#The Last Dance: Encountering Death and Dying

[ceciliajohanna]

a fate worse than death

The hunter and the vampire danced across the mansion, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. Blades clashed against fangs and claws. Silver bullets flew in every direction; fast, but not fast enough.

The hunter’s element of surprise was long gone, and so was their momentum. The fight was reaching its crescendo. They parried and parried and parried, using every trick they could think of to fend off the inevitable for just a few more seconds.

This was no longer about survival. It was about dignity.

“Enough,” the vampire snarled. A hard shove sent the hunter flying, an ominous crack resonating through their spine as they crashed into a bookshelf on the other side of the room. Explosions of pain erupted through their body. They fell to their knees, ears ringing, heart racing. They pulled themselves together, planting a palm on the floor to bounce back up on their feet—

The hunter’s legs didn’t move.

Oh.

A final rush of adrenaline sizzled through their bloodstream before dying out altogether. Their empty gun slid out of their hand.  

It was over.

The vampire plucked a bullet from of a bleeding crater in their shoulder, frowning at the silver shell before tossing it on the cracked mahogany flooring. The wound instantly knitted itself back together, leaving nothing behind but a stain of red on the vampire’s torn shirt. They were old—far older than the hunter had expected. The hunter had taken down the fledglings inhabiting the lair, but against the monster itself, they hadn’t stood a chance.

A resigned smile tugged at the hunter’s lips as their gaze swept over the havoc they’d wrought. Toppled furniture. Shattered chandeliers. Numerous piles of ash, marking the exact location where each fledgling had met their demise. The battle had left the structure of the mansion fundamentally compromised, allowing beams of sunlight to trickle in through gaping holes in the walls. No matter what happened next, the vampire was going to have to find themselves a new batch of fledglings and a new lair.  

As far as last stands went, the hunter could have done worse.

“Are you done?” The vampire wrinkled their nose at the demolished sitting room, clearly following the same train of thought.

“I believe so,” the hunter said, and they meant it. They’d been in the business long enough to recognize a body broken beyond repair. They could feel their life slip further away from them with every rattling breath.  

“I was rather fond of this place, you know,” the vampire said, their voice clipped. “I don’t know what you were trying to accomplish, but I hope you’re satisfied.”

“Would’ve been nice to take you down with me, but yes.” The hunter raised their chin. “I’m satisfied.”

The hunter was not afraid of death. They’d encountered enough immortal creatures over the years to know that a limited lifetime was, in many ways, a blessing rather than a curse. Despite being little more than soft flesh and brittle bones, humans carried something within them that those monsters seemed to lack.

A soul.

Any moment now, the hunter would meet their family again. Their siblings, their parents, their grandparents—an entire bloodline of fallen hunters, waiting for them on the other side. Human lives may be fleeting, but souls were eternal. Death was not the end. Death was a journey into the unknown, marking the start of a new beginning.

The hunter was not afraid.

“Cheeky.” The vampire’s fury lost its edge, shifting into mild annoyance. They tilted their head to the side, studying their prey. “This is usually the part where my uninvited visitors break down in tears. You do understand that I’m going to kill you, right?”

“There are fates far worse than death.”

“I see,” the vampire said, their face unreadable. “How can you be so certain?”

The hunter’s skin crawled under the vampire’s unblinking scrutiny. “I just know.”

“You just know.” The vampire snorted—a surprisingly human sound coming from a monster. “You really are a peculiar creature.”

“How so?” the hunter couldn’t help but ask.

“Mortals tend to cling to life like it’s the only thing worth fighting for. It’s in your nature. You beg. You plead. You bargain. This?” The vampire finally blinked, their lips forming an uncanny imitation of a smile. “This is new.”

The vampire sauntered towards them, carefully avoiding the intruding rays of sunlight. Their effortless grace made the hunter add a few more centuries to their approximate age. There was something unmistakably wrong about the way ancient beings moved. The world seemed to curve around them, like a river branching to make room for a particularly stubborn rock.

The vampire’s presence was like a declaration of war against time itself.

“So… what’s the secret?” The vampire crouched before the hunter, their gaze lit up by genuine curiosity. “Terminal illness? Insanity?” They paused. “Nothing to live for?”

A spike of pain that had nothing to do with their ruined body needled its way into the hunter’s chest; an invisible blade slipping between the cracks of their broken rib cage. The faces of their nieces, their nephews, and the citizens they’d sworn to protect flashed before their eyes.

“I’ve got plenty to live for,” the hunter said. “Which means I’ve got plenty to die for as well.”

“Sounds a bit contradictory to me.”

“It’s not.” A guttural cough tore free from the hunter’s throat, leaving them gasping for breath. “If it’s all the same to you, I would like to… to go now. Just finish it.”  

“Finish it? After everything you just told me?” The vampire’s cold laugh shattered the sense of civility that had somehow grown between them. “Oh, little one, we’re not done yet.”  

Blood drained from the hunter’s face. An emotion they thought they’d already conquered formed a vengeful knot under their sternum, its claws digging deep into their stomach.     

Fear.

“A swift death would be a blessing for someone like you. A gift.” The vampire leaned closer. “You killed my children. You destroyed my home. I’m not feeling particularly charitable right now.”

The hunter instinctively tried to scoot backwards, but their useless legs kept them anchored to the floor. The fact that they’d even tried to move at all shook them to the core. Their fear had spread to the point that they were now acting upon it.

“I did enjoy our little chat, though. A peculiar creature indeed.” The vampire fell silent, disappearing into their own thoughts. The hunter held their breath, waiting for the final verdict.

The obvious solution seemed to hit them both at once.

No.

The vampire’s face split into a bone-chilling grin. The hunter’s heart plummeted through their chest.

No, no, no.

The hunter's pride finally cracked. They wanted to beg, to plead, to bargain, to scream, but they knew it wouldn’t make a difference.  

It was the perfect punishment for a human unfazed by death.

It was the perfect way to rob the hunter of what they valued the most.

 “I think immortality would look good on you,” the vampire said, and slid their fangs into the hunter’s throat.

[everythingundertheskycomics]

Hypno's Rings

3/4

Previous | Following

Mourning.

This one is very personal.

[thanosscross]

HII I REALLY LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH, i hope your willing to write about pregnant reader x thanos yk, thanos didn't know she was pregnant before they break up and then they meet up again the games and he finds out player 222 and player 333 type stuff 😭

Of course! We love this!!

Good person - Choi Su- Bong x pregnant! reader

Summary: After leaving Thanos, you encounter him again in a serious death game, only this time the stakes are lot higher

Warnings: Not much, just your usual squid game gore

A/n: Sorry it's so short! I'm going to try and start adding some length to my stories again especially my Thanos stories so stay tuned for those longer stories, trust me they are coming, they're just takin a lil time

You had told yourself whenever you signed up, you'd be as careful as possible, and that it was all for your baby, after leaving their father and being disowned for choosing to be single mother, you were left with little to nothing, so of course you took the chance to get money.

As you woke up in the giant room you soon came to regret your decision, seeing your sperm donor just a few feet in front of you, focused on the screen reading off debts "Y/n L/n, 25 million won" The guard shouted, showing you getting smacked across the face, quickly holding an arm over your stomach afterwards. Almost like he knew, as soon as your name was called out, his head snapped to yours "Senorita! You're here!?" He shouted in shock "No Way!" He shouted as he walked closer, you attempted to curl your body up away from him, but due to the six month pregnancy belly, you could only bend your legs closer to you slightly.

"Please leave, Thanos" You grunted, trying your best to keep him at a distance, for all he knew you had taken a plan B after your last hook up and that was it. Instead he just kept approaching until he was standing in front of you "What're you doing here!?" He asked excited, you just shook your head "trying to get my family and I money after my sorry excuse of a boyfriend convinced me to buy stupid ass crypto?" You said like it was obvious, it wasn't like you were entirely lying, you just didn't specify what family.

Going into red light green light, you were cocky at first, knowing you could do this easy, until the shooting started, players falling left and right, while your baby dad just skipped and danced his way to you down the field "You never answered me, Senorita" He repeated, placing his hands on your hips, terrified of what he might do, especially after watching him shove other players to win "I-I'm pregnant" You blurted, you couldn't help it, between your fear of dying by Thanos or the game was too much, you just wanted to get out of this alive, you didn't think it'd be this serious, if you did, you never would've done this. "Haha" He laughed sarcastically before looking at your face as the doll called out red light, he was in front of you now, and you were visibly shaking, Thanos using his body to try and shield you from the sensors "for real, flower?" He asked, his tone a lot more deep and raspy, you could tell he sobered up quick upon the realization you weren't joking. "I-I forgot the pill after hooked up a few months ago! a-and I left because I knew you couldn't be a responsible dad" You blurted, unable to contain your emotions as the hormones in your body were on overdrive.

Thanos was frozen, staring at you in shock before finally snapping out of it as the doll called green light, he grabbed your arm holding you behind him as he followed the others past the red line "Just stay behind me" He whispered, your words stung, how could you be so sure of how he'd be as a dad if you never gave him a chance? As you made your way back to the giant main room, you took notice to Thanos's hand on your back leading you to the bed "Sit, you don't put yourself through too much" He explained softly, helping you over to your bunks before eyeing Nam-Gyu "Give her your bed, man" he demanded, his friend stuttering before giving up and giving you his bed that was floor level, him taking your third bunk bed. "Thanos" You warned, not wanting him to make it a huge deal "What?! You're huge! You don't need to be climbing!" He shouted before catching his tone, apologizing quietly "Okay, well One, that was very very rude, two, I can do whatever I please, if I feel like I can't do something, I'll tell you" You stated poking him in the chest with your finger, he just smirked at you, biting his bottom lip slightly "Have I ever told you, it's hot whenever you yell at me" he asked, trying his best to charm you, but instead you just flicked his forehead in annoyance "Get away, freak" You replied, he just smiled at you, sitting at the foot of your bunk "So it's my baby?" He asked smiling pointing to your stomach "Well, if not I'd be concerned" You said raising your eyebrows at him "Can I..touch it?.." He asked nervously "it's not an it, it's your daughter" you glared, before grabbing his hand slipping it under your jacket, pressing his finger down in just the right spot to get the small baby inside of you to move around "Woah..weird" He said grimacing as he pulled away in disgust "Really!?" You gasped in shock laughing loudly, somehow forgetting you were in a death game for a moment "Yea! You have a whole human inside of you! That's weird!" He laughed, resting his hand on yours "You put it there, Su-bong!" You argued, you swore sometimes you got with a completely dumbass.

"Y/n..If you'll let me...I wanna be there..I don't want to be like my dad" He frowned, squeezing your hand gently "Please?" He begged "I know I fucked up bad, but, I want to try again, please" He continued, you glared at him for a moment before sighing "How can I trust you? And you'll have to get clean, for real clean, not how you're usually clean" You added on, you just watched as he nodded his head, no faces or complaints "You're actually serious aren't you?..." you asked sweetly "I want to be a good person for you, y/n, please" He whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles "I guess..but you only get one chance" You offered, he just nodded before flopping himself next to you "Thank you!" He cheered pressing multiple kisses all over your face as he chanted his thank you's, not realizing the next 18-19 years were going to be hell for the both of you.

The rest of the games, Thanos was always on you, making sure you didn't over do yourself or risk hurting yourself or your baby, charming you right back into his arms.

--

Taglist!!

@acehasmyheart

@corrdelia

@ag022123

[xylatox]

February 2025 Fic Recommendations!!

a/n : 2nd fic recs for the year!! February had so many good reads oh my goodness. As always, please support the authors and any of their other works by reblogging, liking and sharing a comment!! :)

My goal for March is to definitely consume more Seventeen and Ateez fics :3

☆ - series ♡ - one-shot

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w.c. -29k

pairing - sunghoon x reader

synopsis - in which an innocent, shy, and faithful sunghoon takes a summer job as a farmhand. he’s never indulged on his desires until the farmer’s daughter shows him a taste of sin. although riddled with guilt, he cannot deny or escape the new rousing feelings that impurify him. especially when she's set on ruining him every chance she gets.

♡where bluebells meet | @rumoonstruckyet

w.c. - 31.2k

pairing - rivaltofriend!jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis - for years, you’ve been on a constant stream of debates with student council president yang jungwon. and although you didn’t exactly hate him, you weren’t fond of him either—especially of your teachers’ decision to team you up for two projects—in your graduating year, of all times. so as you started working, why were your arguments now reduced to an air of awkwardness and...a blossoming friendship?

♡When Cameras Stop Rolling | @gyu-tori

w.c. - 21.1k

pairing - actor!sunghoon x aspiringdirector!reader

synopsis - When the cameras stop rolling, the world still watches. You’ve spent years behind the scenes, dreaming of the day you’ll call the shots. Then there’s Sunghoon—an untouchable star, distant yet impossibly captivating. To him, you’re just another face in the crowd—until tension sparks and walls crack. When love and ambition collide, will either of you risk it all?

Seventeen

♡The Xu Minghao Dilemma | @shuaflix

w.c. - 20.6k

pairing - xu minghao x fem!reader

synopsis - like most film students, you find yourself experiencing the worst creative block of your life when you're tasked to film a documentary for your final project. enter: your old childhood best friend turned stranger, xu minghao—an (incredibly handsome) ex-dancer and barista who just might be the spark of inspiration you need to make the best film of your academic career. on the flip side, minghao needs this film to win him the scholarship that lets him dance again. despite all, your circumstances don't stop your old, repressed feelings for minghao from resurfacing.

☆the one where the stranger you fake date turns out to be your childhood friend; pt1, pt2 | @bitchlessdino

w.c. - 12.5k + 29.5k

pairing - office manager!seungcheol x childhood friend!fem!reader

synopsis - In a world where relationships mattered just as much as money or status did, Seungcheol found himself wrapped up with a person from twenty years ago. He didn't know how you remembered him, and frankly he didn't know how he remembered you, but the way you've reentered his life, like a gust of wind, he didn't think he'll ever forget you now.

♡Cinnamon | @daechwitatamic

w.c. - 19k

pairing - mingyu x fem!reader (nicknamed Sunny), reader x male oc for a while

synopsis - You finally decide to try and move on after years of waiting for Mingyu to return your feelings. But when you start bringing your new boyfriend around more often, things with Mingyu get... difficult.

♡Fake It Til You Make It | @diamonddaze01

w.c. - 18k

pairing - boo seungkwan x f!reader

synopsis - You could honestly throttle Seokmin right now. Of all the half-baked, caffeine-fueled ideas he’s ever had, convincing the entire office that you and Seungkwan—your sworn nemesis and parking spot thief—are madly in love might just take the cake.

♡muddled hearts | @haologram

w.c. - 24k

pairing - bartender!xu minghao x fem!waitress!reader

synopsis - things take a turn for the better when you finally find a roommate to escape your incredibly overpriced apartment, but you don't expect to ruin the only relationship that matters to you in the process.

♡Fires of Faith | @jakedustry

w.c. - 29.2k

pairing - Wonwoo x reader

synopsis - You can’t put out fire with fire. But you can combine them, and watch the place burn down in front of your eyes. The demon king realized that when he watched his son dethrone him. He should have never sent him on the mission in the first place. If he hadn’t, he could have kept his son’s fire under control. 

Ateez

☆mountebank chem | @jensthwa ~completed

w.c. - 64.5k

pairing - rich!yunho x afab!rich!reader.

synopsis - The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

[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.

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Worst's Chapter 405

New title - 52. Night and Light

Brief summary: Cale's group arrives at the Cliffs of Death where beneath it lay the Primordial Night. They enter Primordial Night and encounter captives to be offered as sacrifices.

==========

Today was mostly laying down the background settings, so not much happened. To summarize the entire chapter, it would be like this: Cale's group travels and enters the Primordial Night.

So let us talk about the background settings revealed today.

Hellhole was divided into 4 areas by a cross-shaped canyon in the middle

The canyon where the 4 areas meet was called the Cliffs of Death, said to be worse than the Valley of Death in Nameless 1

Below the canyon was the Primordial Night, the holy land of GoC

NPCs who fell down the canyon never returned

Users who fell down encounter gray fog and a notice that it was an inaccessible area before dying and respawning in another area

Four huge trees grow on each of the 4 areas, and the roots of these trees connect the 4 cliffs to form bridges

The bridges were called the Roots of Beginning

But twice a month, which was on the night of the full moon and on the night of the last day of the month, the 4 trees retracted their roots that connected the 4 areas, making the bridges disappear

On these days, GoC believers called "guides" would lead outsiders into the Primordial Night

These outsiders were from other worlds, and brought here through kidnapping, deception, or hypnotism

The GoC saint would use the power of chaos on these outsiders, making them fight in a battle royale

Once all the outsiders died, the GoC cult would say a prayer of thanks and offer the corpses as sacrifices to GoC

After it was over, the GoC cult would dance, eat, and engage in acts of primal pleasure until sunrise

Thus, the nights that the Roots of Beginning disappeared was called the Night of Pleasure

When Cale's group arrived, the bridges were still there. But when they arrived at the gates of Primordial Night, they saw a guide and captive outsiders. Cale recalled that today was the last day of the month, and realized that the a new Night of Pleasure was about to begin.

Ending Remarks Woah, that was a lot of settings today. 😮 Next chapter would probably be the wanderers catching up to Cale's group with the traces they deliberately left. I guess the fight that Cale was excited for would be on Friday or next week.

[motthe]

I’ve been going through your fics and absolutely fell in love with your Lumen AU! It suck a sweet take on the whole soulmate concept.

It got me thinking about Vander tho especially with season 2 now out and everything going on (I am mourning). So I was wondering if I could request any thing fem!reader and Vander related in your Lumen Au. First meeting, the before and aftermath of his encounter with Silco, season 2 revelations, literally anything you could think of writing!

Vander has grown on me just like Silco. God, i love that man!!! also sorry if the lumens kinda fade into the background in this!!! hope you enjoy it!!!

warnings: war, death, loss

Vander stumbled across you after the Last Drop was established. You both were young, determined souls—you looking for another job after taking another a shiner at the local strip joint, him becoming the Hound of the Underground.

When your lumens danced around one another, he wasn’t sure how much happier a man could get. That warm auburn against steel blue was everything he’d dreamed of.

Felicia adored you. Silco thought you too soft for the cause but never doubted you were the right fit for Vander. Soft was one word for you, but you sure as hell weren’t weak. You knew how to toss a rowdy customer out on their ass if Vander was preoccupied.

He may have been the Hound, but you were a fox in your own right, holding your strength for the right time and outsmarting the rest.

“I suppose that’s as good an image as any,” you chuckled, lying on his chest one night and picking at his stubble. “I don’t see you as a hound, though.”

“No?” he hummed as you shook your head, pecking his lips.

“You’re a big bear of a man,” you teased, lumens bouncing off the bottoms of your feet as you kicked them behind you at a lazy pace. “My grizzly.”

He chuckled, large hands smoothing up your waist until they’re cupping your face. You looked pleased, content. He wished the moment would stay.

“Don’t,” you murmured, leaning deeper into his touch. “You’re going too far ahead. Stay here.”

“I’m here,” he promised, chest aching as your eyes gleamed. You hid away in his chest as he held you.

That day came no matter how in the moment you tried to stay. You remained at the Last Drop with some others, a safe haven for the kids of those who were going to fight.

“Come back to me,” you told him in the doorway, hand on his shirt collar. The words slipped through gritted teeth as you held back tears and anger. You understood the cause, but you’d never risk anything if it meant losing him. It’s the one thing you disagreed on. “You fucking come back or I’ll redecorate every crevice of this place into something you’ll hate.”

“I’d let you anyway,” he murmured, pecking your cheek. The stone mask you were wearing cracked as you shoved him away.

“Screw you,” you whispered. “Dying doesn’t make you a hero, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he said, nudging your chin up. “Be safe. Love ya.”

Your nose flared as you crossed your arms, eyes watering. His lumen ruffled your hair as he forced a smile and turned to follow the rest heading to the front. Lumens floated above heads and clung to shoulders. Yours was no different, perched on his left.

He wasn’t a block away when he heard those quick feet behind him and swiveled just in time to catch you in his arms. He felt the tears against his neck as you hugged the breath out of him, body trembling.

“I love you,” you sobbed. “You show those topsiders what’s for.”

He held you so tight your feet no longer touched the ground. There would never be another man alive that could hold you like that and there never would be anyone else you’d want to.

.

The return was torture. You had injured drifting outside the bar, those that had stayed behind doing their damndest to keep them alive. You’d already seen too many lumen crumble to dust tonight, too many cries echo throughout the night.

You held Vander’s against your heart, praying. Begging.

When you’d gone to help, Powder and Violet had slipped out of your periphery. No one could point you in their direction and you were blubbering mess until a familiar frame emerged from the outskirts.

Vander was worse for wear, but his strength remained as he carried the girls all the way back to the Last Drop.

All it had taken was one look from him to know the conclusion.

“They’re just babies,” you whispered, teary-eyed as your fingers drifted through Powder’s hair. She was conked out on your chest, wrapped up in a blanket like her sister next to you. Their hair was still damp from the bath. Neither had said a word but the crying came and went. “She should’ve stayed with me. I told her to stay.”

You’d fought with Felicia almost as much as Vander. Vander and Silco had begun the cause with her help, but she wasn’t needed on the front like they were. She didn’t have to be there, but she chose to be.

“She wanted to fight for their future,” Vander murmured, sitting across from you on the table. His legs were on either side of yours, eyes soft as he looked between the girls.

“Children need their mothers.” You closed your eyes, refusing to shed any more tears. “We lost too many people to this, Vander.”

“I know.”

“What if they come to finish the job?”

Those mits for hands landed on your knees, expression stern when you looked at him. “I won’t let that happen.”

Powder shifted in your hold, burying her face into your neck. Violet sensed the change and hugged your side tighter. You weren’t sure if your heart could break any further.

“We’ll raise ‘em,” he continued, rubbing your legs as he leaned forward. “We’ll protect ‘em and I’ll get the Lanes back up and running.”

“What about Silco?” you sniffed. “He hasn’t even…”

“I’ll find him,” he promised, a faraway look in his eyes. “We’ll figure it out.”

Your eyes closed as he stood, leaning down to kiss your forehead. Your lumens flashed overhead, grazing.

“You watch ‘em. I need to check on the rest upstairs,” he said, running a hand over each of the girls’ heads. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, Grizzly,” you murmured and he managed a smile for the first time after the war.

It was going to be a long time before the weight left it.

[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

[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!

[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"

[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

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[the-heart-vigor]

What a remarkable twist of fate this is! It’s fascinating how life can turn upside down. Nearly a century had passed since she last occupied those lecture halls, soaking in the teachings about the wonders and, more importantly, the dangers of magic. Back then, she had only half-listened, fully convinced that she would one day wield magic herself.

Everyone with the ability embraced it, using it to elevate their lives, for better or worse. Now, she found herself lamenting her inattentiveness to those warnings, pondering how many of her kind had encountered ironic turns of fortune. It was a lover who had ensnared her in this dilemma… A man who had stolen her heart. Another danger that had been forewarned but always dismissed.

She had been a possessive lover, and a fierce one at that. When he chose to leave her for another, weary of her jealousy and her spiteful behavior towards anyone who caught his attention, she unleashed a curse upon him. In a fit of rage, driven by overwhelming emotions, she transformed him from man to beast. Yet, the curse intended for one ensnared many, herself included.Wasn’t it inevitable that it would end this way?

She was navigating her way to one of her secret hideouts nestled deep in the heart of the forest when destiny intervened. Someone had spotted her, and to her horror, they seized the moment to rob her. The sumptuous silks that adorned her new mare form were ripped away, and the vibrant ribbons that danced through her mane and tail were snatched without hesitation.

The remnants of her elegant socks were stripped off, and all her embellishments—shimmering jewels, radiant diamonds, the delicate bracelets that adorned her hooves, and the golden earrings that once twinkled with her every movement—were taken from her. It was a swift and merciless act, leaving her exposed and stripped of her identity, reduced to a mere mare, indistinguishable from the others.

She was destined for the same grim fate: to be displayed in the marketplace, where strangers would bid for her as if she were nothing more than a commodity. As she stood in the stalls, waiting for the bidding to begin, the yellow tag in her ear felt like a brand of shame. She caught the gaze of someone nearby, sensing their awareness of her plight, and the desperate longing in her eyes for an escape from this living nightmare. They urged her to stay, but all she could think of was freedom.

This world was an evil place, a world where countless people lived with ruthlessness. It was truly a cruel world, but there were few optimists who were silly enough to believe that this world would be better sooner or later. But Huor doubted that. He doubted that everything would be alright. He was thinking of dying because he could not deal with the evil in the hearts of others.

Still, he could feel and he was alive, unable to end it all. Something, in the back of his mid, whispered that he should wait before the end. He had to take a deep breath and think more clearly, if he could. But there was something wicked in the air that terrified him. Something was about to happen, and he would not probably like it. He had to walk, though, and he had to try to think and survive.

Only a few people could survive in that world, and only fewer were the onew who were brave enough to fight back. He doubted that he was among those few brave souls since he was contantly contemplating about death. But the thought of death could set him free from all the pain he had suffered in this life. Freedom was so important, freedom was desired.

He was tired of fighting and have countless scars on his body. Huor was almost blind, he could recall the pain he had felt when his left eye had turned blind after a fight. So much pain, so much loss, and he was not the only one who had suffered too much in this world. People died a gruesome death everyday, peple lost their aughter and they died every day. And this thought made Huor feel worse.

But, as he was walking alone, lost in thoughts, Huor thought tat he grasped a movement with his right eye. The eye that could stil see something. He halted, trying to understand what was going on. He could only guess what had happened but he was not sure. "What...?" he could only whisper. He did not know what to do and how to help.

[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 | xan/radri, bg1 | ao3

—✧✧✧—

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.