#The Last Dance: Encountering Death and Dying

[everythingundertheskycomics]

Hypno's Rings

3/4

Previous | Following

Mourning.

This one is very personal.

[ghcstao3]

(cw mcd but not in like? a sad way? bittersweet/ambiguous ending at worst but it’s overall hopeful and happy i swear)

(also cw for descriptions of death/dying. not very graphic)

-

Simon Riley dies alone, buried six feet deep in a Mexican desert. He had scrabbled at his coffin lid until his fingers were raw and bloody and stuck with splinters, then there had been a growing tightness in his chest, and then there had been nothing.

A month ago, Manuel Roba had made the mistake of leaving another soldier buried with the rotted corpse of their former CO, and they had escaped, just barely, with the help of a broken jawbone—until, of course, they were shot point blank once the soil loosened, because Manuel Roba would never be far.

So Simon does not get the same opportunity. Simon does not get to succeed in getting out.

And, ever the restless soul, his ghost wanders. Wanders until he comes upon a town whose name he can’t quite discern in the strange, phantasmal distortion that clouds his senses. But he can hear the buzz of chatter and music, feel the emotion of bodies alive, and so he decides to stay in this unnamed town, wandering, at least until his undetermined eternity runs out.

-

John MacTavish dies alone, in a Mexican town by the name of Las Almas. He had fought tooth and nail to survive, until blood loss had made him too sluggish, then there had been a second bullet, and then there had been nothing.

No one had predicted Graves and Shepherd’s betrayal, and it had stung. Then with Rodolfo nowhere to be found, Alejandro captured, and no one to help with his escape, John had been left on his own, with nothing. He had nothing to staunch the bleeding of the bullet wound in his bicep, had no weapons to protect himself from the droves of Shadows roaming Alejandro and Rodolfo’s home town, had no way of knowing the church would not serve as sufficient refuge.

He killed the Shadow sitting in wait, but not before they managed to lodge a bullet in his abdomen, and he had realized, then, that it was hopeless to think he could still get out. So, with what little was left of his strength and adrenaline, John deposited the Shadow outside, barricaded himself in, and slumped into a rickety pew until the world faded from around him.

And, ever the restless soul, his ghost wanders. Las Almas becomes John’s home, though it always remains unfamiliar through the otherworldly haze that dilutes his senses. They’re a strong people here, and they rebuild after the Shadows’ brief but cruel rampage, and it’s enough for John, feeling infected by their resilience, to be satisfied with spending the rest of his unknown eternity floating through the town.

-

At first, neither Simon nor John understand how or why they meet.

It isn't as if they are the only two spirits roaming Las Almas—really, the town is chock full of ghosts, as are most towns and cities and even individual buildings, but paths seldom cross. The afterlife is lonesome, and though it really isn't so terrible, that isolation is only inherent to the nature of death, and so it truly shouldn't be possible that they should ever encounter one another.

And yet, one night—a date they are both unsure of, as time becomes mostly indecipherable once departed from the land of the living—it’s like that fog disappears, that veil lifts, and suddenly the world has become clear once more, clear like both John and Simon had forgotten.

Las Almas seems to be brimming with more life than usual, music and dancing, food and gatherings. John is in awe—despite the festivities, however, he’s also filled with a profound sense of melancholy, mourning everything he’s missed since his passing; since his perception had been reduced to something murky, like he was underwater, looking up and hearing sounds but never quite able to make any of it out. He doesn’t know how long this might last, so he takes advantage of every second—that’s how he eventually stumbles upon Simon Riley.

Simon—he’s heard of Día de los Muertos before, but never quite understood the tradition. His experiences in Mexico were limited, culturally and otherwise, and so it comes as a surprise when he finally feels like he’s living again—but walking through Las Almas, as he finally learns its name, it only takes seeing some ofrendas and listening into conversations to understand what this is, and that it’s only temporary. He is not really a physical being anymore, but he can at least pretend like he is, and that’s how he eventually comes across John MacTavish.

John feels lost, though he’s been haunting these streets for some time now. He spots Simon hanging back in the shadows, notices for the first time that’s it’s someone actually looking at him, not through or past him, and he all but runs up to the man, afraid that if he were to take too long, John might lose his only chance at company.

“You can see me,” John says, breathless.

“I can see you,” the man agrees, the weight of his gaze solid and unwavering.

John wishes to melt alongside the honey-gold flecks in the man’s warm, brown irises, and endeavours to memorize their colour in case he should never get this opportunity again.

“Are you also…?”

A curt nod. “I am.”

John shifts awkwardly. “Do you know what—“

“Day of the Dead,” says the man, not unkindly, though he isn’t necessarily being friendly, either. Obviously, he’s not one for talking—that, or he’s gotten too used to being alone. John doesn’t really care either way. “That’s why there’s so many… people.”

Spirits, the man means, just like the two of them. John feels stupid for not having noticed sooner, and feels his face tingle with a blush. It’s odd, realizing that that’s something he missed about being alive.

“So…” John drums his fingers on either of his thighs, the only thing he’s been able to touch all evening. “You come here often?”

When the man barks out a laugh, John thinks it’s the best thing he’s ever heard, dead and alive. He hopes, somehow, some way, to carry it with him throughout the remainder of his non-existence, however long that may be.

“Are you really hitting on me?” The man asks with incredulity, smiling, and John feels a grin growing on his own face, involuntary and so very welcome.

John shrugs. “Why not?” He surely looks like an idiot right now. He honestly thought he’d forgotten how to smile. “Didn’t think I had any loved ones here, but guess I was wrong.”

It’s dumb and cheesy but John guesses that it works, because suddenly he’s learning the other spirit’s name is Simon, and suddenly Simon is asking if Johnny would like to take a walk with him, and suddenly John finds himself saying yes.

So they wander aimlessly, chat about everything and nothing, and it’s nice, so nice, to get to feel like they’re real again. Even bittersweet as it is, once the sun starts to rise and crowds seem to thin, and John realizes he can’t quite recall the colour of Simon’s eyes anymore.

It’s in a church, the church, where they finally decide to settle and accept the inevitable. Simon still doesn’t understand why they also got to reunite with the living while being strangers to Las Almas, but he doesn’t voice this concern, instead choosing to focus on imagining the warmth of John’s presence beside him as the world starts to fade again, piece by piece.

“I think I’ve been ready for a while now. To move on,” Simon murmurs, staring ahead at the altar, the swathes of glowing candles. “If that’s even how this works. I think I’m just… afraid of what else there might be.”

“I’m not sure,” John admits. He wishes he were able to lean his head on Simon’s shoulder, or intertwine their fingers. “I’ve never thought about it. Don’t think it’d be so bad.”

They’ve only known one another for a few hours, certainly, but John can still sense Simon’s inner turmoil as he nods and hums and stares off into the distance. John wonders if, maybe in another life, they might’ve had a proper chance to have a thousand more conversations before this one. A proper chance to actually build something between them before they find themselves clinging to the dregs of almost-corporeality, just wishing for more time, or maybe something better entirely.

“I’ll go with you,” John adds unthinkingly, feeling his phantom heartbeat jumping in pace. “I don’t really have anything to stay for. That way we’d at least have something familiar.”

“I don’t know if I’d call you familiar,” Simon teases, a faint smile on his lips. “But I think I’d like that.”

“Good,” John says. “Because I wasn’t really giving you a choice.”

Simon laughs quietly, and John grasps desperately onto the sound as he closes his eyes and allows himself to be submerged again. When he opens his eyes, as he expected, the world is as it was before, blurry and distant and incomprehensible.

But this time, it isn’t nearly as lonely.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌈 Queer Books Coming Out in August 2024 🌈

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Happy reading!

[ Text list below ⤵ ]

❓What was the last queer book you read?

[ Release dates may have changed. ]

❤️ Failure to Comply - Sarah Cavar 🧡 I Spit On Your Celluloid - Heidi Honeycutt 💛 You're Embarrassing Yourself - Desiree Akhavan 💚 Death of the Hero - Briona Johnson 💙 Between Dragons and Their Wrath - Devin Madson 💜 The Crimson Crown - Heather Walter ❤️ Sacrificial Animals - Kailee Pedersen 🧡 Oath of Fire - K. Arsenault Rivera 💛 The Palace of Eros - Caro De Robertis 💙 This Ravenous Fate - Hayley Dennings 💜 Mistress of Lies - K.M. Enright 🌈 Wolf Bite - T.J. Nichols

❤️ In the Valley, A Shadow - Samantha Tano 🧡 Follow My Lead - Adrian J. Smith 💛 The Last Woman I Kissed - Venetia Di Pierro 💚 Full Shift - Jennifer Dugan & Kristen Seaton 💙 Hers for the Weekend - Helena Greer 💜 Come Out, Come Out - Natalie C. Parker ❤️ Rules for Ghosting - Shelly Jay Shore 🧡 How to Leave the House - Nathan Newman 💛 Plot Twist - Carmen Sereno 💙 On the Far Side of a Crescendo - Kalyn Hazel 💜 Tiny Oblivions and Mutual Self Destructions - Maxwell I. Gold 🌈 Daylan and the River of Secrets - Edd Tello

❤️ The Italy Letters - Vi Khi Nao 🧡 The Gender Binary Is a Big Lie - Lee Wind 💚 The House Where Death Lives - Alex Brown 💙 Ash's Cabin - Jen Wang 💜 The Avian Hourglass - Lindsey Drager ❤️ The Heart Wants - Krystina Rivers 🧡 A Grand Love - Janna Barkin 💛 You Can't Go Home Again - Jeanette Bears 💜 Libertad - Bessie Flores Zaldivar 🌈 Her Golden Coast - Anat Deracine

❤️ Mighty Millie Novak - Elizabeth Holden 💛 Rise and Divine - Lana Harper 💚 Dying for You - L Flowers 💙 I'll Have What He's Having - Adib Khorram 💜 Changing Her Tune - Amanda Kabak ❤️ Monogamy? In this Economy? - Laura Boyle 🧡 The Rainbow Age of Television - Sayna Maci Warner 💛 Medusa of the Roses - Navid Sinaki 💙 Confounding Oaths - Alexis Hall 💜 Idol Lives - K.T. Salvo 🌈 Brother's Keeper - Quinn Cameron

❤️ Key Lime Sky - Al Hess 🧡 Crushing It - Erin Becker 💛 The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou 💚 Not for the Faint of Heart - Lex Croucher 💙 Tasting Temptation - JJ Arias 💜 Ami - S. Jae-Jones ❤️ You're the Problem, It's You - Emma R. Alban 🧡 Cubs & Campfires - Dylan Drakes 💛 The Dark We Know - Wen-yi Lee 💙 Practical Rules for Cursed Witches - Kayla Cottingham 💜 Riyati Rebirth - Kalani Shimizu 🌈 The Brujos of Borderland High - Gume Laurel III

❤️ A Bánh Mì for Two - Trinity Nguyen 🧡 Dance of the Starlit Sea - Kiana Krystle 💛 Scattered Snows, to the North - Carl Phillips 💚 Beyond a World Apart - Caitlin Myers 💙 Don't Let It Break Your Heart - Maggie Horne 💜 Nothing Heals Me Like You Do - Harper Bliss ❤️ How It All Ends - Emma Hunsinger 🧡 How Do I Sexy? - Mx. Nillin Lore 💛 The Palace of Eros - Caro De Robertis 💙 Prince of the Palisades - Julian Winters 💜 Better Left Buried - Mary E. Roach 🌈 Back to Back - Jo Fletcher

❤️ DITCHLAPSE / [REALLY AFRAID] - Tommy Wyatt 🧡 The Love Archives: Bonus Scenes & Excerpts for Palestine - Various 💛 Guardian: Zhen Hun - Ying Priest 💚 The Sunforge - Sascha Stronach 💙 Queering Reproductive Justice - Candace Bond-Theriault 💜 Gender Explained - Diane Ehrensaft & Michelle Jurkiewicz ❤️ The Unlikely Pair - Jax Calder 🧡 In Universes - Emet North 💛 We Love the Nightlife - Rachel Koller Croft 💙 Lessons from Cruising - Martin Goodman 💜 Wild Ginger in the Rhubarb - Eule Grey 🌈 Not My Circus - Delicia Niami

❤️ Asunder - Kerstin Hall 🧡 The Phoenix Keeper - S.A. MacLean 💛 Encounters with James Baldwin - Various 💚 Verity's Game - Jennifer Giacalone 💙 Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase - Fae Quin 💜 The Audacity Omnibus - Carmen Loup ❤️ Haunted to Death - Frank Anthony Polito 🧡 Blood Orange - Paige Grunewald 💛 The Bad Things We Did - Chris Archeske 💙 Dark Restraint - Katee Robert 💜 Worth the Wait - Kenna White 🌈 The Maid and the Crocodile - Jordan Ifueko

❤️ Loving Corrections - Adrienne Maree Brown 🧡 The Last Witch in Edinburgh - Marielle Thompson 💛 The Duchess of Kokora - Nikhil Prabala 💚 The Scales of Seduction - Rien Gray 💙 Survival Is a Promise - Alexis Pauline Gumbs 💜 Loka - S.B. Divya ❤️ The Every Body Book of Consent - Rachel E Simon 🧡 Southern Lights - Liz Arncliffe 💛 Then Things Went Dark - Bea Fitzgerald 💙 Death at Morning House - Maureen Johnson 💜 The Last Doorbell - William Parker 🌈 The Pairing - Casey McQuiston

[thekeeperofdreams]

Once Upon A Dream

genre; light angst (death mentions??? blood but not the whole focus)

summary; entering a world seemingly suspended in time is a strange experience, especially when most others are uninterested in helping you adjust. the only comfort is the man in your dreams.

ever since joining the manor, it felt like you'd been watched. not in the usual sense of other survivors or even hunters staring holes into your back, curiosity practically spilling from their eyes. it didn't help how not even your time period was similar to theirs, lining up more to lucky guys then anything.

maybe that's why the eyes follow, a desire to rip you open and peer inside; desperate for something new in a world of bloodshed and fear. it was strange, among everyone's special abilities, you'd arrived with nothing. no weapons, no traits like theirs, practically useless compared to many residing on your side of the manor.

some had no desire to chat with you, put off by this strange revelation; finding conversations a waste when surviving was the name of the game. it didn't matter much to you, having stayed in your corner anyhow, only interacting with the few people who had been nice enough to at least say hi or introduce themselves.

during matches, it was like a nightmare, most hunters chasing you first in favor of even the weakest survivors. you had nothing to defend yourself with, practically at their mercy if you failed to kite using only the windows and pallets.

many were kind, some offering to wait at least 60 seconds before carrying you to the chair without any real chase, not interested in spilling the blood of the helpless.

most however, seemed uncomfortably excited about the prospect of the new survivor having nothing to defend themselves, like a sheep straying away from its flock.

even now, as you lay bleeding on the floor, no one comes to the rescue, the hunter deciding to chase down a new target, leaving you to take your last breathe of the match; the scent of marigolds comforting you in the dying moment.

its quiet when this happens, your tired bloody body floating in darkness, awaiting your prince of the night.

hes tall, skin hidden beneath layers of makeup, the colors mixing into beautiful flowers against his skin. the hat is titled forward, hiding his eyes under the colorful flowers.

you give a weak grin when he tilts the hat to see you, eyebrow raised, eyes burning with question.

"I'm sorry. i couldn't hold on against him." you say, heart sinking when his eyebrow twitches, though its not for you.

"don't be, mi vida. i've seen him and his behavior, like a beast preying on its next meal." his tone is harsh, his deep gruff voice sending shivers down your spine.

the nickname was familiar, a comfort from the overall disconnect with your home. he always seemed to know what to say in your times of need; sinking in the sand, wishing it'd swallow you whole.

he only smiles, the overall darkness beginning to shift when he let's out a breath, green swirls and purple stars dancing at his finger tips. his hands are cold when he places them on your face, eyes remaining warm.

"ill see you soon." he coos, as your eyes grow heavy and tired, his cool touch being replaced by warm blankets and sheets; the room dark with a candle as it's light.

a soft knock wakes you from the pleasant encounter, a maid calling out that you have a match soon; lunch being served at the table beforehand.

you don't respond, waiting for the women's footsteps to dissapear before dressing, ignoring the ache deep in your bones.

the hallways are long and uncomfortable, the odd silence unnerving as you make your way to the door, shakily pushing it open.

though the sight that greets you is strange, a man dressed in purple and black, a familiar hat settled in front of him as he gobbles down what supposedly was lunch.

he turns when the door creaks, a cheeky grin slowly spreading against his face when you realize who exactly he is.

"I told you I'd see you soon"

[poisonedprose]

alice in borderland m.list ! - 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐘

carrd - nav - masterlists - reqs

-

Started - 6/12/22

Last Updated - 6/29/23

Total Works - 31

assistant - nijiro murakami x gn!reader x dori sakurada — in which nijiro and dori tease you for fun

pussy drunk - kuina hikari x fem!reader (16+ please!) — blurb about kuina hikari being pussy drunk !

don't take it personal - chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader — in which chisihya uses ypu as bait even though he likes you

lost you - tatta kodai x gn!reader — in which tatta is a clumsy fool and ends up in the infirmary

drunk - chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader (16+ please!) — blurb about chishiya shuntaro being drunk !

dancing under the stars - arisu ryohei x gn!reader — in which arisu checks up on you after encountering the king of spades

hate is a strong word - karube daikichi x gn!reader — in which karube acts like he hates you but he actually has a huge crush on you

dancin' 'round the kitchen - tatta kodai x gn!reader — in which you and tatta dance before cuddling on the couch

delivery! - chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader — in which chishiya always order fast food from you so you shoot your shot

dying in your arms - chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader — in which the king of spades does a number on you and you might not make it

just hold on - chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader — in which you need chishiya to be your personal translator during a game

mr. jealous - karube daikichi x gn!reader — in which karube gets jealous and threatens to beat arisu's ass

desperate and needy - arisu ryohei x gn!reader (16+ please!) — blurb about arisu ryohei being desperate and needy !

better than me? - tatta kodai x gn!reader — in which tatta gets jealous and knows he can treat you better

sweet like honey - tatta kodai x gn!reader — in which you and tatta cuddle in bed after sex

familiar - chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader — in which you and chishiya feel a connection after the borderlands

valentines day! - chishiya, arisu, tatta, kuina, last boss x gn!reader — headcanons about valentines day with chishiya, arisu, tatta, kuina, and last boss !

goodbye is not the end - tatta kodai x gn!reader — in which your on the brink of death after a game and tatta finds you

weird way to propose but yes - karube daikichi x gn!reader — in which karube proposes to you after work outside of the bar

rockstars gf! - kyuma ginji x fem!reader (16+ please!) — headcanons about being kyuma ginji's girlfriend !

one word question - tatta kodai x gn!reader — in which tatta breaks up with you and you can't help but ask 'why?'

fragile devlopment - tatta kodai x gn!reader — in which you wanted more but tatta made it clear he didn't

it's sugar, baby - tatta kodai x gn!reader — in which you have money to spare and you love to spoil tatta

meeting room - last boss x afab!reader (16+ please!) — in which last boss fucks you in the meeting room right before a meeting

no one compares - tatta kodai x gn!reader — in which tatta is jealous of your friendship with arisu

dirty bedsheets - last boss x afab!reader (16+ please!) — in which you overstimulate last boss while giving him a hand job

oh well - tatta kodai x gn!reader — in which you catch tatta cheating on you

happy meal - tatta kodai x gn!reader — in which you and tatta order mcdonalds

sleepy - chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader (16+ please!) — blurb about chishiya shuntaro being sleepy !

tooth and nail - arisu ryohei x gn!reader — in which you work hard for arisu's affection but he'll give it for free if you just ask

sick! - tatta, arisu x gn!reader — headcanons about being sick with tatta and arisu!

[doodle-pops]

Tears of the Sun

Maedhros x reader

A/N: Since this came in 2nd on the poll, you all can have the treat you've been voting for. You all have no idea how long I've been dying to release this :) 🙈

Warnings: 3rd Kinslaying, death, blood, heavy angst, hurt and not an ounce of comfort (the bucket is dry), major character death

Words: 1.6k

Synopsis: We always regret the things we do when the worst happens, and Maedhros finally seems to have enough.

His body moved with less grace and more aggression, leaving behind a trail of victims struck down by his ruthless blade. The horror and grief in the eyes of each lifeless body meant nothing to him; they were just obstacles on his path to his ambition. Their deaths only fuelled his determination, pushing him further up the hill and past the point of no return. His once–pristine armour was now stained with splatters of crimson, matching the colour of his hair and sword. His usually well–kept hair was matted and frizzed from the chaos of the battle, and his helmet lay discarded in the heat of the mindless fight. None of his opponents were formidable enough to engage him in a true battle of skill; they were merely obstacles to be obliterated.

He found himself growing bored with the resistance he encountered. He had come for his treasured heirloom, and the stubborn defence he faced only made him scoff. He swung his sword recklessly, striking down anyone who dared to challenge him. If kindness couldn’t win him what he desired, he would take it by force. The last shreds of sanity that had held his emotionally compromised heart together had shattered, leaving him with no option but to resort to raiding and plundering. Blood was his familiar companion—it was what he had come to know intimately, the colour of his hair and the blade he wielded. The hand he had been dealt in the losing game of life resembled his sword’s hue: crimson.

Existence was his only reality, a reality driven by the notion that death wasn’t yet ready to claim him. He existed because he couldn’t die, and death toyed with his life as though it were a mere game of chess. One moment he was a pawn, the next a bishop, then a king, and back to a pawn. It was a cruel dance of fate, and he had long accepted his role as its unwilling participant. In this twisted game, he found a perverse pleasure in taking what he believed was his by-right, regardless of the consequences.

But you changed everything. You brought light into his world, giving meaning to the bleak and dreary existence he had grown accustomed to. A smile, a look from you, and his heart would soar, mending itself and allowing him to experience the simple joys he had been denied. With you, the cage he had felt trapped in was shattered, and he no longer felt like an animal awaiting its inevitable demise. You gave him purpose, a reason to believe in something greater than the cycle of violence and death he had become ensnared in.

A scoff escaped him as he remembered your influence on him. He wiped away the blood that had trickled down his brow, the metallic scent of iron filling his nostrils. The smell was familiar, a reminder of countless battles and massacres he had orchestrated. Despite the carnage around him, this was a relatively minor raid, akin to dealing with a few dozen orcs. Most of his men had switched sides to prevent further destruction, but those who had stood against him now lay lifeless, their bodies strewn across the ground. The balance between valuing his soldiers’ lives and discarding their lifeless forms after insubordination was a precarious one, and in his current state of mind, the line was blurred beyond recognition.

He continued his macabre dance, his temper a raging fire that consumed everything in its path. Lifeless bodies, once vibrant with vitality, now littered the streets. The urge to be repulsed by the sight was a fleeting burden; he was too consumed by his frustration at his failure to reclaim the Silmaril.

“Háno!” A pained voice, his brother Maglor’s, reached his ears, and his heart clenched with dread. After coming this far, losing another of his kin—his last kin—would be the final blow, shattering what little remained of his fractured soul.

He rushed forward, his steps heedless of the broken bodies that lay in his path. He cut through the streets of Sirion with a single–minded determination, following the urgency in his brother’s voice. What he found was a scene of sombre desolation. Maglor stood there, his sword hanging limply in his hand, his shoulders slumped, his legs wobbling, and his head bowed in defeat. A pit formed in the depths of his heart as he approached his brother’s broken form, his own anger momentarily forgotten.

And then he saw you, lifeless. Your body leaned against the wall of a nearby home, your form covered in your own blood. Your expression held a haunting mixture of pain and resignation.

He didn’t want to accept what he was seeing. It felt impossible, like a cruel illusion playing tricks on his senses. You were supposed to be safe, wrapped in comfort and far from the clutches of death and destruction. This had to be the work of darkness, a sinister fabrication that twisted reality into something nightmarish. This couldn’t be you lying lifeless before his eyes; it had to be some twisted trick, a distorted reflection of his fears.

Convincing oneself of falsehood, even in the face of an unfathomable and horrifying sight, was a coping mechanism that allowed one to shut their eyes and turn away. He chanted to himself repeatedly that what he saw couldn’t be true—it couldn’t be you lying there lifeless at the cost of his hands. His footsteps, once soundless, turned into thunderous beats as he rushed toward where you were slumped against the wall. The scene before him was surreal, and he desperately needed some kind of proof that what he was seeing wasn’t real. His trembling fingers inched closer to touch your form, seeking that moment of realization that would tell him the world had deceived him.

His eyes were narrowed in disbelief, his brows furrowed, lips pursed, and fingers trembling as he gingerly reached out. His boots made contact with your foot, and he half–expected to hear your familiar ‘Ouch’ in response, a playful reaction you often had to his touch. But there was no response, no movement from you. Your eyes were cast downwards, avoiding his gaze, avoiding him. He knew that after your last bitter exchange, you wouldn’t want to look at him. He understood that. Yet, the sight of blood staining your clothes and your lack of breath sent a spike of panic through him.

He blinked back tears that threatened to spill, his teeth gritted, nostrils flaring. Slowly, cautiously, he extended his hand to touch your head. He crouched over your lifeless form, keeping a respectful distance as if he feared that even in death, he was intruding on your personal space. His hand made contact with your head, and when you remained unresponsive, he slid his hand lower to cup your face, lifting it to meet his gaze. But your head lolled limply in his hold, and the puppet–like motion of your head sent waves of terror through him. A cold heat engulfed his body, sending shivers down his spine.

The motion of your head was unnaturally limp, like that of a puppet with its strings cut. His hand quivered as it cradled your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Y/N?” he called, his voice cracking with anxiety. The silence that followed was deafening, and suffocating, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“Háno, they’re dead—” Maglor’s words were met with a feral growl that erupted from the depths of Maedhros’s chest. He snapped his head in Maglor’s direction, his eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and desperation. A mere glare and a low, menacing command silenced his brother’s words.

Sinking to his knees, he carefully gathered your lifeless form into his lap, cradling you close. He adjusted your position, holding you as you liked to be held, your head resting against his chest so you could hear his heartbeat. His mutilated hand cradled you, his fingers gently caressing your skin. He rocked you back and forth, murmuring soothing words in a broken symphony of promises that he knew he might never be able to fulfil.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he whispered, his voice a fragile melody of reassurance. He pressed rough kisses to the top of your head, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’ve got you now, I’m here. I’m going to keep you safe when you wake up.”

The juxtaposition between the past and the present hit him like a wave of sorrow. He remembered the times he had pushed you away, the harsh words he had spoken, and the pain he had caused. And now, here he was, holding you tightly, his heart breaking with the weight of his regrets.

“This will be over soon,” he promised, his voice laden with emotion. “You’ll be safe and happy. I promised you that, didn’t I? I’ll keep my word, my love.” He continued to sway with your lifeless body, refusing to acknowledge his brother’s pleas for him to accept the reality.

He whispered to you over and over, his tears mingling with the blood and sweat on his face. The saltiness of his tears against his wounds was a numbing sensation, a reminder that he was still capable of feeling something amidst the darkness. He was hollow, consumed by the curse of his actions, bound to live with the consequences of his choices—he took your life with words. A simple command and you fell innocent to his sword.

The cycle of violence and suffering that he had perpetuated had led him to this point, where he held the lifeless body of the person he loved more than anything. He had pushed away his chance at happiness, his heartless actions sealing his fate.

In his arms, he clung to you, the only source of light in his life, hoping against hope that this was just a nightmare, that you would awaken, and that the blood on your skin was nothing more than an illusion. But deep down, he knew that he was living the nightmare he had created, unable to escape the prison of his own making.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @ladyenchanted @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind

If you would like to be tagged, click the taglist link.

[shippimagines]

heres some partybeetle scenarios nd hcs i was talkking about with my friend. first 2 are tw death (by MR), begging for death, generally just really angsty without much comfort. last one is tw for alcohol

what if poob or pest died with MR and the other didnt? if it was poob with mr i feel like theyd go Oh... but would be like oddly at peace with dying? and pest would hurt so bad and barely goes in th e elevator, avoids people or get really snappy easily until retro ends up doing smth about it .. or perhaps, hear me out, its not just poob but its mark nd poob and at least pest and wallter have someone to be sad with. and they end up getting rly close because of it. when they first see each other after it though theyre both obviously fucked up and they immediately know by looking at each other, theyre not alone if it was pest i think poob gets on the elevator as normal but theyre so dissociated all of the time, and they cry at every little thing and split and infected r there with em, but poob ends up getting rather irritable too and ends up getting really mad at some point . maybe they encounter MR again and they beg for it to kill them and MR seems to prefer them alive now. them, and nobody else anddd heres fluff to make up for that ;; after parties poob is usually really tired and ends up falling asleep standing in the elevator on the way home, so Pest has to carry them to bed. one time the drinks got spiked and pest doesnt like the punch there anyways but poob ended up having enough that it affected them and they were all over pest, and yk that tweet where its like "my drunk partner asked me if i was taken and when i said yes they started crying". thats them. occasionally there'll be slow dances at some parties nd they dance together, pests hands on poob's waist and poob's hands on pest's shoulders, and they dance together and giggle about how silly it is because theyre idiots and in love

[granny-griffin]

Griffin dear I *must* know why you’re tagging Bakugou posts as “Halloween” —Poet

When I was really young we lived in Ireland, and one Halloween our house got egged because we weren’t there to hand out candy. That sparked my Dad to research/think about Halloween and its origin, and he came to the conclusion that there was a lot about it that he couldn’t celebrate in good conscience as a Christian.

I really respect my Dad and his convictions, but as I grew up I realized that I have a different approach. I think most cultural forms and practices are neutral in themselves, and that any of them can be worship of Christ if they’re approached with that attitude. And I decided that Halloween was part of my culture, and I wanted to celebrate it. So I set about trying to figure out how I wanted to do that.

This post really solved the problem for me. I think everybody should just read it, but if you don’t want to, TLDR: it’s an analysis of the Oh Hellos album Dear Wormwood, specifically the song Danse Macabre. The original version of the song refers to a legend where skeletons come alive and dance just on Halloween night. But in the Oh Hellos version, the skeletons come to life permanently—they’re fully resurrected. 

And so in that I was able to solve how spooky/scary decorations and aesthetics could still be used in my worship—I didn’t have to celebrate fear and death, I could instead celebrate their defeat. But I didn’t just want to copy Easter, the other resurrection holiday, so it couldn’t be about the resurrection of Jesus specifically. It would have to be about my own future resurrection at his second coming. And there was something fitting to me about that given its seasonal placement—even when all the plants around me were succumbing and dying off, I could remind myself that it wouldn’t be permanent, that we would both come back in the end.

All of this kind of came to a head in my mind during the summer of last year. And so come last October, like a good tumblr citizen, I was ready to celebrate Halloween all month. I was purposefully setting my mind on the victory over death that was mine in Christ.

Anyway then Bakugou came back from the dead. 

One of my friends has told me that she likes to encounter hard things in fiction as a sort of inoculation—because she has such intense emotions, she wants to experience things like grief first in a safe environment, so that she can learn how to process them before they come on her in all the strength of reality. 

I feel that I have almost the opposite problem. I think I don’t always feel things the way that I probably should. If my friends are crying, I don’t usually feel sad. But when I read stories I feel things, and sometimes I can attach those feelings to similar things in real life, and then I know what they’re supposed to feel like. It gives me something to work with.

The situation with Bakugou was really particular—from a Watsonian level it had looked bad for him. But on a Doylist level it didn’t make any sense for him to stay dead, or so I thought. For a whole year since he’d died in the manga, I’d been sitting there expecting him to come back, because I thought I knew what kind of story Horikoshi-sensei was telling. And when that wish came true I was euphoric. I was giddy with it. 

And I kept thinking to myself—this is what it feels like when hope of resurrection is fulfilled—this is what I’m going to feel when I wake up again as a new creation, and I don’t have to wait and hope anymore. Except this is only the inoculation. What promise did I have from Horikoshi-sensei? I didn’t know him! He could have done whatever he wanted. But from Christ I have a sure promise—he’s told us what kind of story he wants to tell. 

The chapter 403 leaks came out late on October 11th, 2023. The October 7th 2023 terrorist attack had just occurred, and later that week, the war in Gaza would begin. Everyone around me was confused and scared, and it couldn’t touch me. I didn’t believe that fear and death could win in the end.

Anyway Poet, to answer your question, this year I queued a bunch of Bakugou posts for the 11th so I could remember the most Halloween thing ever to happen to me.

[sovonight]

waiting (candle event, radri ver, 3k words) ↴

—✧✧✧—

As the light from the window recedes, casting her journal into shadow, Radri sets a candle upon the candle holder on the nightstand, then reaches over the side of the bed, rummaging around in her pack for flint and steel. As she fumbles around for it, Xan glances over from his place beside her, and extends a hand.

"Allow me," he says. With a small gesture and a whisper of a command, the wick catches flame.

"Oh," Radri says, looking up the lit candle, "Thank you."

She abandons her now unnecessary search, and opens her journal once more. Xan glances over again.

"I never found the chance to ask what you write about," he says.

"Mm?" Radri narrowly avoids leaving a blot of ink on the page, and gives her pen a dissatisfied frown, resolving to be more careful. "Normal things, I suppose. What happened today, what quests are in progress, what supplies we expended…."

"A summary of events, then, rather than a collection of personal reflections?" Xan says. "Did you keep such a journal in Candlekeep, as well?"

In Candlekeep? She had never considered it. Imagining it now, her entries would have blended together in their sameness; her days were a mixture of lessons and chores, with the only real variables being the subjects she was taught, and the people around her.

"I didn't keep a journal at all," Radri says. "I was always so tired of writing by the end of each day—the last thing I wanted to do was light a candle and write into the night." She gives her current setup a wry smile.

"But now that I'm gone… there's something comforting about the routine," Radri says. "The scent of paper, the ink… even the flame. Though Candlekeep isn't so full of candles as its name would suggest."

Then she blinks, and lifts her gaze from her journal, glancing over to him.

"I remember seeing that you have a journal, as well. Don't you keep track of similar things?"

"Of our every encounter, foe, and death?" Xan says. "If I dwell too long on what has happened to us, I soon grow astonished at the fact that we are even still alive—and against my will, the mind wanders. I prefer to keep my entries to more pleasant reflections."

"Pleasant reflections?" Radri echoes, curious, "Like what?"

"What else?" Xan says, gazing at her softly. "Thoughts of you, and our love."

—

Radri swirls the liquid wax around in the flat pan of the candle holder, drawing circles around the dying flame. Just as the wick is about to run out, she catches the flame on a fresh one, and sets the new candle beside her closed journal. Her journal entry for the day is complete; she is tired, and she is long due for reverie; and yet, something keeps her awake.

Xan. She sighs, staring into the dull, abandoned pool, watching the wax slowly begin to solidify again. She doesn't know why she's still waiting for him. He prefers to study his spells alone—and she has often fallen into reverie waiting for him to finish—but never so consistently or so often as in these past several days. A shadow has fallen across his dark, gray eyes, and though she lingers in bed, pretending to still be in reverie to ensure he gets all the hours he needs, he hardly looks rested.

When she asks, Xan says nothing. But—she hasn't really asked, has she? Are you alright, is no true substitute for, I'm worried about you. Is something wrong? Is it something I did? Are you avoiding m—

Radri gives her head a sharp shake. No—it does no use to jump to conclusions, and she's been through this dance before. All she has to do is wait for Xan to come tell her everything.

…No, that's not it. The last time she had waited, in just a tenday he had formed a conviction to leave her forever.

Radri stands, sending the candle's flame flickering in the residual breeze of her movement, worry suddenly taking hold in her chest. Her heart is set—she's going to go find him. Xan is probably still at that worn table on the floor below; at this hour, there are none but the stillness and darkness of night to keep him company. Her mind made up, Radri crosses the room in three quick strides, and opens the door—

—And comes face to face with Xan, who stumbles back a step in surprise.

"Radri," Xan gasps. With the glimpse he'd caught of her expression, he sends a cautious glance behind him, before facing her again. "You—you looked as if you were about to storm a dungeon. Are we leaving already?"

Then he looks past her, into the room, where the wax carnage by the candle holder she's been using to stave off the darkness serves as clear evidence of her sleeplessness.

"…Or have you not even rested yet, at all?" Xan looks worriedly down at her. Radri feels, for an instant, abashed to have raised his concern—but no, she has to collect herself. She is worried about him. And she must say it!

"I… I couldn't," Radri says. Yes, a good start—

"I…" she continues, and now, she should ask him now—

"I hadn't yet received your kiss goodnight." NO!

But her excuse has already left her in a nervous rush of words, too late to be swallowed now. Xan, understandably, stares at her—and mentally, she buries her face in her hands. How could her resolve have fled her so quickly?

"I… did not know it was that significant to you," Xan says, slightly puzzled, and it takes her a second to remember what she'd said that he's responding to, "Forgive me for the oversight."

Leaning carefully in, as though partly convinced that she might prove to be an illusion once he touches her, Xan leaves a simple, light kiss on her cheek. When he pulls back away, he seems silently astonished at having confirmed that she is, in fact, real. But Radri's mind holds no room to process this observation; her fingertips rise to touch the kiss he'd placed on her cheek, and her face reddens in embarrassment. He'd… he'd humored her… but perhaps this is the best approach. After all, it's not in her nature to tackle an encounter head-on.

"Are you going to come in and join me?" Radri asks. Though she tries for casual, her voice seems, to her ears, to betray her hours of waiting and doubt. But if Xan thinks the same, it does not show, and he does not refuse her.

Xan moves through his nightly ritual, putting his spellbook upon the nightstand and leaning his moonblade against it, so that he might always have it on hand. Meanwhile, Radri feels as nervous inside as she did the first time they'd shared a room, and finds herself standing still at the foot of the bed, uncertain what to do with her arms.

Xan lays down on the bed, then looks up at her. Perhaps it's just her, or the distance, or the flicker of the candle—but she thinks she sees amusement in his eyes.

"Come here," Xan says fondly, and in that moment, the spell of her nervousness is broken. She hastens over and falls into his arms; Xan's soft, breathy chuckle floats across the top of her head.

"If you were in such a hurry, you need not have waited for me."

She curls up closer, nestling her head against his chest, her ear pressed to his heart. He misunderstands; what she'd waited for is his closeness.

"Will you take my hand?" Radri asks; she misses his company in reverie. Xan sighs.

"I am in no state to show you my memories of Evereska tonight, if that is what you were hoping for."

"I don't want to see, so much as I just want to be with you."

"Well, then, I am already with you." Xan kisses her hair. Her heart clenches, and she tries again.

"Xan… has something been troubling you, lately?"

"I am surprised that you would ask me this," he says. "Many things trouble me, Estel'amin, and at many times." Though his answer is neutral, something beneath it is just slightly tense.

"Does it have to do with me?"

"You are on my mind too often for these troubling thoughts to never lead back to you." But he had hesitated… just barely.

Radri finds her breath caught in her throat. This is the moment; she cannot bear to blurt out any more excuses.

"Is it why you wait for me to fall into reverie, first, before you join me?" Her heart beats so loudly that it nearly drowns out the sound of her own voice in her ears. "I—Is it… why you've been been avoiding me?"

In the aftermath of releasing those words from her mind, she barely registers the fact that Xan's body has stilled, his breath frozen in his chest; her thoughts, many and jumbled, tumble forth, fighting for the chance to form on her tongue.

"I—I'm sorry," Radri finds herself stammering. "After all… it's an uneven arrangement, isn't it? You have such a beautiful city to show me, and I only have books and repetition—the same story, day in and day out. And then I finally left, only to start having these visions… these nightmares. Why would you want to live through them with me? I understand, really. I should never have—"

"Radri."

With one swift movement, she's no longer curled up against his chest, but laying on her back on the bed itself. Xan is leant over her, his arms on either side of her shoulders, his face cast into uneven shadow by the curtain of his hair. She can't help but notice the dark circles beneath his eyes, which are still apparent even in this dim light—but more than that, what strikes her is how pained he looks by her words.

"Is that what you think?"

Radri feels, suddenly, that she's gotten the answer very wrong. She's transported back to Candlekeep: one of her tutors stares at her from the board, tutting at her, as Imoen, sprawled casually at the desk next to hers, signals secretly to her what she should have said instead.

But the Imoen of her mind's eye has no choice but to fade away without helping her; there is nowhere in the world that contains knowledge of what Xan is thinking right now, except for Xan himself.

"What," she says, quietly, "Should I think instead?"

Xan, surprisingly, does not answer immediately. He seems, for the first time in a while, lost for words—though not for a lack of emotion for them to express. She watches his expression shift, from reflection, to frustration, to helplessness, to—

"I have been trying to shield you from my struggles," Xan manages at last, "But I see that I have failed."

Pulling away from her, he continues, "I… I keep having visions."

"I am alone with you on a beautiful glade—and we are ambushed by monsters. I join you in your reverie—and wake up next to your lifeless corpse. I let down my guard, and you are taken from me—" He pauses, taking in a shaky breath, eyes glazed over by the memory, "And there are many more. You cannot imagine the perils my eyes see."

"Fear has always plagued me, Radri. Fears of dying, of losing you, of hurting you, of dragging you into the void of my lonely, desolate existence… But now they are not simply that: they are live nightmares I cannot escape, and I dread my reverie every night. How can I share it with you, when I know what my mind will show you?" Xan says, and pulls his gaze away from her, bowing his head. "I am lost, Estel'amin. Lost in darkness… and even the candles of your room are not able to drive it away."

Radri begins to reach out to him, but pauses, his words still running through her head. She feels like she's forced this from him; she's sorry to have pushed him. Perhaps, if she'd just observed in silence longer, she could have guessed that this was what troubled him… but she can't help but think back to that first night, when their shared reverie went awry. Even with her tears, her confession, his words, and his comfort, what she remembers above all is relief, to no longer be holding all of her fears inside.

So she brings herself to him, and she holds him close.

"You can show me," Radri says. "I wish I knew what to say to drive this darkness away… I wish I could do for you what you do for me. But I will always be here to listen."

"I want to know everything about you, Tahlimil," she confesses; despite having spoken it in her mind many times, his name is still new on her tongue, and she feels his breath catch to hear it. "Not just your hopes, but your fears. Not just your shining moments of happiness, but your present sorrows. I want to be here with you, through all of it. There is not a moment in which I would wish that you had spared me… I don't think it's possible for us to spare each other, anymore."

Her heart is beating loud and fast in her chest; she wonders if he can feel it, if he can tell that she feels more nervous and vulnerable now than she does when she whispers to him that she loves him, before all the eyes of the world. Xan, held close, now pulls away to look her in the eyes.

"Estel'amin," Xan says, "I…"

He looks taken by disbelief and awe; he looks as if he wishes to kiss her. But then, another thought comes to him—and she can spy this exact moment, by the sudden look of resolve in his eyes.

"There is a question that has been on my mind for far too long," Xan says. "I have agonized over when to ask it, but I think it can only be now. I feel as you do. I would share everything with you: my memories, my emotions, my life… and I would know you, in turn, as dearly and intimately as I have only ever known myself."

He takes her hand; his fingers, and the rings upon them, are normally cool upon her skin, but tonight they exude pure warmth.

"I wish to forge the bond that will unite my world with yours," Xan says. "I wish to have you in my arms, Estel'amin… will you have me?"

The building elation that she'd felt throughout his first sentences falters, stuttering to a halt. Suddenly, their closeness comes to the forefront of her awareness. His touch, his gaze, and even the mundane way the fabric of their clothes has tangled together around their bodies; to notice these things now leaves a weight in her chest.

"Are you afraid?" Xan asks, softly.

She can't respond; he does not push her.

"I know," Xan says, and if Radri were less preoccupied by her thoughts, she would note that his tone betrays a hint of nervousness, "This commitment is far too great to fathom in a single moment. An elven bond is the closest intimacy I could have asked of you; I have had many days to reflect on it, and yet I have not granted you the same. I am not so fragile that I will turn away from you if you refuse me tonight."

Hearing that, her head jerks up, startling him slightly. He thinks that this is what she would refuse? How could he imagine that she would, when even in the earliest of their days together—after she, by a miracle, had managed to convince him to stay—she had thought secretly, wistfully back to the kind of bond she had only ever been able to read about in books?

No, the cause of this pressure in her chest is from the other half of his request, tied so smoothly to the first: I wish to have you in my arms. She imagines that if she were anyone else, she would have already flung herself into Xan's waiting embrace, but though she tries to picture this, to rehearse for the actions she will surely take in the next moment, she cannot do it.

"I... I have dreamed of our bond. For an embarrassingly long time," Radri confesses, and says a silent farewell to such dreams as she admits, "But I am not ready to give you the rest of what you have asked. I'm sorry."

Ducking her head, she closes her eyes tight, ready to hear him sigh and turn away... but the sound never comes.

“Then our bond is all I ask,” Xan says.

Shocked, she looks up at him. Xan no longer looks nervous; he does not even appear disappointed, as she’d feared. Instead, he looks as if he’d received the very answer he had hoped for.

"What do you mean?" Radri asks, "You… you're still willing, to...?"

"Radri," Xan says, a fond, relieved smile pulling at his lips, "Our bond is the one part of my question that I had always feared you would refuse. The rest can wait until the day you wish for it."

For a moment, she can do nothing but stare in disbelief. That feeling of elation returns, building little by little, replacing the heaviness in her chest.

"Can you ask me again?" Radri says, feeling somewhat breathless, "S—so… so that I might accept properly?"

"I have longed to forge the bond that will unite my world with yours," Xan begins again for her, and adds, with a look of unbearable tenderness, "I love you, Estel'amin. Will you have me?"

And at last she answers in a whispered, "Yes."

—

When Radri wakes, Xan is sitting up beside her, already awake himself. She stretches her arms out to hug him around the waist, and closes her eyes again.

"You've spent less time in reverie than I," she grumbles, "How is it that you're already awake?"

"Is it your wish that I return to bed, then?" Xan asks, brushing through her hair with an idle hand. "I will… But first, I noticed that you were running short of candles, so I brought you one."

Xan presents her with a lit candle. Radri, sitting up, beholds it with bewilderment.

"I… Thank you, but… if you're already burning it now, won't it go to waste?" Radri asks, looking at him. Still new to her heart, his presence and his feelings there are not yet easy to sort through, but she manages to single one out: anticipation.

"There is more to it, Estel'amin," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "Just trust me."

Holding the candle between them, he faces her seriously.

"I wish to give you a promise, together with this candle," Xan says. "I… I feel you, now, as clearly as I feel myself. I know your fears as sharply as I know mine. And I promise: while you are here, with me, in reverie or in the waking world, you will not run out of candles, and whenever you have need of me, you will not find me wanting. —If you do have need of me, that is."

He extinguishes the candle, and looks at her with a slight smile.

"I almost do not believe it, but I feel… hopeful," Xan says. "And there, the candle is out. Do you forgive me for squandering it, now?"

"Yes," Radri says, barely managing to voice the word with how touched she is, and clearly past the need for any apology of his. "I'm… I…"

Xan just gazes contentedly at her, looking more at peace this morning than he has in days, and rather than trying to put into words what she feels after hearing what he said, she just wants to hold him. So she does.

"I suppose you will want us to return to reverie now," Xan says, his voice slightly muffled by the arms she's thrown around his neck. "I appreciate your offer to serve as my blanket, but it will be difficult to kiss you goodnight in this position… and I know how you cannot bear to forgo it."

"What even are you talking about," Radri mumbles, having reached her limit for deciphering spoken words the moment Xan's candle went out. There's simply too much information: from her heart, her head, this bond, and even the sun, whose rays are now peeking irritatingly in from the gap in the curtains at the window.

"Nothing," Xan answers, feeling all of this from her, and deciding to postpone his teasing for later. They have time. This hour, this day... and yes, perhaps even tomorrow.

—

full xan/radri compilation

[metatiki]

In Memoriam of Stories Untold

Or, Musings on the Benefit of The Three Choices of Veilguard

(To make it clear, I know this whole affair is a place of high emotion and disappointment to many. I simply wish to present a different side. My side. Also I get wordy - which is nothing new, I know. Thank you to anyone who chooses to read my maudlin musings.)

This is Kethry Aeducan, not my Canon Warden, but still one of my Warden babies:

Kethry dealt with the Blight with the same straightforward practicality as she did with everything else: on point and with a certain amount of brusqueness. She lacked the subterfuge and ambition of her brother Bhelen, who took advantage in a way that changed the course of her life forever and catapulted her ultimately into the role of Hero of Ferelden and Paragon of her people. However, along the way she found friends she never would have encountered as a noble dwarf in Orzammar, most importantly among them the woman who became the love of her life: Leiliana.

After I finished her story in DAO & DAA, I spent a little time crafting their retirement. Kethry trained up another Grey Warden to replace her as Warden-Commander, and she and Leliana traveled Thedas with a leisure they could never have experienced during the Blight. They sought out the most ridiculous shoes they could for Leliana, and an equally silly collection of hair ribbons for Leliana to weave into Kethry's hair for their nightly ritual of conversation and relaxation while Leliana's fingers danced through her lover's hair. It wasn't an exciting life (aside from the occasional bear) but it was the perfect life for someone who know she would never have the pleasure of dying of old age in her lover's arms.

And then DA2 came out.

Suddenly their quiet life wasn't so quiet because apparently Leliana had been busy out on a search with Cassandra for Hawke. All right. I made adjustments and delayed their retirement a little bit longer, but assumed that at some point she and Kethry would still get their time together.

And then DAI came out, and Kethry basically lost Leliana to Divine Justinia. No retirement. No traveling together. No spending their time idling in camp while Leliana wove braids into Kethry's hair. Instead, Leliana had been the Left Hand of the Divine, the sinister hand, all along, squeezing in time with Kethry as best as she could but putting off their already shortened happily ever after by ten full years. So I mourned the loss of the world state I'd built them as I reconstructed it, moved ten years of their time into headcanon, and updated her world state in the Keep.

But it was not the story I had originally chosen for Kethry.

~~~

This is Kamila Hawke, who is my Canon Hawke:

Kamila's life in Kirkwall broke them slowly over time. Torn between the need to provide for their family and their mother's lingering bitterness around Carver's death, Kamila tried their best to navigate the streets of Kirkwall while also trying to find their way from 'daughter' to 'son' but getting stuck in uncertainty somewhere along the way. Their friends did what they could, but by the time the Arishok had been dealt with and Meredith became a statue of angry red corruption on the flagstones of Kirkwall, the spark of anger which had driven Kamila for years finally sputtered and dimmed. They kept in contact with Varric the longest, but eventually even that trickle of messages stopped. One day Varric received Kamila's heavy sword from a traveling dwarf merchant, accompanied only by the short message: I'm sorry, Varric. Keep Bethany safe. Varric mourned the loss, comforted Bethany on the loss of her last sibling, and made sure that Hawke's story would never be forgotten in the only way he knew how.

And then DAI came out. Yes, I could have left Kamila's story well enough alone, but they were still my Canon Hawke, and I had a Canon world state I wanted to use. So, once again, I shifted a world state from 'canon' to 'headcanon', brought Kamila back from the Void, and gave them a new ending, one where they defiantly stood against a Nightmare to give someone else a chance to finish what they could not.

But it still wasn't the story I had chosen for them.

~~~

This is Martin Trevelyan, my Canon Inquisitor, with the man he loves more than any other:

(art by xla-hainex)

This is, of course, years after the tumultuous events of the Inquisition. Martin and Dorian have settled into a comfortable relationship of loving understanding, Dorian of Martin's constant need to be on the move and Martin of Dorian's duties and responsibilities as a Magister and one of the leaders of a movement to improve the Imperium from within. But it is still a life full of love and nightly conversation, whether in person over a glass of wine or via a small device that hums with magic.

The experience with Kethry and Kamila (among other Wardens and Hawkes whose stories I had to change) have made me hesitant to imagine too many details for him, particularly knowing that the Inquisitor was more than likely going to show up in the next Dragon Age game. I felt bold imagining them as they are above, older and happy and enjoying life together, but it felt like a place they would come to, even if they did so later rather than sooner. Ever since they confirmed the Inquisitor would be in the new game and started giving more details, I have been bracing myself, wondering how I would have to change Martin's story and what I would lose.

And then came the whole '3 Choices' Debate. And...I'm happy.

Oh, Martin's story isn't out of the woods yet, of course. Dorian might be in Veilguard, after all, and Martin will be. Evil gods are stalking the North and shenanigans will, indeed, ensue, and right now I have no idea what, ultimately, will happen. But from what we have learned, with the narrow focus of what past decisions will be considered to appear in Veilguard, I feel that I can hope that, for once, I may be able to keep the story I chose for my Trevelyan.

And I admit, I appreciate that freedom. I know there are many who are mourning the loss of what could have been, but I, for once, am able to hope for what should be, and not worry that Martin's story will be untold.

[nevereverthem]

imagine this: cat and mouse!bonkai but they're in the real world and not the prison world

TVD Imagine request :

I'm not particularly familiar with the cat and mouse trope. However, it gave me some ideas that I wanted to share.

Words : 2.7k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. 6x22 Damon abandons Bonnie dying at the wedding. He walks out of the venue, going straight to the hospital where Elena is waiting for him in her magic coma.

_ That's it ? He's just gonna let you die ?

Nothing. The only thing that's heard is Bonnie sobbing on the floor.

Kai walks up to her, crouching beside her dying form.

_ I admire your loyalty. But I'd like you to answer this. Why do you stay like that ? I mean, loyal to them. Clearly, it's not reciprocated.

She avoids his gaze, facing the opposite direction.

Kai cups her chin with one strong hand, turning her head back to him.

_ I asked a question.

Bonnie doesn't answer. She coughs, blood leaving her lips, running down to the newly heretic's hand.

Kai takes his hand to his face, licking the Bennetts' blood that just stained his skin. He closes his eyes at the taste, humming in contentment.

_ Delicious !

He looks back at her, searching her face. She's clenching her jaw, clearly mad, and hurt, fighting the tears threatening to escape her eyes. She doesn't want him to see her cry any more. He's not getting that satisfaction.

His smile drops a second before being replaced by a slight pout of disappointment.

_ Right. You're not in the mood. I get it.

She's dying. It won't be long now. She knows it. She can't even see straight anymore. Her vision's so blurry she doesn't notice Kai biting in his own wrist before presenting it to her mouth.

_ Drink.

At his word, she manages a confused frown, batting her eyes a couple of times. It doesn't help her vision. Although she doesn't need her sight to feel the bloody flesh brushing against her lips.

_ You dying that soon is not part of the plan.

He presses his wrist closer to her mouth.

_ Come on, Bon.

She wants to decline the offer.... but her survival instincts take over. Eyes closed to imagine someone else giving her blood, she grabs his wrist with both her fists, drinking hungrily as though her life depends on it.... which is actually the case. She could swear she hears him sigh in relief. Is it just a near death experience hallucination ? It doesn't matter. She's going to live. A bit longer that is.

When she's had enough of his blood to be completely healed, she lets go of his arm, moving in a sitting position.

_ Better ?

She glances at him, staring daggers through his eyes for a moment. A smile then grows on her face.

_ Feelings are hard, right ?

Kai scoffs, incredulous. Before he can answer, Bonnie mimics his signature wink.

_ Invisique.

She's gone.

Kai stands up from the floor, surprised, and quite impressed. He checks around him. She's nowhere to be found. That filthy little witch has learnt a lot. He grins uncontrollably, staring into space, lost in thoughts....

2. After the wedding massacre, Kai stays around, avoiding most of the fights. The Heretics settle in and take over the town.

One day, Kai receives an invitation to a party hosted by no other than Lily Salvatore. It's supposed to be a 'bury the hatchet' occasion.

The one thought that crosses his mind is the possibility of Bonnie's appearance at that 'peaceful' reunion. It's been a while since their last encounter. He can't wait. He doesn't believe one bit of this agreement bullshit. But he's not denying a little entertainment.

Once at the party, he quickly notices Bonnie in a corner, surely plotting with one of her friends.

_ May I have this dance ?

Hearing this familiar voice makes her shiver out of fear and anger. She turns to face him, repressing the desire to throw him away with magic.

_ I won't bite, I promise. At least not today.

He winks, offering her his right hand.

Bonnie looks back at the person beside her. They both nod, exchanging a knowing silence.

_ One. For peace.

He gives her a smile, repeating ironically.

_ For peace.

He leads them to the middle of the crowd, hands intertwined. He places an arm around her hip. Her hand wrapping around his neck. Bodies pressed against each other for slow dancing. They've never been this close. He's never been allowed anyway....

He's got a restricted amount of time, so he doesn't waste any. He bends his head down to her neck, whispering.

_ I know what you're planning to do. Not the details, but I can imagine. I won't stop you. I don't care what happens to them. They treated me like their personal walking blood bag. They can burn in hell. I came just for you.

They're swaying in synch, as if everything was normal.

_ You're disgusting.

_ Yeah ? You're alive because I decided so.

She huffs in disbelief, biting back.

_ You're the one who had me dying.

_ True. Let's say it's an apology for my mistake.

They keep dancing, moving accordingly to the music's rhythm. He adds.

_ You've never apologised for yours.

She abruptly steps back, frowning in confusion. She doesn't understand.

He presses her back against him. Of course she doesn't recall her mistake. Is she even aware it was one ?

The song's ending. He takes advantage of the remaining seconds.

_ I haven't forgotten how it felt.... I can't wait to taste your blood again.

The moment she finally decides to get him out of her way for good, he's gone. He doesn't reappear for the whole eventful day. He'd told the truth this time....

3. Bonnie is now under the control of the Huntress power. She has to kill vampires. She can't go against her duty. It's literally stronger than her.

The day she becomes that relentless huntress, a certain heretic makes an apparition.

_ Got yourself in trouble yet again ? You can't stop yourself, can you ?

She's almost happy to see his cocky expression staring at her in the dark. The fact that she can't refrain her killing desire might come in handy this time.

_ What are you doing here ?

He smiles at her annoyed tone.

_ I hear there is a new huntress in town. Came to introduce myself !

_ I'm gonna kill you.

_ I figured. You'd rather kill me than your friends, right ? That makes me the perfect bait.

She approaches cautiously, confusion spread on her face.

_ You're willing to die to protect my friends. Have you gone totally insane ?

He chuckles at her insinuation.

_ I'm not protecting their lives. I'm protecting yours.

She frowns, not able to stop her feet.

_ We're both aware that you've got shitty ungrateful friends....

Kai starts stepping back, keeping a safe distance between them.

_ ....still, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you ever hurt one of them.

Does he feel some sort of pity ? Is he truly trying to help her ?

_ I'm not completely against the idea of you being desperate and out of your mind....

Here it is.

_ ....but I'd rather be the reason you end up that way.

He gives her his usual psycho smile. That's more like it.

They're now walking in circles, as if slowly chasing one another.

_ You're not much of a talker tonight.

_ I have other plans.

That's when she throws herself at him, weapon in hand. One hit and he's trapped into that hell of a stone.

Luckily he's got some vampire speed to help. He dodges in time. While concentrating to avoid her attacks, he continues speaking.

_ It's funny how it's the second time you try to kill me since I've saved your life. And I'm not talking about the wedding.

The information get to her mind, but she's so caught up in the killing spree, she can't stop her movements.

_ You've never saved me. All you did was threaten me, shoot me, and leave me for dead.

When trying to reach him, Bonnie plants her sword in the nearest tree trunk, earning Kai a bit more time.

_ I was right then. They didn't tell you.

_ Tell me what ?

She takes her sword back, ready to stab him in the right place this time.

_ When you tried to kill yourself in the prison world, I came back for you.

She doesn't answer. Her anger mixes with the huntress power. Kai doesn't stop, dodging every hit.

_ You think that door opened by itself ? Nope ! I almost died doing that spell. Your ex boytoy pushed that switch 'cause I gave my last bit of strength so he could actually do it.

_ You're a liar !

He chuckles bitterly at that word.

_ How come I know your grandma told you to be strong and that's why you tried getting up ?

Bonnie's mind is stunned, but her body's still moving.

Kai's exhausted. The magic he's absorbed right before the encounter is running out. And his vampire abilities are not enough to keep on escaping her blows.

_ You'll have to ask your so-called friends. I did my best.

And just like that, he's gone, again.

Since she didn't mark him he's out of reach for now. She's got another job at hand.... Stefan.

4. Bonnie's finally back to normal. No huntress duty. No monster controlling her friends. She's found a way to get her powers back. More than that, through all the terrible events, she's had a little conversation with Damon. She's definitely not forgiven him for choosing Elena over her that very night.... But since all that happened.... They've come to a truce.

The things Kai had told her while she was under the huntress power.... That always bugged her and she finally asked Damon about it. All of it is true ! More than that, he did risk his own life to save hers. That's the least he should have done after what he put her through.... but it still itches something in her.

Since she got her magic back, as if he's felt it, she's seen the Heretic appear in random places she went to. He's always here, watching her from afar. That teasing's starting to get to her. She needs to take action before he drives her completely mental, or worse.

That's why that day she cuts her palm and casts a spell that indicates Kai's exact whereabouts. The woods, the snow.... As if he's been waiting for that exact moment. A reminder of the day it all went wrong.

_ You're late !

_ We didn't have an appointment. How-

_ Bonnie.

He smiles fondly, like he's reunited with an old friend.

_ I constantly feel your magic. It's got that special taste to it. You know, that aura.

He inhales deeply, as if he could smell it too....

_ You've been following me.

_ Told you I wanted to be the one to make you go insane. How am I doing so far ?

_ Stop that ! You were right.

Kai's stopped in his amusement, but if she wants to get to the heart of the subject, they will.

_ That's what you want me to say. That you were right. What you told me the last time was true.

_ What did I say ?

He knows perfectly what he told her, but he wants to hear the words come out of her mouth.

_ You came back for me. In the prison world. You prevented me from-

_ I did.

She's not sure if he wants to acknowledge that fact once more, or if the mention of attempted suicide is somehow too much now....

_ I did, and you left me.

_ I didn't know-

_ You could have let me back home, to the present. Then you could have just let me go or kill me, whatever. But no, you did the worst thing you could do to me. You left me in that damn prison !

His voice's louder, angrier. He's come closer, a few steps. She can feel the heat of his anger emanating from his body.

_ You're a murderer Kai ! You think I was gonna let you go ? You left me for dead.

_ And I came back ! You didn't.

She stays silent.

_ I changed, and you still left me. You didn't believe me.

_ And you murdered most of a wedding's guests because of a heartbreak ?

_ Yeah, 'cause your friends are so pure as the driven snow. That's why you forgive them every time. But I was never deemed worth it, right ? It all comes back to the same at the end.

He comes even closer, walking up to her with each word.

_ I'm not even the black sheep anymore. I'm the big bad wolf. That's what you think, huh ? Maybe you're right.

He grins wickedly. He's so close she can feel his breath when he speaks.

_ And you know what wolf do ? They bite !

The moment his eyes change colour and his fangs appear, she gets him flying away.

_ Motus !

Kai's back hits a tree and Bonnie begins chanting. Chains appear around him, binding him to the trunk.

Kai groans out of pain but he's soon composed again. He raises his head to her, pulling on the chains.

_ Getting a bit kinky ? I'm not complaining.

A playful grin on his lips, and that's what it takes for her to pull out the stake she has in her back pocket. She places it right on his chest, before his heart.

_ Oh, so that's it ? You've finally decided to kill me. What took you so long ?

He's 'calm', totally unperturbed.... He was expecting it ? And he came all the same ?

_ You want to die ?

She's horrified by her own statement. The man who fought so hard to get to live is willing to die at her hands.

_ I surely thought I'd stay on earth a while longer.... but perish at the hand of my own nemesis. What an end !

She realises something.

_ That's what you wanted last time ? When I became the huntress. You wanted me to kill you ?

_ Oh, no. I wanted to get your friends a little more time, and it worked.

_ Why ?

_ Why what ?

_ Why did you do it ? Why do you keep me alive ? You've shot me, you've stabbed me, you've brought me to the brink of death.... And you've always kept me there.

She pauses a moment. That man saved her from suicide. She's one of the few he kept alive at the wedding, even if it was out of spite and how terrible it sounds. He kept her busy when she was the huntress so her friends had more time to escape and find a way to break the link. It's hard to admit but he does cares for her in his own twisted way....

_ You're a challenge, Bonnie Bennett.

In that instant, she's attracted by his eyes. He wears so much confidence on the outside, but his eyes say otherwise. The more she looks into them, the more she seems to grasp glimpses of the man she's known. The man who said he's changed. The man who looked so scared when she stabbed him that snowy day.... She's so lost in his eyes that she doesn't catch his murmuring.

He's played with her life in that awful special way. She's gonna give him the same treatment. A final fatal encounter.

When she plunges the stake in his flesh, she hears his painful moans. Without thinking twice, she leans to put her lips against his, muffling his cries in a kiss.

She's always had that repressed desire for him. She knows she shouldn't, but it's been here since the beginning. He's reaching the end. She can at least make it slightly bearable.

When she pulls out, his cries have stopped. The stake is planted deep in his chest....

_ I'm not sure what's best. This or your blood. I'd be tempted to say your blood, but this comes close second. I say that again, I'll have another taste one day.

He did not desiccate? Why did he not desiccate ?

Her eyes go wide. She takes a huge step back, appalled. The chains fall from Kai's body.

_ Ahh, Bonnie Bennett. Still that easy to be fooled.

Kai removes the stake from his chest in one swift movement, dropping it to the ground.

_ Plastic.

He stretches his arms then cracks his neck.

_ See you soon my sweet Bonster.

He smiles warmly, gives her a quick wink, then suddenly disappears.

The man came to verbally fight. He let himself get hurt. She kissed him. He obviously siphoned the magic from the chains. And he transformed the stake into plastic with a murmured spell....

He got away. Again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading, did you like the short stories ?

I spent all night writing this. It took me basically 6 hours. That's alright.

Thank you for your suggestion 'anonymous'. I took a long time to respond and I'm sorry. I hope it lives up to your expectations. If not, please tell me more about what you expected me to write. I might understand the cat and mouse trope a lot more.

If you find any language mistake please feel free to let me know in DMs.

XO 🩷

The Vampire Diaries Masterlist

[loneberry]

Yi Yi by Edward Yang

Kaili Peng (wife of Yang) + Haden Guest, Sean Yang (son)

This film has been on my watchlist for ages. When I saw the Harvard Film Archive was doing an Edward Yang retrospective, I waited to watch a glorious 35 mm print. The film was introduced by Yang's wife, pianist Kaili Peng, and son, Sean Yang. Sean spoke of his father's early death, about only getting to know his dad through his films. After the screening Kaili describe Yi Yi as a "prelude to his own passing," his last "love letter to the world." She described Yang as a moody and passionate person, prone to bouts of anger. Yet while making Yi Yi, he was always in a good mood--that "sweetness" (her word) is captured in the tone of the film. 

Why is it that the films of the Taiwan New Cinema + Second New Wave (especially Tsai Ming-liang) capture urban alienation so powerfully? What is the root of this melancholia? You'd think Taipei was the loneliest place in the world. I don't know. Maybe it is. I've never been, even though my father immigrated from Taiwan and I've long wanted to go there to scatter my grandfather's ashes. 

Yi Yi contains sadness and levity in equal measure. In that sense it is true to life. The adult characters are haunted by their disappointments. Min-Min is plagued by a lack of meaning she tries to counter with Buddhist retreats. NJ is troubled by the counterfactuals of his life—the career he did not pursue, the great love he abandoned, who he encounters 30 years later. The children repeat the disappointments of their parents, continuing the cycle, ad infinitum. Strange, the night before watching Yi Yi, I watched Abbas Kiarostami's Where Is the Friend's House?. Both films stage an encounter between a child and an elderly person as a way to meditate on life and time. In both films there is affinity between the child and old person, who exist on the outer edges of the life cycle. Yes, you can't help but feel, watching Yi Yi, that the little boy Yang-Yang is an old soul (see the films final lines). Yang-Yang is the film's comic relief. I love what that boy sees—the photographs he takes of the backs of people's heads, how I dreamed them (see the photos that open my Sunflower book). 

Ting-Ting, too, is beautiful in her loneliness. Her guilt, her insomnia. She dreams of relief: "Now that you've forgiven me, I can sleep." 

How am I supposed to address the dying? Every soliloquy to the comatose grandma is the character confronting themselves. NJ mumbles that speaking to someone in a coma is like praying. Do they hear you? Are your words sincere? 

The way the film is shot, too, adds to the feeling that the characters are self-enclosed. Much of the action takes place in cramped interiors. The camera is often placed outside the building or train, just beyond the windows, giving you the feeling the they are ensheathed by glass. The window becomes a nexus between the interior and exterior: in the glass we can see what is happening outside at the same time we are observing the facial expressions of the characters. The headlights of the nighttime traffic dance on a woman's face. This is truly the hand of a director with a powerful vision.

Kaili said, after the screening, that Edward's autobiography is manifest in many of the characters. Edward was turned down from piano lessons, as was NJ. The music only meant something to him after the first time he fell in love. 

What can I say. It's a beautiful film. Watch it.

[Read more film reviews on my Letterboxd.]

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌈 Queer Books Coming Out in August 2024 🌈

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Happy reading!

❓What was the last queer book you read?

[ Release dates may have changed. ]

❤️ Failure to Comply - Sarah Cavar 🧡 I Spit On Your Celluloid - Heidi Honeycutt 💛 You're Embarrassing Yourself - Desiree Akhavan 💚 Death of the Hero - Briona Johnson 💙 Between Dragons and Their Wrath - Devin Madson 💜 The Crimson Crown - Heather Walter ❤️ Sacrificial Animals - Kailee Pedersen 🧡 Oath of Fire - K. Arsenault Rivera 💛 The Palace of Eros - Caro De Robertis 💙 This Ravenous Fate - Hayley Dennings 💜 Mistress of Lies - K.M. Enright 🌈 Wolf Bite - T.J. Nichols

❤️ In the Valley, A Shadow - Samantha Tano 🧡 Follow My Lead - Adrian J. Smith 💛 The Last Woman I Kissed - Venetia Di Pierro 💚 Full Shift - Jennifer Dugan & Kristen Seaton 💙 Hers for the Weekend - Helena Greer 💜 Come Out, Come Out - Natalie C. Parker ❤️ Rules for Ghosting - Shelly Jay Shore 🧡 How to Leave the House - Nathan Newman 💛 Plot Twist - Carmen Sereno 💙 On the Far Side of a Crescendo - Kalyn Hazel 💜 Tiny Oblivions and Mutual Self Destructions - Maxwell I. Gold 🌈 Daylan and the River of Secrets - Edd Tello

❤️ The Italy Letters - Vi Khi Nao 🧡 The Gender Binary Is a Big Lie - Lee Wind 💚 The House Where Death Lives - Alex Brown 💙 Ash's Cabin - Jen Wang 💜 The Avian Hourglass - Lindsey Drager ❤️ The Heart Wants - Krystina Rivers 🧡 A Grand Love - Janna Barkin 💛 You Can't Go Home Again - Jeanette Bears 💜 Libertad - Bessie Flores Zaldivar 🌈 Her Golden Coast - Anat Deracine

❤️ Mighty Millie Novak - Elizabeth Holden 💛 Rise and Divine - Lana Harper 💚 Dying for You - L Flowers 💙 I'll Have What He's Having - Adib Khorram 💜 Changing Her Tune - Amanda Kabak ❤️ Monogamy? In this Economy? - Laura Boyle 🧡 The Rainbow Age of Television - Sayna Maci Warner 💛 Medusa of the Roses - Navid Sinaki 💙 Confounding Oaths - Alexis Hall 💜 Idol Lives - K.T. Salvo 🌈 Brother's Keeper - Quinn Cameron

❤️ Key Lime Sky - Al Hess 🧡 Crushing It - Erin Becker 💛 The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou 💚 Not for the Faint of Heart - Lex Croucher 💙 Tasting Temptation - JJ Arias 💜 Ami - S. Jae-Jones ❤️ You're the Problem, It's You - Emma R. Alban 🧡 Cubs & Campfires - Dylan Drakes 💛 The Dark We Know - Wen-yi Lee 💙 Practical Rules for Cursed Witches - Kayla Cottingham 💜 Riyati Rebirth - Kalani Shimizu 🌈 The Brujos of Borderland High - Gume Laurel III

❤️ A Bánh Mì for Two - Trinity Nguyen 🧡 Dance of the Starlit Sea - Kiana Krystle 💛 Scattered Snows, to the North - Carl Phillips 💚 Beyond a World Apart - Caitlin Myers 💙 Don't Let It Break Your Heart - Maggie Horne 💜 Nothing Heals Me Like You Do - Harper Bliss ❤️ How It All Ends - Emma Hunsinger 🧡 How Do I Sexy? - Mx. Nillin Lore 💛 The Palace of Eros - Caro De Robertis 💙 Prince of the Palisades - Julian Winters 💜 Better Left Buried - Mary E. Roach 🌈 Back to Back - Jo Fletcher

❤️ DITCHLAPSE / [REALLY AFRAID] - Tommy Wyatt 🧡 The Love Archives: Bonus Scenes & Excerpts for Palestine - Various 💛 Guardian: Zhen Hun - Ying Priest 💚 The Sunforge - Sascha Stronach 💙 Queering Reproductive Justice - Candace Bond-Theriault 💜 Gender Explained - Diane Ehrensaft & Michelle Jurkiewicz ❤️ The Unlikely Pair - Jax Calder 🧡 In Universes - Emet North 💛 We Love the Nightlife - Rachel Koller Croft 💙 Lessons from Cruising - Martin Goodman 💜 Wild Ginger in the Rhubarb - Eule Grey 🌈 Not My Circus - Delicia Niami

❤️ Asunder - Kerstin Hall 🧡 The Phoenix Keeper - S.A. MacLean 💛 Encounters with James Baldwin - Various 💚 Verity's Game - Jennifer Giacalone 💙 Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase - Fae Quin 💜 The Audacity Omnibus - Carmen Loup ❤️ Haunted to Death - Frank Anthony Polito 🧡 Blood Orange - Paige Grunewald 💛 The Bad Things We Did - Chris Archeske 💙 Dark Restraint - Katee Robert 💜 Worth the Wait - Kenna White 🌈 The Maid and the Crocodile - Jordan Ifueko

❤️ Loving Corrections - Adrienne Maree Brown 🧡 The Last Witch in Edinburgh - Marielle Thompson 💛 The Duchess of Kokora - Nikhil Prabala 💚 The Scales of Seduction - Rien Gray 💙 Survival Is a Promise - Alexis Pauline Gumbs 💜 Loka - S.B. Divya ❤️ The Every Body Book of Consent - Rachel E Simon 🧡 Southern Lights - Liz Arncliffe 💛 Then Things Went Dark - Bea Fitzgerald 💙 Death at Morning House - Maureen Johnson 💜 The Last Doorbell - William Parker 🌈 The Pairing - Casey McQuiston

[novafire-is-thinking]

🗣️Talk about your favourite WIP

At the moment, I have two or three favorites, so I’ll go with the one I’ve added to most recently.

The title is currently Remember Me As You Will, but that may change between now and completion.

It started out as a two-part story, but it’s turned into a multi-chapter fic. lol

Each part is a glimpse into a key point in Shockwave’s life: mostly pre-shadowplay and post-Unicron.

The majority of it is written from Shockwave’s POV, with the occasional glimpse from the perspective of someone else he encounters. The goal is to capture both Shockwave’s self-reflection, and also how he may have been perceived from without.

Two songs for this WIP:

The Lament of Eustace Scrubb by The Oh Hellos (Spotify | YouTube)

Lyrics:

Brother, forgive me / We both know I'm the one to blame / 'Cause when I saw my demons / I knew them well and welcomed them / I knew them well and welcomed them

But I'll come around / I'll come around

Father, have mercy / I know that I have gone astray / 'Cause when I saw my reflection / It was a stranger beneath my face / It was a stranger beneath my face

But I'll come around / I'll come around / Someday

When I touch the water / They tell me I could be set free

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night from Interstellar (Spotify | YouTube)

Lyrics / Poem:

Do not go gentle into that good night, / Old age should burn and rave at close of day; / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, / Because their words had forked no lightning they / Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright / Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, / And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, / Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight / Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, / Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. / Do not go gentle into that good night. / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

For this ask game

[kawaii-queen-kaiju]

🎵I have died in your arms tonight🎵

Angel of Death/Jason Todd AU

(Prev. Chapter)

All throughout the lecture Jason and Lea passed notes back and forth, like giggling teenagers in high school, and Jason was not embarrassed in the slightest. Who cares if he's blushing like a schoolboy, heart going a mile a minute just talking with a pretty girl? A pretty, smart girl, who laughed at his macabre jokes and made her own. Sue him. When the class finished, she smirked and passed him one last note, before slipping out the door. He was disappointed for a moment, before he realized what was on the small strip of paper. Her phone number.

(No, he did not do a little dance, you have no proof.)

He programmed the number into his phone, flip-flopping on the name. He eventually decided on just 'Lea'. He'd change it later, after their coffee date. Holy shit, he had a date! Take that, Dickface.

He quickly changed out of the plain getup he had on for sitting in the dim college classroom, and into something more presentable, yet still casual… a t-shirt and jeans would be fine, right? Across the room, on his nightstand, his phone dinged. It would have to be. She sent him the address for an overpriced little coffee shop on the Gotham U campus. Perfect.

He walked into the small cafe, noting the absence of a certain angel woman. So, he ordered his drink and sat in an easily visible booth, trying to keep his bat-paranoia in check. She wouldn't stand him up, would she? She seemed interested in class… what if it was an act?

The bell above the door rang and he looked up on instinct. His mind stopped in its tracks, frozen on the sight in front of him. Lea seemed to have had the same idea he did, now wearing something different than an hour before. Her oversized, black sweater came to her knees, over top of fishnets and Doc Martins. She had a pile of necklaces around her neck, and her braids were pulled back, revealing heavily pierced ears. The rare Gotham sunlight came in behind her, shrouding her in a halo of light.

She spotted him and smiled, only adding to the divine comparison in his head. "Just Jason!"

He chuckled a little, the sound dying in his throat as she approached. "You look beautiful." He blurted out, embarrassed but not dissuaded. "Like an angel."

Her eyes twinkled with mirth. "Why, thank you. You're not so bad yourself, handsome."

Yes, his face was on fire. So what? He cleared his throat. "So, what do you want to drink?"

Her face brightened, like a kid on Christmas. "Coffee. One of my siblings brought me some once and I've been dying to have it again." He raised an eyebrow, laughing a little. "Right."

She repeated her order to the barista at the counter, who looked at Lea with less amusement than Jason. The barista rolled her hand, beckoning Lea to continue. "Yes, but what do you want?"

Lea frowned, confused. "I want coffee. Jason, I'm speaking English, right?"

The barista's eyebrows shot into her hairline, and Jason muffled his laugh in his hand. He glanced down at Lea, expecting literally any other emotion to be present on her face. She was looking at him, concerned and confused, hand hovering over his back. Jason straightened up, turning back to the offended woman behind the counter. "She'll have a black coffee. Sorry about that." He slid a hundred to her and quickly walked Lea back to their table.

"What was that?" He asked, huffing a small laugh. She frowned (still looking gorgeous while doing so). "She was misunderstanding me, and I was worried I was speaking the wrong language."

Jason nodded, remembering some of Damian's moments like that. More often than not, it was insulting, but sometimes…

"English isn't your first language." He realized, looking on the encounter from moments prior differently. She shook her head. "No. Far from it actually."

"I get it. My little brother's first language isn't English either."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "You have siblings?"

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Hundreds of 'em." He joked. She blinded smiled at him. "Me too!"

"Older or younger?"

"Both." She groaned. "They're so annoying, and only one of them has visited me in thousands of years!" He's never heard that metaphor before. Maybe a phrase in her language? "Can't relate. I wish mine would just leave me alone."

She looked at him with sad eyes, looking ages older than she actually was (then again, so did he sometimes). "No, you don't." He blinked at the tone shift, but the moment was ruined by the barista calling Lea's coffee order. He got up and grabbed the cup, coming back to her looking herself again. "Here." He handed her the drink and she stared at it with hearts in her eyes (no, he was not jealous of a coffee cup, that's ridiculous).

She took a sip and her face scrunched up, looking like Tim when Jason managed to catch him in a sleep-deprived state and trick him into biting a lemon. "Ugh! What is that?!"

He stifled a laugh, disguising it as a cough. "Coffee." She shook her head, glaring at the cardboard cup like it had personally offended her. "No, coffee is delicious. That is infernal." She growled.

He let himself laugh this time, offering her his cooling cup. "Why don't you try this?"

She peered into it warily, comparing the contents of both. "They look the same…" She glanced at him, and slowly brought the drink to her lips. She took a sip and her eyes widened, sips turning into gulps. She tipped back the whole cup, impressing Jason.

When she brought it away from her mouth, she wasn't even panting, licking her lips. "That was better. Not quite what Gabriel brought, but definitely better than," She glared at her own cup, "that."

Jason leaned back in his seat, amused by her reaction. "If you think that's good, wait 'til you try it with chocolate."

(Next Chapter)

[ravenwitch45]

Imagine if Stella hired Striker for a hit on Bayonetta. I'll bet Striker's encounter with the witch would go similarly to and about as swimmingly as Puss in Boots' first encounter with Death, with Striker on the losing side!

Bayonetta: "A death threat? Really? In front of my martini?" ⬆

Striker's in for a surprise when he sees Bayonetta being the most expert dodger out of all his targets. (Because he doesn't know about Witch Time) ⬆

Either way, a moving target like her might make Striker unwaveringly believe that no reward is worth this! That he might, for the first time, go "fuck it!" and tell Stella to find someone else, 'cause he ain't dying for this vendetta and she can't pay him to do that!

He thought he was on a witch hunt, but ended up with the witch hunting him! ⬇

(Alternatively for fun, you could also imagine this same scenario but with a human-sized Madama Butterfly instead of Bayonetta...)

Oh lord poor Striker. I actually just watched Last Wish so I could do this the best I could so let's do this.

Perhaps he tries to sneak up on her, hearing her hum Moon River (That will come back later) Before she suddenly turns to him making him freeze "You know it's rude to sneak up on a lady, if you have something to say I suggest you say it"The witch states, Striker awkwardly recovering, pulling his hat down to hide his surprise before replying "Your a lady who has too much of habit of making powerful people upset..."to which her eyes widen as she gets up and chuckles pulling out love is blue "Oh, an Assassin I see, well then, let's dance shall we?"

Yeah Striker is way out of his league here, mainly due to two things, one witch time, Bayonetta continually dodging everything and retailating with attacks he simply doesn't see coming, and two her weapons, if Striker brought his blessed arsenal along which seems likely, he'd have a bit more of a chance, but most of Bayonetta's weapons literally have demons inside of them, not to mention she has tons she can pull out at any moment to keep him on his toes

She would certainly toy with him, literally shooting his bullets in mid air and just smirking at him as he panicks, eventually throwing his knife at her which she also shoots down, it stabbing into a wall right next to him which makes his heart race, Bayonetta just crossing her arms "You know, you do have a fire about you, and I'd hate to put that out, too few passionate people in the world these days, so why don't you run along, I won't blame you."She says, Striker looking at her in surprise, truly not expecting that, his hair standing on end as she raises a brow, cocking one of her guns and that sends him running after grabbing his knife, trying his best to keep his tail from between his legs.

He tells Stella off and checks out of that whole situation, except well... While I don't believe Striker would get as panicked or... well traumatized by the experience as Puss was from his encounter with Death, it still leaves it's marks, him remembering it as one of the few moments he ever felt truly powerless and afraid. And he get's all panicky ever hearing Moon River, terrified of ever seeing her again, though he keeps his composure despite that mostly until the memory get's stirred.

The thing I love about this most is I have an OC who's friends with both of them, so Imagine Striker and him just run into her on the street, and while there talking Striker is just scared into silence, hiding his face under his hat hoping not to be recognized, she has no ill intent or hard feelings, she isn't hunting him like Death hunted Puss but still, he's scared of her to a degree he didn't know he could be XP