kotella
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The clock beeped with hushed buzzing. "3:00 AM" It read on the clock beside Sunday's shaky fingertips, gripping the pen. The sound was a violation of the room's fragile silence, a tiny knife in corner of the desk discarded. He flinched, the movement sending a fresh tremor through the hand that had just finished its marring of the flesh.
He stared at the letter, not reading the words or rather, unable to comprehend the words. Hell, he doesn't even remember what he wrote.
Or. Sunday does not feel sane. I mean, did he ever? (Until Aventurine holds him.)
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Bookmarked by kotella
19 Jun 2026
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feather by feather, thought by thought by gravebirds
Fandoms: 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game)
26 Jul 2024
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“Ah,” Aventurine says. “Real bad, huh? Okay.”
Sunday wants him to leave. Sunday wants him to never go away.or: this breakdown Sunday doesn't have to spend alone.
Bookmarked by kotella
14 Jun 2026
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Thirty-Three Million Graves by Galahad_71
Fandoms: 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game)
29 May 2026
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After Amphoreus finally becomes a real world, Phainon hides himself away in a collapsing building outside Okhema, his body failing under infection and exhaustion while his mind refuses to stop replaying every death he has caused across thirty-three million cycles. He expects to be forgotten in silence—but Mydei finds him, alive and breaking, and refuses to let him disappear.
or Phainon tries to die quietly after the loops end, but Mydei refuses to let him become another casualty of them.
Bookmarked by kotella
11 Jun 2026
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Phainon tries to live with the trauma of 33 million cycles and yet is hopelessly filled with guilt. Mydei comforts him and insists on fulfilling the promise they made.
No one is more deserving of happiness than you, Deliverer.
Bookmarked by kotella
11 Jun 2026
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Summary
The tears came quietly at first—a slow build, a blink too long, a hitch in breath. Then, one slipped free. A tear trailing toward his temple as his lip trembled.
Mydei kissed it as it fell.
Phainon turned his face away, a sharp breath catching in his throat—not from pain, but shame. “Don’t…”
But Mydei only kissed his cheek again, slower this time, lips dragging along damp skin like he wanted to drink the sadness from him. His hand slid behind Phainon’s head, fingers tangling gently in his hair, anchoring him.
“Don’t look away from me,” he whispered, voice heavy with restraint. “Not now.”
Phainon couldn’t speak. His body arched, breath stuttering, but Mydei’s hold never faltered. He kissed each new tear as it slipped free, murmuring nothing but breath between them. And all the while, his other hand drifted lower, stroking bare skin with the kind of control that felt dangerous in its tenderness.
It wasn’t the roughness of it that undid Phainon—it was the opposite. The unrelenting gentleness. Mydei touched him like he was made of memory and porcelain and fire all at once, like every part of him needed to be known, adored, worshipped.
Bookmarked by kotella
11 Jun 2026