i know we all love to talk about zombie odysseus and zombie aeneas and all but like. hector literally dies in iliad 14 and gets reanimated in iliad 15. that’s pretty explicit. while zeus was asleep he was hit with a blow (rock thrown by ajax at his chest) that should have killed him so when zeus wakes up it’s already done, he’s already hit and in the process of dying at the edge of the battlefield, but zeus and apollo still save him. reverse the blow. bring him back to life.
In five hours, Brandon Bernard will be executed. He has worked his whole adult life to atone for what he did and rehabilitate others and help stop young people from straying for the right path. Please, if you’re from America, consider calling!
Rest in Peace, Brandon Bernard. You spent 21 years on death row atoning for your role in Todd and Stacie Bagley’s murders, which is more than half of your life. You never got to hug your kids. You felt extreme remorse and guilt over the crime you committed at 18. Your last words were apologies to the victim’s families. You did not ask to be released, or demanded to be forgiven or exonerated, you wanted to spend the rest of your life helping people not commit the same mistakes that you did as a young boy. A lot of people involved in your case, especially the jurors, changed their minds after learning the facts not presented to them at trial and hearing about how you changed your life, and said they would not choose the death penalty for you if they were put in the same position again. Anyone who met you was impacted by your growth. Everyone who met you couldn’t stop talking about how reformed you were.
Hope Todd and Stacie are resting in peace too. A lot of people are using their murders to justify their agendas right now. Their names should not be used for that, their memory should be respected. They were innocent in all of this.
They killed Brandon. All our petitions, emails, calls, Kim K/Tik Tok (numbers people)/Twitter being massively involved, even getting former justices and law enforcementstating that they wouldn’t go through with the execution,everything we did was thrown out the window because Donald J Trump denied it. I can’t fucking believe it holy fuck. We were winning and they still executed him ‘in favor of the United States’. Killed around 30 minutes ago, (21:27 pm local time), rest in peace Brandon Bernard.
It’s always been in the back of my mind that I want to be buried with a coin under my tongue so I can have passage to the Underworld. I’ve been wondering what other Hellenic polytheists thought about that issue? What do you want to have happen? I realise that death is kind of a touchy subject, but if you’re willing to share your two cents, I’m all ears.
Ha, two cents
Personally, I’d like the whole ordeal to more or less follow the old traditions when I die. Depending on the circumstances, that may or may not actually happen, but thats a whole other Thing that we don’t really have the time to get into
Honestly, since my parents and most of my friends and family are Catholic all I thought that I might be able to get away with is to be cremated and have some of my jewellery mixed with my ashes. If I’m old enough to be open about my paganism and have the means to get myself buried the way I want, then having a pyre with a coin under my tongue and two coins on my eyes and my favourite knife (weapon) with traditional prayers is the way I want to go, with my ashes then spread in the forest.
Warnings: swearing, kissing, use of restraints, mention of choking, reference to previous sex, blood, allusions to murder, Yoongi is not a good guy here (ymmv)
Word Count: 1.1k
Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me
Summary:His hand rises of its own accord, seeking the soft skin of your cheek. Craving one last gentle touch before…. “This could’ve been something, you know.”
A/N: Another installment in the BadCop!AU! OC’s about to find out what happens when you fuck with Yoongi’s money. Spoiler alert: nothing good.
Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open!
I used to own a book on the entire history and production of The Brady Bunch. Naturally, it had bios of all the cast members. Robert Reed’s bio talked about how he disliked the show and wanted to be respected as a serious actor, not just remembered as a sitcom dad. It said “He would rather have Hamlet on his tombstone than The Brady Bunch,” but it concluded by saying that there was no way he would get that wish.
Obviously, this book was written before he actually died.
Just recently, in a Hollywood Graveyard video, I finally saw Robert Reed’s grave. As it turns out, the book authors were wrong, and he actually did get the “wish” they imagined him having. His tombstone reads “Goodnight, Sweet Prince,” and it makes no mention of the sitcom that made him famous.
In TVTropes terminology, I’m not quite sure if this is Harsher in Hindsight, Hilarious in Hindsight, or a little bit of both.
༊…FEATURING;childe. ⇝ CW/TW;basically suicidal thoughts, multiple possible impliedmental illnesses.
liyue has never felt so dull.
your legs shift beneath you, the fabric of your clothing catching on the splinters of wood that stick out from the railing. the wind sifts past you then, a cool breeze that makes goosebumps rise on your skin; desperately chasing warmth. it finds none.
the ground is far, perhaps too close. the cracks in the pavement, oh so subtle, scream at you. memories of moments long ago; the fall of a brick, heavy, easily shattering the concrete. shattering itself in the process. you wonder, just briefly, how easy it’d be to tip over the edge, how simple it would be to do the same—how simultaneously excrutiating but painlessit would feel, making contact with the ground.
the breeze picks up, much like a warning. the careful slamof the entrance to northland bank feels like a slap to the face—what time is it? what are you doing here? you need to leave, you need to get away before it’s too late, before—
“what are you doing out here, comrade?”
“looking,” the answer comes too quickly as you wave up at the sky.
childe spares only the smallest of glances towards the view; nothing new, liyue always looks like this so early in the morning. he, however, can focus clearly on the intent behind your words—it’s not unfamiliar, the way your voice rises in pitch. he knows why, hell, he knows all too well. looking,you’d said?he grimaces, looking for? looking at? perhaps you’re not really looking at all.
“hmm.”
you try not to cringe; old habits die hard. childe is as embarrassing as ever.
the distance between the two of you is unfamiliar—always either too close or too far apart, you were. this time, though, he remains at least a few yards away. boundaries have never been spoken of between you two, always too entranced by the other to care; childe wants nothing more than to reach out, hold your hand, hold you tight, and never, everlet go.
he cannot do that. what he can do, though, is look. that is all childe has been able to do. he can’t remember the last time you’d touched—the last time you’d so much as spared him a glance. he wonders how unexpected it’d be if he were to reach out now; maybe not at all. you know him better than anyone else, anyway. i’m sorry, he wants to say, the moment the sun breaks over the horizon.
he can’t miss the way your eyes gleam so shamelessly under the light; eyes once so bright, a blessing to his own. he wants to see your smile once again—it has been long enough. he may not even carry the rightto drag that out of you, but he wants to try, anyway. anything for you.
you breathe out, a quiet exhale. he looks away.
“i should go.”
this time, he does not speak. although it’s not unexpected, and sure as hell not uncalled for—why would he care, anyway?—his footsteps are slow, languid, more ajax-like than they were only moments prior. they get louder, and louder, and louder, until suddenly his warmth is behind you, a silent kind of question.
he’s so close. too far. you lean back, subconsciously, burrowing yourself into him. into ajax, childe, tartaglia—whatever he goes by, now. the steady wrapping of his arms around your shoulders is not unwelcome, nor is the pressure of his chin on the top of your head. the way childe hugs, the way he holds, the way he embracesyou..it’s comforting, in a way it should not be.
“don’t go yet.”, he whispers.
don’t go where? you wonder, because where would you go? there is nowhere to be. then, you realize, the ground is so close, there is no one in the street, and that in itself is answer enough. “why?” you ask, because the newfound eleventh harbinger should not care about a local such as yourself. he is not your ajax anymore—no, he’s the tsarita’s faithful servant. he has better things to do, as do you.
the response takes longer than it should; you and childe think horribly alike.
“you can’t leave me alone.”
the breathless laughter, almost sob-ridden, makes your heart race just a little faster than it should. it may have been a while, a while toolong, but childe is no stranger to you. the two of you know that better than anyone; the connection the two of you carried cannot and will not sever itself. even beyond the extent of your lives, it will retain itself towards infinity, however long that may be.
“just a little longer, i promise.”, he adds.
it’s a lie, you think, at the same time his grip tightens around you. it feels like a plea, a beg for mercy, a vulnerability ajax has never shown to anyone but you. you know you cannot accept such a request, you won’t, you shouldn’t; it won’t be just a little longer, you know.childe will become and remain a constant in your life the moment you accept. he will honour the vow he’d taken years ago, won’t let you go the second he has you back. not when you’re like this; simply because, deep down, in that twisted, ugly heart of his—he will always care for you.
perhaps that’s what you need. perhaps it’s what you crave. your hearts have always been just a little too similar.
“okay.”
the hum you receive in response speaks a thousand words. this will not make everything better, no, of course it won’t; what it will do, though, is help you hold on just a little longer. it’s all you have, anyway.
At a young age you learned a vital lesson: never hesitate. Whether you’re rejecting a confession or staring down the sight of a gun, split second decisions have been ingrained in your blood, so when your best friend is brutally murdered the choice is simple.
You’ll stop at nothing to exact your revenge on the man who took her from you, even if it means facing the three men you’d spent years running away from.
Can you survive a deal with Embertide University’s very own Archdemons, or will your dark history with them bring everything you’re working toward crashing down?
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Step Brother!Suna, Iwaizumi, and Matsukawa
Prompt: Can you please do a scenario where Shuichi and Maki were poisoned and Himiko’s trapped in a situation where she can only one of them with a antidote and leave safely? Himiko angst would be great.
Response: Time for that good good angst. I’ll write this as a base start, with two different endings under the cut!
…
Oh no. Oh God no. This wasn’t supposed to happen; the three of them were supposed to get out alive and see the world and try to recover from the horrific images of their dead friends that they had been forced to witness. But the rules of the game still applied: to an extent. Only two students could leave. The gender of the two didnt matter now, or at least Himiko guesses since there’s a 50/50 chance of two girls or a boy and a girl leaving. She is unclear why she gets an automatic pass, and she really wishes she hadn’t. Because sure, she gets to live, but what does that matter if her friends can’t leave with her? The scenario is simple, typical, even, to a horror movie. Shuichi and Maki have been injected with a deadly poison, and Himiko has the antidote. But there’s only enough for one person to be saved. Her racing thoughts are cut off by Shuichi.
“Himiko…” he groans. The poison is visibly discoloring his skin, along with Maki’s, and they all know that a decision has to be made quickly. “Himiko, save Maki and get out of here. She can protect you more than I can.”
“No! Save him, what use am I to you anyways? Shuichi is more resourceful!” Maki yells.
Himiko is distraught. She’s sobbing and can barely form coherent sentences. “I don’t want to choose! Why do I have to choose?! Please… there has to be a way to get us all out of here. We’re a team, remember?!” She looks around the room they are in; the only room that wasn’t destroyed by Kiibo.
“Himiko, please.” The discoloration is spreading across Shuichi’s arm and, presumably, his chest. His movements are sluggish along with his words, but he nudges Himiko towards Maki. “Get her out of here. For me.”
Maki, rather shakily, takes a step towards Himiko. The skin by her collarbone is changing tone. “Choose Shuichi. He’ll help you leave.”
Himiko is left crying between them. She doesn’t want to choose which of her friends die. She cant leave one of them behind. She stares at the both of them with fear. Fear and uncertainty. She can only leave with one.
“Save Maki!!”
“Save Shuichi!!”
She walks towards….
Shuichi
“Im sorry, but I’m choosing you.”
Saihara is handed the antidote. He stares at Maki and opens his mouth as if to interject, but closes it when he sees Maki nod. He drinks what he was given, and cries. All of them cry. What else are they supposed to do? The two then run over to Maki, who is now sitting on the ground looking incredibly faint. Surprisingly, with tears running down her face, Maki smiles. She smiles and says, “Thank you, for listening to me.”
Himiko wails, “Im sorry!! Im so- Im so sorry…” She cant stop crying. She just chose to end her friends life. It would’ve happened no matter who she chose, but that doesn’t change the fact that she did it. Maki extends her hands to both of them. She’s breathing heavily, and ends up needing to lean against Shuichi to stay upright. They, of course grab her hands as tight as they can. Saihara subconsciously notices that Maki barely squeezes back.
“Keep going guys…I know you’ll work towards a better future once you’re out of here,” Maki manages to mumble. “Promise me… promise you won’t forget me. Forget us.”
“I promise,” they both respond. They can’t bring themselves to say anything else. What else is there to say? Not much, they think, so they settle for hugging her and crying.
‘At least my death has a purpose’ she thinks. ‘I’ll tell the others you say hello; if they cant see this already that is’.
Maki refuses at first, yells to give the antidote to Shuichi, but Himiko stands her ground. She insists Maki drinks it, and Shuichi mumbles words of both agreement and encouragement. Eventually Himiko waits until Maki is protesting and grabs her face, pouring the antidote into her mouth while its open. Maki nearly spits it out before realizing that Shuichi would still die if she did so. So, she drank it.
Himiko has tears running down her face and seems ready to collapse, which may just be the only reason Maki doesn’t start yelling at her for the decision that was just made. Coincidentally, Shuichi also seems ready to collapse. He falls to his knees and starts to cough violently, blood splattering on his sleeve. Himiko runs over to him and rubs his back in hopes he’ll stop coughing, while Maki has to half-crawl half-scoot over to them since she’s too weak to stand anymore.
Shuichi can barely hear himself think over Himiko’s apologizing. She wont stop saying “Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry”, and Maki stays silent but lays him down so his head rests in her lap.
“You are forgiven,” he says.
Before he can no longer feel his heartbeat he thinks, ‘I know you’ll move forward. Make me proud.’
Neither.
She stands still, contemplating the bottle in her hands. She can’t choose. She really can’t.
So she chooses the unforeseen third option: neither.
The bottle is dropped from her hands, and the fragile glass breaks upon contact with the floor. Himiko is faintly aware of both Maki and Shuichi yelling at her, but in the moment, she can’t find herself to care. By doing this she chose to save neither of them. Both of her friends will be gone, but at least she didn’t have to make such a hard decision. The situation is out of her hands. Literally.
“HIMIKO WHAT THE HELL???” Maki yells. Or rather, she’s been yelling since the bottle broke. Shuichi is yelling too.
Himiko turns towards Maki, trying to formulate a response. But how can she? How can she explain that she knows she just caused their deaths, but she couldn’t choose which deserved to die. Because neither did. Neither did but both are going to now. Both Shuichi and Maki mean the world to Himiko after everything they’ve been through. But both are equal to her. Not one is above the other. She just couldn’t make a decision like that.
Shuichi, as observant as he is, can only guess how Himiko is feeling, and what she meant to do. He, in a sort of twisted way, can see where she’s coming from. He’s still pissed because she, by not choosing which to kill, effectively chose both of them to die. But he’s certainly not as pissed as Maki is.
“HIMIKO, ANSWER ME! WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE HIM???” The yelling is still from Maki, who is, understandably, losing her cool since both she and one of her friends are about to die.
Himiko is still lost, trying to clear her thoughts, trying to figure out how to explain.
Shuichi answers for her. “She did what her instincts told her to do. She had to make a choice, and this is it. There’s no reversing her choice, just accepting it.”
Maki stops yelling and really looks at Himiko.
Himiko is a complete mess. She seems to have really just processed what she did. She falls to her knees and wails even louder than when she cried at the end of the third trial. No one can hear anything over her sobbing, including Himiko herself. She’s scared and lost and holy shit she just killed both of her friends, is she really any better than any of the previous killers? She doesn’t think so in this moment.
When she stops sobbing and looks up, she’s the last survivor of the killing game.
