RealMilk
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ac·ri·mo·ny /ˈakrəˌmōnē/ noun
bitterness or ill feeling.
Similar: bitterness, rancor, resentment-or-
Player finds themself trapped in a timeloop, forced to relive their quests over and over until they find a way to stop it.
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A gift for a lovely friend on Tumblr.
A oneshot focused on 1x1x1x1 after Forsaken.
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Nyx tells him to stay in the House, to be wary. There are dangers outside, things that he doesn’t yet understand.
Thanatos promises, and why would Nyx doubt him? He is a precocious child, and one eager to please his mother. As Nyx is quick to say, he is a good son; he wears his godhood with the maturity of one far older.
But it is new, so new. When Nyx isn’t looking, Thanatos can't help but explore.
So new: the stone and gloom of Tartarus, the orange burn of Asphodel, the rolling fields of Elysium. The coolness of the ground beneath the bushes, the way they catch at his hair when he hides in them. The light touch of the butterflies that soon begin to follow him, lonely souls that they are. The way they fluster and flutter as Mort snaps at them.
It is a calm life, a still life, but one so very quiet around the edges.«««««««« ─────── · I · ─────── ««««««««
It isn’t easy growing up, even when you aren’t Death Incarnate.
OR: a story following Thanatos as he learns to navigate the living, the dead, and, worst of all, feelings.Series
- Part 1 of to see again the stars
- Part 1 of war and death
Bookmarked by RealMilk
24 Jan 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Actually in shambles right now. Oh my actual wretched days it feels like dissecting myself, removing and eating my own heart raw, then choking on it. would definitely (and probably will) read again. 10/10 rating and one hundred fifty thousand kudos
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Thanatos didn't know what he looked like. Zagreus was the last person he hadn't asked yet.
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and now i have to act like i can't read your mind by climatechange for glasshydrangea
Fandoms: Moon Knight (TV 2022)
05 Mar 2024
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At some point, Marc slips away.
It happens in a moment wedged between glasses of amber and notches on a belt. A time so obsessed with all that rushing water, but so slow-moving: like molasses, heavy on his limbs, heavier on his mind. Later, he’ll stare at the two or three blurry photos he has of himself as a kid and try to pinpoint the moment he fractured under the weight of it all. He couldn’t have been more than twelve.