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themerriweathermage · 2 years

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What Doesn’t Kill You (Makes A Fighter)

Summary: Bren can’t so easily take Quinn and his people under his wings, knowing that if he brings them into the heart of his Estate, he will lose everyone’s trust. So he makes a plan with Lydia to build a Summit out in the mountains... Only to find himself put on an impromptu vacation.

Pairing(s): Sunny X Nix, It's Complicated (Quinn X Bren)

POV: 1st Person (Bren)

Warnings: Mention of Self-Harm, Mention of Suicidal Ideation, Canon Typical Violence (Death/Blood Mention), Mention of Chronic Pain/Illness

Co-Creator: @i-drink-and-i-write-fics

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics

“No.” Nix hadn’t even looked up from scooping out the bright pink cinnamon rolls from the pan. One of the many recipes she remembered from our old world.

“What do you mean, ‘no’? I haven’t even asked anything.”

“You came into the room, looked at me and Sunny, and hesitated. That only means one thing and my answer is no.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“Only in regards to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

“Somehow, I think Voldemort is worse,” I replied dryly.

“Debatable,” was Nix’s response. She then looked up at me. “If you let him in here, Meraxes will use him as a new chew toy.”

“Not if you tell her not to.”

“This isn’t about whether or not I can issue that command - which, spoiler alert, I won’t. This is about how she wouldn’t listen to me anyway. I am Meraxes’s top protection priority. It’s just the way she was built. But she also knows what you and Sunny mean to me, so you both are a close second with Lydia right behind. She knows from me talking, what he did to Lydia and Sunny. She saw what Quinn did to you. She could feel what I wanted to do to him. And I didn’t - not solely because of you, though I know you would have been mad at me for quite some time - but because I didn’t want the image burned in my head. But if I’m not around…”

I was quiet at her words, forgetting, in the heat of wanting to help Quinn’s people, that the issue with Meraxes was more complicated than most realized. “His people need our help.”

Nix sighed. “I don’t doubt that. But you cannot let him into the heart of our barony. Not just because I trust him as far as I can throw my mother’s grand piano. But because we will lose our people’s trust. They know what he did. They know how Lydia was treated, my almost imprisonment, Sunny having poison blades used on him, and what almost happened to you. If we let him into the estate, we will lose everyone.”

I grew quiet at her words. She was right, as much as I hated to admit it. “But-”

She sighed again and pulled me over to the table to sit with her and Sunny, who had been quietly observing this whole time. “I can offer you two solutions: take him to the Port Town to have this meeting and take Sunny and Lydia. Meraxes will be close by in case anything happens.”

“Or?”

“Or, you find or build a cabin at the borders of our baronies and have the meeting there. Again, with Sunny, Lydia, and Meraxes.”

“You’re not going to lecture me about Quinn?”

“It’s just going to go in one ear and out the other, unfortunately. And thanks to Lydia, I have to prepare for a party announcing my engagement to Sunny as well as a wedding. My neurodivergent head is already at capacity.”

I nodded my head. “Thank you.”

“You’re up late.” Lydia murmured, seeing me sitting at the desk in the office, in contemplative thought, considering each of Nix’s ideas. Neither one of them particularly suited me. Using the port town meant that I couldn’t showcase our barony, and yet pulling something together in our barony in such a short time seemed almost impossible. Even with my gift...

“Thinking.” I replied softly. There were hideouts we could use, places lesser inhabited by citizens, places used by our nomads who didn’t have an opinion on us one way or another.

“About helping Quinn?” She asked. I sighed, rubbing my temples.

“Why does everyone assume that this is about Quinn?” She gave me a telling look. “His people...”

“Need our help.” She finished. “So you want to guide him into the right path.”

“It isn’t about him.” I protested again, weaker this time. She only raised an eyebrow in my direction. “I have to try.” I admitted lowly. “I have to try, even if he throws my advice to the wind like he’s done so many times before. I have to lead by example.”

“And how goes your planning?”

“Shit.” I muttered. “It’s going like shit. If I use the port town, I can’t showcase our barony. If I use the barony lines, it’s going to take me too long to build anything. I was thinking about heading to one of the lesser used hideouts.”

“Why not use Gideon’s headquarters?” Lydia asked. “The rail runs right through it. Can’t it take us there on the way through to Rojas’ territory on its supply run?”

“The mountain valley?” It was secluded enough that only nomads attempted the run to the depot between the two mountain tunnels. Lesser inhabited, but still lush, and whatever was built for the summit could remain in place to provide better shelter instead of just using the old airplane hangar. “It would delay the trade route by a few days.”

“I’m sure Rojas wouldn’t mind too much.”

“He might, if he knows the 611 carries Quinn.” Lydia stifled a giggle.

“But it will also give you the chance to showcase to Quinn why your alliances hold strong. If he pays attention.”

“Big if.” I muttered under my breath. That time she laughed.

“You should get some sleep. I doubt having a tired mind will do you any good.” I wrinkled my nose, even though I knew she was right. But all I ever wanted to do was sleep, sleep and remember the good times gone past, sleep and try to forget what kind of toll the Badlands was taking on me.

It showed through more now than I ever wanted it to, so I tried to keep that part locked down and hidden away. I used my gift more than ever, mostly to mitigate the chronic pain but there were days when I just didn’t have the strength to keep up with that demand. And there were days when I wished that we’d been thrown anywhere else through that portal, anywhere but the Badlands.

More grey than ever was starting to color my hair. I knew part of it was just going to do that as I got older but stress more than anything caused it to happen more rapidly. The scars that I had gotten here contributed to a host of aches and pains that I hadn’t known could run so deeply. And the fact that I’d come through the portal, well, me, but with almost everything that had made me me certainly didn’t help the situation.

“I know what you’re doing.” Lydia’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“It is not fair that you can see right through me.” I murmured.

“You don’t have to hide yourself away.”

“If I don’t, I can’t be the baron my people need. I can’t be anyone with that kind of pain. I’ve lived through it enough; it’s debilitating.” I replied, leaning on my hand. “The gift mitigates that, some of it anyway.”

“Enough to get by?” Lydia asked.

“Ha!” I barked out a dry laugh. It would have been easier if Quinn had actually put his money where his mouth was and just fucking ended it, but we couldn’t do things the easy way, could we? I frowned at the intrusive thought; that brought back far too many memories and none of them good. “I need a drink. A strong one.”

“Whiskey?”

“Vodka.” I muttered. “Straight.” It couldn’t have been a minute later before there was a shot sitting on my paperwork and I downed it, grimacing at the taste. But it did what I needed it to do, distracted me from my current thoughts and grounded me to the present.

“I’ll never understand why you drink it if you don’t like it.”

“Because it keeps me here, keeps me grounded, keeps me from thinking about things that shouldn’t be thought about.” I replied. “And you’re right; I should probably get some rest.” I stood, aiming to head out when her touch on my shoulder stopped me.

“Don’t...” She paused for a moment, “Don’t do anything drastic, Bren.”

“I won’t.” I promised quietly. At this point, it was probably just better that I got some sleep, retreating into my quarters.

Morning came too early, as it always did. I made myself scarce from the Estate, holing up in Club Euphorbia where the lights were dim, setting some music to play. In the wake of Dominique’s exit, the club had gone dark, with no one to mitigate between my responsibilities and the costs of running it. I sprawled out my supplies in my lounge, setting to work, seemingly undisturbed for most of the day.

“So this is the great Club Euphorbia.” There was a knock on the door and I looked up, seeing Lydia in the doorway. “Quieter than I expected.”

“Dom managed it on the side. With him gone...” I let the sentence trail. “I suppose I ruffled some feathers by leaving early this morning?” I turned my attention back to my paperwork.

“You’re the baron. You can go where you like.” She replied. “Sebastian told me you were here.” I furrowed my brow. I had never quite gotten used to having a Clipper insist on being at my side quite like ours did, but that name was familiar, and not one of our own. “Quinn usually had him assigned as my personal guard. He wasn’t at liberty to be transferred with me when Quinn gave me away, but he left after the fiasco at the poppy fields. He comes and goes with the nomads.” Lydia approached, almost cautiously. But I’d be cautious too; I’d let my guard down here, gotten comfortable.

She made her way over to my lounge, peering over the edge and into my paperwork and distracted drawings. “Any more luck on your planning?”

“I thought about what you said about using Gideon’s headquarters and decided to see what I could do about creating a town in the mountain valley. The nomads already have a trading post in the old airplane hangar. They could... settle there if they wanted.”

“Projected cost?”

“Labor and supplies shouldn’t be difficult to come by. We’ll see about enlisting the nomads there already. If everybody pitches in, the project shouldn’t take too long.”

“Lodging, permanent vendors, what else are you talking?”

“Probably an infirmary and let’s see about getting an actual depot set up for the rail.”

“I can do that.” Lydia murmured, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. “I just... I don’t want you doing this alone, Bren.” I met eyes with her for a moment before glancing away. I wasn’t drunk enough-- or sober enough for that matter-- for this conversation.

“Because of Quinn?” I’ll admit that my tone was... not so nice.

“Because you work too much. Sure, you’ve thrown yourself back into the barony, into keeping your promises and your oaths, but Bren, what part of throwing yourself back into the barony has been about taking care of yourself? You won’t give me a moment edgewise to slide something into your schedule to let you relax.”

“The needs of many outweigh the needs of one.” I replied. “My needs can wait.”

“Until what? Until you work yourself into a grave?” I shrugged.

“Why not? Quinn already took the measurements for it.” Lydia blinked, slowly giving me a measured, almost prising look.

“Do you... wish that he had?”

“It’s just an expression.” I mumbled quietly, crossing my arm over my chest, uncomfortable with where the topic was heading, already treading into dangerous territory, much like last night had been.

“Bren--”

“It’s complicated.”

“Okay.” She started softly. “We don’t have to talk about it. Did you want me to get started on your plans for the summit?”

“It can wait until tomorrow.” I knew my answer was clipped, knew that my thoughts were going somewhere they shouldn’t be. I heaved a sigh, scowling. Why here, and why now of all times? Why when there was work to be done?

“Do you want me to stay?” I looked away from her. “I can go, Bren, if you need some time alone.”

“No.” I tried to keep my voice level. “Don’t go. Not like this. Not when I’m like this.” Not when I can’t trust myself to be alone.

“Do you... need a drink?” I blanched. Last night had been about the drink to ground me back. If I started drinking now, I would never want to stop. Lydia touched my shoulder lightly. Life was so different here in the Badlands, and as a baron particularly, when every move was watched and scrutinized. Her touch was comforting. “I worry for you, Bren.”

“The storm will pass. It always does.” I whispered.

“You shouldn’t have to weather it alone.” She murmured.

“Maybe.” I compiled my papers into a folder, setting it aside. “Did you come alone?” She nodded. “Let’s head out to Rojas’ territory, let him know why the supply run will be late. After that, you can start delegating the work when we return, as you see fit.”

It turns out that Lydia’s idea of delegating the work was to completely absolve me of any of it, by means of planting me in Minerva’s barony, complete with Waldo to distract me.

“Um...” I turned to Lydia but she was already leaving, a packed bag at my feet.

“Apparently you work too much.” Minerva commented. “Welcome back to the Lodge, Bren.”

“I... thank you for hosting me, apparently.” I replied, picking up my bags. “So this is what I get when I tell her to delegate. How uh.... How long am I staying?”

“Until Gideon’s gets built.” Waldo rolled up then.

“I see I’m being conspired against.” I teased. He gave me a smile.

“Or until you decide that helping my barony isn’t worth it.”

“It has at least one good man. That’s enough to fight for.” I murmured. Waldo chuckled.

“Stubborn.” He muttered under his breath. I only shook my head at him, pretending not to hear. He followed me inside as Minerva took the lead, giving me a tour. It had been awhile since I’d been and coming here brought back memories.

“You are very far away.” I gave Minerva a small smile.

“Thinking about the first time we came here.”

“About whether you would have been a baron if you’d stayed?”

“As simple as our lives were back then, we were only focused on survival. Our futures were so uncertain then.” I murmured. I had no doubt that Minerva and I were thinking about the same thing, but perhaps in a different light. She continued the tour without continuing the conversation, letting it go, showing me the gardens and the libraries. It probably wasn’t chance that we found Gaius in there, shelving books with a few of her other staff.

“She’s putting you to work I see.” Gaius looked up.

“Well... most Cogs don’t know how to read so it helps to have someone who can dictate placement.”

“A man of your talents shelving books.” I shared a look with Gaius for a moment, and he also noticed that we had been left alone. “If I didn’t know better...”

“I’d say my baron is playing matchmaker.” Gaius replied. “It’s good to see you, Baron.” I gave him a weak smile.

“Any chance I can get you to call me Bren?”

“No title, huh?” He asked, folding a stack of books under his arm.

“There’s a time and place for titles and it isn’t here or now. Unless you really fancy me calling you Lord Chau?” Gaius choked, nearly dropping his pile of books. I stifled a chuckle, hand out to steady him. “Why don’t I help you put these away... Lord Chau?”

“You enjoy flustering people, don’t you?” Gaius asked, handing me half the books and turning away to face the shelf. But even I could see how pink his cheeks were in the dimness of the room.

“I know how to use certain titles to elicit reactions, if that’s the answer you’re seeking. Not everybody reacts the same way. Sometimes it’s just a sign of respect or politeness,”

“And other times?”

“Some people react with hunger. Or embarrassment.”

“Are you embarrassed of your title, Baron Bren?”

“I don’t see the need for a title until my rank is questioned, until my position at the head of my barony is questioned, or until my people are threatened. And even then I will not be a baron.”

“What will you be?” Gaius spared me a curious look.

“A Dragon-Lord.” I replied, shelving the book, fingers lingering on the faded gold embossed lettering. We worked quickly together, quietly finishing up the day’s work. “Have you ever read any of these books?”

“Some, but not most of them. Mother insisted we be trained in the classics. Free reading wasn’t encouraged.”

“Free thinking wasn’t encouraged.” Gaius shrugged slightly.

“They say there is no easy way to be a baron, and my family has always expected their barons to be the best. If you take your feelings out of the equation, supposedly it’s easy. But I could never find taking my feelings out of the equation to be that easy. The others make it look easy... but you can never take things at face-value in the Badlands.”

The vacation was... nice. It was kind of Lydia to think about me and disheartening that she knew me as well as she did, that I was so easy to read to her.

“I know that look.” Waldo murmured, joining me in the gardens. “Not enjoying your time off?”

“I should be out there helping.”

“You need this. Time away from your barony and all. Everybody does. Not everybody gets it.”

“Yeah.” I looked to the ground. “I’m hearing that you think I should be thankful for something I didn’t have a choice in.”

“Nix has the barony. Let Lydia take care of Gideon’s.”

“It feels... wrong.” I murmured, taking a seat on the stone edge of a fountain, admiring the flowers and the fountains and feeling it go right through me like a soulless joy.”

“Everything you ever wanted doesn’t taste like honey anymore?” Waldo asked. I glanced at him, keeping my gaze lowered, meeting his eyes like a petulant child. “You’re gonna tell that all you ever wanted was Quinn, aren’t you?”

“It’s... good to be in the kind of position that allows me to change the way things run in the Badlands,”

“But?” Waldo prompted.

“Well,” I sighed, “I think you know the rest as well as I do.”

“You and Gaius seem to be getting along well enough together.” Waldo offered. “You work well as a team.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you and Minerva are doing. And don’t think he doesn’t know either.”

“So what do you think about him?” I sighed, deciding to humor Waldo for once.

“He’s very pretty.” Waldo snorted.

“Prettiness aside...”

“Come on, Waldo.” I pushed myself to my feet. “If I tell you the right words, will it make you stop asking? He’s nice. He’d be a good baron, and a good partner for anyone.” I replied flatly. Waldo heaved a sigh from behind me.

“I wish you’d never come to the Badlands.”

“Sometimes I wish that too.” I murmured, watching the sun setting on the horizon. “Sometimes I wish we could have gone anywhere but here. Anywhere would hurt less.” It was still hard to be vulnerable, and Waldo had seen a lot of it. “Being anyone else would hurt less.” I could feel my voice breaking in my chest. “If I could turn off, what makes me--”

“You, you’d be miserable.”

“I’m miserable now, Waldo!” I turned to face him, lips trembling, tears brimming my eyes. “The man I love tried to kill me, I’m being benched in my own barony, and most days I can’t even keep up with the magic that makes life easier. I just want to unapologetically be me, but unapologetically be me and it not hurt for once. It never stops hurting!” By now, I’d curled into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. It was a scream on my lips, wordless and soundless, just an empty keen that made my whole back hurt with the sheer force. The tears were silent, tracking down my face even though I’d tried to keep them at bay.

This ran deeper than Quinn, Waldo realized, and explained Lydia’s worry. “What can I do to help?” “Tch.” I knew his offer was genuine but he wouldn’t have liked my answer. I didn’t even like my answer, and I knew it was born from hurt and sarcasm and morbid humor. I just hugged myself tighter.

“They worry because they love you, Bren. You’re not being benched; you’re hurting. You need time to recover. They just want to make sure you don’t push yourself too far before you’re ready. Which... you’re doing, if you don’t even have the energy to keep up with your own magic.”

Glad someone around here knew how to keep their own head about them. And I hated that he made sense. But there was a reason he was here, and a reason I had gone to him in moments of distress like this. Because one of us needed to keep some rationality, and I knew he could see the things I couldn’t, things that my brain wouldn’t let me see. I let out another wretched sigh, my breath ragged.

What if I run away to Mars?

Would you find me in the stars?

Would you miss me in the end?

If I run out of oxygen?

When I run away to Mars.

And Waldo knows the song isn’t for him. That it’s borne of heartbreak and anger and loneliness and pain, and it’s so unexpressed and bitter. He can hear the sadness.

“Kid...” It was silent for the longest time and then his hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing tightly. And like Waldo had always done for me, he sat and listened. He was there. At this point I didn’t want words or reassurance; I just needed to know he was there.

Gods only knew how much I wished that my own brain wouldn’t work against me. It felt like wallowing in my own misery, and wanting to help, and trying to help, but nothing would come out the way I wanted it to. Or just losing another part of myself to the way of the Badlands.

It was quiet for the longest time, Waldo and I sitting in contemplative silence. Oh Waldo knew he was out of his depth. Quinn he could handle, and any issues with Quinn he could handle. But people like Bren didn’t exist in the Badlands. Gaius was probably the closest thing and even he was a battle hardened warrior.

“I want you to do something for me.” Waldo’s voice broke me out of my reverie. I looked up from nursing his touch on my shoulder. “I want you to start training again.”

“Waldo, I’m not a fighter.” I started.

“Don’t bullshit me.” Waldo teased, his expression turning serious. “You’ve endured it, survived it, seen the shitty side of the Badlands. Fight it. Fight for something better.”

“So when do we start training?” Waldo chuckled.

“Find someone who fights like you do, and ask them to train you. Cause we both know it ain’t me.”

“Heh.” I chuckled at that. I knew his meaning well enough. He wasn’t asking me to train with him because his style was different from mine; he was asking me to find someone who fought for the same things I did. Someone that wasn’t him. Someone that wasn’t Nix. Someone born and raised in the Badlands. “Thanks for staying. And for listening.”

I hadn’t picked up my blades in a long time. Not since the incident out in the wilds. There was no reason to. So when Waldo dropped them off at the Lodge, I spent a long time staring at them. I didn’t remember bringing them both home which meant the other one had to have been recovered in the field. In fact, I still didn’t remember much about coming home at all.

They were Minerva’s, or rather a gift from the Butterfly Territory to help us survive out in the wilds. Since we hadn’t stayed with her-- since I’d gone chasing a dream-- she felt it better for us to be equipped to survive the Armadillo Territory. The butterfly design started the dagger, and then split into two separate blades that could be taken apart and wielded separately. But they were in a state of disrepair, and needed to be cleaned and polished as much as any tool.

So I spent one of my afternoons re-wrapping the leather hilts and polishing the blades, running them over a whetstone until they were sharp again.

“You kept them.” Minerva had found me, tucked away in her butterflies’ barracks. I took in a deep breath.

“I did.”

The image of blood spattering on a concrete ground flashed through my mind. I didn’t remember killing Zephyr like I remembered killing Ryder.

“They saved my life.”

He was hardly innocent, though he’d been unarmed, and I could have left him there.

She noticed the measured look. “You never really forget the first life you take.”

“I don’t remember Zephyr.” I replied. “But I’ll never forget the way Ryder died.”

The way his back arched and his twisted cry of pain when his head hit the ground as I’d swept his leg and shoved him to the ground in an adrenaline fueled escape.

“It was no secret that he hated you. Would have killed you if he’d had the chance.”

The way his nails had clawed into me as we both locked into the mode of life or death, my hand at his throat, thumb gripping into his jugular.

I should have left him there. I should have left it at that. But I hadn’t. I had ensured that he wouldn’t pursue me. That he wouldn’t ever come after me again.

The dagger I sharpened now was the very same one that I plunged through his skull. Death had been almost instantaneous. He’d barely had the time to cry out, let alone feel it.

That didn’t make it any less worse.

I could still hear the back of his hand hitting the ground when he ceased to struggle. I could still see the way the blood dripped off the blade. And then the next thing I remembered was being pursued.

“In another universe, perhaps we could have been friends.” I murmured lowly, cleaning the grit off the blade to examine it.

“Those wishes are wasted on the Badlands, Bren.”

“He was unarmed.”

“It didn’t make him any less dangerous. Being unarmed doesn’t make you or me any less dangerous.”

“Waldo wants me to start training again.”

“Oh? Is that why you’re in here, sharpening your blades?” Minerva asked. I didn’t meet her eyes.

“I want you to teach me how to fight.”

“Me?” Minerva couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “Anyone in the Badlands and you pick me? Bren, I...”

“You and I, we fight for the same goal. We might come from different backgrounds, but we’re not that different. We both want a better Badlands. We’re not fighting for us; we’re fighting for the people who can’t fight for themselves. We’re fighting for...”

“A better future.” Minerva finished. She paused for a moment, seeming to think it over. “I accept.”

#Welcome to the Badlands Series #Welcome to the Badlands #Sunny X OFC #Quinn X OMC #Into the Badlands Fanfic #cw: canon typical violence #cw: blood mention #cw: death mention #cw: self-harm mention #cw: suicidal ideation mention #cw: chronic pain/illness

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incognitopolls · 1 month

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We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

#polls #incognito polls #anonymous #tumblr polls #tumblr users #questions #polls about brains #submitted dec 21 #mental health #suicide mention #tw suicide mention #tw suicidal ideation #suicidal ideation cw

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silvertoadz · 1 year

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// ideation mention

sometimes i wonder if i actually have depression or if i just wanna k myself to get tf away from my abusive ass family

#cw: suicidal ideation mention #wormvents

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stormwaterwitch · 2 years

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I dont think i have a future. Seriously. Nor do I think my friends like me much, im too dramatic and loud, too stupid to get things right. I only hurt and confuse people. I need someone.

Hey sugar~

Thanks for reaching out to me ♥

This is just going to be me blathering so take what you want and discard what you don't need/want to do okay?

I remember feeling the exact same way at one point in my life about my old friends group from high school. My best friend and I had a falling out and it turns out none of the people I thought were my friends were my friends and were only friends with me because of her, which really hurt to discover in the back half of my senior year. I had no real group, but I made friends with some of my other classmates and ended up with a few new people who were kind to me. We never ended up becoming super besties like how close the old group and I had been but it was comforting enough to not have to sit through lunch alone that I was content.

I tried being friends with that group again a few years later but I couldn't get how they treated me out of my head and what helped me the most was taking those people out of my life for good. It hurt me to be friends with people who had been so rude and mean to me, even if they 'didn't mean to be'. I'd held on for as long as I had because they had become "familiar" and were "what I knew" and I longed for that same nostalgia. But it never came back and that realization was the hardest part.

If you're close to your friends group maybe you can try bringing up how you're feeling to them and help them be aware that you're in a tender state. Their reactions will tell you all you need to know going forward.

And let's face it: Putting yourself out there to meet new people/make new friends can be scary as fuck. There's the whole re-getting introduced to others, relearning how to not overshare/info dump all at once, as well as building that trust in that friendship. It takes effort. It does. But I know you will find your herd of people who love and enjoy your company for all that you are.

::Content Warning- Suicidal Ideation Mentioned below the cut::

As for no future: I'm going to be completely honest with you: I didn't think I would live past the age of 25. No joke. I had it in my head that I would die at 25, and here I am, six years later at 31 looking back and laughing at the absurdity. Life can be hella daunting, it piles and piles and piles with no end in sight. The constant feeling of drowning among responsibilities for family, life, job, friends: It's a LOT!!!!

If I'd died at 25 I wouldn't have my story that I'm working toward publishing, I wouldn't have gotten married. I wouldn't have my husband or my son.

At 25 I'd had no plans on publishing a book let alone writing it. But I'm still here: and so are you. You're still here. It's okay to not know what you want your future to be like. It's okay to take life one day at a time. Whatever gets you through the day is what gets you through.

Something that I've been doing this last year was a gratitude journal. Just write down one thing every day that you're happy/thankful for. Doesn't have to be anything big, could be that you got to sleep in an extra hour. Just something that at the end of the day you can look back on and say: Yeah, I enjoyed that.

It's hard to see the good through all the bad, so make it a point to look for the good everyday when you can.

If it really feels bad please reach out to your support system and/or consider therapy/journalling to help work through everything.

Some links to help:

I hope this helps.

I'm rooting for you ♥

#Anon #Thanks for sending this in Anon #CW: Suicidal Ideation mention #For those who need it #for those who don't #Also that song is a good song #it's my calming song I listen to when I get overwhelmed with life #The lyrics are also really pretty too #Everything's Alright- Laura Sugihara

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glitter-alienz · 3 months

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CW suicidal ideation

he's trying 👍🏾

[start] [next] <- this is the start of an era... i have a bunch of comic wips about donnie being mentally ill <3

[TMNTOV Masterpost]

original under the cut

its by @mewechy but their blog got explded i think

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swollenbabyfat · 4 months

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Quiet now children

#mental health #mental illness #inner child healing #furry #healing #lol #suicide mention #suicidal ideation cw #violence mention #dove #swollen #deadname #lapine

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galedekarios · 26 days

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"i'm strong enough. i'll carry on alone."

i've already made a more detailed post about the loss scene that was part of act i and gale's romance in early access.

the scene held a lot of weight and was a turning point in the relationship between gale and the protag, while also highlighting just how far gale has fallen, in terms of social standing and in terms of power:

Gale: Khat-Tsjin Deth-Thra! Player: You don't sound very happy there, Gale. Gale: Happiness is like a stray cat: sometimes it seeks you out, sometimes it ignores you. Tonight, I'm ignored. It's getting alte. I think I'll turn in. Perhaps some sleep will do me good. Player: They say you should never go to bed angry. Gale: Isn't that advice for couples? The only one I'm angry with is myself. Please - just let it rest. Player: [Insight Success] We shared the WEave the other night. Now share what's on your mind. Gale: Very well. Just now, I was trying to cast a spell I once cast with ease, but I failed. You see, this fire - there was a time that I could make it come alive. That it would take the shape of a dragon and roar in delight. There was atime I could silence a Beholder with a word, and lift a tower from its foundations with a flourish. There was a time I was all but one with the Weave. But no more - a mere shadow of the wizard I used to be. Why? Because I've lost. Player: I don't understand. What is it that you've lost? Gale: I've lost... Player: [Insight Success] Go on. Every burden is easier to carry when shared. Gale: An apt enough observation. I've lost Mystra. I sought to impress her personally. To turn the eyes of my muse upon me. To win the favour of a goddess. But I failed, and all I invoked was death and dismissal. My death. Her dismissal. Player: I don't know what to make of what you've told me, but I sympathise. Gale: Thank you. You're a good friend. I often think of that moment we shared together - one under the Weave. I hope you think about it too.

it's a wonderful scene that offers a lot of insight into gale's character as well as his past, but what i haven't focused on in the original post is the dialogue the player would get from gale if the protag failed the check to convince him to open up and share the burden that was making him visibly upset:

[the banter is identical with the one above up to this point] Gale: I've lost... Player: [Insight Failure] Go on. Every burden is easier to carry when shared. Gale: I'm strong enough. I'll carry on alone. Gale: With that I bid you an evening better than my own.

i think this shows a very interesting side of gale and one that we both don't get to see often and / or press him on: the side of gale that masks his worries, his fears, his insecurities and his pain to soldier on and do what he feels needs to be done.

we catch glimpses of it in the full release as well, specifically during and after elminster does his duty as mystra's chosen and informs gale of her demands of him:

Weary Traveller: You must find the Heart of the Absolute, whatever that may be, and use yourself as the catalyst that will burn it from this world. Player: We'll be rid of both the Absolute and Gale in one fell swoop. Win-win. Weary Traveller: I may be slow to anger, but I will not have you sully this moment of most sorrowful import with ill-considered levity! Gale: It's all right, Elminster. If ever gallows humour were appropriate, this is its grim-smiling hour. Weary Traveller: It brings me no pleasure saying this, my friend, but such is Mystra's will. Yours must be the sacrifice that will undo the Absolute. And for your sacrifice, you will be redeemed - such is Mystra's promise. Weary Traveller: With that, I've said my sorry piece, and need only bestow unto thee the charm I was bid.

it's elminster who is upset on gale's behalf, not gale himself. he treats it as 'gallow's humour' - whether or not it's meant like that by the protag.

the same view he takes on shortly after, once the protag asks him how he is feeling:

Player: How are you feeling? It can't be easy, facing the possibility of death... Gale: Oh, you know me - ever the optimist. I'm trying to focus on the positives. devnote: Gallows humour Gale: The truth is, I was living on borrowed time already. Consuming those items would only have kept the orb sated for so long. Gale: If anything, I feel more at peace than I have in months. At least now I know my death will have purpose. It won't be a distant 'bang' in the footnotes of history.

Player: You're seriously considering doing what Elminster said? Gale: Of course - he offered the clearest solution to our problem. All I have to do is find the right place and time, close my eyes, and let go… devnote: Trying to sound upbeat, not fully engaging with what he’s saying (that he’s going to kill himself). Gale: Then the slate will be clean, wrongs will be righted, the Absolute will be gone… devnote: Trying to sound upbeat, not fully engaging with what he’s saying (that he’s going to kill himself). Gale: …and I along with it. devnote: Still trying to sound upbeat, though this time the reality that this means he will die weighs a bit heavier

the game gives you no option to press him on any of this. on this front of maintaining optimism, of gallows humour, clinging tightly to the idea of there being purpose in his own death, yet not fully engaging with what that actually means.

until he can't avoid it anymore, and even then, he carries on. we know it's already of limited comfort to him by the time the last night alive scene / act 2 romance scene takes place:

Gale: I am terrified - I will not claim otherwise. My face could scarcely conceal it even if my words sought to deny it. nodecontext: Hushed, vulnerable Gale: There is no point in running from the inevitable. Better to meet it, on my own terms. nodecontext: Resigned

and it's echoed later too, in act 3, when he offers himself up as an out, a failsafe, for the protag and the companions:

and it of course culminates in the scene - if you chose to take that route - which gale ascends to the elder brain alone, spelling his friends and companions away to safety.

he says he is strong enough to carry on alone, to do what he believes must be done, what's been ordained to him, by fate or by mystra, and he is. despite being terrified. despite wishing he didn't have to be.

it's an interesting aspect of gale - but his relief is all the sweeter for it when he realises that he doesn't have to be strong enough and that he doesn't have to carry on alone.

he's found friends and possibly love.

every burden is easier to carry when shared indeed.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #tw sui ideation #suicide mention cw

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sunlitlemonade · 3 months

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so. uh. surprising thing about jason, who might be one of the most inconsistently written characters ever, is the fact that one trait about him has remained constant throughout different eras, reboots and even an elseworld. no, it's not his thighs tho that would be a very good guess.

it's his suicidal ideation. yeah.

[here's me screaming about the fact that he feels like a phantom that has outlived its purpose of haunting in detail if you're interested]

#issue numbers are in the image descriptions box for anyone who wants them #pls feel free to add this lil collection #um. do i tag other characters mentioned here orrrr #eh whatever the fuck im too sleepy for that #plus this is abt jason. so.#jason todd #tw suicidal ideation #cw suicidal ideation #suicidal ideation cw #suicidal ideation tw #just making sure nobody gets triggered #dc

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windslar · 2 months

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#the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 legacy #tjolc #tjolc gen 2 #the joy of life challenge #the joy of life legacy #tw death #tw sui implied #cw sui mention #tw self harm #cw bullying #tw suicide mention #tw suicide ideation

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symply-sym · 8 months

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probably my favorite thing i ever made. took forever to glaze all this.

#apex legends #revenant #pathfinder #revfinder #my art #robot #robots #cw suicidal ideation #suicidal ideation #cw suicide mention #suicide mention

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yellow-computer-mouse · 9 days

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Headcanon Time!

was just scrolling through the utmv headcanon tag so hehehehe

name color (under cut) is fave color (also hc) btw!

Nightmare

Dream

Dust

Blue

Ink

Red

Violet

Nightmare

He/They/Dark

The transest man you've ever met

Is super dramatic and does a lil song and dance number to keep his sanity

Likes Will Wood, Bears in Trees, Twenty-One Pilots, The Front Bottoms, 6arelyhuman.. RIProducer...

He got dragged into BiT by Red and he hates it

He's super embarrassed that he listens to vocaloid (for some reason)

He's autistic

Like. Almost all the DSM-5 symptoms to a T.

He has really intense flat affect and low empathy

He has troubles with speech and didn't start speaking until he and Dream were like 4.

Even still he pronounces the letter t as more of a d sound

Except in butterfly... catch him calling them "blubberflap" ...it feels better on his tongue, okay?

Has CWP, CFS, and POTS.

Denies this

Likes sharks

Denies this

Likes bugs

...Doesn't deny this, actually

He has a pendant of a bug trapped in amber

It's his favorite thing ever

Killer took it once and was not prepared for Nightmare's reaction

Panromantic asexual

Asexual through trauma

Has very bad social anxiety

Like. Bad.

He has had one (1) anxiety attack (that he can remember) and he hated it

Only time he's ever actively ran away from someone talking to him

Bonded with a pygmy of himself and now it's a service animal and squeaks at him when he's gonna have a fainting spell

He's an age regressor! Usually regresses around 4-6

Sleeptalks loud enough to wake up other people

Has caught himself sleeptalking (he felt himself reach up and say something as he was waking up)

English is his second language, Spanish being his first!

He learned a lot of grammar and pronunciation through the other bad guys

Because of this, he did not know "hoe" also meant farming tool and not just slut

He has a lot of allergies.. main ones being something in a specific soap scent (he can't figure out what), mildly to dogs, severely to rabbits, pollen, something in those fake pinecones, and dandelions!

Most of those make him break out in hives

He has a lot of stuffed animals and blankets

His bed's essentially a nest

Summer is his favorite season

He likes swimming.. if only he knew how

Dream

They/He/She

Genderfluid, masc/andro leaning

Intersex as well! He has unusually high levels of estrogen

He usually wants to present as the opposite of his gender.. like he's an effeminate dude or a masc chick

Straight > bi-curious > pan > bi > gay

They want to garden!!... but they kill everything they touch

AuDHD

Hyper-empathy

Cries when someone drops a stuffed animal

Teases Nightmare relentlessly for his speech impediment (in a sibling way not a bully way)

Is lactose intolerant

Has a lot of GI issues bc autism

Nightmare bullies him for this (again sibling way)

One of his legs is longer than the other!

His favorite season is winter

He learned how to swim because Nightmare read him a detailed description of what happens when you drown and he has been deathly afraid of swimming ever since

Is a complete and total caffeine addict

Dust

They/It/He

Transmasc agender therian

Their theriotype is a lynx :)

AuDHD

Their special interests are birds, music, and Portal

Their favorite is GLaDOS and they are eternally disappointed in the simps

They don't get shifts

They also have OCD and schizo-affective disorder

They badly doodle birds on sticky notes and leave them around the castle

They're semiverbal/nonverbal and mostly communicate through ASL and little eeks

They will tell you to "go eek yourself"

This is easily misheard as "go eat yourself"

They are not telling you to kill yourself. They are telling you to eek yourself

what this means is unclear

They like playing Stardew Valley

They marry Abigail or Krobus every time

Every. Time.

He's a DM for D&D with Blue and Red and a couple others

Blue

He/Him!

AMAB nonbinary!

SWAG!!!!

He's deaf!

He's autistic!

He's scarily observant!

He's EVERYTHING AND MORE!!

He knows your full name!

He will not tell you how!

It is surprisingly not through stalking! He would never!!

He can remember the names of every single child in all of his classes throughout school!

He still holds a grudge against Kelly from second grade!

To be fair, she was a bitch!

He plays jumprope with his war hammer! Yes! Jumprope!

He spins it and jumps over it as he does so!

This is to assert dominance!

He runs a tattoo parlor!

He plays D&D with Dust!

His character starts cults themed around himself and rakes in NPCs as followers!

This is not concerning!

be not afraid

Ink

They/He

Bisexual

Their favorite color changes all the time!!

Right now it's red :3

They use kaomojis ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

And star emojis ✨⭐🪄🌟🌙💛💫

very good

His love language is penguin pebbling!

Once he knows you like something he will never stop bothering you with it

Just

best boy

Red

He/Worm

He's nonbinary and doesn't care to explore past that

Surely the fact that he hates his gruff voice and wants to wear skirts has nothing to do with gender

He loooooves Bears in Trees and pestered Nightmare until he listened to them (he loved it)

He's autistic but has no clue

Everyone else knows

He's a lot

But he's friendly

Almost too friendly

He's very loud

But he's friendly!

He also can't spell

Violet

She/Him

Transfem bigender genderfluid demigirl

As in

She's transfemenine bigender

and those two genders are genderfluid and demigirl

👍

She's best friends with Nightmare and makes him paint his nails (he loves it)

She makes him leave his house (he doesn't love it)

She will bring you waffles

10/10 friend

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anexistingexistence · 21 days

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Tw for the following Darlin'&Honey headcanon: suicide mention/ideation

I present to you

Darlin' "I can still kill myself if this goes wrong" Shaw and Honey "If I kill myself now all my work will have been for nothing" Bby Darling.

They're dysfunctional besties and when they die it will be together by hitting the asphalt after jumping off a building.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted darlin #redacted honey #tw sui talk #tw sui ideation #cw sui mention #cw sui joke #yes this is just me projecting #don't yell at me #suicidal besties are still one of my favorite tropes/ships

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incognitopolls · 2 months

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We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

#polls #incognito polls #anonymous #tumblr polls #tumblr users #questions #polls about relationships #submitted dec 9 #suicide cw #suicide tw #tw suicide #suicide mention #mental health #tw suicidal ideation #suicidal ideation cw

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silvertoadz · 2 years

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// ideation and suicide mention

??? excuse me for being a caring friend?? didnt know it was such a bad infantilizing thing to go try to find your, often suicidal, friend when they suddenly get up and leave your house at 3am without mentioning where theyre going? im sorry i wanted to make sure someone i care about wasnt about to hurt themselves esp when the literal last time this happened was my ex gf having a psychotic break and running down the street without her glasses?? How am i the bad guy here??

#wormvents #cw: suicidal ideation mention #cw: suicide mention

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digitaldoeslmk · 7 months

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recollections of red and blue, or simple truths go oft-forgotten

it's been some time since MK's fateful encounter which changed everything, but Pigsy still won't forgive Wukong for what happened. Red Son is rather tired of this endless distrust and blame, and decides to remind the pigman of the kind of creature Wukong is. and maybe as important, the kind of creature that he used to be.

drabble where Hai'er sits down with Tang and Pigsy for a talk. beware the tags before proceeding. word count: 5.5k - AO3 mirror

"Alright, here we are. What did you want to talk about?"

The pig demon walked over to the other side of the bar with the familiarity of decades doing this. The few times Hai'er had been in the noodle shop, he could sense the love and dedication poured into every scratched bowl, worn balcony and faded tile. This place was the cook's whole life and soul, and he couldn't help but fix his jiasha a bit in respect before sitting down on a stool. It creaked a bit as it spun, and the pig man placed a cup of green tea in front of him. Probably from one of the thermos at one corner of the bar, no doubt, but Hong Hai'er sipped on it.

He had asked for a moment to speak with the old demon, given the past few interactions he saw between him and Wukong. While it was very amusing to see the pig try to get a rise out of a bodhisattva of all beings, it was also very distressing for everyone else involved, and this couldn't continue.

"You're a very stubborn pig." He said, dry and direct as usual. The human from the other corner of the bar choked a cackle into his fist, and Hai'er raised an eyebrow at him.

"Thanks, I work hard on it." Pigsy retorted just as dryly, but Hai'er had other immediate concerns.

"Are you sure he must stay?" Hai'er asked, nodding his head at the human.

"Oh good luck getting him to leave that spot, I've been trying for the past two decades and so far no luck." Pigsy replied, which earned a wide, stupidly cheeky grin from Mr. Tang.

"I see. You've out-stubborned him, that's an achievement." Hai'er said, directed at the human now, who preened at the not-at-all-a-praise.

"I prefer to think of it as perseverance, actually." He said, his grin gleaming in an insufferable way, and Hai'er rolled his eyes.

"I bet you do." He deadpanned. "But no, that one is just stubborn. Do you really insist on refusing to believe my uncle?" He asked, turning to the pig who was neating up the kitchen idly.

"Look kid, -"

"I'm older than you." Hai'er corrected, and the pig snorted, the interruption earning his anger and he rounded up on Hai'er, leaning on the counter.

"Whatever, kid! I don't believe him, and I never will. He can butter up the rest of these chumps, especially this one!"

"Hey!!" Tang whined, mouth half full of a half-empty bowl of noodles.

"But he can't fool me." Pigsy continued, "I know how important Sun Wukong is to the kid, but someone has to make sure MK doesn't fall on his face again cus he's too damn nice for his own good or safety, and if that someone has to be me, then so be it!"

The demon finished in a snarl that was all tusks and fatherly care. Hai'er didn't react, not at first, but he sipped on his tea again as he considered how to begin. Pigsy gathered himself in the meantime, swiping a hand forcefully on his apron with a harumph.

"Mr. Tang?" Hai'er asks, and the scholar blinks. He didn't seem to expect to be included on the conversation again, but he hums in acknowledgment. "MK says you know the Journey to the West from head to toe, yes?"

The actual praise, even if paraphrased from the delivery boy, has the scholar preen again, pushing at his glasses.

"Oh, I do indeed! In fact, I'm in the process of my own independent translation, with quite a few new footnotes that--"

"Then you know the story of how I got these scars, right?"

Hai'er's interruption grinds Mr. Tang's whole rant to a halt, eyes wide as saucers as he seems to catch up to where Hai'er is going. His eyes flick towards said scars dotting his arm and neck, and those are just the ones in plain view.

"I... Yes, I suppose I do." He agrees, shrinking into his scarf like he would like to not have out-persisted Pigsy about his eternal bar spot after all.

"Of course you do. Tell it." Hai'er says, in that quiet yet stern tone that leaves the order implied but very much not up for discussion. Tang sinks even more into himself, and the rakshasa can feel Pigsy glare at him. Mr. Tang clears his throat, uncomfortable.

"Umm... You uh, Wukong and Guanyin both tricked you into... sitting on a fake lotus throne, but it was... made of swords." He says, meek as a turtle holed up in its shell. Hai'er frowns into his teacup; that wouldn't do.

"Oh come on, tell it right. I've seen it, you're a storyteller, born and true. You thrive in it, live for it." Hai'er says, pinning the man down with his brightening eyes, black coals ready to spark alive with indigo fire at any moment. "So tell the story as you should."

The moment of silence is heavy and tense, only the sound of the electric static of the lightbulbs about them to break it. Tang swallows and accepts his fate in the center stage, bracing himself before he begins.

---

"There you are, you wretched primate!! Come to face your demise at last?!" The brazen demon calls from his throne of basalt. His grin is fangs and rebellion, blazing eyes like a volcano's heart. His armor gleams under the glow of his bonfire hair, licking tall and proud into the air. Hong Hai'er calls to the figure in the sky blocking the late morning sun, a sad sight on his pearly cloud.

"Wouldn't count on it, nephew." Sun Wukong replies from on high, barely managing the cocky grin under the angry burns and scorch marks he still bears from last they met in battle. Hong Hai'er roars in rage, flames whipping out of his mouth.

"I've told you already, you're no uncle of mine! I, Red Son, would never call family someone who bows down to his foes like a whimpering fawn!" He bellows, the pines and firs bending at the heatwaves of his rage. Wukong doesn't deign him with a reply, and Hong Hai'er summons his flaming spear to his side.

"Allow me to put you out of your misery!!" He calls and shoots himself into the air, aiming his spear right at the monkey's chest. The sage parried it with his staff, and they sink into glorious battle once again.

The hellion demon is no match for the monkey, but he makes up for his lacking martial skills with his hunger for victory. A tiger smelling the trail of blood of a wounded prey, and stalking forward to a meal in the waiting.

The sage dodges an attack and jumps out of range. Again and again, always out of range!

"Fiendish freak, what are you doing!" Hong Hai'er screeches, frustrated.

"Well can't say I look forward to you using your fire on me again." Wukong replies, and Hong Hai'er snarls.

"You keep up with this and I just might out of spite! You come here to challenge me again, and you can't even do it right, what kind of man are you!"

Wukong cackles, choking on a sore throat in the process.

"More than you, that's for sure, nephew."

His flaming spear tears into the morning sky like a butcher's knife, "What did I tell you, you disgusting simian?!" The monkey dodges the strike easily and sails his cloud into the southern horizon. "You...! Hey, come back and die with some honor!"

Hong Hai'er chases after the fleeing monkey in a scorching blaze, careless of just how far or how fast they are going. It doesn't matter, nothing matters, except getting rid of this pesky beast. To end Wukong is to end this pathetic journey of his and to earn himself his prize. A plentiful feast and immortality!

A halo of auspicious light appears on the horizon, but the fire demon doesn't slow down, hot on the tail of the wretched fiend. A little more, a little closer... Wait, what?!

Wukong is gone, vanished into thin air and hallowed light. No. No! His victory, his prize!! The fire roaring in his belly eats at his sense, consuming his mind as well as his innards as he screams into the empty air.

"FIGHT ME, COWARD!!"

His wrath melts into the cold air and casts circles of waves in the water below him. Wait, water? This is... not a lake, but an ocean. Water as far as the eye can see. Red Son blinks, flames and sparks slithering from the corner of his eyes. How far did he fly?

A sound not unlike a wooden bell rings, and he turns to see the light in the distance dim and coalesce into a shape. A figure in draping silks, veil around black hair, and sacred jewelry that seemed to glow of its own volition. He knew this person, he noticed, and his grin turned almost feral.

"Ah, Guanshiyin. What luck!" He greets brazenly, dripping with ego and bloodthirst. "Tell me where that sad excuse for a sage has scurried off to immediately, and I might just spare you!" He orders, pointing his spear at the bodhisattva, who remains still and unbothered upon the floating lotus.

"Hey! I'm fucking talking to you!!" He roars, all-consuming flames roaring from his hair and eyes and fangs. "I said, where's Wukong?! Answer me!" Again, nothing. The nerve to ignore him, how dare!! With a bellow, he slashes at the enlightened figure. The streak of vicious fire licks at the water's surface and missing completely its target, since the lotus is now empty, as if there was never anyone upon it to begin with.

"Where did you-- Would you vermin cease vanishing and FACE ME!!" Hong Hai'er shrieks, the Samadhi fire eating at his bones and simmering at his skin. His ragged breathing is like blowing into a furnace, clouds of smoke and inflamed qi venting from his gaping mouth.

"Heh. You flee from me so swiftly, could it be the great Avalokiteśvara can't face my fire?" He asks the empty air, voice twisted and crackling from the heat within. "Hehe, hehahaha, AHAHAHA!! Very well then!!" He gloats, landing on the golden lotus. His feet fizzle against the cool seed pod, and he stabs his spear into it with a victorious growl.

"If you won't face me, then I, Red Son, Bull King of the Flaming Mountains, will take over your fancy old lotus throne! HAHAHAHA!!" He says, sitting down on the lotus and adjusting himself to lounge cockily on the feathery soft petals. He might have missed the monkey and the thousand-armed one, but this was satisfaction enough. Or so he thought, not knowing that both Wukong and Guanyin stood right by him, invisible to his un-enlightened eyes. Wukong winces in quiet rage at his disrespectful boasting, but Guanyin simply plucks the sacred branch of willow.

"Foolish rakshasa. Bear now the consequences of your crimes." Red Son startles at the sudden voice, looking about him for the source, but before he can even sit up, the willow beyond his sight waves in the air and the lotus throne vanishes. In its stead, rest the thirty-six celestial swords of Devaraja Li. Sharper than any wind, sharper than sunlight in summer, they all pierced right through his resting body in the span of half a heartbeat.

---

As Tang finished the story, the silence returned. Both men regarded the fire demon carefully, who didn't miss how their eyes flicked to the scars all over him pensively. Hai'er sipped on his tea one last time, the cup now empty.

"That's right. It hurt like nothing I've ever felt before or since. Even so, I tried to remove them, but the bodhisattva simply turned them into hooks so that I couldn't. All I could do was beg for it to stop." He said, knowing that those two needed some sort of reaction. He had none to offer truth be told, it had all been so long ago after all, and whatever he had to say was not for their ears.

Tang fussed with his sleeves, clearly unsure of himself and what to say, while Pigsy simply stood at the kitchen, folding and unfolding a wiping cloth.

"I... I'm so sorry." Mr. Tang said finally, and Hai'er chuckled.

"What for?" He asked, amused at the response he got. "I deserved it."

"No you didn't! Nobody deserves that." Tang said, and oh the sweet guy, he believed it too. Hai'er could just smile with fondness at the sentiment, even if it was misguided. He always forgot that mortals tended to get the wrong message from those stories; no wonder so few have ascended or devoted themselves to cultivation of late. Too many new-fangled morals.

He needed to remind them who exactly he used to be.

"Tang Laoshi, have you ever smelled burning hair?" He asks, and he feels the glare Pigsy throw his way.

"I thought you wanted to talk to me, not Tang." The cook grumbled, but Hai'er ignored him much to the scholar's dismay.

"Please answer the question." He said, and Tang looked between the two of them for a moment before nodding.

"Well, yes. Once, it was this little mishap you see! Me and Pigsy were still young, he had only just started the shop and I was--"

"Turn that smell up by a hundred, and you'll know what the smell was like when Wukong got hit by my Samadhi Fire." He interrupts the man's story again, earning him a flurry of baffled blinks from the human. "A patchy half-charred monkey is actually a pretty funny sight."

Neither of the men shared in his humor, instead looking rather uncomfortable by the sudden somber turn of topic.

"Uh, Shancai Zhuren? Is.... what is this?" Tang asks, looking sincerely spooked and lost in what's happening. Pigsy looks just as lost, but his fear manifests in a tense back and a wide stance. Someone with some fighting experience, at least.

"I was a villain, Tang." Hai'er began, his calm and matter-of-fact tone only seeming to spook the human more. And he's hardly begun. "I burned goats and pigs to watch them suffer and the people lament their lost livestock. I extorted minor gods out of their offerings, because them losing their divinity was funny. I hunted travelers on the road for sport, to eat them at the full moon family dinners." He said, having crossed his arms to lean on the counter, a single finger tracing the edge of his chipped empty cup. He threw a glare at Tang who looked pale as a ghost. "I enjoyed it." He said, slow and deliberate, and Tang flinched. "I tortured my uncle, and I was ready to kill him. I wanted to more than anything. If Wukong hadn't gone to get Guanyin's help, I would have done it too. I was going to take his skin as a gift for my mother, as a coat. I'd have steamed the pig and seared the fish, and I'd have eaten the revered monk with my parents with sour sauce and a glass of rice wine. And I'd not have regretted a single thing."

Tang looked about ready to bolt right out of the service entrance just so he didn't have to get past Hai'er for the door, and Pigsy's tusks poked out of his twisted grimace.

"I did deserve it, every single blade of it." Hai'er said and saw the pig man lean from the corner of his eyes.

"What is this, free moping hours?! Oh, no pal, that ain't on the menu. You had better get to the point, or get out of my shop!" Pigsy burst out, jabbing a finger at the door. Hai'er l lifted a hand to placate the demon.

"I have a point. Well, two actually, but first of. You must have known all this. Doesn't take much to know that you have been overhearing Mr. Tang and MK tell these stories over and over."

"What's it to ya?" Pigsy snapped.

"And yet you trust me. I've only ever been a villain in those stories, and a dangerous one at that, yet I get more goodwill than my Uncle. You blame him for what happened to MK, but I couldn't stop it from happening either. What makes me special?"

"You're not making a great case for yourself, pal." Pigsy warned, but Hai'er waved off his threat.

"Humor me."

Pigsy regarded him for a long moment. With a sigh, the tension from his shoulders abated if only a bit.

"You helped MK. You called us, and you drove him here. That's, something. Certainly more than that immortal furball ever did."

"My uncle was in the Celestial Realm. Time dilation sucks." Hai'er retorted in a deadpan, and he could tell the pig demon was just barely holding back from throwing a spoon at his head.

"So what! He's enlightened or whatever, he should have known! He should have stopped it!" Pigsy said, poking at the counter so hard his large nails left dents on it. Huh, just like the floor of his home with his father's hooves. "If he really cared so much, he would have done something!!"

Red Son rolled his eyes at the response but sighed.

"Alright then. Humor me a bit longer so I get to my next point."

"Make it snappy, would ya?"

"As you wish." He said, and almost as a gesture of peace, the pig plucked the cup from his hand and filled it again.

"Even though that was the worst paint I've ever known, when the blades were gone all I could think about was vengeance." He picked up the story again, and sure enough, Mr. Tang piped in.

"Yes, you struck at Guanyin with your spear." The scholar said, and he nodded.

"I did. Because I knew that if I did, Uncle wouldn't hold back. I knew that if I struck at her, he'd defend her at all costs."

If the story from before had made the atmosphere tense, he was sure that the cook could cut it with one of his knives and use it for cartilage soup. The silence stretched and he could smell the moment the realization set in.

"You... You wanted..." Tang's voice wavered like a plucked string, and Hai'er took pity on the man and said it himself.

"I wanted him to kill me. I refused to be defeated and tamed by them, even if I had to die for it. Rebirth was preferable to captivity." He said, with the ease of someone who had grappled with that aspect of himself for centuries and made peace with it. Or someone reporting on the weather for the day, whichever worked. "And I would have too, but instead I got these."

The golden fillets at his wrist glinted under the fluorescent lights. Polished to a pristine mirror shine, unscratched and undented despite the wear and tear of centuries. Heavenly metal, not made to be tarnished my mortal means. His own gaze met him from the warped reflection on them, a familiar sight to him now.

"Master Guanyin saw this unrepentant, irredeemable creature writhing in rage, and she was going to drag it kicking and screaming into a second chance I did absolutely nothing to deserve." He said in a soft reverent tone, a hand cradling one of the circlets and feeling it warm under the touch.

The pigman snorted, unimpressed. "Is this where you tell me he's going to do that to me, eh?"

"I'm not done. The books don't tell this part of the story, so listen up.

"The first time I saw him again, I was gathering bamboo shoots for dinner. It oddly was the one thing Master let me do away from the groves, even though I had tried to poison her and the other disciples every time I got dinner duty. He showed up in my path, and he fell into a kowtow and begged for forgiveness for what happened. He said that I had left him no choice, but I could always call on him whenever I needed. That he would never shirk his duties to me as family." Hai'er told and huffed a little laugh. "I told him to get lost."

That at least got some amusement from the pig, though the scholar watched him with wide eyes, ever interested in a new tale for his collection.

"The second time we met, he did the same thing. Going on about how sorry he was, how he'd never surrender his duties to me or my family, that he... still cared for us in the only way he could. I was so angry still, so upset over my fate, and seeing him pleading for forgiveness made me so irate. So I kicked him."

Tang sputtered at that, "You did??"

"I did."

"How did he take that?"

"He didn't budge, but I broke my big toe on his forehead."

Tang suddenly spits out a mouthful of broth, caught between a cackle, a cough, and a lot of choking. Hai'er considers patting his back, but the man seems to gather himself more or less while the pig man complains up and down about the gross mess he made of his bar.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, I--"

"It's quite alright, it's very funny." Hai'er grants, waving away the man's apologies. It had hurt like a bitch back then, but it was his ego that was more hurt than his toe. He gives the scholar and chef some time to clean up a bit the kitchen and their pride before continuing.

"I cursed him out so much for it, too. I told him I hated him and I'd hate him forever, because he didn't even let me say goodbye to my parents, that I was trapped in those miserable groves and didn't know if I'd ever see them again." There's a knot in his throat at the memory of those uncertain years, but he pushed them aside. "I promised him that if he hurt my parents, I'd tear off my own hands and feet and head to get rid of those fillets, and I'd haunt him to the ends of the world.

"All he said in reply was that it was okay. I could hate him as much as I needed to or wanted to, it didn't matter, but he would always embrace me as his nephew no matter what. I told him to get out of my sight and never show his face in front of me again."

He could feel Mr. Tang's eyes on him, ever kind and pitying and infuriating, but Pigsy just huffed unamused but not unkind. To Hai'er, that was an improvement.

"And? What about the third time?" He asks, and Hai'er chuckles.

"Rushing the story, are we."

"Yeaaaah, he does that all the time, don't mind him." Tang comments, waving a hand dismissively much to the pig's disapproval.

"Well you're clearly on talking terms with the guy, so there must be a third time where that changed. So spill it."

Hai'er smirked at that, amused. The pig was the direct cut and dry type, which he could appreciate.

"The third time was much later on. I had grown a lot already by then, was much calmer and collected. I was past being resigned and just trying to live in this new normal I found myself in. I was making the best of it I suppose. Maybe even started to enjoy it.

"He showed up because he had crossed paths with my parents, which led to quite a conflict. In the end, Nezha had taken my father to the Jade Emperor for judgment. When I heard the news I was so sure my father was dead, executed long before I even heard of his arrest. I... I cracked.

"I was wailing on the ground and tearing at my hair, but then Wukong grew ten times his size and held me. He let me cry, and reassured me that it wasn't what I was thinking. My father was still alive, but serving penance. He had pleaded to Nezha and before the Jade Emperor himself to spare his life. I asked him why, and he looked at me with such open kindness and warmth. He even laughed a bit when he told me that as long as he breathed, he would not have me separate from my parents. He wouldn't break up our family like that. I didn't understand why he still cared for us so much, not when he was supposed to be detached from worldly ties and not when we had caused him so much trouble already. I tried to kill him, I wanted to, and yet he still cared enough to spare my parents. I didn't understand him at all, but it didn't matter, because I knew then that he meant every word of it.

"After I stopped crying, I asked him once he was finished with his Journey, if I should call him Great Sage or Enlightened One, and he said that just Uncle would suffice if I chose to. He's been Uncle Wukong to me ever since."

The ending to his story hung in the air, along with the lingering scent of stew spices and the buzzing of the electric lights. Mr. Tang looked ready to say something, probably of the awkward yet ever kind variety, but the chef beat him to it.

"And the point is?!"

"Pigsy!"

"The point, Zhu Dachu," Hai'er interrupted, "is that you can scream and blame and rage and whine and winge and kick and throw whatever you want at the walls. None of that will change the fact that my uncle cares for MK. And I mean truly, genuinely cares and worries for him, whether you believe him or not. Even if MK for some absurd reason decides to turn his back on him, shun and curse him from the twelfth heaven to the eight hell, Wukong will still, to the Universe's dying breath, care for him."

His gaze bore down on the pig, as if he could someone stare his words into the man's thick skull.

"That's my point. I hope you'll at least consider my words, though what you do with them is entirely up to you." He finished, leaning back in his seat and it creaked with the movement. For what it was worth, Pigsy gave nothing away, but something in the air had shifted somehow, whether for better or worse was too soon to tell. Regardless, he simply cradled his empty cup, now gone lukewarm from his hands.

Their staring contest, or at least heated sparring, was interrupted by Mr. Tang's not-so-subtle thorat clearing.

"That's very kind of you to share this with us, and we'll definitely take it heart, Shancai Zhuren." Mr. Tang said, ignoring Pigsy's grunt of offense on the "we" he tacked on his words.

"I think at this point, we can go with just Shancai, yes?" Hai'er offered with a small smile, not seeing the need for formalities with these two. Not when he's shared such a personal story of his with them.

"Oh! Yes, Shancai, thank you." Tang thanked, looking genuinely flattered and more than a bit close to squeeing for joy. Hai'er rolled his eyes in exasperated fondness.

"Now I gotta ask. Why is it Shancai for us, but MK gets to call you Hai'er?" Pigsy asked, seemingly done stewing on his story. Hai'er shrugged.

"That's just how it is." He deadpanned. No need to tell the man about how his son's glazed eyes lit with recognition once he was able to put a name to the stranger with him, how somehow ranting about the novel's chapter in a parched throat helped him ground himself to some semblance of normal after the horror he was put through.

Shancai wouldn't have done anything for Xiaotian then, but Hai'er did, and he didn't feel like breaking that connection. Not when somehow, Hai'er was someone Xiaotian trusted, and even liked having around. That's just how it is.

"Well, it is late and I think I've taken up enough of both your time. I shall leave you both to it." Hai'er said, sliding off his seat and giving them a bow. When Tang made to follow him to the door, he waved him away. "No need, I know where the exit is. And wouldn't want you relinquishing your hard-earned seat on my account."

Mr. Tang gave him a good-natured laugh at that, and he counted that was a good note to end on.

"Goodnight, sirs. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Pigsy gave him a short nod and Tang waved him goodbye, and with that, he was out of the shop and back into the cool city night air. Not as cool as the deserts, that's for sure, and for a moment he kind of wished it was. Brisk and bracing, enough to make his skin climb into goosebumps.

He did his part. Whether it would go anywhere or not, was out of his hands. But his ears could catch the two men's hushed tones past the walls, though he didn't bother trying to pick their exact words. He had a feeling he's left them with plenty to discuss in the coming days, and he was glad to be left excluded from the specifics.

Taking a deep breath, he returned to his car. He couldn't wait to be out in the desert, with the cool dry breeze to wash him clean from the day's affairs. No more broth spices, city smog, engine grease, bamboo sawdust, lotus incense smoke, or stardust metal and sticky copper and bile.

Just the sunbaked breeze of the sands and his thoughts.

At every stop sign, his gaze lingered down to his arms. Bandaged and glamoured, bound by celestial metal, scarred down to his bones. He was long past caring, vanity was a far away thing to him now after, but sometimes looking back at those memories stirred something in him.

Not regret, or bitterness or shame. He had faced those foes long ago and emerged victorious, with no small amount of effort. Not even nostalgia either, he couldn't miss those troubled days if he tried, not with the wisdom he now wielded.

Instead, he missed that feeling of realization. Held in his uncle's massive arms, almost drowning in his own tears, and realizing that he wasn't alone. He never was. He always had his uncle, even when he believed as sure as the sky was blue and the earth was solid, that he had no one.

He missed his family. How could he not? He missed the simple filial love of his childhood when he could reach out to his mother and be held in her arms, or jump on his father's lap and be brought to sit on his shoulders. It was easy as breathing then, for all of them, but those days were long past.

As clockwork, that little voice in his head muttered at him, peaceful and solemn as his Master's voice at lectures.

Let go.

He should listen. It was about time he did, it's been centuries and it's brought him nothing but suffering, and if he just let go then it would go away. He could finally fully commit to his Master's teachings, take the vows, and maybe join his uncle in enlightenment.

Instead, he pressed a few keys on his on-board phone, letting the call come through.

"Zhizi? What's up?"

He couldn't believe he was so damn weak.

"Shushu, do you want to have some tea at my place?" He asks, and there's an amused chittering laughter from the other side.

"It's been a while! I thought you'd never ask." Wukong replied, and Hai'er had to sigh.

"Me too." He agreed, his tone quieter than he had hoped it.

There was a quiet pause that he knew meant his uncle was staring at him across the line, and he took some comfort that he wasn't actually present.

"Meet you there, then. You better not skimp on me like last time, I know you hoard pu'er like a magpie." He teased, and cut the call before Hai'er could even reply.

Ah well, so much for detachment of worldly things. He had time. Yeah, he had time to do better and to finally let go of these illusions. Until then, he had his uncle and he could always call him for tea when the longing was like blades on his ribs. Until then, that was enough.

---

vocabulary

jiasha: mandarin, borrowed term from the sanskrit "kasaya". Piece of patchwork cloth worn by Buddhsit monks over one shoulder, once used to distinguish monastic schools of geographic origins.

wooden fish: a kind of bell used in Chen Buddhism to mark the pace of reciting sutras and prayers, often depicted in the shape of a fish.

Hong Hai'er: "Red Son/Boy".

Guanshiyin: full mandarin name of the bodhisattva Guanyin.

Avalokiteśvara: sanskrit name of Guanyin.

Devaraja Li: also known as Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King Li, chinese analog of Vaisravana. Father of Jinzha, Muzha and Nezha.

Tang Laoshi: "teacher Tang", respectful title for anyone who teaches.

Shancai Zhuren: "director Shancai", respectful title for someone in a high management position.

Zhu Dachu: "chef Zhu", mandarin dub name for Pigsy, also serving as a title.

Zhizi: nephew by the male line.

Shushu: uncle, father's younger brother.

#cw implied torture #cw mentioned cannibalism #cw suicidal ideation #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk au #by the book au #lmk red son #hong hai'er #lmk tang #lmk pigsy #pardal writes

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