming days.
But first, this stranger. He glowers at the man and rises of his own accord. His hands and wrists may ache from lingering maladies, but already the phantom pains of old injuries ebb away. He spits what blood that remains in his mouth and hefts his sword at the man. “Fight me,” he challenges. There is power to him. Therefore he would have that power turned against his own body.
Observation alone speaks louder than his words and she is nothing but that. The disdain, the HATRED that she holds for Kafka does not extend to her partner. For all the man has done, it does not tread that level of it. It does not dare go near such personal offence but still the waters he tread with her are dangerous. For she knows this shadow, known it since the moment she set eyes on Dan Heng all those years ago. It the maws of death, not unlike the gallows that haunt after her, the faceless that lurk when they believe she is not aware.
It's foolish to think she is not aware.
Yet his word draw her pause and turns all from the ice few think her capable of. Because this is one things that Himeko does not stray from. Compassion in the face of others even when undeserving is the way skyward, to the STARS. Thus her expression is one of neither anger nor compassion. Simply ember gaze sinking into the being before her in silence before she dips her head to continue.
".....Go on." It's a careful yet gentle hand of INDIFFERENCE. A branch brittle that can be set ablaze, yet a an extension all the same. It is an action she will not hesitate in igniting if needed. It didn't need to be said, no it was quite obvious.
"What kind of help?"
𝐉𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐬, he’s stopped fearing retribution long ago. A punishment of a thousand, thousand deaths can temper a man to indifference. After all, death is the matter at hand here. His death. And no mortal sword is enough to pierce the curse that’s become an indiscernible part of him. It was as Elio had said all those long years ago when diagnosing his condition. Not even the famed sword champion could do it. Not even Elio, who has rendered a promise that dangles before him as much as the sword.
He closes his eyes, feeling the weight of her gaze that cuts as much as a blade. Her judgement is another promise that would have him sneering in return if not for his own desperation. This is what hope does to a man or rather a complete and utter lack of it.
“Dan Heng… has told you of events prior.” Amongst the Stellaron Hunters, they each house their own secrets. It’s an accepted truth. For all that he’s come to slot imperfectly within their fold, he knows about as much as each member’s history as they’ll allow. He figures it’s different with the Astral Express, how they seemingly treat their unit as a loving family, where secrets are shared as much as affection and guidance. In truth, from what has transpired, he’d half expected for this one to blast him into ash for what he and Kafka has done to one of their own. “If so then you are aware of what I seek.”
Look his smug ass face. Is this why Jing Yuan likes Lions or did he do it because of Mimi?
this event making me think of blades pokemon team.
Hearing about someone being wrongfully arrested struck a chord with March. - Perhaps it was because of the events that unfolded in Belobog?
She knew the feeling of being treated unjustly - just the very memory of that...... made her feel sorry for this 'Diplomat' " Hnnng.... okay.. we can't just leave the poor guy ..." - even if she didn't have the ideal partner - Blade did seem like the sort of man you could depend on when you needed a job done - however, his suggested PLAN made her take pause.
"A ....Arrested? - seriouslyyyy??? I just narrowly avoided that recently."
(Belobog)
"Now you want me to do it on purpose? -- .....ughhhhh" despite her complaint, she knew there wasn't a point in moaning and groaning about it, that was just a waste of time and besides it wasn't like she had a BETTER idea.
"Fine. b-but what sort of crime are we committing here? I ...don't want to hurt anyone..."
𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞, the speed at which she acquiesces to their situation would have had him raising an eyebrow in suspicion. He’s not used to working with outsiders — he’s not used to working with anyone at all. Not since throwing his lot with the Stellaron Hunters has he been forced to join hands with others and learn how to navigate the intricacies of their personalities.
Now he’s expected to do the same with a girl he hardly knows, having only gleamed her history through what Silver Wolf and Elio have managed to gather. And even then for all of Silver Wolf’s expertise in finding data, there’s abysmally little.
But some things are incredibly telling and her adamant refusal to hurt someone comes as little surprise. Once more, he questions this decision to have him partnered with her when they operate together as well as oil and water. Hurting people has always been what he’s been good at.
“Hm.” Barring physical violence, wanton destruction might be all that’s left to them. “What are your feelings on destroying public property then.” Perhaps something of historical value or tied to the governing body of this world.
oh one more thing that popped into my head as i collapsed into bed about these claims about inconsistent writing with yingxing/blade.
but yingxing acting hypocritical, when we have blade who is the most hypocritical person ever? blade who refuses to let dan heng be his own person when he's running around trying to separate his own identity from yingxing?
𝐀𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬, he’d gained a shadow. With so many eyes and ears still on alert after the Luofu’s most recent disaster, it’s of little surprise that he’s been noticed. Though he’d have thought such esteemed members of the celestial vessel’s security would be more preoccupied in hunting down remnants of the Sanctus Medicus than a lone criminal. It’d take so very little to permanently rid himself of this irritant, but when he turns a corner and glimpses just who it is that follows him, that particular option is taken from him.
Killing the boy would mean nothing, but Jing Yuan’s tolerance and sentiment is all that keeps Blade from the chains of the Shackling Prison. Inviting the general’s ire would ruin what he still needs to do upon this accursed ship. So, when he turns another corner that leads into a private courtyard, he greets the boy with the sharp end of his sword. “Didn’t your master teach you to leave well enough alone?” / @astralcrew
ahem. well since i've finished the companion quest earlier and it's always been my tradition to post about new content that drops for my muse, this was going to come anyway. but as it's impossible to write stuff in a vacuum without having my thoughts influenced by outside events, some warnings for all the discourse surrounding the companion quest. also warnings for suicidal ideation and death, since this is blade.
spoiler warning for the jl companion quest under the cut and all.
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬. 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 that he hadn’t known to have been there. Burdens that dissolve away as so much cosmic dust. The lights are muted and the hum of their ship is barely drowned away by the soft music of stringed instruments and wood winds. Its name and its composer surfaces through his hazy recollection. Silver Wolf must be shut away in her room and he can hardly begin to fathom where Sam has disappeared to, but it doesn’t matter. He’s almost glad that the only person to greet him is Kafka.
He lets his sword fall with a heavy clatter and takes halting steps to the sofa, dropping himself on the floor beside her and resting his temple against her knee. A thousand words that could be exchanged, most of them to variations of how she’d been right, even if she hadn’t said a word, but he’d always been able to know her thoughts as she knows his. “I died,” he says instead, which his nothing new. He’s died a hundred times and more since joining the Stellaron Hunters. “I thought… she could…” / @araneitela
a bit of salt, but i really wish people would stop conflating "this story didn't go in the direction i want" = bad writing.
𝐈𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 (𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧) – 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, the cold air that fills his lungs is sharp as knives and then the sensations come flooding back. The reminder of a body that still lives when it can still feel. There’s blood on his tongue while pain courses through his veins rather than blood. He squeezes his eyes shut from the too bright light, unseeing of his surroundings and uncaring of whatever dangers that might still remain. If the universe is merciful at all then whatever killed him has remained and it’ll do him the courtesy of making it PERMANENT.
Regaining sense of himself comes easy now and his fingers close around his discarded sword, feeling its comforting weight. He’s not alone, that much he’s discerned, but when he cracks an eye open, he meets only an all too curious gaze. Nothing prickles at his instincts that screams of danger. A shame. “If you desire your life then leave.” / @dekaryos
