#this has also been in my drafts for too long

[sukunahs]

imagine being loved by me | kamo choso

summary: greek myth au. choso has loved you for as long as he's known you, so when the gods prematurely take you from him, he will move heaven and earth to bring you back to his side.

this fic is based on the myth of orpheus and eurydice.

word count: 3.2k

content: 18+ mdni, reference to smut, references to attempted sexual assault, fem!reader, angst, greek myth, major character death, grief, choso is having a terrible time, this one is really sad

authors note: this has been sat in my drafts for ages so thought I'd finally get it out! if you're familiar with the story of Orpheus and Eurydice I'm sorry about this one! If you aren't then I'm really REALLY sorry

ALSO listen to talk by hozier that's where the title for this fic comes from

In life, you had been his everything. His lover, his light, his muse. Since the very moment that he’d locked eyes on you, his heart had belonged to you. 

The day that he’d met you had been one he remembered fondly. He’d been travelling through the forest, on his way to a new town where he'd play his music for new audiences, making proper use of his god-given abilities to create beauty through sound. He was well-known at that time, Choso the bard: son of the great God of Music. People flocked from all around to see him and be enchanted by his song. 

As such, he was always on the move. It felt as though he was constantly residing between places, his life a blur of one town after another, faceless audiences cheering for him, women trying to entice him into their bed. 

He wasn’t dissatisfied with his life. On the contrary, he was grateful for his gift and for the adoration that he encountered at every waking moment. But it often felt as though he was just going through the motions, that he was living a lonely life devoid of true passion. 

It was in your forest that everything changed for him. Where he had encountered a light so bright that the monotony of his life was forever uprooted. For as he’d walked through those sun-speckled woods, he was exposed to the most enchanting voice he’d ever heard floating through the trees - a voice so lovely that he was sure even his father would be envious. 

That was the moment that he’d seen you. The most radiant creature that he’d ever encountered, looking so lovely in that bright clearing that he knew that his heart would be forever yours to hold. 

There was no doubt that you were like him, a creation of the gods. Only divine intervention could lead to such ethereal beauty. He’d discovered later that you were a forest nymph, a minor goddess who spent her days frolicking about in the woods, singing only for your own enjoyment. 

You were wary of mortals, and rightfully so. Choso was sure that an endless stream of cruel men would be keen to capture you, to own you, to possess your beauty and voice as their own trophy, steal away your freedom. 

He wanted no such thing. All he desired was to be able to gaze upon you, to listen to you whenever you chose to share your voice. 

But trust had to be earned, and you did your best to keep him at an arm's length, ceasing your beautiful song when he got too close, retreating back into the oak tree that you called your home and waiting for him to leave. 

He didn’t mind, he understood. 

So he waited, day after day he would return to your clearing, forsaking the crowds of the cities to instead sing to you alone, crafting endless new melodies about you, for you, in the hopes that you would be just as drawn to his voice as he was to yours. Praying that one day you would join him in song and add some dimension to his lonely melodies. 

It took weeks to crack your shell, but one fateful day he approached the clearing and found that you didn’t hide. You stood tall amongst the field of flowers and watched him cautiously. This was the first time he’d gotten to really look at you beyond fleeting glimpses, and your effortless beauty took his breath away - if he hadn’t been in love with you before he certainly was now. 

“You’re Choso, aren’t you?” You asked. Even your speaking voice was melodic, just as beautiful as it was when you would sing, raising goosebumps up his arms. The sound of his name falling so softly from your lips felt sacred, far more satisfactory than crowds of fans cheering it. 

“Yes.” He replied. He was scared to breathe, worried that one wrong word would send you scampering away once more.

“My sisters like you a lot.” You said matter-of-factly, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. 

“And you?” He asked bravely. “What do you think of me?” 

“I hate mortals.” You replied softly, and it felt like a dagger to Choso’s heart, a cutting rejection like nothing he’d ever felt before. He was just about to point out that technically he was a demigod before you spoke again. 

“I didn’t care for Choso the Bard who inspired so much joy amongst the cityfolk. Unlike my foolish sisters I care little for mortal affairs.” Choso’s lips parted but you cut him off once more. “I do care for the man who ignored all of his fame to come and sing to me each day. A man who couldn’t have known that I would ever bother to give him the time of day.” 

A fond smile had grown onto your beautiful face, your ethereal eyes fixed on him affectionately, and Choso felt his heart thumping hard in his chest, as though it would jump out of his body if not for his ribcage. 

“The songs you write about me are a little over-exaggerated though.” You continued. “I’m just a nymph, I’m not deserving of such reverence.” 

“But you are!” Choso scrambled to say. “I’ve heard music far and wide, and I always believed that I was the best. Your song is like nothing I’ve heard before. You’re the most enchanting creature I’ve ever encountered.” 

You seemed surprised, eyes wide and cheeks red. A few flowers bloomed in your hair and across your skin - one of the many wonderful traits of nymphs born out of their connection with nature, and a sure way of knowing when one was content. It had Choso gazing at you in awe, pleased that he could cause such an effect. 

“I’d like to sing with you.” Choso pleaded, his brown eyes fixed on you, desperate for you to say yes, for you to finally cross the line that you’d drawn between the two of you. 

Considering him for a moment, you took several steps forward, moving slowly through the grass and flowers until you were standing right in front of him. Your features were even more otherworldly up close, and Choso found himself holding his breath at the way your eyes flickered over his body. 

“What would you like to sing?” You asked, and all the tension left Choso’s body.

“Whatever you’d like.”

Your relationship changed after that. Choso would return to the clearing each day as usual, but the manner of your interactions was different. You’d no longer run and hide from him, eagerly awaiting his approach each day, often singing before he arrived, enticing him in with your music.

The two of you would spend plenty of time making music together, creating new melodies and writing lyrics. You’d offer suggestions on his songs, telling him which ones you liked and which you didn’t, with Choso hanging on your every word. 

As time passed the two of you grew closer, and outside of music you’d often find yourself lying in the grass together, chatting about your pasts, your hopes and dreams for the future. Each time you’d do this, the two of you would lay closer and closer together, until it was normal for his hand to be entwined in yours, for your head to be laid upon his chest. 

The relationship just escalated from there, with Choso staying longer and longer in the clearing, both of you reluctant to part with the other. With each greeting his hands would linger in your hair as you embraced, with each parting you would squeeze his hand for longer than you should, and it didn’t take long until each interaction was completed with a kiss, your lips brushing softly against his, desperate for as much of his physical touch as you could get. 

Choso couldn’t be happier - his fame and old life practically forgotten, all of his focus on you, on his desperation to be at your side. Despite all of the love that he’d felt from his fans, none of it mattered like the way your love for him did. He yearned for your kisses whenever you were apart, and in the summer months he found himself sleeping in the clearing with you more and more, experiencing true ecstasy as he made love to you in the moonlight, soft grass cradling your bodies as he made you his. 

He ended up building himself a little house beside your tree. The clearing wasn’t the most comfortable place for him to stay, and unlike you he couldn’t hide inside a tree whenever he got cold or tired of being outside - hence the creation of a modest shack. It was a cozy little abode, a place where he could stay each night so that he could part with you less regularly. 

Years were spent in that shack - singing with you, holding you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, tangling your bodies together and sweetly making love. It was everything he’d ever wanted. 

Everything had been perfect. 

Until a jealous god had ripped you from his hands. 

Choso had been away, playing for his fans back in Athens under the behest of the goddess Athena. He played for an audience very rarely now, content to have only you hear his music. But when a god gives you an order you don’t get to say no. 

He was eager to get things over with, to be back at the side of his lover. More and more men had been coming into the forest lately and he didn’t like leaving you alone without any protection, it felt unsafe. 

He should’ve brought you with him. 

For when he returned to your clearing, he found that the lovely cottage he’d built for you was empty. At first he’d assumed that you were simply out visiting one of your sisters or perhaps foraging. 

That was before he noticed the blood trail leading out of the back door. 

He’d followed it out into the garden that you’d so carefully cultivated, his heart pounding as he followed the blood splattered across the flowers, dropping to his knees in despair at the sight before him. 

You, his beloved, with your neck cut clean open - left to bleed out on the soft forest floor. The crimson pool of blood beneath you was starting to dry, and it was instantly clear to him that he had arrived to late to do anything. 

He’d later found out what had happened to you from another nymph: you’d been propositioned by a minor god known as Kenjaku - he had attempted to defile you and in your struggle to fight him off he had killed you. 

Your life, so bright and hopeful, taken from you in an instant all because of the selfish desires of the gods.

Choso had wept over your body, his hands clutching desperately at the fine silk dress that he’d gifted to you. Even in death you were ethereal, your face as lovely and graceful as ever. It tore his heart into shreds, a being as perfect as you shouldn’t be faced with the cruelty of the world, you deserved to live eternally in softness. 

He despised the gods for this. He’d spent the night damning them, gripping your lifeless body and hurling insults up at the sky until his throat was raw. He would never forgive them for this transgression. 

But no matter how hard he yelled, no response came from beyond, and your fellow nymphs desperately tried to pull him away from your body, begging him to rest, worrying that if he kept shouting and cursing like that he’d lose his beautiful voice forever. 

He couldn’t care less. You were the only person he wanted to sing to. He’d never make music again if you weren’t going to be there to hear it. 

It took days before the nymphs finally pulled him away, convincing him that you needed to be buried before you started to decay. He couldn’t watch as they buried you beneath the dirt, your voice stifled for eternity, eyes never to gaze upon the sun again. The clearing was forever tainted for him now, no longer a place he could call home. 

So he’d gone back to wandering the towns and cities, moving through the world like a ghost.

People had told him to move on, selfishly hoping that he’d go back to performing for them - he was a commodity in this world after all. But he wouldn’t. You were his everything - his lover, his muse, his entire world. There was nothing to move on to. Without you he would never sing again, he would live out the rest of his days in misery until he found his end at the bottom of a bottle. 

So when his father appeared in his dreams one night, taking pity on his sorry state and informing him of a way to gain passage into the underworld, Choso didn’t think twice. He was going to enter the realm of the dead and bring you back to his side. 

If the gods could take from him, why shouldn’t he take from them? 

There was no hesitation in his mind as he made his way into that rocky cave that his father had spoken of, winding his way through endless tunnels and passages without fear, making his way deep into the earth until he stumbled out onto the shores of the river Styx. 

The underworld was a cold place, filled with despair. The mournful cries of the dead filled the air, and mortals who had come down here the conventional way were stumbling off the undead ferryman’s boat in their hundreds, being corralled like cattle towards the gates of death. 

Choso knew that he didn’t belong here, his heart pounding out of his chest as spirits flooded around him, a shiver running through his spine each time one passed through his corporeal body. He knew that he couldn’t linger here long, lest he draw attention to the fact that he was not like everyone else. 

He made his way to the imposing entrance, a gate covered in thousands of skulls with a gigantic three-headed hound sitting beneath it. The creature, known as Cerberus, had unbelievably sharp fangs, drool dripping from his mouth as his sharp black eyes surveyed the dead passing along between his humongous paws. He was a guard dog, making sure that everyone stayed in line - and keeping any intruders out. 

Approaching steadily, Choso had pulled out his lyre, looking confidently at the hound and singing one of his more well-known ballads. His father had told him of the dog’s fondness for music, suggesting that Choso keep playing until the creature is well out of sight. 

He passed beneath Cerberus without a hitch, the oversized dog treating him as just another one of the undead. No simple hound was going to keep him from getting you back, and with his passage through the gate Choso had successfully infiltrated the land of the dead.

Choso’s father had told him to go straight to the palace, to bargain with the god of death, for that was the only way that you would ever leave the underworld. He’d have to ask the god to return you to him, to plead for his mercy, for him to understand that your life should not have yet met its end. 

The god of death and his beautiful wife were eager to grant Choso an audience, his fame extending even to the two immortals in this forsaken place; he was the world’s most renowned musician after all. And as he begged on his knees for just a single favor from the god, he sung him a heart-wrenching ballad - one that told of his love for you, and the aching loss that he felt in your absence. 

Moved by Choso’s voice, the god struck up a deal - agreeing to release you back to him, for you to live freely in mortal lands once more, reassuring the bard that you would be following right behind him as he made his way out of the underworld. 

But the one condition was that Choso had to wait until you were back out in the world of the living before he turned around to gaze upon you, else you would be sent straight back into the grips of the underworld for all eternity. 

Infinitely grateful, Choso agreed to these terms. He could have you back. His lover, his muse - once more you would be at his side. 

He had no time to waste. 

Choso started out on that winding path back up to the surface, back through those narrow passages. And the whole time, all he could do was have faith that you were following behind him. He could hear no footsteps, no indication of your presence - but he knew that he couldn’t turn around to check, lest he lose you once more. 

The need to look at you was overwhelming, he wanted to see that beautiful smile of yours, lay his hands on your soft skin, hear your sweet voice once more. Knowing that you were right there behind him and just out of his reach was torturous. 

But nothing was more tortuous than the thought of a life without you, so he held it together, making his way to the end of the passage and stepping out into the sunlight, back into the world of the living.

He couldn’t restrain himself for a moment longer. As soon as his feet hit the grass Choso turned around, elated at the thought of seeing you once more, of taking you in his arms and never letting you go again. 

It was only as he turned around that he realised his mistake. 

You hadn’t yet crossed the threshold into the outside, still technically standing in the domain of death as he turned to look at you, lurching forward to embrace you. 

For a moment, it was as though he had the whole world in his hands. You, in your ever radiant beauty, standing there before him - gorgeous as the day he’d first met you. Your eyes wide and glassy with tears, a beautiful, sad smile on your face as you gazed upon him. 

And a moment later you were gone, dissolved into dust in his hands. 

Pulled back into the underworld, never to walk among the living again. 

He’d screamed and he’d cried, cursing the god of the dead for his unfair conditions. Hoping that he could go back and bargain for a second time, Choso scrambled back into the cave, only to be met with a solid wall. No passage to be found. 

Choso started banging his fists against the rock, tears streaming down his face as he begged to have you back, for another chance. 

But he knew that the gods were not so kind. 

The cynics and thinkers of the future would call him a fool, would say it was his own fault and chastise him for not waiting longer. Criticise him for not taking one extra moment to make sure that you were truly free from the grasps of the afterlife. 

But he was sure that the romantics would understand, that knowing that you were right there behind him, in all your ethereal splendor - how could he have ever beared to not turn around as soon as he did? 

a/n: thank you for reading, once again I'm very sorry about how sad this one is. .

if you like mythology fics I've done a couple for sukuna and one for gojo which you can find on my masterlist - I'll be doing ones for toji and geto in the near future too!

© sukunahs

[sugarcoatedheartt]

⊹₊⟡⋆ primadonna girl — nrk .ᐟ

parrings: bf!niki x fem!reader

synopsis: headcannons on bf!niki >ᴗ<

warnings; none🙂‍↕️

genre: fluff, romance, headcannon/drabble, lowkey kinda grumpy x sunshine??

bella/sugar’s notes: i feel like this is too short but i havent posted in ages so take it☹️this has also been in the drafts for too long soo

lowercase intended

not proofread !

bf!niki who acts all tough and strong on the outside, but is just a big cute softie on the inside. this side of him comes out when youre behind closed doors.

as soon as you and your boyfriend reach the empty classroom and take a seat next to each other, he’s slipping his arms around your waist and nestling his nose into your neck, letting out a breathy sigh. “see? no one’s even here yet, why do you always make us come to class so early” he whines, although not complaining that he gets a moment alone with you. “class starts in 10, ki.” you state, reaching your hand up to thread your fingers through his hair, at which he exhales at contently, “plus, this is my favourite subject.” you finish. “i wanna go homeeee..” he complains, pushing himself further into you, as if he’s hiding from the world and responsibilities before him. “no niki, this is an important class” you softly scold, slightly amused by his antics. he lets out a defiant hum, yet not aguring any further, knowing he cant help but want to follow whatever you say anyways. he only pulls away (reluctantly) when he hears the footsteps of his classmates approaching the room, although making sure he keeps his fingers tightly interlocked with yours under the desk.

bf!niki who cant fall asleep unless youre by his side. its not his fault really, he just loves having your soft body intertwined with his and your fingers gently scratching at his scalp. the bed feels empty and cold without you there with him.

the moment you slide under the covers, niki’s arms wrap around you while he tucks his head safely under your chin, nose nuzzling into your neck as his breathing slows at the sensation of your warm skin against his, the sweet smell of your body wash invading his nose. he hums in satisfaction when he feels your hands reach up to begin toying with the ends of his hair behind his neck, the sensation making him shiver. you feel him smile into your neck before he places a few wet kisses against it, relishing in the way your light breathing fans against his face, the motion of your chest moving with each inhale soothing him like a soft lullaby. “goodnight, angel” he murmurs, already half asleep as his eyes flutter. “night-night, kiki” you whisper in reply, your voice gentle like a warm melody lulling him to sleep. you place one last kiss against him temple before his consciousness fully fades, leaving him vulnerable (and adorable) in your arms.

bf!niki who spoils you rotten. how could he not when you look so happy after he buys you designer jewellery? after he purchases the pricey perfume youve been eyeing? after he swipes his black metal card to get you new heels he’d let you walk all over him in?

“you like those?” he asks you with his raspy voice, his arm situated around your waist as you gaze at the red bottom louboutin’s behind the shiny glass. your eyes flicker to the price tag next to it; $1495. at this point, youve gotten used to niki buying things for you no matter the price, so you shrug to yourself and answer “yeah, i do” with an innocent head tilt. he wastes no time calling over a worker to get your size for you to try on. after the worker hurries back with the heels, he sits you on one of the chairs, falling to his knees infront of you as he gently slips your shoes off before he takes a heel in his hand. niki then slides it onto your foot with utmost care, as if being too rough would shatter you. he puts the other one on with the same amount of gentleness, standing back up to offer his hand to you in order to help you up. you take it and allow him to pull you up with delicacy, as if you were a porcelain doll. he lets you take a few steps in them, trying them and seeing if they’re comfortable. “theyre super pretty and really comfy,” you begin, walking back towards him “its a shame i dont have anything to wear with them” you complete, looking up at him, still shorter even with the extra boost from the heels. “why dont we find you something to go with it then?” he suggests, a fond smile on his face as he places a hand behind your back to guide you.

bf!niki who only listens to what you tell him to do. whenever a teacher or another person gives him an instruction, he’ll be defiant.

“nishimura, could you please pass me the textbook?” the classmate to his left asks, gesturing towards the unattended textbook on the desk across from him. “no, get it yourself” he answers, not rudely, but firmly. you on the other hand, in which were too busy touching up your makeup to process what’s happening, taps niki on the shoulder, still in the middle of curling your eyelashes while looking into your computer camera. “lipliner” you ask (more like state), holding out your free hand, waiting for him to pass it over. “of course, here” he says with a visible smile on his face, grabbing your favourite lipliner from your little makeup bag and placing it into your open hand. his classmate notices this and gives your boyfriend a scowled expression as he sits back in his seat after getting up to get the textbook himself. “the fuck are you looking at” he pushes, giving his classmate a dirty side eye at the sight of his expression towards his behaviour. “oh, so you can pass her some measly lip shit when she asks, but not pass me a textbook that actually holds value??” niki’s classmate presses, voice full of venom. “dont you dare talk about her and her lip stuff like that.” he says, jaw clenching in annoyance. “calm down guys, play nice” you speak, half amused and sarcastic as you apply your lip liner, not sparing them a glance as you focus on your careful strokes with the pencil in your laptop camera. “..sorry” niki mumbles, giving his classmate one more look of disgust before turning his attention back to you.

[mattsdivaa]

Knock at my window.

guitarist!chris x bookworm!reader

Tuesday night, a knock at my window. I walk over to it to see Chris, I open this window letting him in.

“Christopher Owen, why are you climbing through my window, ever heard of a front door?” I look at him, my hands on my hips

His eyebrows raise “uh your father doesn't want his daughter's boyfriend here at 11 pm!”

I smile “your gonna get caught he has eyes and ears everywhere” he jumps on my bed laying on his back.

“Well im sure we have some time” he whispers

I lay next to him placing my head on his chest, staring at the ceiling. I can tell his tense, like he's too scared to move or breathe.

As we lay together he plays with my hair, my candle that I had lit before he came leaving a nice comforting scent.

“You smell really good” he whispers in my ear, “you talking about me or the candle?” I fix my position so I lay on top of him, our faces inches away. I place my head in the crook of his neck.

We lay there in silence, his hands wrapped around my waist, his eyes shut. “This is nice” I whisper, leaving a kiss on his neck.

“Way better than facetime.” barely above a whisper.

It's now probably been an hour since he snuck through my window. We've been laying there in silence, our breaths in sync. He lifts my chin up connecting our lips. Our kisses aren't rough, it's nice, slow.

But of course peace doesn't last long in this house, three knocks at my door.

“Y/n?” my heart stops. Chris freezes. We look at each other eyes wide, expressions identical (pure panic) then he moves “shit-” he whispers jerking upright like standing will somehow make us look less suspicious.

But this idiot forgets I'm still on top of him, so when he sat up, i slid and not just slid i flew sideways with a yelp and tumbled right off the bed and it hurt.

THUD

Did I mention that my face hit the floor first? The door creaks open and there he is my dad. Eyebrows raised staring at us processing if he wants to yell or.. Yell

“Christopher.” my dads voice sharp, Chris starts to laugh, awkwardly “well isnt this a nice surprise that im here!... surprise!” my dad stares at him then at me and back at Chris.

“An amazing surprise..” my dad says sarcastically “do you know what time it is?” Chris nods “midnight sir?” “And where should you be Christopher?” he gulps “home sir” “the boy has a brain!” he puts his hands in the air

My dad blinks. Takes a look at me. Then back at Chris. His facial expression like he's genuinely weighing the pros and cons of grounding me for life.

“Five minutes” he mutters “then he's gone” the door shuts with a solid creek.

As as it shut chris starts laughing, like full body, cant breath dropping to the floor next to me “your the worst” i whisper-yell smacking his shoulder

“I panicked, I didn't mean to throw you!” we both laugh until our stomachs hurt, i end up curling to his side on the floor, hearts racing.

“Where so bad at this” I say, “sneaking around?” he asks “yeah” and there we layed for five minutes till my dad drove him home.

And that was the funnest night I had in days. Obviously my face hurt but in the end it was all worth it.

Don’t know if I ever posted this before but I’ve had this in my drafts for a bit !! Also not proofread!!

[coloredsp3ctrum09]

[Phaidei fanfic idea]:

_____

Modern Superhero AU but instead of following superhero!Phainon, we instead get former villain Phainon who retired from villainy and is now living a normal life as a grade school teacher. But the normalcy he worked hard to build shatters when he encounters his former arch-rival and nemesis Mydei, a superhero from the city of Castrum Kremnos, who is now working at the local library nearby. But Phainon knows Mydei is still a superhero, so he has to keep himself under the radar. If only he wasn't so attracted to Mydei at every turn (typical-).

[Fic highlights]:

• Phainon being a bumbling teacher most of the time in front of Mydei but couldn't help but return to his challenging dynamic with Mydei cuz habit

• Mydei is on the lookout for his nemesis Khaslana, determined to find that scoundrel not knowing the man himself is the weirdly nice and slightly clumsy grade school teacher near the library

• Aglaea, who asked Mydei to help her look for Khaslana, is both disappointed and intrigued at "wtf her colleague is having a romance while they're hunting down one of Amphoreus' most wanted villains"

• Cipher is a former anti-hero and works as a coach in the school Phainon works at. Ofc she doesn't stop at teasing Phainon on his blatant crush on Mydei

• Phainon was *GASP cuz huge fic spoiler* a hero before he was a villain, but when he went up against the supervillain Lygus, he got lore revealed into realizing that his homeworld of Amphoreus is about to die because of a sentient eldritch being (irontomb–) that is unknowingly powered by twelve different heroes, including himself because of Lygus. So as a result Phainon kills that robot bastard (permanently cuz yes fuck Lygus) and makes the painful decision to fake his death as the hero known as 'Deliverer' and became the villain known as 'Khaslana' so he could take the powers belonging to the other heroes of Amphoreus so he could use it to destroy Irontomb.

• Mydei, also known by the superhero alias 'Phobos' had been close friends with Deliverer for as long as he could remember, harboring deep romantic feelings for him up until the Deliverer's death at the hands of the new supervillain Khaslana. He hates Khaslana with a passion for killing Deliverer and mourns his friend's boyfriend's passing, not knowing Deliverer and Khaslana are the same person. monkaS

• Khaslana managed to reap the other heroes of their powers and went to fight Irontomb by himself and only managed to do it with the help of the fairy Cyrene. After weakening Irontomb, Khaslana merged with it in order to suppress the danger it poses. After that he secretly returned all of the heroes' powers aaaaaaand cue the start of the fic lol

(this has been sitting in my drafts for too long, save me-)

[un-till-the-end]

Ivan strangled Till in a way that would be lethal

Whether or not he intended to kill him is another matter but pressing on Till's vocal cords like this is deadly. My friend, who's a medical resident, explained Ivan's thumbs are pushing on either side of the larynx. If the hyoid bone (at the top) is broken, it can cause severe damage to the airway. (The middle image below shows where Ivan's thumbs are pressing.)

I questioned if Ivan's thumbs weren't pressing on the sternocleidomastoid muscle instead. The middle image is what he returned to me (blue representing Till's voice box/windpipe and red the sternocleidomastoid):

"Isn't this the same method used for breath play?"

Fans have claimed Ivan is choking Till the way you would for erotic asphyxiation. The main problem with this argument is: there is no guaranteed "safe" way to choke someone.

The "method" used for breath play is pressing on the carotid arteries while avoiding pressure on the windpipe. This decreases blood flow to the brain both directly through constriction of the arteries and indirectly through compression of the baroreceptors triggering decreased blood pressure and heart rate. This can lead to cardiac arrest as well as permanent brain damage.

There are numerous ways breath play can be fatal including: cardiac arrest, respiratory alkalosis (decreased carbon dioxide increases blood pH), metabolic acidosis (decreased oxygen decreases blood pH), rupture of the windpipe, fracture of the larynx, blood vessel damage, stroke, seizures, and aspiration (saliva, vomit, etc. gets into airway/lungs). You cannot predict when someone will go unconscious and detection of an abnormal heart rhythm can already be too late.

Even if Ivan had strangled Till in the same manner as erotic asphyxiation, it would remain potentially lethal.

"Shouldn't Till have struggled?"

Another claim has been that Till would have autonomically struggled rather than going still. Research does not support this: there is no indication there is a universal reflex that occurs in all cases of strangulation. Not all strangulation victims have shown defensive movements.

Was this Ivan's intention?

My first impression from the Round 6 Behind was that Ivan had tried to kill Till, because he didn't know what he wanted to do. Vivinos explained:

With [the second draft], however, we felt that Ivan's emotions weren't being conveyed fully - so we decided to revise it once again. We made it so that viewers wouldn't be able to fully grasp Ivan's true feelings. After all, he's the only one who will ever know how he truly feels. You can't just move on from such long, deep-seated emotions in such a short time. Ivan tries to strangle Till, then kisses him, stares at him yearningly, and murmurs nonsense. His contradicting actions show his clashing emotions - he is both sure and unsure at the same time.

It's also explained that "in the end [Ivan] pours his emotions out and acts like a child." It's repeated again later that Ivan is "emotionally immature" and "expresses his emotions like a child." This gave me the impression that Ivan is just acting out and trying everything. He isn't acting with a plan in that moment, he is just expressing his emotions in every way possible.

However, in the most recent Q&A during Animate Thailand, it's answered Ivan strangled Till with the intent for Till to survive.

This brings a lot of questions I can't answer. When did Ivan decide strangling Till would be the best way to save him? Did he originally try to kill Till and then shifted his goal to saving him instead? Did he plan to strangle him from the start? Did he have a plan at all?

Since this is a rare moment Ivan's behavior is being driven by his emotions, perhaps - much like Till's character - we cannot assess his actions logically. At some point, Ivan felt that this is what he needed to do to keep Till alive. There wasn't a plan, a structure, or a methodology. Ivan either didn't know or didn't even consider he could accidentally kill Till. He didn't realize strangulation can be fatal even without constricting his air supply. He only knew if he used violence to be disqualified - to be shot down - then Till would win by default.

[sleepdeprivedfrfr]

im not in love

ex-situationship!bucky x reader

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: minor thunderbolts spoilers? tower fic, exsituationship/relationship!bucky?? reader is an old friend of Natasha and Yelena. mutual pining. bit of a toxic relationship (if you'll even call it that). smut, fingering, p in v. dacryphillia. a splash of angst. oneshot? not proofread. MDNI. NSFW!

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: After your final mission for Valentina ended in you helping the so called 'new avengers' defeat the Void, you've been spending your days in the Avengers tower with the rest of the crew.

𝐚/𝐧: this has been in the drafts since may and I needed to get it out desperately. now ik why I js stick to drabbles lmfao. I also used google translate for the Russian so please correct me if I am wrong!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.8k

"What is it?"

Yelena's voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you redirected your focus from the window that displayed an illuminating view of the city lights, back to the couch where Yelena and Bob were talking about having a group movie night.

"What?" Him. It's always him.

You noticed the slight raise in her brows before she spoke, "You've been staring at that window for the past ten minutes. Am I boring you or something?" Bob gulped and silently watched the conversation between you and Yelena unfold.

"I was?" God you've only been living in the tower for not even a month and you feel like you're already losing your fucking mind. I mean how could you not? Especially when you were constantly running into him in the kitchen, exchanging awkward glances, and blatantly avoiding each other after each awkward exchange.

Yelena let out an exasperated sigh before starting again, "You know you two should just talk to each other and stop making it awkward for the rest of us. Seriously, it's painful to see how desperate you two are for each other."

You scoffed and crossed your arms in front of you, " 'Lena I have no idea what you're talking about."

She glanced at Bob—who was already looking her way— and let out a hearty laugh. You sat with a blank expression, until Bob joined in and began to stifle a laugh as well. It was uncanny how similar she was to Alexi, you always thought about how absurd it was that they aren't actually related.

Yelena wiped fake tears from her eyes as her laughter died down, "Oh milaya (sweetheart) you are so funny. You know that everyone else sees it too, right? I mean you're both moping around the tower," the sarcasm somehow making her accent more prominent.

Your eyes widened and you tried your best to remain as composed as possible , "I am not moping."

"Oh you so are," She nudged bob who was sitting next to her with a no-so-secret smile on his face, "Bob isn't she moping?"

You cocked a brow at Bob while waiting for his reply. The sudden shift in attention to him suddenly made him nervous, you could see the shoulders stiffen and the hesitant look in his eyes before he began to answer. Bob looked at Yelena before beginning to slightly nod his head, "I think you might slightly be uhm, moping... just a little."

You stood up from the couch across Yelena and Bob and walked to the bar, "Wow. You guys are delusional."

Yelena watched as you began to pour water into a glass and take a sip, "So you're telling me that you think you've been acting completely normal while living with your ex-boyfriend for the past three weeks?"

-

"So what are we?" You gazed up into his deep blue eyes, never failing to notice the way they softened whenever they stared back into yours.

Bucky looked down at you, his right hand caressing your cheek as his lips hovered over yours, "What ever you want us to be. I'll be whatever you want me to be, as long as it means I get to be with you, love."

liar.

-

You choked on the water and wiped your mouth as the memory played back in your head, "He was never my boyfriend."

"Okay ex—whatever he was—he still has that look in his eyes whenever you pass by. Not to mention he is so unbelievably grumpy when you aren't around."

That made you look up from you glass, "Look? What look?"

Yelena groaned and threw her head back on the couch causing blonde strands to fall against her face, "When my sister said the relationship between you two was confusing, she wasn't lying."

You sighed and chugged the glass of water.

Yelena played with the over grown strands of blonde that covered her face and looked over to Bob, whose hair had also grown out quite a bit in the past few weeks. "You know I think it's time for me to get a trim, what about you Bob?"

"Uh, yeah I guess my hair has gotten pretty long." He said quietly while moving the brown strands out of his eyes.

You set your glass down and let out a breathy laugh, already knowing what Yelena was getting at. "If that's your way of asking me to give you two a haircut then the answer is yes."

Yelena smirked and nudged Bob before standing up to follow you into the bathroom.

"W-wait right now? It's almost one in the morning." Bob whispered.

You snorted and nodded as you all headed to the common room bathroom.

It was almost two in the morning and the three of you couldn't stop laughing as you played with Bob's hair and giving him wild hair cut ideas. You had already finished trimming Yelena's hair and you were almost finished with Bob's hair as you all giggled and joked around, until a harsh knock on the bathroom door brought the three of you to silence.

Bob looked up to you and Yelena from the chair you guys had placed in the bathroom, Yelena shrugged and walked over to the door as your ran your hands through Bob's hair and adjusting his new hair style.

The door creaked open revealing a grumpy looking Bucky in a black tank top and black sweatpants. His metal arm and biceps on full display. "What the hell are you guys doing at this hour—" Bucky cut himself off after looking past Yelena and locking eyes with you.

And your hands.

In Bob's hair.

A moment of silence went by. Bob gulped and Yelena turned to look at you then back to Bucky before she spoke, "Uhh can we help you?"

Bucky blinked and brought his attention back down to Yelena while he cleared his throat, his Adams apple bobbing in his throat as he did, "Just— uh, keep it down, it's late."

Yelena turned and looked at you with a smirk.

Oh no.

Oh god no.

You stared at Yelena, pleading for her to not do whatever the fuck she had planned.

"Actually— we were just finishing up in here, me and Bob had a haircut that was long overdue. You should get one too, I mean we do have the best hairstylist in here so."

Fuck you Yelena.

Bucky's expression shifted the slightest bit, most wouldn't be able to catch the way his eyes slightly widened, but you did. "That's... that's okay I just—"

"No really, me and Bob were just leaving." Yelena cut the tall and brooding man off and turned to face You and Bob shooting you a wink, "C'mon Bob!"

Bob shot you a remorseful look as he followed Yelena, "Thank you for the haircut!" He shouted his thank you followed by your name before him and Yelena disappeared in the darkness of the hallway.

Leaving you and Bucky.

Alone.

He stood in the doorway awkwardly and stared at the empty chair beside you before stepping into the bathroom.

"Still awake enough to give me a trim?" He shot you a small smile, the same charming smile that he always gave you when you used to cut his hair in this same bathroom years ago.

You stood there in a daze like an idiot before nodding your head and returning his smile.

Bucky walked the rest of the way over to you and sat in the chair, you felt his eyes staring holes into your back as you rinsed the comb and shears in the sink. You cleared your throat before breaking the unbearably awkward silence,

"Sorry if we woke you."

"Don't worry about it, couldn't sleep anyway."

You turned around to face him, a small pout on your lips that didn't go unnoticed by him. Nothing you did ever went unnoticed by him.

"Still having those nightmares?"

Bucky nodded slowly, watching your eyebrows furrow and a small frown form on your lips as he did.

"You still worrying about me doll?"

That earned him an eye roll from you, "In your dreams metal man."

He huffed out a laugh and carefully watched your reflection in the mirror while you sectioned off his thick hair.

It was quiet again, you focused on nothing but his overgrown mop head. Bucky noticed the way you refused to look in the mirror, not wanting to risk the chance of accidentally meeting his gaze.

"You and bob a thing?"

Of course that was the first thing he would ask. Nosy fuck.

"Does that bother you?"

"So you are?"

"No."

You sighed as his shoulders began to visibly relax after your response, you remained unfazed by his bombardment of questions into your personal life.

"All done."

Bucky watched you in the mirror as you hurriedly cleaned the hair off the floor. Your movements were urgent, like you couldn't breathe with his presence in the room.

"Wait."

Bucky didn't dare to touch you, yet he still reached out towards you before your hand twisted the doorknob, he couldn't waste an opportunity like this.

You faced him, an annoyed look on your face. He knew it was fake. All of it was. The shared glances that you pretended didn't faze you, the unbothered act you put on when you two were partnered up for a mission, or how you acted like his mere presence didn't make the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

He was closer now. Like he was scared of the space between you becoming too great, which frankly, was the least of his problems.

Your eyes met his, awaiting his response. What could he possibly have left to say?

"I— I'm sorry."

You laughed. Like a genuine laugh. The same laugh you always let out when you watched those ridiculous rom-coms. The kind of laugh Bucky would kill to hear again.

Not like this though. This wasn't the same.

"Is that all you have to say Congressman Barnes?" You turned around again to leave, but you were stopped by hand grabbing your wrist gently, like if he gripped you to hard, everything would shatter again.

"I—fuck—please just hear me out." You were against the door now, your eyes staring up into his.

"I know you a shitty apology is the last thing you want to hear, but I mean it. I know it won't fix shit but... it's worth a shot. I'm sorry for everything. For leaving. For wasting your time. For making you think I was ready for a relationship, but I am now. I swear. I get it if you want nothing to do with me, but please, just hear me out."

"Bucky—"

"I can't sleep at night without you next to me. I went to therapy for the nightmares, did all the stupid shit the lady told me. I got better, the nightmares went away for the most part, but now every time I close my eyes I see you."

His voice began to crack, you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"I see the tears in your eyes, the smile on your face, the way you kissed me like I could never do wrong. You knew I wouldn't come back, you knew how much of a coward I was, didn't you?"

Your eyes were glossed over now, before the tears spilled over you put cupped Bucky's face into your hand, your lips smashing onto his.

His hands found their way onto your hips, pushing you up against the door. Your hands slid up his tank top, your fingers running up and down his abdomen. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled you up to straddle his waist before setting you onto the kitchen sink, not daring to break the kiss.

You pulled at his tank top, signaling for him to take it off. Bucky groaned between kisses before he pulled away out of breath,

"Are you sure you—"

"Hurry up and fuck me James."

Bucky smiled at that and wasted no time taking off his shirt, his hands slid down to your little pj shorts you had on before he slid them off, leaving you in your underwear. He slid his right hand over your clothed clit that was soaking through the fabric.

His lips were latched back onto yours as he moved your panties aside, and gently rubbed your clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips as you kissed him hungrily. His fingers were covered in your slick as he broke from the kiss and moved down to where you sat on the sink.

He slid your panties off completely, discarding them to the side, you put your legs over his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair as his head dove in between your thighs. Two of his fingers pumped into your cunt as he sucked on the nub of your clit, the vibrations of his groans making you whimper and bit your lip.

"Fuck I missed you so much pretty girl. Still as sweet as ever." Bucky breathed out against your pussy, sending shivers down your spine.

His tongue worked eagerly at your clit, he licked up your juices as if he'd been starving for days.

"F—fuck, James 'm gonna—" You moaned out as your thighs tightened around his head. His hands gripped onto them, keeping them there.

He could actually die like this. Wouldn't even be mad.

"Go ahead baby, come all over my face."

Bucky ate you out through your climax, groaning each time you tugged onto his hair.

"Holy shit." He beamed up at you, his stubbled covered in your juices,

"You taste just as good as I remember."

You rolled your eyes playfully, as he stood up and kissed you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. You pulled at his pants and he took them off with no hesitation, while his lips remained on yours. You palmed his length through his boxers, pre-cum seeping through the fabric.

Sliding his boxers off, Bucky pumped his length before pulling toward the edge of the sink. He teased the head of his cock down your slick folds, before slowly inserting himself into your cunt.

He let out a groan, followed by a mumbled string of words about how much he missed you.

"Oh my god, yer' s'fuckin tight."

You let out a soft cry, before wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you in close.

"J-james—ah— go s-slow please."

He wiped away the tears on your cheeks before kissing your forehead, "I will. Just tell me if you need me to stop, okay baby?"

You nodded and locked your legs around his hips while peppering his jaw with kisses. Bucky slowly thrusted up into you, his head thrown back in pleasure,

"Atta fuckin' girl. You take me s'fuckin well. Ain't that right pretty girl?"

You bit down on your swollen bottom lip, and nodded.

Bucky thrusted up into you, increasing his speed with each thrust, causing cries of pleasure to escape your lips while you to scratched at his back.

Bucky grabbed at your tits, squeezing them in his right hand before taking one into his mouth, rolling his tongue over your nipple.

The pace in his thrusts increased, never stopping nor slowing, his stamina was a high as ever. You let out a moan at the cold feeling of his metal fingers flicking your clit.

"J-james m'so close."

Bucky trailed kisses from your tits all the way to your neck, leaving marks and love bites along the way.

"I know baby, I know. Can feel ya'squeezin me—fuck!"

Buckys thrust were faster and rougher now as he sucked onto your neck,

"Cum on my cock pretty girl. Please. I need it. Need t'feel you." Bucky groaned out between thrusts.

Your nails scratched at his back as you both came to your climax. Out of breath, Bucky stared down at you with a boyish grin, leaning down he gave you a peck on the lips and carried you to the shower.

-

After a long hot shower that contained of sweet nothings from Bucky, as the two of you cleaned each others bodies, you walked out and wrapped yourself in a towel. Bucky following you.

You cleaned the steamy mirror and examined the marks that were scattered along your breast and neck, Bucky walked up behind you, towel criminally low on his waist.

"Missed seeing you like this." He wrapped his arms around your toweled body. "I missed you."

You turned around and smirked back at him,

"Good."

Bucky lifted a brow at you before snorting out a laugh, "What's that supposed to mean hm?"

You leaned up and gave him one last peck on the lips,

"It means you'll finally get to know how I felt."

Bucky shot you a confused look, before watching you slip out of his hold, and walking out of the steamy bathroom that now felt frigid.

Leaving him this time.

this is so out of my element LMAO. please lmk if you enjoyed y'all! yes this is based on the song ik its cliche leave me alone.

[mandoriana]

Merlin,

Today, a woman was nearly sentenced to the stake.

She tried to kill me—but only because my father was responsible for the murder of her family: her husband and two sons.

She spent years learning magic just to kill me, to avenge them.

She failed, of course—probably thanks to you.

In any case, I almost condemned her to burn.

I almost made the same mistakes my father did. But in the moment I was about to do it, I remembered your words—about justice, about self-defense.

Would it really be fair for me to condemn a mother who lost everything because of me?

I hate being born with blood on my hands.

First my mother’s, then hundreds of others'.

The day of my birth is the most cursed day of my life.

Hundreds of lives were lost on that day.

My parents died that day.

I was born that day.

Sometimes I feel everything would have been better if I hadn’t been born…

Anyway, this isn’t about me.

What I want to ask you is something I should’ve asked a long time ago.

But, as always, I took too long to understand what really matters.

So here it is, from the depths of my heart:

Merlin, please create a safe place for people like you.

A place where it’s okay to be strange, and magical, and awkward.

Where no one has to hide who they are.

Where laughter is loud, and sorrow doesn’t linger.

Where magic can shine everywhere, and exist without fear.

Build that refuge.

Make it a home for those who never had a safe place.

Make it a shelter for those who were also called “wrong.”

Be the light I took too long to see in you.

And share that light, Merlin.

Let others find a home in it too.

This is the most important request of all.

Your king,

Arthur Pendragon

P.S.: I really should’ve started with this request. I should’ve freed your people a long time ago. I don’t know how much longer I’ll live, and I may not be alive to see you as free as I’d like. I’ve been drafting a new law to end my father’s ban, but as I said before in other letters—laws take time to change.

So does society.

It will likely be Gwen who finally brings peace between our peoples.

I hope you can find joy in that.

To Merlin

[lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ a/n: this piece has been sitting on my drafts since 2023, tbh. Lots of things happened so i had never really had the chance to post it, but i vaguely remembered that it was inspired by a post talking about a "replaced Mc au" kind of situation. Either way, enjoy guys.

Night fell over the NRC, casting thick shadows across the campus. The prefect of Ramshackle, your expression tense and eyes filled with bitterness, marched through the empty school corridors. Beside you, Grim walked silently, his usual chatter absent, intensifying the atmosphere of betrayal that permeated the air, making even the trees shrink away.

Betrayal, indignation, anger. These feelings simmered in your chest as you dragged your small suitcase across the floor. The silence was deafening and the sound of your footsteps reverberated like a funeral march echoing off the stone walls. The few candles lit along the walls flickered, casting dancing shadows that seemed to whisper dark secrets, reminiscent of the hushed whispers and veiled laughter of your old friends.

You could almost feel their eyes following your movements, almost hear the discreet celebrations at your departure. You took a deep breath. They didn’t deserve your tears or your sadness.

They didn’t deserve anything you had given them. You wished you could have back the time you spent; you wanted a way to reclaim everything.

But it was impossible.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Grim whispered as you turned down a dark corridor. With each step, you drew closer to the exit and a new beginning somewhere else.

You looked at the feline nestled in your arms, feeling a tightness in your heart. Grim would miss this place; you were sure of it. He would miss the ghosts, teasing Ace and Deuce, Trey’s cooking, the parties at Heartslabyul — the first place that welcomed you, the first to cast you aside.

You knew he would miss everyone, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

But he understood your decision and supported you. He had also helped you plan everything.

You looked at Grim with a mix of feelings, the weight of the situation reflected in his eyes. There was so much you wanted to scream, so much you needed to express but this wasn’t the time or place. The truth was, you didn’t want to leave for the same reasons as Grim, but you knew you had to. You deserved more than that treatment, more than to be discarded when a new toy came along.

And honestly, they could keep their new little toy, equally disposable.

“No, Grim, this place used to be our home. But they made a decision, and in doing so, we had to make ours,” You explained softly, trying not to sadden the feline further.

You set the suitcase down to scratch behind his ears and kiss his furry forehead. “I suppose we’ll get used to our new home. Besides, you can still become the Great Wizard Grim at Noble Bell, can’t you?”

Hope shone in Grim’s eyes, despite the sadness. And with one last look at the dark corridor, you picked up your suitcase again and moved forward, determined to find a place where you would truly be valued.

Grim’s ears perked up and he broke into a wide smile, convinced he could become the best wizard in the world, no matter what school he attended. The childlike sparkle in his eyes and the desire that surpassed recent rejection were things you wanted to protect.

The feline wagged his tail joyfully as you resumed your walk toward the magic mirror, your escape route. By morning, a letter addressed to Crowley would be found by your usurper. In it, you made it clear that he should not seek you out or allow others to do so, or you would expose everything he did and let happen at the school, dragging his name and that of Night Raven through the mud.

For too long, you had been like a shadow dragged everywhere, ignored. Now, if they dared to disturb you, they would be confronted by a powerful darkness. You knew their fears and most embarrassing secrets.

And you were not afraid of any of them. You had faced all the overblots, coordinated the attacks and strategies; you could already be considered a minor god.

The magic mirror gleamed before you, even in the dim light, bringing an end to a story that didn’t need to finish this way, closing a long chapter you hoped never to have to close. You touched the mirror, watching its surface twist and blur until the City of Flowers came into view.

Looking back one last time, you remembered the few good moments you had there: helping Trey in the kitchen, singing in the music club, playing pranks with the infamous duo ADeuce. A myriad of memories flew to your mind, but you forced yourself to forget them. You swallowed back tears and took a step forward.

They forgot me first, you thought.

A new student, in the same condition as you — magicless, with a familiar beast — gained everyone’s affection, leaving you alone again. If your friends chose this person over you, then you would choose others instead of them.

You crossed the mirror, disappearing as if you had never existed. The entrance hall of Noble Bell College stretched before you. It felt strange to be back after everything that had happened, but there was no other place that would accept you.

Grim knew that Noble Bell would be better for you both than the RSA. The gentle, generous treatment from the heroes would seem false to both of you, accustomed as you were to the rudeness and ulterior motives of the NRC students.

Grim was right. It made no sense to imagine how things would have been if you had gone to the heroes’ school. There was no reason to torment yourself with more “what ifs.”

The nighttime silence filled your thoughts as you climbed the stairs leading into the school, observing the shining, impeccably clean floor, illuminated by the moonlight. You felt exhausted, wishing only for a soft, comfortable bed. Plans had been made and broken countless times, promises had been shattered, and for three long months, you had been the target of jokes and cruel comments.

The fatigue was evident. The soft sound of crickets chirping was all your ears could pick up, drowning out the voice calling you and Grim muttering something.

Lost in your thoughts, you bumped into a chest, almost falling, if not for two quick hands steadying your torso. Your heart raced with surprise, the fatigue momentarily forgotten as you looked up, ready to apologize for the collision, but the sight before you made you forget what you wanted to say.

Rollo looked back at you, with the same expression of someone who hadn’t slept in days, but also with the welcoming warmth of a friend. You almost forgot what it felt like to receive such a gaze — so warm, kind.

For a second, you wanted to stay in his arms and share that warmth, but embarrassed, you pulled away with a shy laugh.

“I’ve been waiting for you!” He admitted, his voice resonating with a mix of melancholy and determination. The sound was just as you remembered, deep and full of emotion.

You smiled, though your eyes shone with contained sadness. Grim, in your arms, grumbled quietly, restless to get down and stretch his legs.

“Rollo,” you murmured, not quite sure what to say. So much had happened since you were last here; you had matured greatly through it all. Instead, you focused on him, his eyes, his shy smile.

You felt your lips curve too. “It’s good to see you again. How have you been these past few months?”

He hummed a soft tune, hiding his face behind his handkerchief. “I’ve been working on my, uh, issues. Magic is still something I find difficult to handle, but…”

Rollo seemed a bit lost, his eyes unfocused, as if a painful memory had surfaced in his mind. Without thinking, you took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. The sudden gesture made him cough, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“I can see your fatigue. Shall we head on?” You suggested with a nod. Grim was already several steps ahead, exploring eagerly, and you watched him with a smile.

“I was surprised you decided to come back here,” He said softly. His thumb brushed against your hand.

Rollo looked at you, the sadness in his eyes softening a bit. “I knew you’d eventually return. I had to be here to find you.” His voice trembled slightly, but there was a firm determination in his words.

You paused for a moment, absorbing his words. The school, which once felt like a hostile and dark place, filled with a smoke scent and the terrifying sounds of screaming, now had an aura of familiarity, as if the echoes of the past mingled with the hope of an uncertain future.

“I was surprised too,” you confessed, your voice lower, almost a whisper. “But I needed time to reflect on everything… and on myself.”

Rollo squeezed your hand a little tighter, as if wanting to convey reassurance. “Sometimes, it’s necessary to get lost to find yourself.” His eyes sparkled, even under the moonlight, and you realized that despite all the pain and uncertainty, there was a thread of connection binding you, a silent understanding.

He spoke from experience.

Grim, who had been distracted until now, stopped and looked back, his expression curious. “Hey, you two, let’s go!” He shouted, a hint of impatience in his voice.

“Sorry, Grim! We’re coming!” you replied, letting go of Rollo’s hand, though hesitantly, as if saying goodbye to a warmth you wanted to hold onto longer. Together, you started walking down the corridors, where the moonlight cast dancing shadows on the walls.

The surroundings were familiar, but there was something different, a feeling of nostalgia mixed with a new beginning. The sky was tinged orange and pink from the sunset, casting long, soft shadows along the path.

“During these months, I reflected a lot on what happened,” Rollo confessed, his voice low and introspective. “There were moments I felt lost, but I knew I had to change. And now that you’re here, I feel there’s a chance for redemption, to move forward.”

You gently squeezed his hand, offering comfort and support. “We’re all trying to find our way. And maybe together, we can help each other heal and grow.”

Rollo smiled shyly, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I would like that. A lot.”

The walk continued, each step feeling lighter than the last, as you made your way toward an uncertain but promising future. Grim raced ahead, his infectious energy, and you couldn’t help but feel optimistic.

After all, despite everything, you were together again, ready to face whatever came your way.

And you knew you wouldn’t be replaced, not this time.

Perhaps the only thing Rollo was right about all along was that wizards can be bad sometimes.

[triglycercule]

guys can you believe it the guys who all have had their freedom taken from them in one way or another have control issues i cant believe it either!!! anyways WARNING WARNING THIS POST IS LONG!!!! VERY!!!! LONG!!!!!!! read at your discretion or whatever idk go my murder trios

also this was actually a big ramble in dms with my mutual (thank you socksicko for giving me free reign to mtt ramble.......)

ok ok ok so like ive been having reoccurring thoughts about mtt and how all of them have biggggg control issues.......like i was talking about it before in those few couple horror reblogs and i had a draft saved just to talk about it heheheh

anyways i think that these control issues have a lot of sway for their own little push and pull dynamic between all three even though usually its hard for me to describe their relationship

killer's control issues are the easiest to describe of them all its what people bring up all the time with him with saying his story is about a lack of autonomy which i do quite love but more often than not people usually bring it up in regards of nightmare or chara to say that he loses his identity and what he wants for the sake of what those people want and i think that seperating him tom them his control issues are more deeply rooted in the fact that he's self aware :3 every character that's aware that theyre a character and even us humans who think maybe all our choices arent OUR choices have all had the thought that the choices they make arent THEIRS. killer is more deeply affected by this than others solely because his choices WERE influenced by a higher being aka us. i know people say that he was forced to say yes but i truly think that it adds more depth if he was simply given the ability to say yes instead of being forced. it adds this paradox to did he truly want it or was he just pushed to a path of no return that was simply no longer blocked off? being aware of the creators means that killer knows that he's not responsible for his actions technically if all thst he does is wanted by someone out there but the part of him that isnt as accepting of this idea KNOWS he has to take accountability despite "being told to" (because who would want to choose to believe that they have no choice in things they want to do? people say killer is the type with how he could want nightmare to tell him what to do ajd what to feel but that's simply not (fully) true because at least a part of him wants to feel and choose what he wants again)

i used to believe in the idea that killer was an example of learned helplessness where after a subject is taught that doing something will result in a punishment they'll stop trying despite the punishment being gone but now (if i remembered this term right) but now i think its more of the opposite because killer's whole thing is DETERMINATION. he does not stop he doesnt give up and i think this is more so of the line of what happens when you give someone MORE control than they need/ want? it parallels our perspectives as players in a game where we get to do whatever the hell we want most prevalent in sandbox games but give that perspective to a character who doesnt have the luxury of being detatched like us because theyre simply always going yo be part of that world. killer had TOO much freedom and therefore due to the situation of chara offering the deal he accepted and now cant cope with it. the beautiful thing about this is that with this newfound freedom killer can also do great good in the multiverse but he's so lost in his grief and self hatred and coping with those to realize it but now this is getting out of the control topic

dust's control issues in a sense could be a parallel to killer's (because it always is this is the fucking parallel time trio) where killer was given too much freedom and decided to follow along with what he was told to do, dust never had enough freedom and instead chased after what he wanted. despite dust also having (the tiniest sliver of it but anyways) determination like killer he is Still in the end a coded character and he will still follow the coding he has. the determination simply allows him to break the pattern he was in before but in the end he always ends up falling into patterns just slightly different he doesnt have the total control over things like killer does. in fact he doesnt have control at all considering the human could EASILY just reset or load a file and suddenly dust is back to where he started. he grieves the countless lives he's never been allowed to live and fights to be able to live that life even if it results in the worst possible outcome for himself and everyone else because anything else is better than stopping or going back. its like what chara said in a sense where past killer only wanted to continue, not stop or go back, but unlike killer dust is able to retain some semblance of a similarity to sans all while being able to somewhat carve out a future of his own. dust has always and will be the underdog of his own story and he knows that but that's exactly why he has to try so hard because if he didn't try this hard, if he wasn't this DETERMINED then he'd never be able to finally be free not from the limitations of his own choices but instead of the limits of time and space and the limits of the world. he wants control over his environment so he can simply live a life that doesnt repeat endlessly, at least one thats not out of his control

horror's control issues stem from his own distrust of other people which is BASIC CONTROL ISSUES 101 but anyways LOL while dust struggles against the world being against him and killer struggles against higher forces and himself horror struggles against his own people. the loss and humiliation he suffered at the core is one he's internalized and one that he probably never wants to suffer again ever. nobody will ever have that power to be above him otherwise they'll simply take advantage of him and regardless of what people say i dont think he'd be the type of just lie down and take whatever for the sole sake of survival (like he's said to do in certain takes of a more canonish nightmare's gang). horror sans can and DOES stand up against people with higher authority and power above him like how he does with undyne before she takes his eye and when she comes to complain about the last monster candy and that alongside with simply his own spite is because of his need for control i feel. it's a defense mechanism to prevent himself from ever being hurt again so he controls the environment around him to be deadly against any possible human threats and exactly what he needs to keep monsters dependent on him and his plans. he tricks people into doing what he wants he refuses to br vulnerable and horror is very much so aware that all of this is wrong he knows it better than anybody else but for his own selfish sake he continues to do it and no matter what other reason people come up with like "this is the best we have now" horror surely knows it deep down that its irrational otherwise he wouldn't feel such guilt. he only does all this to avoid ever being hurt by another person that he trusts deeply again because the emotional betrayal likely hurt a trillion times more than any sort of physical death and revival ever could to him

the fun part would be mishmashing all of these fucked up three into one of clusterfuck of some strange amalgamation of a relationship,,,,,horror and dust i feel would easily coexist more easily because dust just doesnt want people to get in the way of him doing whatever he wants (which is usually just to chill or being all wallowing in guilt or something) while horror doesnt want anybody to get close to him in fear of getting hurt again. if dust doesnt get close to horror because horror wont let him then dust can do his own thing on his own without horror getting in the way!!! they can exist peacefully!!! not like either of them arent used to dealing with being alone anyways so even if they dont at least TRY a LITTLE to be friends (because companionship 🥺) then they'd still be chill with each other (until dust gets a bit out of hand and idk attacks horror for no reason or horror starts randomly suspecting and being defensive around dust and causing him irritation. their relationship might be fine without considering their instability 😭)

throwing killer into the mix rightfully makes everything 10x more complicated because his nature directly goes against what both dust and horror want. like he's a positive force in the sense that he makes moves while they're negative forces that go back to have less and such. the sheer presense of killer would remind dust of the player which brings him straight back to those days of being under someone else's control (which doesnt help even more when killer has the exact same powers as the human). not like killer can do the same thing to dust the human did because he killed any possibility of that vulnerability but dust himself still exists as something to control and play around with in killer's standards of What Can I Do To See Something New (seems a bit more stage 3ish than anything but i doubt killer really ever stops having this sort of mentality until he knows more deeply about them and finds some weird kindship). i think the idea of dust immediately knowing that he's lower than killer and putting him back into that underdog role that he used to have with the human is so interesting because he's once again back to an old habit that specifically insinuates that he DOESNT have control because since when has the weak ever prevailed over the strong? but also it would make it so much more interesting if killer could pick up on that. if dust stops putting himself up on guard and constantly assuming the worst of killer like that it instantly gets rid of some of the fun on killer's end so he has to balance the distance between them to keeping dust far away enough that he doesn't lower his guard and become more chill but also to lower his guard enough that killer can wrench out those new possibilities and dirty secrets that he can use against dust to get more possibilities

horror and killer have it eeeeeven worse with the whole thing i mentioned the balance between their closeness because unlike dust who's issue is more general and the parts where they hurt eachother because of their past and backstories isnt as focused, horror's ENTIRE THING is personal. the whole issue he has with killer is specifically BECAUSE he gets personal!!! see you can be a bad person and not bother horror thats Ok (he'll definitely still hate you and definitely think of you as scum) but if youre a bad person AND you bother horror he'd probably DESPISE you. horrorkiller i feel could have more possibilities to be like.....maybe even worse than say kist because i think unlike dust, horror can break. horror doesnt have the determination to keep going and when he has no reason to keep going i dont even know what could possibly stop him fron just giving up entirely. actually that's never even been seen yet in horrortale because there's always been something to keep horror going whether its the fact that he was given a new life or spite or vengeance or his responsibility. what happens when that driving force is gone? what happens when horror is forced to be too vulnerable once again like how he was when his eye was taken, but even worse because at least then he could fight back against undyne and everyone that aided in his killing. against killer what does he have? which i guess means that to stop killer from bothering him he would have to be boring and stuff but this is HORROR he cant just hold back his emotions and tells that easily and killer would easily be able to tell because he's just freaky like that. now not to say that horrorkiller is like some INCREDIBLY TOXIC HORROR IS GOING TO BE LEAD TO HIS DOOM BECAUSE OF KILLER because no matter how much killer denies it attachment is something that perpetually haunts him yet its something he craves. he'd probably get attached to horror easier than he thinks honestly and when you (begrudgingly) like something you start to keep it in mind. it all just depends on if horror is still able to keep some sort of drive in him to where he's able to tolerate killer after he's been taken apart and had killer look at every little bit of him hehe

mttpoly i feel simplifies down into the duo interactions pretty easily when they first start off but then horrordust group together (because horror needs the mental and emotional support (no matter how much he likes it) and dust needs someone to confide in after all he's gone through (even though he doesnt expect much from horror) and killer's there. because i mentioned before how hrdt are "negative" forces where they dont do stuff when the situation isnt like....terrible. when horror doesnt have anybody he doesnt need to worry about he wouldn't try to impose control and when dust doesnt have a situation where he cant do anything he can simply relax (not counting for emotional/mental instabilities ofc hehe) but killer is a "positive" force where even if the situation is nice he'd still keep pushing for something else whether thats good or bad because that's simply his nature and even if say he gets close to horrordust after a while that nature will never truly go away because it is coded into him. but that doesnt mean they cant adapt to eachother and adjust (˵•̀ᴗ - ˵ ) i say killer keeps things interesting with how he keeps things going while horror and dust are interesting by reacting and being the "things going" hehe

[bellisima-writes]

Thanks for the tags @beerok23 and @haemey! What a fun idea.

So, delving into my memory (and my AO3,) one year ago I was in the middle of publishing the two biggest chapters of my life (up until that point) in the Last Angel. This story was a big one, and while I can't say too much without spoiling the fun, there were lots of twists and revelations throughout, and this one was one we'd all been waiting a long time for.

I absolutely loved writing this story. It was the first time I felt like I had a very clear idea in mind of where I wanted the plot to go (my first fic sort of just unveiled itself to me as I wrote it, while this one really took a lot of planning and focus to execute correctly). I loved the characters I got to play with, this one had six completely different POVs that I had to weave together in a story. And while it was a stody that spanned far beyond just our ineffables, I remain proud of the way I was able to make readers care about every single one of the other characters as well. It remains something I am incredibly proud of.

It's ironic also, because I just stuck a pin in the first draft of my original novel that I've been working on for the last eight (EIGHT) months. I am tired, I am grateful, I am so shocked by how this hobby I started nearly two years ago has consumed and shaped my life for the better.

So thanks you to for letting me wander down memory lane a bit today!

My brain is mush but let's try for some no pressure tags: @addledmongoose, @little-mx-sunflower, @curiouspupsicle, @aracloptia and anyone else who wants to join in.

Fic nostalgia game

Share the fic you posted as close to exactly one year ago as possible. You can just post a link if you like, but feel free to talk about it, too! How did you feel about this fic then, how do you feel now? Do you love it, hate it, has your writing changed at all? Anything you’d do differently in hindsight? Go nuts!

thank you for tagging me @quitequaintrelle 🩷

exactly one year ago I was writing and salt the Earth behind you, the fic who wrote itself. I never thought I’d write something like this, that I would enjoy it so, that I would love it so much. Against all odds this is still my fav iteration of them, and seeing people loving it so much a whole year on warms my heart like nothing else 🩷. thank you for the love. cj and raph forever.

no pressure tags: @beerok23 @hermiola @firelikestars <3

[official-boob-posts]

describing anyone’s boobs as “fake” is bad and sounds so so so gross I petition to use “enhanced” instead

upgrades people upgrades

[soldierkitten]

tilly the god au ep 1 (part 2 of 4)

starting stuff / prev / next

[nohr-selphias]

"I love you, Zevran. I hope you know that."

"Yes... Yes, I know that."

— commission art by @sinizade, posted with permission

[slavhew]

jakey + dirkjake sandwiched between my organic chem notes. a poem in there somewhere

[deadsetobsessions]

There’s a child wandering the streets of Crime Alley. Unfortunately, this is nothing new for the area, riddled with crime and homelessness as it is. However, Red Hood and Nightwing are vigilantes and helping lost looking children is firmly in their job description. Plus, Crime Alley is Red Hood’s. He protects what’s his. With a single shared look, the brothers swung down to the child clad in just a white dress and some thin flats completely unsuitable for Gotham’s worsening weather. Hell it’s be unsuitable for the general poor weather.

“Hey, kiddo.”

The girl’s head swung to lock gazes with the duo, eyes blinking blue- and green? Red Hood allowed his brother- he worked so hard to beat down the pit madness in order for Nightwing to even remain near- to take the lead.

“Oh. There you are.” She said, turning to face them fully. The kid’s face filled with relief.

Nightwing blinked.

“You were looking for us?” His soft voice saved for children firmed into something more serious, more concerned.

“Mmhm. I was looking for Red Hood, but you’re a good bonus.”

“And why were you looking for me, kid?” Red Hood interjects. He knows Dickolas is clocking the same things he is: the kid’s white whispy hair, pale face, and… Lazarus green eyes? It’s more solid now, that she’s looking at Jason.

Dick straightened, eyes going heavy as he looks at this wisp of a girl. He’s fiercely protective of Jason and they’re both equally wary of the League of Assassins. Still, the two of them couldn’t help but let their guard down a bit because this was still a child they’re talking to.

“Because… um. Did you know you’ve died?”

Hood stiffened, hand going towards his guns. Granted, they’re rubber bullets, but the kid clocks that immediately. She threw her hands up in the universal gesture of “I’m unarmed and mean no harm.”

“I- well, to put it frankly, you kind of… stink?”

“What.”

“Ugh, I’m totally messing this up!”

“Why don’t you start again?” Dick said, shifting into a subtler fighting stance. He kept his voice light, but Jason saw the way his hands inched towards the scrims sticks. Distantly, Jason thought it was hilarious that this tiny kid could evoke that kind of response. Looking into Lazarus green eyes though, he couldn’t find the humor anywhere. The worst thing, though, is that the pit quieted. The rage the bubbled incessantly underneath his skin calmed. Jason did not like feeling bereft of the rage, not when he didn’t know why it was gone. He had just gained control of it, minimally, and to have that control be unnecessary left the vigilantes off kilter.

“Right, okay, sorry. Um, did you, uh, die and wake up surrounded by glowing green stuff?”

Before Jason could reply ‘yes, and why the hell do you know that?’, the kid continued with, “Because me too!”

She did jazz hands as Jason’s and Dick’s brains short circuited. Jason thought he even heard a little “yay!”

“What.” Jason sputtered out. His stomach and heart clenched as he thought about how young the kid looked. Fuck.

“Yeah. So, anyways-”

“Don’t speed past that like you didn’t say what you just said!” Dick interrupted, hand tugging at his hair in distress. His body language slipped from battle ready to extremely distressed. “You died?”

“You were- you were dipped in the Lazarus pits?!” Jason felt the need to address that specific point.

“I mean, it’s not that important? The important thing is- wait, what’s a Lazarus pit?”

Jason froze again. She didn’t know what they were?

“It’s… the glowing green stuff.” Dick answered her.

“Oh. Is that what you were dipped in?” She tilted her head at Jason. He nodded, wariness climbing. “Oh. Well, I mean, that’s not we call it. But the stuff you were dipped in, it’s rank. Contaminated.”

Jason thinks back to the burning, drowning green. The agony he felt as it slipped into his mouth and nose and his very being.

“It was bubbling.” He said. The girl grimaced. Jason had no idea why he was being so honest with this kid.

“Gross. Anyways, I can, like, help you with that?”

“With what?” Dick asked, eyes darting from the girl to Jason.

The girl groaned. “Okay, so I guess you guys are kind of new. Uh, the contaminated green stuff,” she points at Jason’s chest. “That’s making you angry, right? Leaving you in the backseat of your head as your body breaks whatever got you angry to begin with and you have no control over it?”

“…The pit madness.” Jason mumbled, feeling numb. “Yeah.”

“…Right. I can help you clear that out,” she pauses, fidgeting. “If… If you help me talk to Batman? It’s kind of… urgent.”

“Batman?”

“Why?”

“Uh. There’s kind of… a whole mad scientist thing going on and like… experimentation and dissections… you know?” The kid waved her arms around, distressed.

Dick and Jason unfortunately did know.

“Cave?” Jason grumbled.

“Cave.”

“Okay, we’ll bring you to the cave. Then you tell us everything.”

“Really?”

She looked up at them hopefully, and Jason could see the moment Dickolas melted. Not that Jason could say anything, since he was already taking off his jacket and bundling the kid in it.

“Um.”

“Who the hell let you walk around Gotham like that?” He scowled down at her, not that she could see it with the red helmet in the way. Dick looked at him carefully, eyes roving over the oddly relaxed state his little wing was in.

The kid shrugged. Jason sighs.

“What’s your name?” Dick asked. Scooping her up, the blue and black clad raised his free arm to grapple away. Jason follows him, heading towards the motorcycles they’ve got parked nearby.

“Dani. With an I.”

“Nice to meet you, Dani. I’m Nightwing. This is my… this is Red Hood.”

“Okay. Cool.”



[hexbaiting]

Kneel.