#i'd have long drowned otherwise

[darlingdaisyfarm]

haii! i hope that you're feeling the bestest today :D cause that's how i feel when i read ur fics ! your style really resonates with me bc you articulate my feelings about stan & ford like no other writer can. plus your dedication to building up scenes and ending them with a great payoff :}

speaking of, how do you think the grunks would give their partner hickies? or receiving them? >.< i'd die to read a fic or drabble of your take on it, but you dont have to make it, ofc! enjoy the rest of your dayyyy ❤️‍🩹

⋆.˚ how Stan & Ford give (and react to) hickeys .ᐟ

a/n: HII and OMG thank you so much!!! anon, you are a gift to this world, that's so sweet from ur side <333 you have blessed me today especially the fact that you like my writing style ahgghhgg :'))) i hope it's ok that i made some parts nsfw here tho especially with Ford sorry i just really loved that idea and i wanted to write smth intimate with kisses & marking for a while

tags: nsfw (for Ford's part), suggestive, lots of kissing, hickeys

STANLEY / YOU RECEIVING

Stan’s logic is simple. you can’t just walk away without leaving a mark on someone you care about. otherwise, who’s even gonna know that this person belongs to you?

he’s always been a greedy man. greedy for money, for booze, for a good card game. but lately, he’s started realizing that none of that compares to the greed he feels for you

it’s the same every evening now, because every day, Stan and you spend time together. and every day, Stan hates one thing. dropping you off at home. you’re already about to leave his car, stretching sleepily in the passenger seat, yawning loudly and mumbling about how tired you are.

car radio crackles softly with the evening news, but that doesn’t matter anymore. at least, not to Stan.

“c'mon, don't just leave like that, baby.” in the quiet summer air, his rough voice sounds especially low. you smirk, but you don’t even get the chance to say anything before his heavy hand lands on your thigh. “come on, sugar, just one little kiss.”

his breath brushes your cheek, and that’s all it takes for you to give in. your lips meet in a soft touch, but only for a second. because Stanley Pines doesn’t kiss soft or gentle.

he leans in deeper, firmer, catches your breath and pulls you in greedily. his dry lips are insistent, rough, but hot, warm, too impatient. his tongue slides past your lips, finds yours, demands more, demands you meet him with the same hunger. you sink into the kiss like into warm bathwater, the one you’d planned to take after this long day, you drown in this man who holds you like he's never letting go.

suddenly, he grabs you and before you know it, you’re on his lap, wrapping legs wrap around him. Stan grins, keeping you exactly where he loves you best. right in his hands. the car seat creaks under your weight, but neither of you care.

“you taste so good, fuck, i don’t wanna let you go.” his tongue teases yours again, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes you. his hands are fully on your body now, squeezing, pulling you tighter against him. “sweetheart, don’t go home. stay with me.”

oh, here we go again, you think. you love when he starts begging you to stay.

you smile into the kiss, biting his bottom lip gently, making him groan, and Stan grips your thighs tighter in response.

“i don’t wanna let you go.”

you try to pull back, placing your hands against his chest, but he only grips you harder, pressing you down against him until you nearly gasp. “Stan—“

“no, listen,” he bites your lip but doesn’t pull away as he speaks right against your mouth, slipping into a whisper. “stay with me. move in with me, baby.”

“but i’ll be back soon, Stan.”

“not soon enough.” he catches your lips again, but this time, it’s deeper and desperate. it’s hard to breathe and your head spins, but you don’t want him to stop, because fuck, nobody kisses like Stan does. his lips trail downward, leaving hot kisses against your neck, tongue sliding slowly over that one sensitive spot, and you feel your tired body melt.

“you could stay, you know?”

you smile again but don’t say anything.

and Stan can’t stand the silence so he bites your neck, kisses over the mark his teeth leave behind, then finds your lips again.

“tell me you’ll stay with me, baby,”

you stroke his cheek, tracing your thumb over his lower lip, then pull him in again.

“i will. someday. probably.”

Stan growls and kisses you senseless again until your head spins, until it really feels like you’ll stay with him forever.

he doesn’t want to be alone.

he doesn’t want to end up in an empty shack again, where the walls still echo your laughter and the pillow still holds the warmth of your body.

he doesn’t want to fall asleep by himself, knowing you’re not there.

he doesn’t want to smoke at night alone without you by his side.

he wants you.

every night. every day. Stan wants you beside him, wants you waking up in his bed, wants to watch you before he falls asleep, wants to kiss you every morning without letting you leave his arms.

his teeth sink into your skin as he sucks your flesh between his lips until you’re gripping his shoulders. the hot, wet sensation leaves you gasping and breathless until he finally pulls back to admire his work.

a dark mark blooms on your skin, his mark. Stan smirks, running his fingers over the bruise, then looks at you all proud of himself.

“now everyone will know ya belong to me.”

you chuckle.

“dummy, they already know.”

he laughs, kissing you again. and if he didn’t have to let you go, he never would

YOU GIVING:

Stan stands slouched, as always. leaning against the counter, one hand gripping a can of soda, the other pressing his phone to his ear, muttering something, clearly irritated and not particularly attentive. you hear him sigh, stretching out his words with lazy annoyance.

“whaddya mean a whole damn bus?”

oh, looks like your lovely grumpy man isn’t in the mood today. normally, a whole bus packed with walking wallets would make his whole day.

Stan rolls his eyes, taking a long swig of his soda, obviously trying not to lose it because of a dumb person talking to him. youre beside him, leaning against his shoulder, tracing your fingers over his arm, but he just presses his lips together a little tighter.

his attention isn’t on you.

unacceptable.

at first, you just brush your lips against his cheek. a light kiss that’s barely even there. Stan doesn’t even flinch, just waves you off slightly with his hand, signaling you to quit distracting him.

you hum

fine then

you kiss him again, this time closer to his ear

“mhm?”

Stan doesn’t even turn.

he thinks he can ignore you. how cute. guess it’s time to step up your game.

you lean in a little more, trailing your lips toward his neck, first just barely ghosting over his skin, inhaling the sharp scent of his favourite cigars.

and then you latch onto his neck. deep. maybe too deep.

“the hell?”

he nearly chokes on his soda. no, seriously. he full-on sputters, gasps sharply, coughs, and you hear his caller immediately start asking

“mr. Pines? hello? you alright, sir?”

no. he is not alright. he is losing his goddamn mind.

“shit, hold on.”

he tries to say something, but you don’t let him, sucking harder, teasing him just a little with your tongue, and you feel his whole body tenses.

“sweetheart, baby, c’mon,”

Stan exhales roughly, but he doesn’t pull away. in fact, his fingers suddenly tangle in your hair, gripping the back of your head, forcing you even closer.

“mr. Pines? are you still there?”

Stan instantly hangs up. fuck the tourist crowds, fuck the tours, fuck the money, he already has a treasure right in front of him, demanding his attention.

you hear the dull thud of his phone hitting the counter, and a second later, Stan is already gripping your chin, tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him.

“you tryna kill me, sweetie?”

his brows furrowed, lips parted. you see his chest rise and fall in quick breaths as he licks his lips nervously.

“you just— you just gave me a fuckin’ hickey while i was on the damn phone.”

he stares at you, completely dumbfounded. but not even a minute goes by as you see the slow curl of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“god, you’re a naughty little thing, huh.” before you can even think of a response, his mouth is on yours.

it's more like an attack than a kiss honestly. Stan’s huge hands grab at your waist, yanking you against him, while his tongue immediately slides into your mouth, and you drown in this, tasting your man, soda, cigarette smoke. he kisses you like he’s starving, insistent, until your toes curl from the intensity.

“that was mean,” he licks your lips before diving back in. “real fuckin’ mean.”

you smile into the kiss, letting your hands wander over his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense under his clothes.

“didn’t hear you complain.”

“oh, i ain’t complainin’, sweetheart. just sayin’ now you’re in trouble.” you don’t even get the chance to reply, because he’s kissing you again

STANFORD / YOU GIVING

Ford Pines has one very dangerous trait, he endures. he endures when you look at him too closely, endures when you accidentally run your hand over his chest, endures when you bite your lip teasingly.

he endures until he’s on the edge. and today, it looks like you’ve pushed him right to it.

from the feeling of you sitting on his lap, Ford trembles beneath you. he’s sprawled in the chair, legs spread wide and awkward, as if trying to somehow hide what’s going on in his pants.

and it definitely doesn’t help that you’re leaning closer, pressing your thighs against him, cupping his face in your hands while his mouth is slightly open, while he, poor thing, is trying to keep up with you but just can’t. he’s pathetic, so pathetic that he can’t even kiss you back. his lips just part under yours, his tongue only follows your lead. such a good boy. so submissive, obedient. Ford can’t give, he can only receive for now

and you take full advantage of that.

“mmmh, wait,” his voice betrays him, trembling, but you don’t give him a chance to finish. your lips greedily cover his, kissing him demandingly. you press closer, catching that shaky breath when your tongue slides inside his mouth.

your fingers tangle in his hair, teasingly scratching his skin with your nails, feeling how he shudders. poor, poor Fordsy. his hands weakly clench on your back, trying to hold onto you, but even that he fails at.

but the worst thing is that hes already at his limit. this pressure, this hunger, your weight on him, your breath, your voice, your desire, all directed at him, is more than enough.

“you like this, huh?” your voice seeps straight into his already non-functioning brain. and he shivers when your lips trail down to his neck. “you like when i treat you like this. when i use you.”

Ford wants to beg to you to slow down, because his pants are so tight that just a little more and. . . fuck, he doesn’t want to cum like this. a scientist who fought for his life in other dimensions for thirty years shouldn’t cum from just kissing. but instead, he just whimpers, because your body rocks against him in gentle movements, just a little, just a bit of friction, but for Ford, it’s enough.

he won’t last.

“wait, darling, wait,” his fingers clutch at your clothes, and he literally whines when you catch his sensitive skin with your lips, finding that sweet spot and latching on, tormenting him.

and Ford can’t fight his own body, so with a long, drawn-out moan, he cums. he fucking cums in his pants just from a hickey.

his thighs twitch, and his limp body involuntarily presses into you. he literally surrenders to you, spilling right into his clothes.

and at first, he doesn’t even understand how it happened. Ford thinks this is fucking humiliating, a goddamn disgrace. he didn’t even need you to touch him, you were just on him, just breathing on his neck, and that was enough to make him cum like some desperate teenager. Ford lets out a pitiful whine, feeling the wetness slowly seep through the fabric as the stickiness clings to his skin down here.

and in turn, you feel it too, how it’s gotten warmer between you.

he’s ashamed. so fucking ashamed. but you only laugh.

“awwwh, Ford, you really are pathetic, huh?” you say it so affectionately, kissing his cheek as he turns away in shame. his cheeks and ears are flushed red, breath still heavy. six fingered hands, which had just been holding onto you, now hang limply at his sides.

Ford agrees with you. he knows you're right

YOU RECEIVING

this man is not okay.

he endured. endured for a long time. bit his fingers, looked away, pretended he had strong moral principles. pretended your jokes didn't get to him, your touches, the way you fix your hair, the way your lips are just a little wet after drinking from his flask.

but his patience ran out. and he was the first to snap.

Ford grabbed your wrist when you laughed again, saying something about his indecisiveness. he yanked you toward him and you didn’t expect it, so you stumbled, but didn’t fall, because his hands were already holding you.

your back hit the trunk of a tree, and you almost gasped, because the ground beneath your feet was damp, too slick, the morning rain had made the forest's ground soft, muddy, sticky. Ford’s boots sank into the soil, and you accidentally stepped on his foot so hard that you could hear the wet squelch of his soaked pants.

“oh, sorry,” you exhaled, trying to pull away, but he didn’t even let you say another word.

Ford wasn’t mad. he just didn’t give a fuck that’s why he leaned in and kissed you deeply, immediately, no words needed.

and that made you lean back a little. the damp spring air in your lungs instantly turned hot, sending waves of fluttering butterflies straight to your stomach.

Ford always kept himself in check. always tried to be rational, serious, careful. but now, with your lips finally pressed together and his body finally flush against yours, he didn’t want to hold back anymore

“mmh, Ford,” you pull away just slightly, trying to catch your breath, but he grabs your waist instantly

“you're not going anywhere,” he murmurs against your lips, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“yep, not if you hold me like this.”

he's gentle, but greedy and you're pliant, but still sharp.

“we’re alone, finally, we’re alone, sweetheart,” he breathes into your lips. six fingers press into your back trying to pull you even closer. “no one can see us. no one can stop me.” you try to squeeze your legs together from the sweetness pooling low in your stomach, but Ford has his knee right between them.

“Ford. . .”

“say my name again.”

six-fingered hands glide down your sides, and his lips are already moving lower, grazing your chin and your neck. you don’t even notice when your fingers bury themselves in his hair, when they run through damp, graying strands. you stroke him like he’s your obedient little pet and he groans at that.

“Forddd, mhmm,”

“you drive me insane," his lips find the spot just behind your ear

“really?” you tease again. “and here i thought we came here for anomalies.”

Ford almost growls. “we did.” his tongue drags over your skin. “and i found one.”

then happens something you never expected from your always shy and nerdy man. your eyes widen when you feel him gently tug at your skin. the first mark is left right by your collarbone. second is lower, near your shoulder and third is somewhere behind your ear, where you’re especially sensitive.

you shudder. “mh, Ford, wow, you really—“

“you wanted to tease me,” his voice is muffled, but you can feel his smirk against your skin. “now, my love, suffer the consequences.”

he holds you so tight you almost forget where you are. the forest, the mud, the interrupted anomaly hunt, none of it matters anymore

[rottenbologna]

Feel Again

pairing 》 Leila Ouahabi x reader

Genre 》 Hurt/ comfort

Summary 》 when reader lives, her life being apathetic can leila help her feel again?

You were drowning. You didn’t even understand why you have a great career, great friends and even a wonderful family yet still everything always felt empty and hollow. Nothing really felt like it mattered lately. You just went through life not caring about ups or downs just existed simply because there wasn’t another choice that you could find that you were brave enough to do.

So you just lived for nothing at all. It was selfish and cruel knowing that there were people that cared immensely but the feeling of nothing was ironically heavy and getting too much to bear. However you granted the kindness of granting the people you love by never letting them know how anything besides your fake happiness felt.

You did your job and you did it well. You were consistent and precise that it didn’t raise any red flags. Fire in your game and none in your eyes no one noticed well no one but leila. Leila made it her mission to notice everything that you hid behind your pretentious joy.

One evening after a match man city victorious after 2-0 against chelsea in the first half of the quarter final you scoring an absolute banger and assisting the other but still it felt hollow your teammates joyous celebration just faded into white noise and after 90+ minutes you just didn’t have the energy to pretend to feel anything so you just dropped and layed there.

“It’s ok to enjoy it” Leila said, coming to sit beside you on the grass.

“Winning is just a temporary feeling and besides it’s not over yet”

There’s a pregnant pause after that. The type that invited room for awkwardness but leila still stayed. She needed a window or maybe even a crack she could feel you slipping away and she absolutely refused to sit by and let that happen.

“Why do you hide everything with fake sunshine? That's not healthy, no". Leila decided to be raw cause she didn’t think you’d tolerate her beating around the bush.

You had no answer cause you didn’t think one noticed anything besides what you let them see and to know that leila wasn’t fooled made you feel exposed and naked.

“Why do you care?” It was defensive and cold but less than what leila expected.

“Cause I see what you're trying to cover up and I think you deserve more. More than apathy.” Leila shrugged with a sad smile.

“It's safe.”

“But it isn't what you deserve. You must want to feel something too otherwise I don't think you would have hung on this long. If you let me, I'd like to help you feel again.”

Your throat tightened and your chest burned with something other than emptiness for the first time in a long time. You hated it and almost wanted to dismiss the feeling and run away but the look of determination in leila's eyes made you stay.

You had hung on for so many people for so long but something about Leila made it feel like this time it would be different and with hesitance you agreed.

Nothing changed overnight you still woke up with dread and a heaviness on your chest every morning but the only shift in routine was leila. She didn't push or force you to talk if you didn’t want to. She was just present.

Sometimes with a smoothie after training, or talking about a book she was reading to even sitting with you in silence. She was always there to the point you started to notice things like the way she always tied her left boot before the right. The way she'd scrunch her nose when she was concentrating on drills and the way she laughed so freely without having to pretend.

You were feeling and it was scary because you had never felt anything like this before but you figured since leila went out of her way for you it wouldn't hurt for you to embrace something other than emptiness.

The second half of the quarter finals came around and it was blood, sweat and tears on the pitch and then one bad tackle near the goal post that had you tripping and hitting your head against the metal bar. The stadium was deathly quiet and the world around you was a blurry mess of faces.

Leila immediately sprinted then dropped to her knees taking your head in her hands, red already coating them from the gash on your forehead. “Hey it's ok please don't close your eyes. I'm right here.” She's out of breath and struggling to keep her fears at bay.

It was painful and you were really tired. You always wanted to try when it came to leila but the pain in your head was too much and you were getting sleepy. “I'm tired.”

“I know mi sol but you can't sleep right now. You have to try and keep your eyes open. Can you do that for me?”

You couldn't. Your eyes closed and laia had to hold leila back as she kicked and screamed begging you to wake up in a mixture of Spanish and broken English while they fetched your limp body to an ambulance.

At the hospital your diagnosis came quickly. Traumatic Brain Injury, swelling in the brain. Leila stayed through it all.She held your hand through every hour, every test, every whisper of uncertainty. Days blurred. Your parents and the team visited, coaches came and went, but Leila stayed—curled in a stiff hospital chair, eyes red from sleepless nights and held-back tears.

“Please mi sol I need you to wake up. I know you might want to just give up and let go but you are now beginning to live a life that's real and you can't let go before I fulfill my promise. I need you and

..I love you.”

She pressed her forehead to Y/N’s, lips brushing her temple, praying to whatever God would hear her. Then she felt it the faintest twitch of your fingers in her shaking hand. Leila froze before looking at your face. Your eyes still remained close as they were for the past four days.

"Do it again. Please, " she pleaded desperately.

Your movements were halted, but your eyes began to flutter until they were open. unfocused but open.

"Leila?" Your voice is rough from days without use, but it gets leila's attention in seconds. She's in tears again about to rush to find your doctor, but you hold her back. She looks at you in confusion.

"I want to really live, and i want that with you. I love you too."

[with-my-calamitous-love]

MY BELOVED GHOST AND ME

toya x reader

you and your complicated lover have an honest talk about the future.

angst, so so much angst, guys i was so sad when i wrote this, euphoria reference if you squint

inspired by how did it end?

to mourn someone who is still with you.

mourning someone who is not just with you. who is next to you, cradling you in the arms. he is silent, a wall of solitude. he is a magnitude of grief joined together by burnt skin and piercings. he is waves of hurt and love with nowhere to go kissing your shoulder. he is a litany of fear and resentment tightening his arms around your waist, holding you against his warm body as you stare at the window of your shitty apartment.

his name is toya todoroki. he was hurt, scarred, vengeful, and already gone. his skin that screamed for salvation proved that. and you loved him.

your eyes stare hesitantly at the window. he holds you silently against his ribs, blue eyes watching you with an unreadable stare. he was taring your world apart from the roots down, and he knew it. he felt it your bones scream against him.

"i wanna burn this city to the ground." you sigh.

and you'd honestly do it. not for you, not for anyone else but him. you'd tear the soil up from the ground, wrath building up explosions from the oceans as the waters flood the ground, drowning the suffering of humanity. you'd set everything in your sight ablaze, watching as everything burns into embers, and then nothing. and in the end you'd salt the earth behind you. nothing would dare sprout on the earth toya todoroki once loved you on.

"i know." he says.

you bring his burnt palm to your face, pressing your lips to the mourning skin. he looks at you, not taking his eyes off of you for even a second. "i"m not scared of you, toya." you reassure him. hands that were known for destruction, known for the eruptions of blue flames that ravaged everything in his will. you kissed them. you'd kiss them a million times over. it was funny, how hands built for death held you so good.

he hums, his grip tightening around you. he knows you should be, that you should leave. if not out of fear, than out of hate. hate for who he his, hate for the pain that he has caused and will cause. because toya knew from the moment his marred body stared back at him in the mirror, was that he was going to go down in flames. he was going to destroy his father and everything he had done. he was going to die.

and you knew that. better than anyone.

so there you were. mourning someone who lay next to you, heart still beating, lungs still breathing.

"i'd destroy the whole world for you." you repeat.

toya looks at you, blue eyes staring intently at the way you lay in his embrace. "you're not supposed to, doll. thats my job, you're the good one." he mutters into your skin.

"i'm not as good as you think." you insist, still refusing to face your lover.

a sigh escapes his marred lips. "i know you're not perfect. but..." his fingers trace up and down the curves of your waist. "you're good for me. better."

you scoff.

"whats... whats gonna happen to us?"

you don't know what you feared more. silence, or the answer.

he paused for a moment, his hands wandering down to your thigh. his gave moved away from you as a pensive look came over his face, lips pursing as he thought of an answer. after a long moment of silence, his eyes returned to you, where his gaze belonged.

"do you really wanna know?"

"yeah, i do."

toya held your gaze for a moment, making sure his face stayed unreadable. his hand remained on your thigh, caressing your soft skin.

"this isn't gonna end well, doll. you and me.." he whispers breathlessly.

"i know." you nod solemnly.

"we're not gonna survive this. i'm not. the world... ain't gonna let us."

his actions betrayed his words, pulling you even closer to him. the look on his eyes screamed otherwise. they wanted something else, but his soul knew that his burnt hands were already out of reach.

"i figured." your voice was laced with bitterness. he wanted to protest, but what was there to argue against? he made up his mind.

"what am i to you?" you ask, eyes still gazing the emptiness of the outside world. your world laid right next to you, telling you that he wasn't going to stay.

"you're... everything." he utters, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you wince. finally turning around. you needed him to see the hurt in your eyes. and you needed to find the hurt in his.

"what... what can i do to convince you? to stay?" your voice cracked when your words reached his ears. toya paused, a part of him wanting to be his usual asshole self- teasing you into making love with your body pressed against him, the physical pleasure making him forget about his troubles for a moment. but the look in your eyes told im to stop.

he lets out the slightest sigh before speaking.

"you can't." his voice was barely above a whisper.

your eyes dropped, staring out the window again. "i figured."

he felt a twinge of guilt erupt in his chest, piercing new burns through his heart. he hated seeing you this way, hated knowing he was the one who caused it.

"i'm not gonna apologize." he muttered quietly, his grip on your chin soft yet firm as he held your face. "i'm not gonna change my mind, either..."

"i didn't expect you to." you answer, tearing his hand off of your face.

toya felt his fingers reflexively tighten before reluctantly letting you remove his hand. a flicker of frustration bloomed across his burning blue eyes. he hated how accepting you were, how understanding you were. both of you felt the tension, both souls aware of the inevitable. his jaw clenched as he thought of his mission, knowing that it would finally cause his father pain, but you bring you down with it. it killed him more than the fire, than the smoke.

"i'm not apart of your plan." you sigh. "you don't have to be here."

toya let out the slightest scoff at your words. his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at you. his eyes hardened for a moment before he leaned in closer, whispering: "you think i'd choose to be anywhere else when i could be with you?"

"why do you stay here if you're just gonna die?"

"do i need a reason to stay with you, doll?"

"do you have one?"

both you and toya paused at your last question. his jaw clenched as you pressed his reasoning. he knew he couldn't tell you the truth. the truth that you were the one thing keeping him alive, the one thing that kept made staying seem like a reality. no, he couldn't tell you that. he couldn't give you hope.

"maybe, i just like being with you." he lies with a truth.

you sigh again, defeated as you lay your head on his chest like a soldier collapsing on the battle field. toya let out a low, content breath as his body welcomed you wholeheartedly in his embrace.

"so... i'm just gonna sit here.. and watch you kill yourself over some shitty revenge plan... i'm just gonna sit here and lose you..?"

toya pretends to not notice the way your voice cracks. he feels a wince of guilt at your quiet words, hating the way you suffered because of him. hated the way he could do absolutely nothing about it.

he took a deep breath before he spoke. "i didn't say you had to stay, doll... you're free to leave anytime you want." his words betrayed his feelings. he didn't want you to leave, selfishly. he rubs circles into your back, doing anything to comfort you.

"if i wanted to i would've left by now, idiot." you sigh, voice cracking once more.

he felt a familiar flicker of sadness run through his veins. this wasn't fair to you. not at all. he knew he was hurting you and he hated himself for it, more than anything else did. his grip on you tightened, calloused fingers running over your skin.

"you shouldn't stay." he muttered. "you should hate me. you should walk away and have nothing to do with me." toya tells you the truth and only the truth.

"i know." you whisper, defeated. "i really hate you right now, toya..." you cry, tightening your grip on his arm.

he feels his chest tighten as you cry. he knew he deserved your hatred, but he wished he didn't. his arm wrapped around you tighter, as if you'd disappear if he dare let you go. you had to be the one to let him go.

"i know you do, doll." he utters. "i think i hate myself too."

"good." you seethe, still holding onto him like a safety net.

he heard the anger in your voice, anger he knew all too well. he could feel the way your body trembled, the hurt and frustration locked inside of you evident. he absolutely hated himself for this. his thumb continued to trace patterns onto your back, thinking that maybe it'd take your pain away. "go ahead. scream at me, cry at me, hate me. you can do anything you want. i can take it."

but you don't scream or even yell. you just lay there, almost as lifeless as he was about to be soon. you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, nothing could possibly console you right now.

"i fucking hate you right now, toya todoroki." you cried into him.

"i know doll, i know." he feels the hurt press against his lungs, and he takes it. he takes all of the darkness that comes from you to him and eats it, swallowing it whole. he knows he deserves it.

you cry and cry, your shaking body cradled into toya's embrace. he held onto you desperately, seeing the pieces of you shattered in his arms tear him apart from the inside out. he could tell by the way your broken hands hold him that you don't want him to go.

"i want you to want me to stay." you choke, messy sobs piercing your words. you hated how he let you go, how he told you you should walk away from him. you wanted the complete opposite- you wished he'd make a god damn fool out of himself, loving you and begging you to stay. but toya knew not to waste his breath.

"its not a matter of wanting you to stay." he utters. "god, i want you to stay... more than anything." he presses his face into the skin of your shoulder, trying to feel you, trying to feel if a part of you still loved him beneath all the hate.

but its not enough for you. "no i want you to tell me to stay! dont tell me i should hate you, or-or that i should leave- i want you to fucking want me to stay! fucking love me! love me like i love you!" you rip a scream from your chest, sitting up from his embrace and staring him straight into his eyes. he needs to know how much he's hurting you.

he winced, feeling his chest clench at your words. "i do love you." his words escape from his lips.

"bullshit." you declare.

you can see on his eyes that he's taken aback by your words. if theres one thing he knew for sure, it was that he loved you. "why won't you believe me?!"

"because you're letting me just watch you fucking die!" you scream.

he stands up, the hurt from your face infecting his own.

"you think i want to die!?" he snarls, an unwanted hint of vulnerability escaping with his words. "i'm not letting you watch anything. i didn't ask you to sit around and wait for me."

he immediately regrets his words.

a look of disgust contorts your face. you stand up, facing away from him fully. your completely speechless. what could you say?

toya felt his heart strings wither as he tried to rectify the situation. "thats not what i meant." he sighs, running a finger through his hair.

you cry on your own, away from toya's prying eyes. he feels his heart clench again, knowing he's the villain here. he places a hand on your shoulder.

"doll." he whispers. "turn around"

you sigh, looking up at the ceiling.

"i can't save you. i can't convince you to stay. yet i can't... leave. i can't get on my feet and leave you. i want to, but... i just can't." you admit your defeat, not bothering to fight back as toya pulls you against him, back into bed.

"i told you you were free to leave, free to walk away and never look back. not like i don't deserve it." he reminds you, pressing a somber kiss to your head.

"i want you to hold me back." you whisper, now facing him with tears pricking your eyes. "i want you to ask me to stay. but.. but you don't."

toya said nothing. he knew you were right, that he wasn't going to ask you to stay. not when he knew it was more than he deserved.

"i hate you." you mutter. toya accepted it, nodding as he gave you a firm squeeze.

"i know you do, doll." he utters.

"no, you don't." you sob. he could never know how much this hurt for you.

"you're the worst." you half heartedly laugh through your tears, tearing a dry chuckle from toya as he agrees with you. he was the worst. the absolute scum of the earth.

"you're an asshole." you trail off. "you're a fucking bastard. and i still love you." you whisper that last part.

"you shouldn't."

"you think i want to?"

he chuckles at that. you were always right.

"after you die, i might end up burning the entire world down after all." you sigh. toya's eyes widen at this.

"you won't." he warns, his voice lower. you scoff.

"you're not in it anymore. so now i can do it." your eyes and voice alike are devoid of any happiness as you speak. and it killed him. good.

"don't say that." toya utters, this sentiment corroding him more than anything else.

"why not?"

"because... you're better than that, doll." he states firmly. you scoff again.

"i'm really not." announce.

"thats not you.. you're not a a killer, you're not cruel. you're good. you're kind. you're... you're everything i'm not." he mutters, declarative in his words as he holds you. it broke him to think you'd throw away everything like that. but then again, he was throwing away everything to.

you sob even harder. "i wanna be like you. i wanna be angry, i wanna destroy everything because of it. god, i wanna hate everyone and hate you. i wanna hate and hate and hate for the rest of my life but i can't." you run out of breath on the cant, hopelessness lingering in your throat as you spoke.

"i know..." toya utters, speechless. he felt a wince of physical pain from his body, his burnt vessel screaming at him to finally end it all.

"i love you, doll. don't you dare forget that." he challenges you, embedding it into your skin with a kiss. he made it sound like a goodbye. it was a goodbye.

"i love you too, asshole." you utter, closing your eyes against the warmth of his chest.

for the first time, ever, toya todoroki felt cold.

[ameliathornromance]

"I don't know if this is a good idea." Your Orc Boyfriend told you.

"This place is fine!" You smiled at him. Gripped onto his hand, you pointed to the door of the Inn. "I already told you that they're welcoming to everyone. You'll be fine."

All around you, people stalk by, heads shrouded in cloak hoods and clutched tightly around their necks to stop the downpour of rain.

Your Orc Boyfriend grumbled as a gust of wind sent a chill down both of your spines. He looked over his shoulder, pulling the poorly fitting hood further over his face. He sighed. "Okay, let's get out of the cold then."

Beaming, you pushed open the Inn door. The two of you entered and were instantly hit with warmth. Chatter drowned out the bard who played at the very end of the tavern. But no one spared a glance at the two of you, even as your Orc Boyfriend pulled down his hood.

"Right, let's see if we can get something to eat." You mumbled. You pulled him away from the door, desperate to get further away from the cold draft that had followed you inside.

"(Y/N)? No, that's not you,"

Whipping your head around at the mention of your name, you couldn't stop your grin. "Boor? Is that you?"

"Boor?" Your Orc Boyfriend questioned, but there was no time to give an answer.

A human man, twice the size of a regular man, pushed his way through a crowd of Goblins to you. "It's been so long my friend!" He grabbed you and lifted you off the floor.

You let go of your Orc Boyfriend's hand and wrapped your arms around Boor.

Once you were let go, your boyfriend instantly pulled you into a protective grip. Hunching over you and crossing an arm over your chest protectively, your Orc Boyfriend shot a glower at the man.

Boor didn't even glance at your boyfriend, instead bending down to you, "are you well my friend?"

Sensing the tension from your partner, you placed your hand on his forearm and squeezed. "I'm good... Boor, I'd like you to meet my partner: (O/N)."

Boor finally acknowledged your boyfriend and gave him a toothy grin. "An Orc?! Amazing! I haven't seen any of you for a few years! I hope you and your kind are keeping well!"

Your Orc Boyfriend seemingly relaxed at his recognition and grunted in return. "We are well."

"Come, allow me to buy you drinks, we must catch up!"

"Actually," Your Orc cut off. "We should get a room."

"(O/N)'s right, sorry Boor." You smiled apologetically. "Maybe later, we're both freezing from travelling."

"Ah, if you must." Boor sighed, "I will see you later my friends!"

When you and your partner had been settled in a room, you both collapsed onto the bed. A fire crackled in the corner of the room, punctuating the silence.

"Who is this 'Boor' man?" Your Orc Boyfriend asked.

"Boor's a good friend of mine." You explained, "he's part man, part giant. Super friendly and kind, but not very good at reading other people." You snorted, "one time, we nearly got caught in a Drider's web because Boor said he promised to feed us. Little did we know, he was actually trying to fatten us up to eat."

"Sounds like a shit travelling companion." Your partner grumbled.

"He meant well." You rolled your eyes and smiled. Both of you returned to silence for a moment. "...Were you jealous?"

"No." Your Orc Boyfriend said too quickly. He rolled over, back facing towards you.

You could barely suppress a grin from coming over you. "You have nothing to be jealous of, I only have eyes for you." Placing a hand on his bicep, you leaned your head against the square of his back.

"..." Your partner didn't respond for a moment. Then he rolled over and scooped you up in his arms and squeezed you tightly. "Good. If it weren't for the Inn full of people, I would have beat him to death for even touching you."

You rolled your eyes and squeezed him tightly. "I'm glad you didn't. Otherwise we'd be camping outside again and I don't think that you would want to do that."

"It would be worth it if it meant protecting my partner."

Patreon

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Ten: I'd give you my life from now 'til forever

dbf!joel x f!reader | WC: 4,103 | E 18+ mdni

Series Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings. Joel is his own warning. Morning oral (f! and m! receiving). Angst/despair - I'm sorry, but this was planned from the beginning. Please excuse my lack of medical knowledge. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Moodboard by the lovely @mrsmando. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Nine | Main Masterlist

The soft rays of the morning sun filtered through a break in the blackout curtains, casting a warm glow across the otherwise dark room. You slowly woke up, momentarily disoriented as you took in the surroundings. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the comforting aroma of Joel’s particular scent – that heady combination of fresh cut wood, hints of his lingering bodywash, and masculine musk. You turned your head and saw Joel sleeping peacefully beside you, his features relaxed in the early light, making him look almost boyish as curls flopped over his forehead.

For a moment, you simply watched him, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions—gratitude, excitement, and a hint of nervousness. The reality of your new life together settled in, bringing with it a sense of both promises and unknown challenges.

The coffee scent floating up the stairs called to you, but you remained in bed, scooting closer to Joel. You needed to do something special to celebrate your first morning as an official resident of the Miller household. Your hand crept beneath the covers, fingertips tracing down Joel’s bare chest and belly in a barely-there touch. They danced along the waistband of his boxer briefs, gliding over the front of the material to tease his morning wood.

Your touches light and soft, Joel didn’t waken, leaving you feeling emboldened. Slipping his hardened length through the hidden opening in his underwear, you savored the velvety soft skin of his hard cock. You glanced at Joel’s face to find his eyes still closed, breathing steady. Subtly shifting down the bed, you ducked under the covers to swipe the bead of pre-cum from the head with your tongue.

Clocking the hitch in his breath, you paused before wrapping your lips around him, sucking his cock into your mouth. You worked him with long, slow movements, taking him as deep as you could without choking, your tongue licking along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock. When your teeth scraped lightly over the bulbous head, Joel groaned.

“Oh, shit.” The blanket lifted with a flick of his wrist, exposing the sight of you sucking his cock to his dark, sleepy gaze. “What are you doing down there, darlin’?”

You audibly popped his cock from your mouth without breaking eye contact, grinning up at him. “Just showing what you what living with me is like,” you teased before ducking your head back down to finish what you started.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” Joel gasped, hips bucking with the sensations running through him. “You’re gonna have me comin’ in seconds, darlin’. Fuck.”

Hearing how close to the edge he was, you got a little sloppy, taking him impossibly further down your throat, nearly gagging as you slurped at his hardened length. Hollowing your cheeks, you damn near sucked his soul out and Joel came, hard, a flood of cum filling your mouth in near endless spurts. Joel’s hands buried themselves in your hair, holding you down on his cock until he finished.

You sat up, tossing the covers back, and watched Joel’s chest heave as you wiped away an errant drop of cum from your lips with one finger. You smiled lovingly at the satisfied man laying before you, heart overflowing with love and utter want for a life with him. You leaned forward to place your finger at his lips, offering up a little taste of himself. When Joel sucked your finger into his mouth, you quickly replaced it with your lips.

Before you even knew what happened, Joel flipped you onto your back. The broadness of him engulfed you, mouth on yours as one of his hands wandered down to slip beneath the hem of your panties. He had you purring within seconds with confident flicks of a thick finger on your clit. Too soon, Joel slipped down your body to replace his finger with his mouth. You briefly mourned the loss of his mouth against yours, but his tongue worked its magic, teasing you until you were nothing but a puddle of pleasure under his control. An orgasm crashed over you within minutes as he sucked at your clit and lapped up your juices.

Boneless and deliciously satisfied, you watched with hazy eyes as he crawled back up your body and captured your lips in a kiss. Tasting the heady mix of you and him combined, you pulled him closer, slipping your tongue into his mouth to tangle with his. The kiss left you both breathless.

“I love you,” Joel whispered against your lips before peppering your face with tender kisses. “I’m so happy you moved in, darlin’.

“Me, too. I love you, Joel. This just feels so…” you couldn’t find the right word to describe how perfect it all was, being here, with him, starting this next step in your lives together.

“I know, I feel it, too,” Joel confirmed with a warm smile, his baby cow eyes gazing at you in that way that made you melt.

The two of you stayed cuddled in bed for a little longer before deciding it was time to start the day. Joel hopped in the shower as you headed downstairs. You made your way to the kitchen, where the fresh pot of coffee greeted you thanks to the preset timer. A smile crept onto your face as you noticed the note Joel had left on the counter next to the coffeemaker, written in his familiar print.

Good morning, darlin’. Welcome home.

The simplicity of the message touched you deeply, a small gesture that encapsulated the warmth and acceptance you felt in his presence. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the quiet moments of the morning before Joel and Sarah joined you.

As you sat at the kitchen table, your mind wandered to the events that had led you here. The decision to move in together had been both exhilarating and daunting. Blending your lives was a big step, but it felt right. Joel and Sarah had welcomed you with open arms, and you were determined to make this new chapter as seamless as possible.

The sound of footsteps brought you back to the present. You looked up to see Joel, his hair damp from the shower and a broad grin on his face.

“Morning,” he greeted with a laugh, as if you didn’t wake him up in the best way possible a mere half hour ago.

“Morning,” you snickered, tilting your head back for a kiss.

When he sat next to you with his own cup of coffee in hand, you couldn’t contain the happiness bubbling up within you. “I love you, Joel. So much.”

He squeezed your hand gently, pulling your chair closer so he could kiss you again. “I love you more, darlin’. You bein’ here, movin’ in with us, makes our circle complete.”

Just then, the sound of Sarah’s footsteps echoed down the stairs, breaking the tranquility of the morning in a pleasant way. She appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes and looking adorably disheveled.

“Morning,” she mumbled, making her way to the table. She stopped next to her usual chair for a beat before stepping past it to slide into Joel’s lap. You smiled at her, one hand reaching out to smooth over her wild curls.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” you greeted, pouring her a glass of orange juice.

As the three of you sat together, sharing the first of many breakfasts in your new home, you felt a profound sense of belonging. And so, the first morning of your new life together began, with the promise of many more to come.

The rest of the school year passed in a blur. Settling into life with the Millers proved easier than you ever imagined. Waking up next to Joel every morning became your favorite part of the day, followed by climbing into bed next to him each night.

Sarah flourished under your care, thriving with the attention and guidance that came with you as a mother figure. She constantly peppered you with questions, always asking for your opinion on a matter even if she already talked to Joel about it. You wondered how you got so lucky to have such a wonderful child in your life, especially when she gave you a homemade card for Mother’s Day, bringing you to tears. I can’t wait to call you Mom, the message read in Sarah’s little print, her handwriting so much like her father’s, just messier. You cried on Joel’s shoulder for an hour after the little girl bounced out of the room, Joel’s eyes shining with tears of his own.

You finally introduced Joel to your best friend. Emily charmed him just as much as she was charmed by him. Her husband hit it right off with Joel, and Tommy, too, and double dates quickly became a thing you all tried to do monthly.

Things weren’t always perfect, though. This was real life, after all. Things went sideways sometimes – small grievances, mostly, often relating to miscommunications or long, stressful days at work as you all adapted to sharing your lives together. You and Joel had a rule though – always talk it out and never go to bed mad. It worked well for the both of you, and without even realizing it, you were setting an example for Sarah on what healthy, loving relationships should look like.

You never knew it could be like this, not really. There was such beauty in this life you shared with them, even in the imperfections, that it was as close to perfect as it ever could be. That’s why it was so devastating when this wonderful new life you all built together nearly came crashing down the last day of school.

“Enjoy your summer everyone! Don’t let everything you learned this year leak out your ears!” you called as the final bell of the day rang for the last time until August. Watching the last of the sixth graders pile out of your classroom, you sunk down in your chair.

A whirlwind. That was the only suitable word to describe your first teaching experience. Equal parts exhausted and exhilarated, you longed for the summer break to last forever yet couldn’t wait to return next school year.

Knowing how excited Sarah would be to get the summer started, you submitted the final grades and packed your things. You’d come back next week to finish out any leftover tasks. The young girl bounced into the room just as you slid the chair under the desk.

“Hey nugget!” you greeted. “All set to start summer vacation?”

“Hi!” Sarah waved excitedly. “Yes! Can we get ice cream on the way home?”

This girl and her sweet tooth. She looked at you with those big eyes, dark and soft just like her dad’s, knowing you couldn’t say no.

“Twist my arm, why dontcha,” you teased. Wrapping an arm around Sarah’s shoulders, you led her from the room and down the hallway. Wishing a few of your colleagues a relaxing summer, you and Sarah made your way through the front doors and down the stairs to your car.

“Ok, ice cream time!”

Sarah beamed at you, chattering away excitedly about which flavor she wanted as you drove out of the parking lot. The ice cream place she wanted to go to was conveniently on the way home and you turned left onto the main street through town. The traffic light jut ahead was green and you drove into the intersection without thought, your eyes scanning for a parking spot just ahead on the right.

You never saw the pickup truck swerve around cars as it approached the intersection, blowing the red light at speed. One second, you’re driving along with Sarah chatting away, debating whether she should get chocolate peanut butter or cookie dough ice cream. The next second, the deafening, grinding sound of metal on metal hit your ears the same time your body jolted roughly, airbag deployed in your face crunching your nose. Screams echoed through the car, though you weren’t sure if they were from you or Sarah. Most likely both.

The truck hit the driver’s side of your car with such force that it rolled over sideways, twice, tossing your bodies around. Disoriented and dizzy, you tried to look at Sarah, to calm her screams as the car tumbled, but everything happened so quick. You barely registered the sharp pricks of broken glass in your skin as the windows and windshield gave away. You lost consciousness as the car slid to a stop on its roof.

Joel tore through the hospital doors, straight to the emergency room, his heart pounding so loud in his chest it echoed in his ears and threatened to burst straight through his ribcage. Tommy raced behind him, on the phone with JB to let him know what happened. Joel never thought he’d get a call like this. He couldn’t even drive, his entire body shaking after he answered the call from the hospital. He almost thought it some awful joke, but the hospital official insisted it was real. Tommy had to reach into the front pocket of Joel’s jeans for the keys, ushering his big brother into the truck before hurrying to the hospital.

Already familiar with this particular ER, after one too many construction-related injuries to his crew or himself over the years, Joel rushed through the halls without bothering to check in. Tommy stopped to get their visitor passes, calling out the rooms Sarah and you were supposed to be in before Joel turned a corner out of sight.

His heart was torn between who to check on first – you or Sarah – but he knew you’d want him to check on Sarah first. Joel could practically hear your sweet voice in his head, telling him not to be ridiculous, to obviously go to Sarah. It almost made him smile. Instead, it crushed his soul, reminding him that he didn’t know when the next time he’d hear your voice might be.

Skidding to a stop in front of Room 5, Joel couldn’t hold back the tears that sprang to his eyes at the sight of his baby girl lying battered in the too-large hospital bed, an IV attached to her little arm. He watched from the doorway, unable to move further for long moments as he took in the contusions on her sweet little face and along her arms, her right wrist in a cast. Heart in his throat, Joel only moved when Tommy appeared behind him.

“JB’s on his way. He’s at a job site in the next town over, so he’ll be a while. Have you checked on her yet?” Joel never heard Tommy speak so softly, so seriously. It made things seem so much worse. Tommy rarely took things seriously, so it must be bad. Still, it propelled him forward.

Finally stepping into Sarah’s room, Joel shook his head. He tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, stealing his breath as he drew closer to Sarah’s side. The little girl appeared to be sleeping, and Joel hoped that was the case and not that she was unconscious, but logically, he knew the truth just by the significant bruising on her sweet, little face.

Tommy’s hand gripped Joel’s shoulder when he dropped to his knees next to his daughter, a broken sob fighting its way through the knot in his chest. “Baby girl,” he murmured, stroking one large hand over her head, red-rimmed eyes scanning for more injuries.

“Imma go check on your girl, ok? Just stay here. Sarah needs you,” Tommy said, his voice sounding like he was talking underwater to Joel’s ears. Seeing his brother fall apart, Tommy hesitated. Was it smart to leave him like this? He’d never seen Joel like that, so broken, but someone needed to be there for you while Joel was here for Sarah, at least until your dad got there. With one last worried glance at his brother, Tommy left.

Arriving at the room he was told you’d be in, just a few doors down from Sarah’s, Tommy found it empty, too much blood puddled and smeared on the floor, and discarded medical gloves scattered around it all. His heart plummeted. “No. No, no, no, no!” He started to panic, thinking it meant the worst possible outcome. How would he tell Joel? Or your dad? Or worse still, little Sarah? It would destroy them. Would they ever recover from such a loss?

Turning his back on the room, Tommy slammed one fist against the corridor wall, the other held to his mouth as his teeth sunk into the flesh of his fingers to prevent himself from shouting. Tears sprung to his eyes that had nothing to do with the self-inflicted pain in his hands. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t tell them that you were…

“Can I help you?” A nurse passing by stopped at the sight of him bent over, gasping for breath, fighting back any further emotional outburst. “Are you ok?”

Nodding, Tommy stood to full height and blinked rapidly to clear his vision. God, he couldn’t even remember the last time he cried and now he suddenly felt like he’d never stop.

“Are you looking for someone?” the nurse pressed.

He pointed wordlessly over his shoulder to the room, hand shaking as he caught sight of the blood again when his head turned. The nurse caught on quick, placing a comforting hand on Tommy’s back.

“Oh! No. No, it’s not what you think,” she reassured, saying your full name. “She’s in rough shape, lost a lot of blood as you can see, so they brought her right into surgery. We’re just waiting on the environmental staff to clean up the room. If you take a seat in the waiting room, we’ll give you an update on her condition as soon as we can.”

“Oh, thank fucking God!” Tommy gasped, relief washing over him in a wave. “I thought she died and started to panic over how I would tell my brother or her dad.”

“She’s not out of the woods yet, but she should be ok. The finest surgical team is working on your friend.” Flashing an empathetic smile, the nurse gently led him toward the waiting room, but he stopped once they reached Sarah’s room.

“My niece is in here. I think I’ll wait in here for now if that’s ok. You’ll make sure to keep us posted, right?” Tommy entered the room once the nurse nodded. Joel remained in the same place, hand smoothing over Sarah’s hair in a gentle, rhythmic motion as the tears streamed down his face, soaking the sheets next to her left arm. Tommy felt his heart shatter watching his brother, the tiny shards piercing his chest with visceral pain.

“She’s in surgery,” Tommy choked on the words. “She lost a lot of blood.”

Joel turned devastated, watery eyes on him, but before either of them could say another word, a police officer walked into the room. “Mr. Miller?” the young officer inquired, Tommy and Joel both nodded and he cleared his throat. “Uh, Joel Miller?”

At that, Joel stood, wiping away the tears with a rough swipe of his hand. “That’s me,” he said, voice rough and scratchy.

“Ok. Could we have a word in private, sir?” The officer glanced between Joel and Tommy, uncertain.

Joel cleared his throat heavily. “This is my brother, Tommy. He can hear whatever you have to say.”

“Alright, sir. I’m Officer Grant, the responding officer to the accident. I just wanted to meet with you to gather some information.”

Joel’s expression darkened, brows pulling together. “What kinda information?”

Officer Grant shuffled closer with hesitant steps, pulling a notepad from a small pocket on the front his vest. “Just the usual. We’re trying to confirm witness statements and make sure we have all the facts about the accident, sir. Let’s start with the basics. Sarah Miller is your daughter?”

“Yes,” Joel grunted with annoyance. He stepped back to Sarah’s side, pulling a chair over to sit close to her.

“Were you aware that your daughter was in the car with a Miss, uh…” Officer Grant glanced down at his notes, stating your name.

“Yes.”

The officer gulped. “Ok, I just had to confirm it wasn’t a kidnapping situation.”

“Uh huh.” Quickly losing his patience, Joel glanced at Tommy for help.

“Could you, uh, tell us how the accident happened? No one’s told us anything other than there was one,” Tommy interjected.

“Oh.” Officer Grant’s eyes shifted between Joel, Tommy, and Sarah’s prone form on the bed. “Shit. I’m sorry, I should have started with that rather than interrogating you.”

“Damn straight,” Joel mumbled under his breath.

“A drunk driver failed to stop at a traffic light and hit the car your daughter and, uh—”

“Girlfriend,” Tommy interjected at the dark look on his brother’s face. “It’s his girlfriend, soon to be fiancé, we hope.”

“If she fucking survives,” Joel sighed, tears springing to his eyes again.

Grimacing, the officer continued. “The driver struck their car as they proceeded through the intersection, causing it to roll twice.”

“Fuck,” Tommy breathed with a glance at his unconscious niece. “I’m guessing the drunk driver hit the driver’s side of their car, just based on Sarah’s injuries?”

“That’s correct.”

Tommy nodded, watching Joel out of the corner of his eye. His head hung low, shoulders shaking as he fought off the sobs.

“Did you get the guy, at least?” Joel asked without looking up, his voice breaking on every other word. He was a wreck, on the verge of a panic attack.

“Yes, sir. We got him. His blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit,” Officer Grant admitted. “He’s in lockup now. He won’t get out of this one.”

After a prolonged period of silence, the only sounds in the room a mix of beeps from the machines monitoring Sarah’s stats and Joel’s sniffles, Officer Grant excused himself. Tommy took a seat in the remaining chair across from the foot of Sarah’s bed. Out of his depth, he had no idea what to do or say to his brother.

A nurse just finished checking Sarah’s vitals, letting them know more details about her injuries, when JB walked in. “Oh, nugget,” he said mournfully at the sight of his favorite little girl, and he moved to Joel’s side to place a comforting hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “How’s she doing?”

Joel’s shoulders lifted with the sheer effort of trying to breathe. “She has a concussion and hasn’t regained consciousness yet. Scrapes and bruises, but no broken bones aside from her wrist, thankfully.”

JB nodded, the hand still on Joel’s shoulder squeezed once, twice. “She’s young and strong, son. Our little nugget will heal quickly, I promise.”

Joel could do little more than nod, his eyes glued to his little girl’s face, praying she’d wake up soon. He wanted so badly to believe your dad, to trust in what he promised, but…

“Any word on Spud? They told me at the nurse’s station that she’s still in surgery, but they couldn’t tell me anything else.” JB’s voice became choked with tears at the end, emotion taking over at the thought of his own baby girl being so severely injured.

Shaking his head, Joel could barely get the words out. “We haven’t heard anything either. We haven’t even seen her yet.” He paused for a minute before lifting his head to look up at JB, bottom lip wobbling. “What if…”

“No, son. Don’t say it. Don’t think it,” JB warned, pulling Joel to his feet despite their size difference. He placed his hands on Joel’s shoulders, jostling them a little to get Joel to meet his gaze. Two sets of teary, bloodshot eyes stared at each other. “My baby girl is strong, just like yours. She’s a fighter. She won’t leave you, us. She would never, not if she could help it.”

“I don’t know if I’d survive if she did, JB,” Joel said, his voice so small and broken. He practically collapsed against JB, forcing the older man to support him as he cried openly against JB’s shoulder.

Even Tommy couldn’t fight the tears threatening to slip down his cheeks as JB pulled Joel into the tightest hug, the two fathers clinging to each other in a mix of despair and hope as they worried about their little girls.

tbc

I'm sorry. if it's any consolation, I brought tears to my own eyes writing this.

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby

@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981

@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub @subconsciouscollapse @babygabe @cuteanimalmama

[taylor-titmouse]

a while ago i designed a sea serpent that would serve as the source for myrddin's blood, and then a little while after that i designed lindwurms and said they were related to sea serpents. i've now done a fair bit more development and design work for the lindwurms than i did for the serpents, so i thought i'd revisit these guys with that relation in mind. (and all of this is subject to change once i start actually writing the story that involves a serpent)

sea serpents are, predictably, dragons that live in the sea. evolution is debatable in a world where magic and gods measurably exist, but adaptation is adaptation. they've developed dorsal fins on their back and a large webbed tail to act as a paddle/rudder. they don't have gills, but have incredibly powerful lungs that can hold a breath for hours. their forelimbs are mainly used for climbing onto land to access nesting sites, and for carrying nest objects. they live in warm, coastal waters, and adults hunt seals and seal-sized critters, but will take anything they can fit in their mouths. they don't generally go after humanoids outside of mating season, when males are on the hunt for treasure to present to females. trade ships needing to pass through known serpent territory will throw a tribute over the side to appease males, who might otherwise knock the ship over in search of fine loot (and it would be a waste not to eat the drowned sailors).

like most dragons, the males construct nests of treasure for females, and will draw them there to see it. if the nest is to her satisfaction, they'll mate, and she'll move in to lay her eggs, while the male hunts to feed her. sea serpents are unique in their industriousness--given good nesting sites are hard to find and at the mercy of the tide, males will maintain multiple at once, just in case. this can lead to a lot of forgotten hoards, and outright property theft by opportunistic males (and treasure hunting humans). especially successful males may end up with multiple mates at different nests, and then he's on the hook to feed them all.

sea serpent mating seasons are dependent on mysterious influences in the tides, lunar cycle, and available foodstock, and so can have gaps of years between them. wurmlets are about a foot long when they hatch, and will be led by their mother to kelp forests, large sargassum mats, and coral reefs , where they'll be left to grow up on their own in the safety of the vegetation. juveniles will drape themselves in whatever is available for camouflage, until they're big enough to defend themselves. nesting females may adopt this strategy when guarding their eggs, if the material is locally available, leading casual observers to think females literally grow kelp for hair.

and here's a lindwurm for comparison

[sorormaior]

Kulikov

Act 1: The Witness

Well I said I'd do it. Here's the prologue and chapter one of my fic, Kulikov. I'll be posting the first act here, but probably not the rest

There was someone there, on Nostramo, who cared. Who treated him kindly, tried to bring him away from that dark path. The love was there, it changed nothing.

Next Chapter

Prologue

It started with an auspex ping. A flat tone that indicated something closeby in the endless dark. A dull green light flicked on, the cogitator whirred into life. 

An asteroid, high in adamantine content. Completely stationary- the sensors returned some initial responses in regards to void anchors. A ring of static pylons, stout and streaked with the grime of the void, but each as tall as a man. 

From the far side of its face, the asteroid was featureless, pockmarked by debris but otherwise nothing special. Wear had given way to a shine at certain angles- the adamantine, the only true export Nostramo had been valued for. 

Drawing closer, choosing another face, a dark chasm cut into it. An overhang creating a cave-like mouth, the floor worn purposefully flat and smooth for craft to land upon it. Atmosphere generators flanked the entrance like gargoyles. Beyond them, further into the dark, a set of heavy doors with a dark symbol plastered upon them. A bat-winged skull was engraved upon the metal, proving to the ones who had sought this place that it was what they were looking for. 

The landing pad was large enough for a single Stormraven, though many other craft hung in the void around it, waiting. Twelve astartes left the vessel, moving in tight formation to the doors, blue armour throwing up strange reflections on the worn cave walls. 

The machine spirit of the door reacted quickly to the commands given to it, showing that maintenance had been performed recently. Indeed, the air that rushed forward was not stale- it was recently refreshed, the lack of security measures speaking to its remote location. The architects did not intend for it to be found. This made the squad act with further caution, especially as there seemed to be no light inside the reliquary. 

The noise of armoured boots on metal stairs seemed oddly muffled as they proceeded forward, pauldron to pauldron in a space clearly designed for them. The reliquary was not large, having only a few rooms, which they checked methodically. It was a short corridor consisting of five doors, four set into the walls, facing each other and a fifth at the very end. Bones and skulls were moulded into the walls, a deathly peace to those whose ends were assuredly not gentle.

The first door to the right was an armoury, neatly stored weapons and ammunition. Its twin to the left led to a control centre, where cogitators eagerly returned to function. They displayed power outputs, logs of those who had come before and the maintenance done, systems support and various data controls relating to temperature. The most recent activity was a scant two solar days before they had arrived.

The next two doors lead to the true reliquary. Symbols of ages long since passed, to a former Legion’s glory, one they were unlikely to ever recover. These were catalogued, removed from their cabinets and placed into cargo storage crates hauled from the armoury. 

This left the final door. Here too was the Eighth Legion heraldry, the bat-winged skull. It shone brightly under the lumens, refined silver metal against the dull grey of the rest of the door. 

AVE DOMINUS NOX 

The letters were carved there by a master's hand, repeated again beneath in what could only have been Nostraman runes. This door opened willingly too, as if eager for the astartes to continue, to find what lay inside. 

Cold vapour rolled across the floor, dim blue light pouring forth, drowning all need for lumens. It did not come from lumens, but from a coffin. Or at least what appeared to be a coffin, upon closer inspection it was a cryogenic sleeper pod, held inside of a stasis field. The walls hummed with power, and a few screens displayed vital readouts. At the base of the coffin melted candles pooled, scraps of parchment folded and tucked away, a few clean skulls placed like offerings to a heretic’s god, flowers only just beginning to wilt. 

In the casket was a bulky outline, recognisable to anyone familiar with the Adeptus Astartes. Hands laid crossed over their chest, almost covering the bat-winged skull there. The figure was unhelmeted, though the death-faced thing had been placed above their head like a guardian. The face of the space marine was clear, even with the frost encrusted glass. 

A face changed by augment and scar, with three prominently stretching across. A hooked nose and a thin face, brown skin of an unnatural pallor- as if unused to the sun. The head was slightly tilted to the left, the mouth just barely open, dark eyes barely open- the black eyes beneath making them appear closed. As if there had been someone standing there that the marine had turned to look at before being sealed away. 

A cogitator on the wall beeped quietly, as if apologetic for disturbing them. At a nod, an Astartes stepped forward. A new pilgrimage log had been created, and access provided to a single file, named Kulikov.

It contained only a few things of note. A readout of the current vitals of the casket’s occupant, which seemed to be in order. A list of Night Lords who had attended the reliquary and the prizes they had brought. A single vox recording. 

At another nod, the Astartes commanded the machine spirit to play it. 

The voice echoed around the chamber. Dark, cracked and hoarse. The voice of a monster in the night, yet still somewhat regal. Heavily accented with sibilance, captivating in its ghoulishness. 

“If you are standing here, you stand before the last true child of Nostramo. The last loyal Night Lord, the best of us all. Cary Kulikov. If you are a member of my Legion, one of my poisonous sons, know that this is what you were intended to be, know that you never will be. If you are not, and you have somehow stumbled upon this place: I command you to leave. This is the will of the Night Haunter.”

The recorded voice few had heard in a myriad seemed to hang in the air, sticking to the skin. Curze had always had a flair for the dramatic, like many of his brothers. 

The intruders took no heed of this warning, instead moving in synchronicity to the sides of the casket, to the machinery keeping the stasis field in place. There was a crackle in the air as with a few taps against the cogitator, the stasis field fell. The vapour moved a little faster, but the figure within the cryogenic casket remained unchanged. 

A few more commands and the casket was removed from its moorings, those pipes which fed into the chamber that had frozen in place wrenched away by gauntleted hands. Handles were mag-locked to the side of the casket, as the claw hidden behind it lowered from a vertical position to a horizontal one. Four Astartes took up places at the handles, lifted the casket from the fittings it had sat in for nearly ten thousand years. They marched from the chamber, almost a mockery of a funeral procession. The figure was after all, not dead. Great pains had been taken to keep them alive, more care than any thought still could be had in these times. 

They filed out from the chamber and the reliquaries, heretic artefacts in crates carried between the rest. The casket was loaded onto the Stormraven, awkwardly laid down between the seats, only just enough room for it. Closer now, they could see the shadows haunting the cheeks and eyes, a triangle-shaped split in the shell of the left ear. The face was tired, the crease between the eyebrows betraying some great grief. It was not the face of one who would now call themselves Night Lord. 

The Stormraven flew to the waiting battle barge, those who had waited around the asteroid following closely, like a protective flock. Then the ships departed, leaving the asteroid unmarked, once again floating- now completely empty, in the soundless void.

Chapter 1: Awoken

They opened their eyes, only partially. Frost and light made it difficult- that was their first real clue that they were no longer on the Nightfall. No one would have had the lumens this bright. They squeezed their eyes shut against it, a child refusing to wake. Their breath came in ragged, quick gasps. The ache of surgery was still fresh, soft twinges of pain that they recognised but never felt before to this degree. 

“K- Khh-,” their mouth did not want to move, their teeth chattered against the cold. “Ko- Konnacht.” 

There was no response to their plea. Shadows moved across their face, and they forced their eyes open, ready to receive whatever horror awaited. It was a face, that much they had expected. A face of a space marine, broad and noble, fair skinned but crossed with battle scars, a pair of metal studs embedded above the eyebrow. 

The eyes were, of course, the final nail in the proverbial coffin. They were green, with an inner ring of grey. Of course it didn’t matter what colour the eyes were- they weren’t black. The man above them studied them as if they were little more than bacteria on a plex dish.

Noble blue armour, a bright gold trim, a blazing white Ultima. His narthecium was clicking over them, tapping at armoured plates, testing their pulse. He was also waving a diagnostor over them. 

“Ultramarine,” they managed. “You- you must tell… the Lords. Curze- Curze has… gone mad.” 

The Ultramarine looked at them dispassionately.

“You have been heavily injured, Captain, please do not move or attempt to speak.” 

Captain. Had that been their rank? They’d never truly been sure if they’d had an official rank. 

“Nostramo,” they tried again. “Nostramo is gone.” 

The Ultramarine nodded. 

“We are aware. Rest.” 

But their body would not rest. There were tremors, half from the cold and half from their body reacting to the damage taken. 

“Where is he?” They asked. 

The Ultramarine did not answer. 

“What of Sevatar? Shang?”

He still did not answer. Further noise came, the whining of servos inside power armour. More marines.

“We are going to lift you from the casket, Captain Kulikov,” another voice said. “Please do not move.” 

Handles were maglocked to their armour, they stayed as still as they could, but a soft groan of pain still escaped their mouth as they were moved. The ache became a tear, a body still happily reminding them of the damage inflicted. 

They were manoeuvred to a cot, where chapter serfs came forward. The serfs knew the layout of the armour, knew where the catches lay and where to find the bolts that held it together. They lay limply, only moving to ease the job of the serfs. The weight of the armour was practically unmovable for them in their current state- the power pack didn’t help. 

“What is this?” A marine intoned.

They were just about able to tilt their head, to look back at the casket and what the Ultramarine held. Deep blue fabric, it looked small in his hand.

“My jacket,” said Cary. “Could I have it?” 

Some wordless exchange happened between the Astartes in the room. But the jacket was brought to them.

“It was folded behind your head,” said the marine who had found it. 

“It’s my QPC jacket,” they mumbled, half to themselves, smoothing a thumb over the silver-threaded patch at the shoulder. “Half a relic now.” 

More of the plates were removed, from the inside the damage was more obvious. The repairs had been done well, but still visible. Curze had caved in most of their diaphragm after all. 

“I need to inspect your injuries,” the apothecary said. 

Cary leaned forward, grinding their teeth against the pain. Gauntleted hands held their shoulders, supported them as the apothecary released the catch at the back of the neck. The glove only needed to be taken down to their waist, and they were laid back down again. 

It was the first time Cary had seen the wound. Medical skin had been pulled across the gap, the hole had been too large to simply suture closed. The scarring was still red, still raw, slightly pink at the edges. There were still flakes of dried blood, smeared across their skin. It was the newest scar, but far from the first. 

“What weapon caused this?” Another Ultramarine asked, his helmet angled downward. 

“Mercy,” Cary answered. 

The helmet looked at them, and though his face was hidden Cary could feel his confusion, muted though it may have been. 

“One of Curze’s lightning claws. Mercy and Forgiveness,” they nearly laughed. 

The spasm of near laughter made their body seize and jolt, they lay still. The Ultramarines lacked a sense of humour, instead one steadied their shoulder while the apothecary placed a needle to their arm. 

“A painkiller. Your carapace has been repaired but not healed fully,” he said. 

Cary nodded, not really taking in the information.

“How long have I been asleep?” They asked.

There was no response from those in the room. With their eyes adjusted to the light they could make out a handful of armoured Astartes, four including the apothecary, and a small team of serfs. 

The painkillers crept across their body, elevating much of the pain but rendering them even more sluggish in their thoughts and movements. 

“How long?” They asked again. 

“A long time,” the apothecary said. 

Cary looked at him, blinking slowly against the numbing effects of the drug. 

“Tell me,” they pleaded.

“Nearly ten thousand years,” the Ultramarine who had given them their jacket said. 

The apothecary glared at his fellow, then checked what Cary could only assume was a readout of their vitals. 

“Ten thousand years?” Cary repeated, slowly.

They looked straight up at the ceiling, not truly seeing it, digesting this information. 

“Where is Curze?” They asked. 

“Dead,” said the Ultramarine. 

“Elaius,” cautioned the apothecary. 

Cary nodded, slowly. It was an odd feeling, circling its way across their chest. Grief had always been their constant companion, more constant than even the Night Haunter had been. Now the grief was compounded further- when they closed their eyes they still saw Nostramo burn. 

“Why did he let you live?” The Ultramarine- Elaius asked. 

“I don’t know,” Cary admitted. “He always said he’d kill me. That he’d seen it. Always followed the damn visions. Followed them right to the end.” 

Their breathing was becoming more laboured, their chest tight with exhaustion and mourning. Cary closed their eyes, only praying that the action would stop them from weeping openly. 

“You need rest,” rumbled the voice of the apothecary.

Another needle pierced their skin, and again they fell into a drugged sleep. 

-

The dream was formless, not a true thing. An unconscious space that had broken down. Someone was calling their name. They turned. Darkness seeped across the not-floor, it was below them, a roiling ocean, a black sea. There, down below them, a speck of white. They already knew who it was, they reached out their hands, but never seemed to be able to get any closer. They felt hands on their shoulders, strong, large hands. 

They tried to shrug them off, gritting their teeth and reaching again, gauntleted arm outstretched. Cary looked at their arms. Looked at their gauntlet. The chain.

Cary Kulikov, as they had done many times before, took aim upon their primarch and fired. The silver chain sprung forward, the four-pronged hook expanding out. It caught. The chain grew taunt. The servos on their arm whined as the motors pulled the chain back. 

He came up from the dark sea like a bat, reaching for them as they reached for him. There was a second where they saw his face, pale and gaunt, then the Primarch crashed into them like a solid wall. 

All again was dark. 

-

When they opened their eyes again, they had to take a second to think. It was not the same ceiling Cary had been helped to slumber under, where bright lumens had danced painfully before their eyes. In fact, the room was rather dim. There was a blanket laid over them, and what seemed to be a bed beneath them. 

Sleeping quarters, they thought, idly. Indeed, tilting their head they could see that their armour had been mounted magnetically to a storage rack. The rest of the room was small, spartan in its furnishings, though shelving space clearly existed for the occupant to make it their own. An Astartes-sized desk and chair, an ablutions chamber and of course a lone figure sitting politely on a stool. A young girl, probably belonging to the servant caste of the ship- probably about thirteen or fourteen years old. She had short blonde-white hair cut roughly above the shoulders, sky-blue eyes and a pale, voidborn complexion.

She peered at Cary, the hands on her knees just about peaking out from her sleeves. 

“You don’t look very frightening,” the girl said, sliding off of the stool. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” 

“I try my best,” Cary replied.

The girl looked at the door, suddenly still. Like an animal in a trap. Cary could hear the sound of plated boots coming down the corridor. 

“You’re not meant to be in here, are you?” They observed. 

The girl scowled at them, worrying her lip with her teeth. Cary nodded towards the ablution chamber. 

“Go hide in there. Sit down and don’t move. I won’t breathe a word,” they mimed drawing a cross over both sides of their chest with a finger. Cross their hearts and hope to die.

The girl scrambled into the chamber, clicking the door shut. Cary looked to the door. When it opened, only two people entered. One Ultramarine, and a young man- human. He was dressed in Imperial black, with an impressive amount of golden trim and fine decorations. His skin was dark, and his hair close-cropped to his head. Cary looked to his breast pocket, where an inquisitorial rosette sat plainly. 

“Good morning, Captain Kulikov,” said the young inquisitor. “I am Inquisitor Gael Casteter, I would like to ask you some things.”

Cary had never had a particular love for the inquisition. Torture a man enough he’d admit to anything, it was no way to reveal any kind of truth. 

“Can I ask some questions first?” Cary sat up, slowly. 

The Ultramarine watched them carefully, but did not reach for his weapons. He seemed taller than most other marines. Gael took the stool, recently abandoned by the girl. 

“You may.” 

“What has… happened?” They asked. “It’s been ten thousand years. Who still lives? Does anyone? The Primarchs, the Emperor?”

Gael looked at them with something approaching sympathy. 

“The God-Emperor lives, resting upon the Golden Throne of Terra. Lord Guilliman, returned to us from his stasis, serves as his Lord Regent.”

It took them longer than was comfortable to process this. 

“The Warmaster?” They asked.

“The Arch-Traitor Horus,” Gael corrected them, gently. “He fell to the ruinous powers, and with the traitor legions brought upon the Imperium a bloody war. Many were lost to us.” 

A thousand names came to their lips. Cary dared not speak them, as if silence would keep them alive. 

“Traitor legions?” They settled on.

“The Sons of Horus, the Emperor’s Children, the Iron Warriors, the Night Lords,” he paused to incline his head in the direction of their armour. “The World Eaters, The Death Guard, The Thousand Sons, the Word Bearers and the Alpha Legion. They joined Horus on his crusade, and paid the ultimate price.” 

Cary’s head span, blinking rapidly against the information. They didn’t want to believe it- they didn’t want it to be true, no matter how much it had to have been true. They had seen parts of it in visions, with their own eyes.

“The Sons of Horus,” they echoed. 

“You would have known them as the Luna Wolves,” the Ultramarine said.

Cary recognised the voice through the vox speaker. It was Elaius, the one whom the apothecary had chided. They rested their head against the metal wall behind them, closed their eyes. 

“I am sorry,” said the Inquisitor. “I understand this must be a shock.” 

“I have lost everyone I have ever known in the span of what feels like a day. Perhaps two at a stretch,” they said, without thinking. “I am a little more than shocked.”

Cary opened their eyes again, looking at Gael. 

“What did you want to ask me?”

He withdrew a device from his pocket, balancing it on his knee. They recognised it as a vox recorder, the green light meaning it had been listening to their conversation, likely from the moment Gael and Elaius stepped through the door. 

“I would like to hear your account, from the very beginning,” said Gael. “I am aware you knew Konrad Curze from a young age, I want to hear about your life.” 

Cary tilted their head.

“Why?”

“I am nothing if not a scholar, Captain Kulikov. It will also help me to keep you alive longer, many here already think you a heretic if only for the armour you wear and the geneseed you bare.” He smiled, kindly. 

“Everything then? From the very beginning?” They clarified.

“If you would be so kind.”

“Very well.”

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝. (𝟏𝟖+)

INCLUDES | nahoya kawata, souya kawata, seishu inui

CONTENT WARNING | smut, oral (fem receiving)

NOTE | I'm not sure how I feel about this one, but I hope you like it! request

— SOUYA.

You sat down on the couch, frowning slightly as you looked through the collection of DVDs that were scattered on the coffee table before you.

"Did you pick a horror movie?" you called out, raising your voice so Souya could hear you from the kitchen. The sound of popcorns popping in the microwave filled the otherwise quiet room, your boyfriend's voice following suit.

"Yep." A few seconds later Souya walked into the living room, reaching into the bowl of popcorn and looking at you mischievously. "You're not scared, are you?"

You responded with a scoff and a roll of your eyes, trying to appear brave. "I'm not a pussy."

....And, boy, were you going to regret that statement.

As the movie progressed, Souya glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He noticed your tense posture and the way your fingers clenched around the popcorn bowl, your knuckles white.

"Not a pussy, huh?" he whispered against your ear, grinning teasingly. You narrowed your eyes at him before turning back to the screen, flinching and gasping when a side character got brutally killed, his screams of agony chilling your blood.

Here goes that good nights sleep.

"Hey, uh... do you need a break?" Souya suddenly broke the silence, starting to feel genuinely concerned. He hadn't noticed before, but you looked really pale.

You nodded quietly, setting aside your pride just this once. You set the bowl on the table, trying hard to stop your eyes from welling up.

"Shit...I'm sorry, I didn't think it was that bad. Are- Are you okay? Come here." he rambled nervously, taking you by the hand and guiding you onto his lap. His hands immediately went to cup your cheeks, his lips pressing to your cheek.

"I'll be fine, it's just... a little too gory for me. Just give me a minute."

"We don't have to keep watching. It's okay."

"No, no! I'm fine. I promise."

"You don't look fine, baby. Let me help."

Before you could say anything, he was manoeuvring you both so he was on top of you, your lips meeting in a soft kiss. You stayed quiet as he broke the kiss and you bit the inside of your cheek when he got down on his knees and parted your legs.

"Are you serious?" you chuckled, your hand tangling in his curls. Souya nodded, winking at you.

"I was getting bored anyway. And I'd much rather hear you scream." You laid back against the couch with a soft sigh as he began taking off your pyjama pants, looking up at you from between your legs and trailing kisses up your thighs. "Relax. I'll take care of you." he whispered, sliding your underwear down your legs and discarding them somewhere on the floor. Then he began to rub circles on your clit with his thumb, slowly building up your desire for it. It wasn't long before he remplaced it with his tongue, eager to make you feel good, his determination fuelled by your moans.

— INUI.

The living room was dimly lit, intermittent flashes from the TV flickering across the space. The movie playing in the background was completely forgotten though, your moans and whimpers drowning out the screams coming from the character on screen.

Inui's hand was resting on your cheek as you rode him, his thumb gently wiping away a tear that the movie had brought to your eyes. You moaned, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he began kissing down your neck, whispering words of comfort and praise against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm sorry, baby." he whispered, his voice soothing. "I didn't think it'd scare you like this." he kissed your lips softly, trying his best to comfort you, "You're doing so good. Such a good girl for me, hm? Come on. No more crying."

You nodded, letting out a weak "okay" as the knot in your stomach tightened more and more with each passing second. Seishu's distraction technique had erased every disturbing image from your brain, turning your anxiety into lust and desire.

The sound of the TV turned into white noise the closer you got to your release, leaving only the sound of your own moans and Seishu's echoing in your ears.

— NAHOYA.

You were cuddled up against Nahoya, a blanket draped over the both of you as you held his hand tightly, your entire body tensed up in fear as you anticipated the next jumpscare.

"I thought you said you weren't easily scared...?" You tutted and slapped his arm, staying quiet.

Nahoya chuckled at your response and that was the end of it, his attention going back to the screen. But then the jumpscare flashed across the screen, catching both of you off guard. You squealed and practically jumped onto his lap, wrapping your arms around him and hiding your face in his neck.

You stayed like this for a couple minutes, clinging onto him, watching the screen from the corner of your eye. You felt a small sense of comfort when Nahoya wrapped an arm around you and placed his free hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing your skin in slow circles.

After a few minute his hand had not left its spot on your thigh, your skin feeling warmer from his touch. It wasn't until you began to shift to try and get off his lap that you felt it slowly trail up your leg, making you stop in your tracks.

You gave him a questioning look but he simply smirked, eyes still on the screen as he began to tug at the hem of your pajama shorts.

“Wh-What are you doing?”

"You look like you need a distraction." He chuckled quietly. "...Just focus on the movie, yeah?"

With that, his hand slipped inside your shorts, cupping you. You let out a soft gasp as he began stimulating your clit through the thin fabric of your panties, his eyes never leaving the screen as he did. You caught a glimpse of his stupid smirk from the corner of your eye, a small whimper escaping your lips when he picked up the pace.

You eventually decided to give in and make yourself more comfortable on his lap, your back now pressed against his chest, his arms holding you close as he played with your pussy, taking your mind off the disturbing things on screen.

[lucy---lou]

Part 19 Lucys-hdg-story

We arrive in the hab again after being tied up in vines and 'force' carried by Mistress. We are placed onto the couch but vines still pin us down.

"Are my little rebellious girls going to behave again?"

"Yes Mistress, I promies", Ellie begins.

"Yes misstr - Mi - mistress - miss Du-ralis, won't happen again", I stutter. The xenodrugs seem to have worn off.

"You could have continued calling her Mistress, silly"

Oh shit I've been calling her Mistress all day and I didn't even notice. I feel my face start to burn. The drugs stopped my fears and then I just said anything. "Kitten?" Aaaahh I even told Marie that she was hot and I kissed Ellie. I - aaaahhhh. Something boops my nose.

"I - yeah what?"

"You drifted off for a while", Mistress smiles, "Anyways I'd like to know why you suddenly started calling me Mistress"

"I-"

"I-"

"I-ehm"

"I-"

I grab the shark plushie, burry my face into it and curl into a ball.

"NO can't tell!"

"My kitten please tell me or I have to get it out of you"

I stayed curled into a ball. I don't want her to drug me, but I really don't want to say it myself, I can't, it won't come out. There a thick clog in my throat. I sob into the plushie.

"Oh petal I'm sorry but this is the best for you, trust me", she injects me, "So why did you call me mistress?"

"It already started before that. Ever since I cuddled your core. Everytime I think about you Mistress pops into my head and I have to think hard to find your name in my head. I hid it before because otherwise you would domesticate me, sure that'll be really hot and thats what I want and I-", I shove my hand in my mouth to keep myself from talking. My face is on fire. Vines pin me down again

"Please continue petal"

"On drugs I didn't worry about anything and so everytime I thought of you Mistress would come to mind and I'd just say it, oh and Mistress is really hot when she pins me down", I squirm in place trying to escape, the vines tighten further. I try to fight the drugs.

"Anything else on your mind kitten?"

"Please never leave me. I can't live alone. Not after everything. I need you", I start crying, "I need to be with you, feel you. Be with Ellie cuddle her, let her make me blush and and and pleeeaaaseeeeee make it end. I can't do this anymore it's to much. Just make me your pet already, take these stupid thoughts away. Take me pleeeaseeeee, pretty pleeaseeeee. I need to be your pet. aighausc jqbwicuf hwkdicjfb wjwixjdbwiw cjwbwidkdnfje, pleeeeaaaseeeeeeee", word leave me as I completely loose myself. I feel a prick everything falls away.

"My little kitten, this is everything I wished for since I met you at the park. You were always going to be mine and only mine. I love you my kitten"

Vines rush towards me possessively touching me, cradling me, pulling me into her. I feel multiple pricks. Her biorhythm washes over me, drowns me in her. Her vines feel amazing. Her eyes are beautiful. Everything feels amazing. It feels amazing giving up.

It goes on for a while.

"You two are having fun, but I'd like my pinnate too!"

"How cruel of me separating two pinnates", she laughs.

She is placed onto me and franticly starts kissing me until she's out of breath. I'm to high to do anything other than wiggle and moan in pleasure and whine when it stops.

"Gosh finally! I've been waiting so long for you, my pinnate, and now I can kiss her as much as I want!"

I completely bliss out. Mistress said something about a contract. Am I not to high for a contract, I don't care. Florets don't care, their owners manage everything. I just have to look cute and cuddle, that's all I ever have to do ever again. And thats exactly what I do until I fall asleep in her vines.

-Well she finally broke. But don't worry I still have a few ideas left.

[bassiascoparia]

Quick question regarding one of your reposts.

What makes you think that Annabeth would stop Percy from having his depressive thoughts?

Like yeah, I agree we can't blame her for Percy's mental state/thought process into the poison drowning scenario but she's not really completely washed out of fault?

Percy, who only ever wanted to be a normal guy, who was just desperately trying to protect himself and his girlfriend, was treated as a monster when he did. His gf instead of being happy that he's not dying anymore/dead is more focused on how terrified she was OF him, rather than, idk being happy that they are both okay?

Like, wouldn't that affect someone very badly? Realistically speaking? You try your darnest to keep yourself and someone you love safe only for that someone to essentially condemn you for doing that. When you were literally delirious in pain and dying. And just trying to survive and protect her too.

And in a world where it's either they get killed or others do, what was the logic/wisdom behind asking Percy to never do something like that again?

Idk, tbf, I genuinely do think that Annabeth is too self-absorbed to even notice that Percy might have some issues in this regard in the first place. And even if she does, and he speaks to her about it, she won't know what to do with it because in this entire series, it's always Percy comforting Annabeth— never the other way around.

Or worse yet, would see it as an attack/Percy telling her she did something wrong when Percy was only opening up/telling her how he felt.

Idk, pls let me know if you think otherwise though. I do see that you're pretty into the Percabeth/Annabeth crit side of tumblr sp ig it's a bit intriguing to see you defend Annabeth in that post. (Again, which I agree with but also, huh, this would be an interesting convo)

I think I know which repost that is though I deleted it sometime ago. This is going to be a long answer, so I'm putting it under a read more not to clog your feed up.

MY TUMBLR HISTORY

I'm going to digress here and tell you more about my tumblr history, which is necessary for this post to make sense.

The thing is, I joined Tumblr less than a year ago and I soon got into the anti Percabeth/anti Annabeth Chase discourse without looking at both sides.

Back then, I was pretty naive and barely questioned what I saw at all. I just ate up those sometimes unconvincing (and frankly ridiculous at some points) arguments. I just ate them up and made posts that supported them without really thinking my stance through.

It was only recently that I actually started to question if all the anti Percabeth and anti Annabeth Chase content that I'd been consuming and I found out that hey, not all of it is true!

I thought and called Annabeth abusive which is not the case-I think she's toxic and their relationship is unhealthy at some points, but there's a difference between toxic and abusive.

By then, a lot of damage had already been done and I felt pretty embarrassed at some of my posts which I deleted, though they had been reblogged, so I couldn't fully wipe them off. If you see a post that you don't like from me, please come and check my blog for it because chances are that I've deleted it.

The thing to be said is that I've learnt a valuable lesson on tumblr-that I should look at both sides before rashly posting and that I should really remain neutral and not blindly jump into one side without questioning their points and critically thinking about it.

WHAT DO I THINK ABOUT PERCABETH?

Ok, moving on from that-I'm hesitant to call Percabeth abusive.

I do think that the judo flip and bringing up Rachel to keep him on his toes are abuse, but abusive is a pretty strong word which is why I still don't call it abusive, though I understand why you would.

I still, however, think that it's toxic at many points. Yes, there's a difference between toxic and abusive.

REGARDING YOUR ASK

What makes you think Annabeth would stop Percy from having his depressive thoughts?

Well, canon makes a pretty good argument for this.

See, the thing is-Percy loves Annabeth. He loves her wholly, truly, completely. His love is enormous, gigantic-like the raging sea, like a blazing fire, like a calm, sunny afternoon.........eh, I'm getting poetic here, but he really, really loves her. He loves her like he's nothing loved anything before (not even Sally. I'm sorry, but the books just don't expand on Percy-Sally as much as they devote time to Percy-Annabeth).

When she comes into a room, he lights up instantly and wants to meet her. He loves her and she's not his entire world, but she's the hugest portion of it. She was with him all throughout, she's seen him at his most vulnerable (I think) she's just.........irreplaceable at this point.

Percy loves her and she loves him. They love each other and are happy with each other (because yes, you can still love someone and be toxic with them. And you can have happy moments with someone and still have a toxic relationship with them. These two are entirely possible.)

The thing about toxic relationships is that it's extremely complicated. It's not just black and white-it's varying shades of gray.

You think that toxic relationships are constantly miserable, which can be true for some of them, but a lot of toxic relationships have their happy and angry moments.

That's why people stay in them. If it was constantly bad, they'd say, 'Nope I'm out of here' but since there are plenty of good moments, they think- 'No, we can make this work, this won't happen again, it's not that bad, I can give them a second chance' multiple times.

Your toxic partner can make you anxious, but they can also make you pretty happy. They can make you feel black and white at different times. Annabeth makes Percy feel scared multiple times, but she also makes him feel warm and fuzzy and happy and content, which is entirely fitting for a toxic relationship.

So yes, Annabeth can make Percy stop having depressive thoughts, at least for intervals until he lapses back again (based on what we've seen from the books so far).

Like yeah, I agree we can't blame her for Percy's mental state/thought process into the poison drowning scenario but she's not really completely washed out of fault?

Percy, who only ever wanted to be a normal guy, who was just desperately trying to protect himself and his girlfriend, was treated as a monster when he did.

His gf instead of being happy that he's not dying anymore/dead is more focused on how terrified she was OF him, rather than, idk being happy that they are both okay?

Ok, anon, here is where I am going to become pro Annabeth Chase which is probably going to give you whiplash, so I'm just going to warn you.

Annabeth's reaction was entirely realistic and understandable and there was nothing wrong with it. Yes, that's what I'm saying and I will stick to it (go ahead and debate if you want to, though. I'm open to that).

They were in Tartarus. Literal hell. Their surroundings were horrible, it was grim and there was a huge chance that they would not survive. How could she be happy in those circumstances? Let's keep in mind that a goddess just got horribly tortured in front of her. Really badly tortured.

And her boyfriend is doing it-and he's terrifying her with his look and he's reminding her of Luke, whom she loved so badly, who rebelled against the gods, who was so angry and then he died and Annabeth is just so terrified right now.

Blaming her for not being happy that her boyfriend survived and for crying because of everything that happened is extremely dense and imbecilic.

Of course, the fact that she's angry at Percy for making her feel scared when he was just trying to save both of them and was at his wits' end is questionable on her part. He was just trying to save both of them and did not mean to scare her just like she didn't mean to make him feel suicidal (which, again, is not her fault.)

I would've made her feel grateful but also feel angry and have an internal struggle because of that. Percy saved her, he saved both of them and they got out of Tartarus, so why is she angry at him?

But Luke. He looked like Luke. And he was so angry and he was choking a goddess, he was turning against her, even if the goddess was trying to kill them-he went against the divine gods, just like Luke. And look what happened to Luke. Luke shouldn't have done that. Percy shouldn't have done that. But they both did it for the greater good. And look what happened to Luke. And what will happen to Percy?

You get my drift. Of course, I understand Annabeth's reaction in Tartarus, but the fact that she was angry at him afterwards (out of Tartarus) is questionable and could have been written better.

Like, wouldn't that affect someone very badly? Realistically speaking?

Yes, it would affect them! And it does affect him because he feels horrible and tries to commit suicide. And he never actually thinks about this and it's never brought up again and no one ever talks about it because Rick is a coward.

You try your darndest to keep yourself and someone you love safe only for that someone to essentially condemn you for doing that. When you were literally delirious in pain and dying. And just trying to survive and protect her too.

Annabeth did tie Percy's hand behind his back by asking him to not use his powers again, but she didn't condemn him-rather, he condemned himself.

I want to emphasize that Percy's suicide attempts and horrible feelings were not Annabeth's fault nor would she have wanted him to feel that way. The fact that Percy didn't use his powers again is not fully Annabeth's fault.

We can't blame either of them here. Doing that would take away from the greyness and nuance of the situation. Yes, Annabeth asked Percy not to use his powers, but in the context of the situation, we can't blame her and her reaction. Yes, Percy was foolish to follow her orders and do what he did, but using something that horrible when someone you love asks you not to, when you feel horrible that you made them feel horrible, even though it wasn't Percy's fault and he had to do what he had to do.

Their feelings overpowered them and emotion took control over logic and we can't blame either of them since they're two traumatised teenagers who just got out of a horrible situation and their feelings are all over the place and.......nothing comes of it.

Nothing comes of it because Rick is a terrible writer at this point. He never expanded on this or even gave it any thought at all. They never have a scene in which they talk about or discuss it or reflect on it and nothing is learned from it. Percy's attempts suicide and everything's fine. Annabeth doesn't think about the usefulness and gravity his powers and everything's fine. In COTG and WOTTG, Percy and Annabeth........they don't talk about it at all. Everything is fine.......even when it shouldn't be.

And in a world where it's either they get killed or others do, what was the logic/wisdom behind asking Percy to never do something like that again?

This part........yeah, there's no logic in that.

I would have had Annabeth think about Percy's poison powers and realise that they weren't morally bad-they were morally neutral. They could be used do to bad things, but they could also be used to do good things. The person who uses them is morally good or bad, not the powers themselves.

I would also have her grapple with how she disliked them but how she realised that they were useful as well, because I think that her internal conflict about this would be very interesting to read.

Idk, tbf, I genuinely do think that Annabeth is too self-absorbed to even notice that Percy might have some issues in this regard in the first place.

I'm divided on this sentence. I think that she does love him, but half in a normal way, half in a weird, twisted way. Given the current state of their characterisation, when they're just ignoring everything, I don't think that they'd be able to talk it out-they'd just fight really bad and then go back to a false, toxic 'normal' state.

And even if she does, and he speaks to her about it, she won't know what to do with it because in this entire series, it's always Percy comforting Annabeth— never the other way around.

Or worse yet, would see it as an attack/Percy telling her she did something wrong when Percy was only opening up/telling her how he felt.

I think you're right about these last two ones. They really need communication therapy ASAP.

[godhandler]

analysing the martials arts of Jujutsu Kaisen - Karate

Suguru Geto

watching him fight makes my mouth water. every move is so perfect, so textbook, so nerdy almost. he STUDIED pure Shotokan karate. when he punches its the right target from the right distance at the right power at the right speed i wanna melt. the ease with which he shifts from blocking to grappling to close handed strikes. the scene of his beating up the old man in hidden inventory is pure orgasmic karate perfection.

he's super confident when he fights. he puts power in his punches (just the prescribed textbook amount). princess doesn't even tie his magnificent hair up (???).

he's very consistently aggressive. unlike karate, he has the boxing spirit where there's no gap between attacks, no hit-and-run. his attacks end when the opponent does.

god his stances, im drowning its so perfect. when panda is tossing his around in jjk 0 he's alwasy landing in the correct kumite postion, feet parallel and shoulder distance apart, knees only slightly bent.

usage of weaponry is uncommon in karate, but he's adept at it. the Playful Cloud, sanjigun (three sectioned staff) is an insane weapon tbh. if u look at it as a more complex nanchaku (which was my first reaction and mostly how todo uses it) its not that useful, as explained very well here. geto uses it more like a super flexible staff, which is really innovative and gets better use out of it as both a defensive and offensive weapon. but the one person who defo uses Playful Cloud best is Toji.

if i have to summarize, i'd say he fights cleanly. he knows he has both the height and weight advantage on yuta and uses both as full body strikes from "above". plus he's surprisingly flexible even in those flowy ass robes. he knows what works for him, he's done it for a longgg time (those reflexes take years to come) and he does it well. he keeps it short-range. he's a monster in combat.

surprisingly he's not particularly using any grappling techniques, even though he that would give him an easy edge over yuta. maybe yuta's hard to grapple, maybe gege akutami didn't think of it.

if i had to point out any flaws, i'd say he doesn't bend his lower back and hips enough to break falls. its a very minor complaint tho, he's delicious as a martial artist. a big issue is that he clearly doesn't lose much and hence doesn't know when to stop and change strategies. like, his fighting is on reflex, not because he's thinking thru each of his moves. but ig that's more of a personality flaw than a combat issue.

Noritoshi Kamo

it's very funny, he uses an old-fashioned traditional style in a very spunky rebellious way. definitely karate based on the prominence of upper body strikes over kicks, the open handed strikes and punches and that definitive teisho-uchi (palm heel strike). Even though Shotokan karate is more popular, he's practising the Shitorio style. we can tell cuz his stances are more upright, the way he prefers to hit fewer strikes with more powers than bombard his opponent with many strikes of lesser power, and his constantly-changing-his-base-position footwork.

when striking, he uses exclusively 'hard' techniques, as in he's sparring earthbender style, not airbender style. he's going for full frontal attacks and he's putting a shit ton of power behind them, which means he either doesn't expect to get blocked or he's not expecting the opponent's block to be very effective. (if u hit proper fucking hard with no gloves and get blocked hard ur hands will hurt like hell and uv wasted all the power and movement).

however, in general he does use a lot of "soft techniques" otherwise, grabbing megumi's tonfas away mid fight. he also just dodges attacks, only using blocks to create an opening for him to attack. irl, most combat happens in very short range so blocking is easier to dodging. but kamo fights mostly long distance, very typical karate hit-and-run type technique, where u do a few attacks and immeditealy create distance. a good technique considering his tall height. this is also why i think its Shitorio karate instead of kyokushin (which is tougher and keep-hitting-them style and lots of shin kicks).

there's no flashy moves like toji or even geto or yuji. kamo uses the most basic and actually practical moves. even though his strength is a given with Flowing Red Scale enhancing him, by the way he shifts his weight, you can tell that he knows how to turn his speed into momentum to create a shit ton of force. I wouldn't like to get punched by him.

as i mentioned, he's using orthodox styles in his own way. his stances aren't textbook correct, like geto, he's just doing what feels stable to him at the moment. he twists his palm heel strike unlike the common finger-up version. he doesn't move his eye before his head, he turns his whole damn head fully. he's sort of going with the flow, a bit too loosely for a traditionalist.

what confuses me is that he's not using himself to the fullest. at 5'10, he's taller than most people, so why not 1. attack from "above" such as overhead and on-shoulder strikes and 2. fucking use your damn kicks man. specially 'kick down'- the kicks that start above the opponents head and end up pushing them to the ground.

in the anime fight, he's deliberately trying his best to not hurt megumi. the entire fight is really short, but he's doing his best to just disarm and not to injure even a little. he's taller and megumi's head is wide open. the heavy tonfas by his side that makes it harder for megumi to block his face than torso... kamo literally punch his face. im dying here tbh. kamo punch his head. even if he blocks his face ull get a second where his eyesight is completely blocked and that's all u need to hit him in the kidneys or spleen. bam fight over. but noooo he's hitting him in the middle of the chest (twice! vary ur target positions to keep the element of surprise!) like what r u doing my man. it's like he want his attacks to be blocked. he fights like he's only 80% committed to it. i'd call him confused but very very talented.

[ftmclementine]

last night I edged as much as I could for an hour. usually when i masturbate I don't make too much of a mess but this time my hand was covered in my own slick I was dripping so much that my pants had a big wet stain. everytime I'd get close I'd buck the air or squeeze my thighs together. knowing that people where looking at the asks I sent you and liking it turned me on even more. my door doesn't have a lock on it and someone came in without knocking. thank god they didn't catch on even though I was sweating an awful lot. when they left I immediately started rubbing my t-dick again but then they opened the door again after a few seconds because they forgot to tell me somthing, it was scary but they still didn't catch me. after they left again I kept going. after the hour of edging I thought I was done but then an hour later I randomly started to feel my t-dick tingle again. I tried to ignore it but I couldn't and I gave in and edged for 30 more minutes. afterwards I was so exhausted and I didn't get to change my wet pj's so I just slept in them. i don't know what was wrong with me but when I was trying to fall asleep I still felt so horny and wanted to rub so I ended up lazily humping my blanket as I tried to fall asleep. i don't know how long I was there rubbing for but it was long enough for a puddle of drool to form on my pillow. I kept imagining you fucking me gently and drowning me in praise. I couldn't help but to grab my hairbrush and shove the handle of it up my needy hole to properly simulate my fantasy. after I was dripping wet again I took the handle out and rubbed the end of it on my t-dick pretending it was both of our t-dicks rubbing against eachother and it felt so mind numbingly good that I nearly cummed everywhere. i kept trying to stop so I could go to sleep but everytime I tried within a few minutes i was back at it I just couldn't keep my paws off myself. eventually I did fall asleep and it was one of the better sleeps I've had this week. when I woke up my first thought was you and I was overcome with a strong urge to rub I tryed to ignore it and go back to sleep I tried to just rub my chest hoping it would satisfy me and I'd be able to go back to bed but my t-dick demanded I worship you and rub in your honor so I grabbed my body pillow and wrapped my arms and legs around it pretending I was clinging onto you and grinding against you. I'm sorry for whining so much and sending you so many asks I hope you don't mind me being so needy

Oh darling you don’t have to worry, I love receiving all of your asks! Maybe you should claim an emoji, so I’ll always know for sure when it’s you ;)

I think what you really need, to satisfy all your urges, is to fall asleep in my bed. Then, when you desperately need attention, I can help you.

At first we could frot our tdicks against each other, maybe make out as we start to get nice and wet. Then I’d sneak a hand down your pants to give you some really nice friction before I fuck you with my fingers. I’ll help you cum as many times as you need to, baby.

After all that, when you’re truly spent, you can fall asleep with my thigh pressed between your legs, so anytime you need to rub, you can rub yourself on me. Get me all covered in your slick. I’ll make sure you feel good, and I’ll take care of you afterwards. I’d clean you up, licking up all your slick so you don’t fall asleep all sticky. Would you like that? Want to feel my tongue between your legs, bringing you all the pleasure you need?

In fact, I think this should be the only way you experience true pleasure. I should be the only person who can make you cum. Otherwise, all you can do is edge.

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

is everyone in milgram just dead

Okay I'm making this post because while I'm not sure how much I believe this, it's a possibility that's been eating at my head for a while, so I gotta share it somewhere even if it's not the most solid theory in the world.

So anyways, hello members of the jury! Today I want to discuss the weirdly recurring theme of the prisoners in Milgram possibly being dead, and Milgram being some sort of afterlife thing. Given the fact it clearly has some supernatural elements, it certainly isn't impossible. So let's get into it!

CW Death, murder and suicide, abortion, child abuse, drowning, cults and indoctrination, waterboarding, gang violence

Yuno and the Allegations

The biggest hint that at least some of the prisoners might be dead is the in Yuno's second VD, Absolute Zero.

Yuno: Oh! Also, that reminds me, there was one thing I'm curious about. Es: What? Go ahead and say it. Y: Am I…really alive? E: That's…what do you…. Y: Hm…if you don't know, then it's fine. E: Yuno…. Y: Hey, it's time, right? E: Y-yes. Prisoner number 2, Yuno. Sing your sins.

Weird thing to say, really. So, presumably, she has some reason to believe she might be dead. Which is especially worrying because Yuno is one of the most intelligent and perceptive prisoners in Milgram, and might even have higher awareness of some of the more supernatural/meta elements of the series, as seen by images from both her cover songs appearing in Umbilical and Tear Drop.

All this is to say, if Yuno has reason to believe she might be dead, we have reason to believe so as well.

There are two points of Yuno's story were I feel she could have died. One is during her abortion, given a question from Trial 2.

(T2) Q20: Did you hate the person you killed?

Y: It was too much of a pain to for me to think about anything.

So her abortion was painful, which likely means it wasn't done in a hospital, as professional abortions typically don't cause too much pain in the moment (source), even if they can cause cramping or discomfort in the recovery period. If it wasn't done professionally, and it hurt a lot, it's very possible she may have died while performing it.

However, because of a few things we'll talk about later, I'm not sure this is very likely. The answer I find more likely is that, unfortunately, she may have committed suicide by jumping off the staircase we see her standing on in her Undercover silhouette shot.

For one, because what the hell would this shot even be otherwise. I've seen people suggest infanticide as opposed to abortion, but that wouldn’t cause physical pain (you could argue that answer is about emotional pain, but I'm not sure how much that works), it doesn't match her kill-shot in Undercover, and she herself has claimed her "muder" was abortion (and I don't see reason for her to lie about that). It also doesn't seem likely she would get pregnant more than once, seeing this question:

(T2) Q10: If you could turn back time, would you commit the same murder once again?

Y: I'd make sure that I won't have to commit it. That's it.

So, then, what the hell is up with that Undercover shot? Usually they say something important about the prisoner or their crime, but it really doesn't seem to have anything to do with anything.

This is where I bring up that Yuno falls off a staircase at the end of Umbilical.

Like, obviously this is more meant to be metaphorical, as in Yuno "slipped up" and now has to avoid falling by grabbing the balloon, which ends up destroying the staircase which had previously been related to the mixing of DNA (long story). But... she still is falling from a staircase. That is what is happening in the video. This is a silly argument, but it does exist.

Now, there's a few other things which could imply this, but that will have to wait for a moment. So while there is very little evidence for now, I'd say this is the most likely reason for why Yuno believes she may be dead. Especially given she might have depression (check out this cool post by weather-cluddy), her comitting suicide is sort of the best guess we can make I feel.

Nevertheless, no matter the reason why, Yuno believes she may be dead, which opens the door to other characters, if not all of them, to be dead as well. Let's take a look at the other prisoner most likely to actually be dead in my opinion, and see if we can establish a pattern.

Haruka's Worrying Situation

I believe, even if no one else is dead, it is highly likely Haruka attempted suicide. I am not going to go too in-depth in here, because moibakadesu already made a really good post about it, which is where I got the theory from in the first place. In fact, the idea Haruka may have at least attempted suicide has existed ever since Trial 1, check out this cool post by Venus from thinkin-bout-milgram. Here's a summary of what the main points of the theory are:

-The repeated motif of water and drowning could indicate the way Haruka killed himself, especially since he lived in Naogaka, Niigata, known as the "city of water."

-Haruka repeatedly attacks and even strangles a younger version of himself in Weakness, in one occasion alongside the lyric "I've become a victim, I've become a victim."

-The young girl in Weakness might actually be a representation of the "ideal Haruka", as he's stated his mother wanted a daughter instead of a son (I don't actually agree with this part, I do think the girl is a literal girl Haruka killed, due to several lines from his VDs, such as him saying Amane "brings back bad memories." However, it's still a possibility)

-The nonchalance with which Haruka speaks of comitting suicide in his second MV, Metamorphosis of the Weak, could imply he's already done it once.

-The line "if with one click, and I can reset everything" in AKAA can be more directly translated to "if with the push of one button I could be reborn", which paired with butterflies being symbols of death and rebirth and being connected to Haruka because of the name of his second VD, could imply Haruka died and was reborn.

-Haruka standing on a chair in AKAA as his shadow lines up with the shadow of the bars in the window to create the ilusion he has a noose around his neck.

-At the end of AKAA, Haruka is surrounded in what looks to be formaldehyde, which is used to preserve the corpses of dead animals, while the aforementioned "I could be reborn" lyric plays.

As you can see, there's a lot here, which is why I think it is highly likely Haruka comitted suicide.

There is an issue with bringing this theory in, which is that part of the theory is that Haruka's silhouette in the Undercover shot doesn't have white noise, which separates him from the others and could imply he's a victim like Hinako and Mahiru's boyfriend, who similarly have no white noise. The problem for our purposes is that this theory assumes a lot of the other prisoners, such as Yuno, may have committed suicide as well, creating an inconsistency with this point. I don't have a good answer for this, beyond a really odd, Hamlet-esque "Haruka is a victim of his own madness" kind of thing which doesn't work very well, so unless any of you have another explanation, it's best for this theory to just sorta ignore the white noise thing.

So, now we have two prisoners who very likely died before Milgram. This vaguely establishes a possible pattern: what if all the prisoners were taken right as they died?

Muu’s Mysterious Memory Mishaps

Es: You said you wanted to go back home, right? And, "suppose" we did let you… Even if you were to leave this place, you'll then have a brush with the police, won't you? Muu: *Surprised* E: I mean, you've killed someone anyway, so are the police not making a move in regards to that? M: Well, I don't know. As of now, I don't have a clear memory of what happened after I did it. And then before I knew it, I was here. E: Is… that so? M: You guys should've known that, being the ones who brought me here after all.

This line from Muu’s first VD has always intrigued me. Muu doesn’t have a very good reason to be lying here when seen in full context, so she’s likely telling the truth. But, why? Why doesn’t Muu remember anything clearly after her crime, and why was she taken so quickly after committing it?

First idea is that perhaps all the prisoners are simply taken right after the murder they’re in Milgram for; even in the case of multiple murders, you can say Milgram just decided to take them for the last one exclusively.

However, Shidou serves as a counter example, because of the ending of Throw Down.

It’s a pretty simple logical progression. Shidou has no reason to kill after the flower person dies, so their death is after his last murder most likely, and yet he does remember it happening. Thus, Shidou has a memory of something which happened an undetermined amount of time after his final murder.

That means the "fuzzy memories" thing isn't universal. This can also be vaguely inferred by the attitudes certain prisoners have regarding their "murder(s)", like Kazui for example.

Now, you could argue Muu simply doesn't remember well because of the Trauma, and she just happened to get taken shortly after her murder. However, there is a chance now that there is a reason she was taken shortly after her murder.

You know what this post is about. You know what I'm about to imply. So I'll make the observation now:

In It's Not my Fault, one of Muu's shoes is off after she kills Rei. And we have seen this imagery of "one shoe off" to represent suicide before.

It's common in Japan to take both shoes off before comitting suicide, but if you want to read into only one of the shoes being off, you could argue it represents they're "half-suicides", as Milgram also considers them murders. In that sense, you (or Muu) could argue were Muu to commit suicide after killing Rei, then she would also become "Rei's victim", the same way Hinako and Mahiru's boyfriend are Kazui and Mahiru's victims.

This idea that Muu might still be a victim in the situation could also be implied by the lyrics here:

[It's Not my Fault] It’s not my fault after all, after all. Everyone wants me to be innocent. What a relief. Can’t be helped. I’m always meant to be pitied!

(Btw I'm using the fan translation in the wiki because the English subs in that video are... odd)

Yes that sentiment is repeated a lot during the song, but Muu does shout "I'm always meant to be pitied" ("I'm always the drama queen") at the top of her lungs here.

Now, the shoe thing isn't quite like that in After Pain, but we never actually see Muu's shoes in the real world, only in the blank inner world with the broken hourglass, and there are other inconsistencies with reality there, namely Rei's body's position.

You can see her right shoe is on there, but again, this scene isn't real.

The concerning thing is that apart from that, After Pain does not help Muu beat the suicide allegations.

In particular, look at the scene of the photo I put there. You can see there's a bunch of people judging Muu for her murder, as it's usually not considered a socially acceptable thing to do. But, hold on, didn't Muu say she didn't remember anything after her murder? Correct! That means she doesn't remember this "judgement" happening, but she imagined it would. Perhaps that's what the one line means:

[After Pain] Counterattack being a suicide note

Counterattacking Rei, killing her, is social suicide. For obvious reasons.

...

But it's still called a suicide note, which is not a good look. And yes, I do think the Japanese lyric explicitly references death, though take that with a lot of salt since that's just Google Translate and DeepL talking.

In fact, that entire set of lyrics is pretty odd.

[After Pain] Let’s meet up inside the pain, a place just for me Postmortem makeup to hide my heart, how to solve it is a secret The stabbing of the little devil’s voice, counterattack being a suicide note “I love YOU”

"Meeting up inside the pain" probably refers to hurting Rei, so now they're hurting together. The "stabbing of a little devil's voice" is probably referring to dangerous impulses, so murderous thoughts. "Counterattack being a suicide note", already explained. "I love YOU", because Muu is a girlkisser.

But the "postmortem makeup" is odd. You could argue the "death" which happened before the "makeup" was applied was the "death" of Muu's reputation, her old persona. Rei "killed" "that Muu", and now Muu is hiding her real feelings with "postmortem makeup."

But then, why would the method to solve it be a secret? Who is she keeping it secret from? Rei, and all of Muu's old 'friends', all know what lies beyond that makeup, they all saw what Muu was like before Rei stepped in.

That means there's another interpretation. If her real feelings are a secret, there's only one person they would be a secret from. Es (and us by extension). In a way, After Pain is hiding part of her heart, the less sympathetic parts shown in full in It's Not My Fault. Muu being a bully was already implied in After Pain, mind you, but it was still relatively "hidden", at least compared to It's Not my Fault.

And if that is the way we're meant to read that line, we run into the allegations again. If the makeup is for Milgram, and it's "postmortem" makeup, then Muu is already dead.

And that's without mentioning how much After Pain seems to imply suicidal tendencies in general.

[After Pain] If I was gone, If I had just disappeared I overheard, I found out How much I’m not needed There’s no special meaning, I got the short end of the stick I overheard, I found out How much I’m not needed

I don’t want tomorrow to come, I want to forget yesterday I was miserable, someone please help me

Maybe I’m done Just one more time before saying goodbye I’m just kidding, please forget I said that

The only lyric that doesn't seem to imply it is:

I want to feel “alive”, is it ok if I breathe?

But feeling alive and being alive isn't quite the same, right? You can be alive without feeling alive, and if someone doesn't feel alive, it's possible they're not a very good state of mind.

So, what could this all imply? If we're going with the idea of murder-suicide, it's possible Muu was very worried about how people would hate her after the murder, as implied by After Pain, decided she didn't want to deal with that, and unfortunately made the decision to kill herself.

One small thing which could serve as a counterpoint is her Trial 1 Voice Reveal distorted line.

Fufufu... It's your fault... for doing horrible things to me.

She seems pretty sure of herself here, and it's very likely this is after her murder. But it's perfectly possible she said this initially, then thought about the social consequences, and that's when she started to feel bad. It's also worth noting the only time in It's Not my Fault where Muu seems to hesitate is right after her murder.

[It's Not my Fault] Wait, wait, just as a hypothetical. What should I do if I’m actually a bad girl? Don’t ever hate me, and don’t look for what lies “after and from” the pain.

This is immediately after the murder, when she comes out of a caccoon, presumably her arriving at Milgram. So, she was initally confident, that's when she says "I’m always meant to be pitied!" in It's Not my Fault and presumably her Voice Reveal line, then hesitated and started to feel awful as we see in After Pain.

... Well, there's also the way more uncharitable reading where Muu killed herself so people also pitied her instead of just hating her for killing Rei, but that's a bit too dark and in bad faith for my tastes. It is there, though.

So, yeah, Muu may be dead too. And she brings with her an interesting implication; the prisoners may not have clear memories of the events leading up to their death. So, even if some of them committed suicide, it's possible they simply don't remember ever taking the decision to do so, explaining their behavior in the prison.

And it also could explain away... one apparent contradiction. One which exists outside of this theory, but that this theory could explain.

Amane and the Voice Reveal Trailers

As most of you know, the Voice Reveal trailers for all these characters contain certain distorted phrases which in general seem closely linked to their murder. And as pointed out by blueepink07 in this post, it seems the First Trial Voice Reveals are things the prisoners said after their murder, while the Second Trial ones are showing a point before their murder. Check out Kazui's, for example.

(T1) "I'm so dumb... Why did I have to dream?"

(T2) "Hinako, I love you more than anything."

There's also Muu's, since I've already brought it up before.

(T1) "Fufufu... It's your fault... for doing horrible things to me."

(T2) "Hey..why don't you listen to me...? I'm telling you... Hey...HEY, I'M TALKING TO YOU"

The second being right before she killed Rei.

That works well enough for all the prisoners... except Amane.

(T1) "Ahh! I'm so sorry...! I'm sorry...! I'm sorry for breaking the rules!"

(T2) "Father is a very praiseworthy person. Once [my/his] virtue increases, he'll come back home, right? It's a little lonely, but I'm fine!"

In theory, Amane would have been punished before her murder, as we see happen after she heals the cat in the taser scene. Meanwhile, if she's lonely without her father, it could perhaps be because her mother is dead after Things Happened (yes I'm going with Mother!Victim theory on this one).

But that's not the case. Following the pattern, the line about her father coming home at some point is before her murder, and apparently, she was punished for breaking some kind of rule after her murder. The implication here, horrid as it is, could be that her father returned home after she killed her mother and punished her for doing so.

Thankfully, this is impossible. After all:

(T1) Q18: Do you regret your "murder"?

A: No. It was a natural obligation.

(T2) Q3: State the name of your victim.

A: There is no victim. Only the punished.

(Taking some liberties on the translation of Trial 2 since the questions are still coming out as I write this)

So Amane genuinely believes she was following her cult's principles to a T when she killed her mom. As much as that likely isn't the case (long story), if she had gotten punished for killing her mom, then she wouldn't think like this. If she had been punished for it, she wouldn't think her murder was a "natural obligation", but rather a mistake on her part.

What this implies is that Amane doesn't remember being punished by her father.

...

Amane... doesn't remember...

Fuck.

Yeah, remember when I said it was possible the prisoners don't have clear memories of the events leading up to their death? Going by the "T1 after - T2 before" logic the Voice Reveals seem to follow, we can infer Amane was likely punished for killing her mother, but we also know she can't remember it happening, otherwise she would regret it. And based on what we learnt from Muu, we do have a way to explain how that could happen. If Amane died while receiving the punishment the T1 Voice Reveal alludes to, she wouldn't have a clear memory of it.

And the thing is, it does seem likely Amane received this punishment. Think about it. Interrogation questions are one thing, since the creators don't fully control them, but why mention her father would possibly return home in the Voice Reveal trailer? Unless he did. Hell, you could argue we might know the exact moment he returned. Amane does look at the entrance of her apartment at the end of Purge March, though that could simply be for dramatic effect rather than being a literal thing which happened.

But there's more. Because if her father returned home, we might actually have an answer for another one of the mysteries surrounding Amane's situation. The Undercover prisoner card.

The image on her card seems to show a bathroom. It is widely assumed the images on these cards are the location the murders happened in, but to my knowledge, this isn't 100% confirmed. However, this creates a small issue with Amane. Just looking at the murder shot in Purge March is enough to confirm that.

I made a more detailed theory on her murder on this post, diagrams included (scroll to the bottom if you're only interested on the murder), but for now, there are two things to note here. One, there's a trail of water which seems to come out of the door with the light on, as the puddles are bigger the closer they get to it, implying that room is the bathroom. And two, the room the murder actually happened in seems to have a window/door behind a curtain, which isn't what Amane's bathroom looks like.

Adittionally, there isn't any blood outside of the murder room, implying the victim's body wasn't dragged there.

All this seems to imply Amane's victim didn't die in the bathroom, which is sorta a problem considering the previously mentioned commonly accepted theory. But this idea that Amane may have died while being punished, perhaps while being drowned as we know that's one of the accepted methods of punishment in her cult, brings up a different possibility.

What if the images in the prisoner cards aren't showing murder location? What if they show the last place the prisoner was seen in, the place they died?

Kotoko, Mikoto, and the Prisoner Cards

So, first, is there any indication either of these might be dead? For Mikoto, not really. Sure, there's the whole Death card at the end of MeMe thing, but that doesn't have to be taken so literally.

Kotoko has a very little potential hint in the fact she's shown alongside a wolf at the start of HARROW, but by the end the wolf is by itself. If the wolf represents a potential partner (long story), then maybe Kotoko died?

Though you can easily argue the wolf is slightly different and thus is meant to just represent Kotoko.

However, the reason I'm bringing them into this is because their prisoner cards are completely nonsensical under "murder location" theory for the images shown. Let's start with Kotoko.

It shows an alleyway, which at first seems like it makes sense. We do see her attacking a man in an alleyway. However, after that happens, one of the pieces of background text says this:

◆ A wanted thief was assaulted by an unknown assailant Early yesterday morning, a nearby shop employee reported hearing screaming and seeing a man lying on the ground. According to the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, the man had lost consciousness after being beaten on his face, stomach, and other areas, and was taken to the hospital. The police are currently trying to identify the suspect. [...] According to previous investigations, the male victim was wanted throughout Tokyo for theft and assault charges and was identified as the suspect, Mikio Oshii.

(Translation by Maristelina)

Mikio Oshii is the name of the man Kotoko assaulted in the alleyway. It seems odd to me that we would learn he was taken to the hospital if he later died in it somehow, especially because Kotoko didn't want to kill him. We can clearly see this because of a crucial difference between her attack on him and her attack on the serial killer who likely is her victim.

She covers her face while attacking Oshii, because she doesn't want to be recognized. She is committing assault, after all. However, that only matters if she's planning to keep him alive. Conversely, she doesn't cover her face while attacking the serial killer, because she knows he won't be a witness. She went into that warehouse planning to kill.

Of course, she could have accidentally done too much damage, but the issue there is that she would probably express some remorse in that case. She doesn't, and the fact she only ever talks about one victim-

[TASK (T1 VD)] I did kill someone. [...] I don't have a single regret.

-it really seems like Oshii was able to survive her attack.

That creates an issue with her prisoner card. It shows an alleyway, but her only victim died in a warehouse. As confusing as that sequence is, he did die in the warehouse.

You know when we do see an alleyway again, though?

But she's not wearing her face covering. And if this was the alley with the one sign about a car accident that shows up over and over in HARROW, I'd imagine we'd see the sign, even if it was obscured in some way. So once again, a silhouette shot which seems to have nothing to do with her murder or her general situation.

So, is it possible she died in this alleyway? That's the only other reason I can imagine why it'd show up in her prisoner card, so. As for what exactly happened, I imagine she may have been murdered at the whim of her victim's father?

Shocking revelation: The heinous criminal behind the crime is the privileged son of a high-ranking official!

(Article referring to Kotoko's victim)

So, she got found out and immediately assassinated? It's a bit out there, but it would explain both her prisoner card and her attitude in the prison.

And then there's Mikoto.

As you can see, his card shows a street. The issue with Mikoto is one of format. The cards only ever show one location, but we know Mikoto has at least two victims.

[Text: To the right, the Subway Murder, which clearly has a ceiling. The murderer has blood on his right cheek, his left cheek is hidden. There's also the bathhtub scene, where the right cheek is hidden, but the left cheek has blood already trailing off, which doesn't quite fit what we see in the other murder if you think about the bath chronologically.

To the left, a murder out in the street, with an open sky. The murderer has blood on their left cheek, but not on their right. This is seen in both the crime and the shower scene]

So yeah, at least two. You could argue the bathtub murder is actually a third one, which... huh. Two things that absolutely exist and a Secret Third Thing, the existance of which is disputed? Trikoto vibes.

Point is, Mikoto has two different murder locations at least. The street, yes, but also the subway. This creates a problem with the "images in the prisoner cards are murder locations" idea, because it only shows one. You could try to gymnastics your way out of this by saying maybe Hostkoto committed the street murder while Orekoto killed the other victim(s), and because only Hostkoto is considered a prisoner by Milgram, only his murder is shown? But I feel that raises more questions than it answers.

Instead, if we assume the images to be death locations, the ambiguity disappears, because Mikoto as a system can only have one death location. The issue is you have to explain how Mikoto died in the middle of the street, which is a bit difficult.

The best guess I can give is related to the subway victim. It's been pointed out before that guy looks a lot like a stereotypical Japanese delinquent, which could imply he was part of a gang. If that's the case, it's possible the killer angered the wrong people by killing him, similar to Kotoko, and thus was later murdered himself. We know that street isn't very safe, on account of one of the alters getting away with murder there. It's a pretty large stretch, and has like zero evidence, but it's physically possible at least.

Let's take a quick look at the other prisoners and see if their images can also be explained by the "death image" theory.

We know Muu would share a death location with her victim if she really committed suicide as the theory states, so nothing weird there. Haruka's a bit more awkward, because it shows the forest he very likely killed the girl in, but I'm not entirely sure if the forests near Nagaoka has bodies of water deep enough to drown oneself. There is the Shinano river, which has... trees, around it.

This was taken from Google Street View in Nagaoka. Again, not sure how deep it is, but assuming it's deep enough to drown, it could work if you ignore the trees don't look too much like the ones irl. Maybe Haruka threw himself off the bridge?

Alternatively, Nagaoka borders the sea, and it seems like there's forest almost all the way up to it. So maybe that could work? Unsure.

Worst comes to worst, we can maybe change it to saying Haruka didn't drown himself, but killed himself in some other way in the forest. Point is, I think Haruka's isn't too big of an issue.

Fuuta, Mahiru and Kazui don't have a lot of evidence towards what the hell would have happened, but the best assumption I can make is they all committed suicide because of guilt. Fuuta in his room, Mahiru in the suicide forest (likely also where her boyfriend committed suicide), and Kazui by jumping off a building like Hinako. As for their evidence...

>Fuuta burns at the end of Backdraft, which is the same thing that happens to Killcheroy, so you could argue that's meant to show he's dying. It's not great, it absolutely is just meant to be metaphorical most likely, but it is there.

Additionally, he's also an outlier for the "muder location image" theory, since what one would consider his "murder location" is very ambiguous. Is it his room, where he sent online hate from? Is it Killcheroy's room, where she assumedly died? Wouldn't it be the front of Killcheroy's house, where Fuuta took the picture to dox her? Again, death location is less ambiguous.

Fuuta's attitude during Trial 1 could be seen as a bit weird if he was suicidal, but I'm not sure we can comfortably say that with the limited information we have.

>Mahiru in I Love You goes to sleep after seeing her boyfriend dead, which could be read as her committing suicide. You know, if you're insane like me.

Especially given this question from Trial 1:

(T1) Q20: What do you think about smoking?

M: I've never smoked before, but I might copy him if who I love smokes.

That, alongside a lot of the bg text from TIHTBILWY, implies Mahiru likes the idea of copying her lover. Not the greatest quality to have when your lover commits suicide.

>Kazui has this:

Where the smoke of his cigarette turns into a noose. Of course, that's meant to represent self-destruction in general, but it could also be taken more literally. He... doesn't have much else.

Thus, everyone else vaguely fits the idea of "death image"... except him.

Our favorite headache inducing doctor strikes again! His card shows a hospital room, which is a very strange death location, but perfectly fits his murders. You could argue he runs into the same issue as Mikoto, but it's actually possible Shidou just killed all his victims in the same room, so.

Yeah, Shidou's probably the biggest counterargument for this theory. Because while it's possible he died in a hospital, there is zero evidence for it, beyond the image itself. Hell, neither Throw Down or Triage ever seems to imply he died in the first place, which is an issue. This theory's already heavily dependant on the extremely flawed "you can't disprove it" argument, but at least most of the other ones have some kind of logical progression which gets you to how they died.

So, to complete the theory, we have to make the pretty big jump that Shidou died inside a hospital room, without knowing how that happened.

... Wait, inside the room?

Wait wait wait, show me Fuuta's and Amane's again.

Hmmm... 0308... hmmmm... 0308... I totally didn't just do this to put the two together... hm...

Yeah, same thing. They both show the inside of a room. Which, along with Shidou's, shows that these images can show the inside of buildings, right?

But, then... why is Yuno's outside?

That very clearly isn't the inside of a building. But this generates a problem for the "murder location image" theory, because Yuno's "murder" was abortion. Even if it wasn't done professionally, she would have still done it inside, presumably. This creates an inconsistency with Fuuta, Amane and Shidou. If their murder locations are shown from inside, why is Yuno different?

However, this inconsistency disappears if we assume the images to be death locations. I previously established if Yuno died, she likely committed suicide by jumping off a staircase, which does vaguely fit this image. It's similar to Kazui's in that way.

Now, I don't want to get too ahead of myself here. Murder location is still absolutely the more straightforward answer, but it does come with its issues. As stated, Fuuta's image would face some ambiguity, Mikoto's would face extreme ambiguity, Amane's seems to contradict the evidence we're shown in Purge March, Yuno's is wildly inconsistent with the other images, and Kotoko's is straight up nonsensical.

Meanwhile, death locations physically work with all the cases, even if Shidou's case is extremely weird, but it requires huge assumptions and stretches. It relies heavily on how impossible it is to disprove, which is not a good sign. Russell's Teapot, and all that.

Summary of the Theory

>Everyone in Milgram is dead, and their prisoner cards in Undercover show the place where they died.

>Prisoner's memories of the events leading up to their deaths are extremely fuzzy, explaining why only Yuno seems to even suspect it.

+Haruka: Committed suicide by drowning himself, possibly in the Shinano river or the sea. [Most likely to be dead]

+Yuno: Committed suicide by jumping off the staircase we see her standing in on her Undercover silhouette shot. [Most likely to be dead]

+Fuuta: Committed suicide in his room out of guilt. [Very little evidence]

+Muu: Murder-suicide, she committed suicide after killing Rei. [A bit more evidence than others]

+Shidou: Died in a hospital room [???]

+Mahiru: "Copied" her boyfriend by killing herself in the suicide forest. [Very little evidence]

+Kazui: Jumped off a building, like Hinako. [Very little evidence]

+Amane: Drowned by her father as "punishment" for her murder. [Unfortunately, sorta likely]

+Mikoto: Murdered by one of the members of Subway Victim's gang. [Sort of filling in the blanks here]

+Kotoko: Murdered at the order of her victim's father. [Very little evidence]

Conclusion

Do I believe this theory? Honestly, I don't know. It makes a few too many assumptions for me to fully believe it, but I do think it's a decent possibility, so I wanted to share it with you all. In any case, that's all I have to say for now. If you have any thoughts about any of this, feel free to share! Also I didn't even touch on Es but you can try to fit them in somehow if you feel like it.

Anyways, if you made it this far, you deserve a hug, this post was depressing. Take care!

[creaturefeaster]

Is there anything that can harm a mime? I assume the usual bashing and stabbing and slashing, etc., but what about liquids? Can they drown? Burn? Can acid harm them? Can a mime crack? Is there anything that would harm them but not harm the usual human?

Their vessels are varyingly durable. Imagine the sturdy rubber of the bottom of a shoe, but much thicker and denser. It is very hard to hurt them through impact/bashing alone. They can be tossed down a mountain with little consequence, so long as they're not unlucky enough to hit a jagged spire on the way down.

Stabbing is effective in the short term, but with such a dense shell it is difficult to produce enough of a bleed before they heal up, to deal any major harm to them. Cutting chunks out of their torso is a better solution, but difficult to achieve with thicker shells.

They cannot drown, as they do not breathe. Fire is attractive, and harmless to their extremities, but can damage their vessel through long term exposure. They are not particularly flammable however. Heat can also excite their hemolymph and make the mime more volatile, so I personally wouldn't try and set fire to them.

Harsh acid is particularly harmful to them, and has peculiar effects to their hemolymph as well. In fact, there are particular spots in the world where their initial impacts exposed pockets of acid-- something that is a problem in many places on Theia-- and so some mimes have taken the time to clean up these hazards/put the material to better use. It's that dangerous, so they'd prefer to get rid of it and not take their chances.

A mime cannot crack perse, but with enough pressure or brute force to the head or torso, they can begin to split. This is harder to achieve the thicker the vessel is.

Gunshots and spears-- things that impale easily or create gaping wounds-- are most effective. These are more difficult to heal from, and can be especially fatal the lower the wound is on their torso. After all, it has more to do with the loss of hemolymph than the damage of the body.

Heavy impacts to the head can also be fatal, so if you drop a boulder or an anvil on their head a la Wile E. Coyote, that can be an insta-kill. Smaller, more acute damage to the head is not nearly as effective; Hence TyV suffering a gunshot to the head, losing the ability to see in one eye but otherwise living on to tell the tale.

As mentioned in a previous ask, extreme cold can shut their vessels down. They have no body heat, so personal insulation does not assist in keeping them warm. The cold cannot kill outright, as it merely freezes their hemolymph-- the stuff that keeps them functioning-- and can reliquify once they are warmed back up. However, because they are inanimate and vulnerable in this state, it makes it much easier to kill them.

Magic with darker elements can prove to be harmful to them, even if the magic itself is not cast with the intention of harm. Darkness in general weakens them greatly, generally weakening their vessel's shell as well as thinning their hemolymph, causing quicker loss in any case of bleeding. However, death-type mimes are not typically hindered by darkness, so even that method can be a gamble.

There are a lot of things that can hurt or weaken them, and many more things that cannot. Some (thinner, weaker vessels) are more susceptible to damage than others. Some do not heal as quick, and the amount of hemolymph they have plays a factor into this as well.

As for anything that could kill a mime, but wouldn't kill a living being... um, Michael I guess? He's a pacifist, but if it comes down to protecting the living, I'd wager mimes aren't covered in the fine print of his pacifism.

[i-did]

Hi! I wanted to ask you opinion on Thea. I have seen that a lot of people in the fandom kinda hate her but I dont share their reasoning so I was really curious about what you think.

I honestly have very little idea of what the fandom is saying, I stay out the tag mostly and just live in my little bubble. I saw what Nora responded with pre-TSC being upset with the fandom painting Thea as a groomer, which I also disagree with. I feel her and Kevin’s dynamic pre-canon was undoubtedly unhealthy due to the fact that they were in an extreme underground sport cult, and she was older than him but he was also #2, below only Riko and the Master himself, which gives him more agency than just a typical teenager. I don’t believe they are healthy – Kevin didn’t tell her the truth, and they had been a secret so long but also hardly communicate – but I don’t see it as one is the Bad partner one is the Victim partner, just… two people who are together in a super fucked situation.

That being said – I didn’t like Thea in TSC lmaoo. I thought she had a lot of wasted potential as a character. She is in and out, concerned but then gone– I wish she wasn’t someone who was so concerned for Jean, only to immediately disappear. Thea is written to be unaware / in denial which almost makes her parallel with Cass in some ways– clinging to an idea of what happened vs. what actually happened. I’m not saying these make her a badly written character– I think it could actually be really interesting to explore. Sometimes, characters fandom's hate are also interesting.

She was an opportunity to see into another ‘fallen Raven’s’ mindset. How is she coping with Riko’s death? How could she try to ‘help Jean adjust’ which actually makes him fall back into unhealthy Raven habits? Her texting or calling Jean could spiral into panic attacks or remind him of what he's trying to leave behind even if she was just telling him ‘remember the diet plan’ and was unhelpfully trying to be helpful <- these idea's coming from @hopingforcoordinates. It would have been interesting to see her more so we could see that she wasn't just someone ignorant but someone who also was desperately clinging to the illusions of the Nest needing to have been worth it, otherwise what was it all for?

Maybe in the next book we will see more of that but who knows! I hope we do because honestly seeing the Raven’s flounder and fall apart is interesting to me and I'd like to see it as more than just in the background, especially as a narrative foil to Jean's own healing journey.

So I don’t dislike her for moral reasons. She kinda rubs me the wrong way, but I want to hate her more and then sympathize with her and see that she’s also been broken by the Nest – despite having ‘made it’ similarly to Kevin. She ‘has it all’ but is still drowning.

I feel like TSC was written with an audience in mind, unlike the first AFTG books, which has shifted the tone significantly. The first three AFTG books exist in a different realm to me than TSC, tonally and more. I’m curious to see where Nora goes from here and will definitely read the next book too.

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

Jimmy had known when he started drinking the night before that he would probably wind up somewhere he didn't expect. There was no one in any of the Stratos saloons to limit him, no one who would recognize the anger in his eyes for the hurt it really was and gently redirect him from a self-destructive path. So when he found himself in a shabbier corner of the gleaming town with a few more coins in his pocket than usual, he took advantage of the anonymity. He took the ache in his chest where fWhip's head used to lay, the burn on his cheeks where Smajor's lips incessantly teased, the hollow in his bones shaped like a hazy impression of his parents, and did his best to drown it all under far more whiskey than was wise.

Of all the places he didn't expect to wind up, Garrido's kitchen wasn't even on the list.

Jimmy listened to the man hum to himself as he moved around the kitchen, but kept his head firmly on the table with his eyes screwed shut. He couldn't work out why Garrido was cooking in the first place, when he had not only a capable cook but a full household staff. He couldn't work out why the rancher had given him a place to stay the night before either, when dragging him to the nearest hotel or even barn and dumping him there would have been more than kind enough. Was it because he'd been helping Smajor the last time they met? Did he see an opportunity to be owed a favor by local law enforcement? Or was he just...like that?

A coffee cup clinked next to his head, and the smell was enough to entice Jimmy to sit up. He sipped at it slowly, impressed by how strong and sweet it was at the same time, and watched Garrido stir whatever was simmering in a heavy frying pan. Anxiety twisted in his gut as he turned over all the possibilities of what sort of favors a man this powerful might ask.

Garrido turned to smile at him, something bright and warm and genuine. Jimmy smiled back weakly. Whatever he wanted from the sheriff, it was a worry he could leave for later. For now, he accepted the plate full of food, the never-empty coffee cup, and the easy company without questions that Garrido offered.

The more they ran into each other, the more Jimmy has to admit to himself that yes, the man really was just like that. He spoiled his little dog, loved his son fiercely, and freely offered whatever comfort he could to anyone who seemed like they needed it, never passing judgement or asking anything in return.

It made it all the more striking the first time Jimmy saw Garrido - no, Sausage, he reminded himself, remembering his insistence that Jimmy use the same nickname as all his friends - without that friendly smile in place.

There was a portrait hanging in Sausage's living room, a high-quality painting of a dark-haired woman with a gentle smile. Jimmy had been meandering around while Sausage discussed something with his foreman, and stopped to admire the artwork.

"She's beautiful," Jimmy commented when Sausage came to stand by him. "Is she Hermes's mother?"

"She is, isn't she?" said Sausage quietly, looking up at the painting. "And no, she's not Hermes's mother. She's mine."

The woman in the portrait looked younger than they were now, and there was an ache in Sausage's eyes that Jimmy knew well. "What happened?"

Sausage's grip on his whiskey glass tightened, the downturn of his lips deepening. "She was killed."

That was all the information he offered, and Jimmy didn't push, only brushed his knuckles against Sausage's free hand. Sausage accepted the comfort readily, twining their fingers together. "I was...ten, I think. Had this commissioned from an old daguerreotype Eddie has, not long after I built this house. I don't think I'd remember her face otherwise. Isn't that sad?"

Jimmy squeezed his hand. It was warm and strong and far more calloused than any rich man he'd ever shaken hands with. "I have a photograph of mine too. I was nine."

Sausage returned the squeeze and drained his glass. "Another thing we have in common, then."

"Another? What else do we have in common?"

Sausage's smile was back, along with a sly look in his eyes as he glanced at Jimmy. "Our taste in men, for one. Like pretty blue-eyed redheads with questionable histories. Though, I'm partial to scruffy hot-headed blondes, too."

He snickered when Jimmy's ears reddened, and let go of his hand to go pour them both more whiskey.

If his kisses later that night felt like he was searching for something, Jimmy didn't comment. Whatever it was, he was pretty sure he was searching for it, too. They wouldn't find it in each other and they both knew it, but they took what comfort they could anyway.

}{ more from this au }{