#death of familiarity but not death of the character

[celestemona]

⋆˙⟡ — TANGLED FATES

pairing: kinich, kaedehara kazuha, wanderer x reader

cw: soulmates! au. characters may look ooc. approximately 3k words. no pronouns mentioned though "my lady" is said in kazuha's part. fluffy, angsty, lovely. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Kinich

Kinich had always felt a subtle pull toward something—or someone—just beyond his reach.

From the moment he was born, the thread that connected him to his soulmate had been a delicate shade of translucent red, often fading to the point of nearly vanishing. It was a constant reminder of the distance between them, a tangible sign that his soulmate was far away, perhaps even in another nation.

The people of Natlan revered the concept of soulmates, believing that every thread was woven by the hands of fate itself. Kinich, however, was not the type to wander beyond his homeland in search of this elusive connection. The rugged beauty of his tribe, the thrill of hunting, and the camaraderie of his people grounded him. He found comfort in the familiar rhythms of his life, though sometimes, during quiet moments beneath the canopy of the trees or while gazing at the stars, the thought of his soulmate would flutter in his mind like a restless bird.

Yet today was different.

As Kinich navigated the vibrant festival of the Scions of the Canopy, filled with laughter and the smell of roasted meats mingling with the sweetness of ripe fruit, he couldn’t shake a strange sensation. He glanced down at the red string on his finger, and to his surprise, it was brighter than he had ever seen—deep crimson, like the fiery sunsets that painted the sky at twilight. The sudden vibrancy sent a jolt of energy through him, and his heart raced with possibilities. For the very first time, it felt that his soulmate was closer than he had ever imagined.

The thought barely settled in his mind when a commotion broke out nearby. Kinich turned to see a crowd gathered around the bungee jumping platform, a popular attraction that had people leaping into the air with exhilarating abandon. The sight of the participants soaring through the sky brought a fainted smile to his face—until he noticed one figure preparing for a jump.

His heart seemed to stop as he caught sight of you, your hair whipping in the wind, laughter mingling with the cheers of the crowd. You appeared fearless, but as the countdown began, Kinich noticed something off: the rope seemed frayed, a dangerous instability in an otherwise thrilling endeavor. Panic surged through him as the countdown reached zero.

Before his mind could catch up to his body, he reacted. The faintest snapping sound echoed in his ears as the bungee cord gave way—a horrified gasp echoed from the crowd, but Kinich was already in motion. With a practiced flick of his grappling hook, he shot toward you, the hook catching a solid anchor just as you fell.

In the heartbeat between falling and impact, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, jerking you from the void. Time seemed to slow as the world spun and your eyes locked onto his—the man who had saved your life.

Kinich landed gracefully with you in his arms, his grip steady and reassuring as if it were second nature. As the adrenaline pulsed through you, your heart raced not just from the near-death experience, but from the realization that your strings—both of yours—were now glowing vividly, a striking red.

The connection between you was undeniable, even if the situation was surreal.

“That was... close,” you murmured, still catching your breath, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Kinich’s usual nonchalance wavered momentarily as his eyes lingered on yours. He gently set you down, his hand brushing against yours as the string on his pinky tightened, pulling you two together subtly but magnificently. “You’re either very brave or very reckless,” he said, his voice low but calm, the faintest trace of amusement playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile, even through the lingering adrenaline. “Maybe a little of both.”

He let out a quiet hum, stepping back slightly but not breaking eye contact. “Seems I’ll have to keep an eye on you, then.”

Before you could respond, a pitched voice cut through the air. “No! I though you’d finally gonna get yourself killed, Kinich. Shit! It seems I was wrong again.”

Kinich’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he muttered under his breath, “You wish.”

You blinked, wondering where the voice came from and noticing the sudden change in his demeanor, but before you could ask, Kinich’s focus returned to you. His intense gaze softened as he extended a hand, offering it to you with an unexpected formality. “It seems fate has brought us together in the most dramatic of ways.”

You laughed softly, the tension easing. “Seems that way. And here I thought I’d get a thrill from jumping, not falling.”

“There are safer thrills,” he answered, his hand still holding yours dearly. “One that doesn’t involve falling from cliffs.”

You bit your bottom lip in a failed attempt to hide a smirk, the soft flirtation in his voice making your heartbeats go faster. “Oh? Like what?”

He let his gaze linger on yours, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand. “Perhaps we’ll find out together.”

The red string between you entwined, as if urging the two of you closer. For the first time in a long while, Kinich felt more than just duty or the thrill of a adventuring—he felt the warmth of something that had been distant for too long.

And for you, the world around you seemed to quiet as the only thing that mattered now was the connection between you and the man fate had quite literally sent to catch you.

Kaedehara Kazuha

From the moment of birth, the faintest whispers of your soulmate begin to form in your mind, weaving through your thoughts, and growing clearer with time. The voices aren’t constant, but they drift in and out, as if carried on a breeze, reminding you of the presence of someone far away yet intimately close. Sometimes, it's a word spoken aloud, a laugh shared with a friend. Other times, it’s a fleeting thought, as private as a breath. And from childhood, this voice becomes an indelible part of your life, a companion whose face you have never seen but whose soul you know deeply.

Kazuha was still a boy when he first heard the voice. He was playing alone in the gardens of his family’s estate, surrounded by the quiet rustle of leaves and the gentle murmur of the wind. And then, as soft as a whisper, he heard it—a voice that wasn’t his own.

It was delicate, like the sound of water trickling over smooth stones. A voice so pure it carried the sweetness of a lullaby. At first, he thought it was part of the wind, some trick of the breeze, but as the days went on, the voice returned. Sometimes it sang, sometimes it hummed a tune that was unfamiliar yet soothing. And when it spoke, Kazuha listened, enchanted by the rhythm of the words, even if they weren’t meant for him.

Years passed, and the voice became a familiar presence in his life. He learned to recognize its tones—the way it brightened when it was happy, or softened when the person behind it was lost in thought. Even when he left the security of his childhood home, embarking on his wandering journey, the voice followed him. It was a constant companion, a tether that connected him to something beyond the world he knew.

The voice belonged to an opera singer from Fontaine, though Kazuha would only come to know this much later. As children, you’d hear each other speak, often unaware of the impact your words were having on the other side of the world. You’ve been singing since you were small, your voice a bright light in the waterside streets of Fontaine, and Kazuha had come to love the sound of it—first as a soothing melody in the background of his thoughts, and later as a force that brought him comfort during his travels. He could sense your emotions through your voice—the joy you found in your craft, the occasional frustration in your rehearsals, and the quiet moments when you’d murmur your thoughts to yourself.

You, too, had been listening to him. From the first haikus he had whispered into the wind as a child, to the quiet contemplations of a young man growing into his own. Though Kazuha was never one to speak much, the moments when he’d recite poetry or talk to the wind were enough to fill your heart with a sense of companionship. His voice, calm and steady, was a comfort to you as you navigated your own world of art and performance.

Neither of you knew exactly who the other was, but your voices had become a part of each other. Even without a meeting, you had grown up together—two souls connected by the invisible threads of fate.

As Kazuha grew older, his understanding of the voice deepened. He’d often find himself drifting off to sleep, only to wake with the faint echoes of your songs still lingering in his ears. He marveled at how perfectly your voice blended with the world around him—the wind, the sea, and the rustling of leaves in the forests he wandered. Your voice had become a song in the symphony of his life, and he cherished it.

For you, his words were like the poetry he often whispered to himself—a gentle, constant reminder that somewhere out there was someone who understood the world the way you did. You often wondered what he looked like, what kind of person could speak so softly yet carry so much meaning in his words.

Years passed, and though your connection remained strong, you never rushed to meet. There was no urgency, no desperation. Just the quiet understanding that one day, you’d find each other.

It wasn’t until Kazuha’s travels led him to Fontaine that your worlds finally began to merge. The hydro nation was a place where the beauty of the arts and the depths of the sea intertwined. Kazuha had no intention of seeking you out immediately. He had learned patience long ago and trusted that the wind would guide him when the time was right.

But as he wandered the streets of Fontaine, drinking in the sights and sounds of the city, he heard your voice again—clearer than it had ever been. This time, it was no distant whisper but a melody that floated on the air, rich and vibrant. You were rehearsing for an upcoming performance, your voice filling the opera house with the same beauty that had once echoed in his dreams.

He stood at a distance, watching you from the shadows. You were every bit as graceful as your voice, your movements fluid and elegant. Your presence commanded the space around you, yet there was a softness to you that drew him in. You were speaking with one of the directors with enthusiasm as you discussed the details of the upcoming opera. And though you didn’t know it, the man you had shared your thoughts with for so many years was standing just a few feet away, watching with quiet reverence.

Kazuha’s heart swelled as he took a deep breath, allowing the wind to guide him forward. It was time.

With the same grace that had carried him through countless battles and journeys, he approached you, his steps light and unhurried. When you turned, eyes meeting, the recognition was instant. The voice that had been a constant presence in your lives was now matched with a face.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was as though the world had stopped, leaving only the two of you standing in the fading light of the afternoon. And then, with a soft smile, Kazuha spoke.

“My lady,” he said, his voice as gentle as the breeze that stirred the air around both of you. He took your hand in his own, bowing slightly as he lifted it to his lips. The soft kiss he placed on the back of your hand was filled with all the quiet emotion he had carried with him for so many years. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

Your smile widened, warmth rosing on your cheeks. “The honor is mine. I’ve heard your voice for so long… I almost thought I was dreaming when I heard you recite your poems for the first time.”

“As did I,” Kazuha replied, his crimson eyes soft as he gazed at you. “Your voice has been with me for as long as I can remember. Hearing you sing now… it feels as though I've been waiting for this moment my entire life.”

You laughed softly, the sound as musical as the voice he had come to love. “And I’ve been waiting for you. I always wondered when our paths would cross.”

“They were bound to,” Kazuha said, his tone warm. “The wind always carries us to where we are meant to be.”

With his and your hands still gently intertwined, you stood in the heart of Fontaine, the city alive with the murmur of art and life around them. But for the two of you, the rest of the world had faded, leaving only the echo of the voices that had connected you for so long.

In that moment, you knew that your journey—though long and winding—had led you both exactly where you were meant to be. Together.

Wanderer

In Teyvat, the concept of soulmates wasn’t something everyone discussed openly, but it was an unspoken truth understood by all. It was a tragic but beautiful reality for those people: no one ever dreamed—at least, not until they met their soulmate. The first and only dream a person would ever experience was a shared one, an intimate meeting with their destined one. This dream wasn’t bound by time or place, often filled with subtle moments, quiet connections, and profound understanding. But the dream itself didn’t mean immediate union. Many spent years after their dream searching, wondering when—or if—they’d ever cross paths with their other half in the waking world.

And not all believed they deserved a soulmate.

Wanderer had learned of the legend when he was still known as Kunikuzushi, back in the early days when he was newly formed and still discovering what it meant to exist. He hadn’t thought it applied to him, a puppet—a hollow being without a true heart, someone who was neither human nor divine. But one night, long ago, when he was still innocent and full of hope, he had a dream.

In that dream, he met you.

It wasn’t a vivid or wild vision. It was quiet, serene. You walked in a vast wheat field, your steps so rhythmic as if you were dancing between invisible trails that only you knew where it’d take you. Your back was turned to him but the sound of your laughter was a song that played like a lullaby in his head. When you looked up, your eyes meeting, something inside him stirred—a sense of calm, of being understood without words.

There were no grand gestures, no spoken promises. Just a glance, a soft smile, and a feeling that warmed him from the inside out. You were real, and for the first time in his short existence, he felt connected to something outside of himself. 

When he woke, the memory of that dream stayed with him, lodged deep in his mind like a forgotten melody. He tried to dismiss it, thinking it was some strange byproduct of his flawed creation. How could he have a soulmate when he wasn’t truly human?

Years, centuries passed, and Kunikuzushi became Scaramouche, and Scaramouche became Wanderer. He fell deeper into darkness, fueled by bitterness and anger. Yet, despite the walls he built around himself, the memory of the dream never fully faded. It lingered in the back of his mind, sometimes emerging in his quietest moments, like a long-lost hope he didn’t want to admit to. He believed that dream was lost to time, and that he had been undeserving of it. He had resigned himself to solitude, pushing away any notion that he might still have a connection to someone out there.

But everything changed the night he wandered the streets of Sumeru.

The night was calm, and the air was thick with the fragrant scent of flowers. It was one of those evenings where the city was still alive, bustling with life even under the veil of darkness. The marketplace glowed softly in the distance, filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter. Wanderer had no purpose being there, only walking aimlessly, his mind drifting between thoughts.

Yet, for reasons he couldn’t explain, the memory of that dream began to surface. The image of you, twirling in a field, returned with startling clarity. He could almost see the light in your eyes, feel the quiet comfort of that moment. His steps slowed as a strange, almost magnetic pull tugged at his chest, drawing his attention toward the marketplace.

And then he saw you.

You stood at a vendor’s stall, your profile illuminated by the soft lantern light. His breath hitched. It was as if time stopped. You looked exactly as you had in the dream—your presence both familiar and startling. He blinked, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. After all this time, how could you be here?

You turned slightly, inspecting some trinket on display, completely unaware of him. The world around him blurred, all the noise fading into a distant hum as his focus remained solely on you. He felt his heart—did he even have one?—thunder in his chest.

A storm of emotions raged inside him. He hadn’t prepared for this. Could this truly be real? After all he had done—his mistakes, his hatred, his isolation—was it possible that fate hadn’t given up on him? Was he still deserving of a soulmate?

He found himself rooted to the spot, too stunned to move. He couldn’t approach you, not yet. How could he, knowing what he had become? A part of him was relieved, though—relieved that you existed, that the dream hadn’t been a cruel joke. But the hesitation that lingered was undeniable. What if you saw him for who he truly was and walked away? What if, after all these years, he was no longer the person you had dreamed of?

You moved away from the stall, and at that moment, your eyes swept over the crowd, casually scanning the area—until they locked onto his.

The recognition was instant, like a spark between two halves of a long-separated whole. You blinked, clearly processing what you were feeling as if the dream had come flooding back to you all at once. The same quiet understanding he had felt in the dream now passed between you in reality. Your expression softened, and though you seemed uncertain, you didn’t look away.

You took a tentative step toward him, your curiosity was evident. His heart raced again, the walls he had built around himself suddenly feeling fragile as if a single word from you could shatter them entirely.

And then you spoke.

“I saw you once upon a dream,” you said, your voice gentle, filled with the same warmth and wonder from the dream. There was no accusation in your tone, no judgment—just simple truth.

He swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, yet none of them made sense. All he could manage was, “Did you?”

You nodded, your gaze unwavering. “I thought it was just a trick of my mind, but… seeing you now, I know it was real.”

He stood frozen, a mix of doubts, disbelief, and relief swirling inside him. The person he had dreamed of, who he thought was forever out of reach, was standing in front of him. And you remembered him.

His voice was quieter than he intended when he finally spoke again. “I never thought I’d find you.”

You stepped closer, a soft smile forming on your lips. “Neither did I. But… here we are.”

The warmth in your eyes was something he hadn’t felt in so long. It made the walls around his heart tremble, threatening to crumble. He wanted to say so much, to explain the years that had passed, to tell you how unworthy he felt—but none of it mattered in that moment. You were here, and you had dreamed of him, too.

Perhaps, despite everything, he still had a chance at something real. Something good. And for the first time in his long, fragmented existence, Kunikuzushi felt a flicker of hope.

[notebooks-and-laptops]

God I think sten in the fade might be the most heartbreaking one. Yes, Morrigan straight up can't believe her mother would ever care for her, yes Alistair just wants a family, yes Zev is out there literally getting tortured because that's familiar to him but there's something so subtle about Stens moment that I just love bringing him along.

Because he's...he knows. In a way. He knows exactly what's going on. He's not fooled into thinking this is real like Alistair or Wynne or Leliana or Zev. But equally he's not arguing his way out like Morrigan. When you talk to him he knows who you are, and why you're there, wants to make room for you at the fire.

Sten is... reminiscing. He's with these men who he knew who died and whose death signalled the end of his last true connection with home (both because of their deaths and because of the loss of his sword). He even says that the fade is no different from being in Orlais or Ferelden - none of it is home. It's such a stark contrast to Stens usual no nonsense tone and it really cuts to the heart of him and what makes him such a compelling character.

To get him to come with you, you remind him that he made an oath to you or other soldier things. Sten needs that order to be pulled from his memory here.

And it's just...it's heartbreaking. He misses home. He feels he can't go back. He doesn't know what the point is anymore. And it is the warden that quite literally gives him order and the ability to go back after his sword so he can head home. It's connection to people - you the protagonist specifically - that helps Sten move past his grief. And in that way, Sten mirrors Alistair and Oghren but that's a whole other post about themes of loss and grief and moving forward in origins ill make some other time.

(I also like it because it shows that Stens companions were joking about and very un-Sten like. I think there's this idea that flies about that before Bull was introduced, the Qunari were all very serious and stoic people and bull was a retcon in that regard. But we see Stens friends laughing about the lack of good food in Ferelden and making jokes)

[feroluce]

Not to make everything about my ship, but if I don't do it no one will, so today we are making meta analysis of Boothill's faceoff match about henghill, because the differences between Boothill's stand off with Luka and his one with Dan Heng- and what you can infer about Boothill himself and what catches his eye in a person- makes me chew concrete.

JUST. I loved the scene between Luka and Boothill so much. I love how wildly unrestrained Boothill is. He really just shoved the barrel of his gun in his opponent's face and put the fear of death into him as a way to test Luka's resolve. I utterly adore him. I hope he does it again. Anyway.

When confronted with all this, Luka freezes. His stress-induced hallucinations were already bad, but you can see how they really ramp up in this match, because before, they were always something familiar. Previous enemies became Silvermanes, or Belobogian automatons, or even Cocolia. Luka is far from home for the first time in his life, and he's so terribly homesick his brain is making everything familiar, because that is what he's desperately craving right now.

But Boothill.

Boothill is something so new, and unique, and horrific and terrifying, that he becomes something entirely unknown to Luka. His hallucination manifests as Something Unto Death, as the very fear of death itself.

And this stand off (which I love so much that this is how this match progressed, because like that's literally just Boothill's in-game skill; he locks the enemy into a one-on-one duel, so this was extremely in character for him) lasts long enough that Owlbert starts having to fill in the silence over the loudspeaker,

and even Boothill himself starts trying to push Luka into making a decision one way or the other.

Given that Boothill is a hunter by trade and is proven to have all the patience to track his prey and then some, this was more for Luka's sake than any impatience on his part, to try to shove him out of his freeze reaction.

And Boothill isn't really hard to read throughout this whole exchange, he all but says outright what he's looking for.

Boothill wants to see him surpass this test and come at him! You can see it in his face when Luka finally takes a step! And in how he congratulates him!

And then he fucking shot him snxhsjksjsn

Boothill admires courage, and bravery, and decisiveness. He admires a person's ability to put their life on the line and still fight in the face of danger and overwhelming odds. Those are the things that catch his eye.

And Luka does kind of get there eventually, but it is a stalling, halting motion that gets him there, and he fell to pieces immediately afterwards. This is his first time with this, and he's still figuring it out.

Dan Heng, on the other hand.

Boothill's stand off with Dan Heng from 2.2 is so fucking far in the total opposite direction that it is HILARIOUS.

Boothill literally breaks into the Astral Express, ambushes Dan Heng, and Dan Heng still has the balls to not only demand info out of Boothill- like doesn't even ask nicely, demands it- he also just straight up calls Boothill a liar. Right to his face! And he still isn't nice about it!!

By the way, that entire conversation? This is how it takes place.

Boothill, phrasing!!

Boothill has him at gunpoint! Dan Heng does not have his weapon with him! He does not flinch, and even stands there with his arms crossed seeming simultaneously pissed and utterly unimpressed. He looks like he should be irritably tapping his foot and looking down his nose at him. Dan Heng could not give less of a shit.

For that matter, Dan Heng even turns his back and walks away from Boothill- right in the middle of him talking, too! Not a single attempt to be considerate of the man who could decide any moment he feels like decorating the wall with Dan Heng's brains.

Dan Heng is brave and courageous and completely unflappable in the face of danger. He is ruthless and decisive in how he conducts himself, even when staring down the barrel of a gun. And through his efforts in Penacony, he shows the ability to put his life on the line and fight through overwhelming odds to save his once-in-a-lifetime companions.

No wonder Dan Heng caught Boothill's eye the way he did, no wonder the two of them were working together and bantering not even minutes after Boothill pulled a gun on him haha

[dragoncopper]

The Apparition - Continued.

A/N: Please read The Apparition first, if you haven’t already, or this won’t really make sense. 

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x female Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5475

Warnings: Major character death, crying, sadness, suicide, smut, fluff

Link to The Apparition

Read the whole thing on A03 here.

 You

The diagnosis was unexpected. 

You sat in the doctor’s office while she was telling you about it, and you felt shaky and like your breath was not reaching your lungs and that you were kind of floating near your body, but not inhabiting it.  You heard what she was saying, and yet it was not sinking in.

You felt nervous and afraid.  You did not know how you were supposed to feel.  How you were supposed to process the information?  How were you going to explain it to him?

Driving back home you took it slow, no music.  You needed the silence to be able to not feel overwhelmed and overstimulated.  You dreaded seeing his face now.  His reaction scared you more than any of the realities of the situation ever could.  You wanted to protect him from this more than you wanted to save yourself. 

You were sitting on the couch staring off into the distance for a while, you don’t really know how long, before you felt him appear.  He smiled at you and came closer and soon he realised that you were not yourself and he sat down next to you.  You felt the familiar dip next to you. 

‘What happened?’ he asked his voice immediately worried.

You were quiet trying to decide which words to use.  He placed his large hand on your lower back in a gesture of comfort and you felt the heat of it through your shirt. 

‘I am… I have cancer,’ you say, your voice flat, but you needed it all out as quickly as possible.  ‘It already started spreading.  I…,’

‘You just had some neck pain,’ he whispers after being quiet for very long. 

‘Yeah,’ you nod.  ‘It’s in my spine.’

‘How,’ he started a sentence he did not know how to finish.  ‘It doesn’t….’

‘I’m sorry,’ you say to him. 

‘What?  Why are you sorry?’  he asked with the deepest frown on his face.

‘I know this is going to hurt you more than it’s going to hurt me,’ you say.  Looking in his eyes the emotion hits you finally. 

He shakes his head and leans in to you and holds you.  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ he whispers.  ‘What do we do?  How do we fix this?’

‘There’s not much to be done.  It has already spread all over,’ you reply into his shoulder.

‘But surely, they gave you some advice?  Some options?’

‘I can try chemotherapy.  It can slow the spread.  Maybe give me more time, but by the sounds of things there is no fixing this anymore,’ you explain.

‘But you didn’t have symptoms,’ he is trying to make sense.  ‘How, I don’t understand.’

‘I don’t either, Noah.  I am so sorry.’

‘Stop apologizing,’ he says.  He holds you quietly.  After a while you feel his breathing start to pick up and you feel it begin to shake, and hitch.  You hold him back tighter and for the first time since you have gotten the news, you feel the tears prick at your own eyes. 

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ you say your voice small.

‘Baby,’ his voice cracking.  ‘I don’t want you to hurt.’

 Noah

It took me some time to convince her to do the chemotherapy.  She didn’t want to, arguing that it was pointless.  I argued that it gave her some more time.  Gave her more opportunities to do things and live.  I am sure that she is doing it purely for me.  But I feel we have to try. 

So, we are in the car where Nick is driving her to the hospital.

We moved a few years ago.  She made the amazing and selfless decision to move closer to Nick for my sake.  That way I could have my two people near me.  The move felt like a new beginning for us, we picked a new flat together and moved in and I had an input, and for a while we could both imagine that we were just a normal couple moving in together.

While our lives have so many strange things about it, we were so normal and everyday that I often forgot the fact that I was dead.  She loved me so fully and completely despite the fact that I couldn’t be real for her.  We were happy and delusional and had started to live in our own little world where everything was what we wanted.  This news cracked open that illusion.  Reality caught up with us.

‘You say you have snacks and something to drink?’ Nick asked ad he pulled into the parking area of the hospital.

‘Yes, Noah packed me a whole little goody bag,’ she answered him.

‘I will be here to pick you up,’ he says with small, reassuring smile.  ‘You sure you don’t want me to come?’

‘Noah is with me,’ she says.  That’s all the explanation she needed to give. 

‘I got it,’ I say to Nick.  ‘Thank you, brother.’

‘Good luck,’ Nick said somberly.

She grips my hand to the point of pain as we walk inside.  They take her to a chair with so much shit set up around it.  I stand back and watch as they connect her to all the medical equipment.  Then they slide the thick needle into her arm where the chemicals that is supposed to help her live longer will enter her body.  She doesn’t flinch.  She watches as it slides into her skin and they place a bandage over to keep it in place.  The people at the hospital were being so nice and sweet and told her to not hesitate to call them if she needed anything.  But my sweet girl seemed numb, she nodded along but her eyes were empty.  That upset me so deeply. 

When we are alone, I approach and cup her cheek.  ‘You okay?’ I whisper.

She nods.  ‘I think so,’ she gives me a small smile.  It’s barely there. 

We have to be discreet.  She cannot have a full-blown conversation with a ghost in the hospital.  So, she has a book to keep her entertained.  I sit down in front of her on the floor, she hooks one leg over my shoulder and I roll up her pant leg, and I start massaging her calf and ankles and feet.  She touches my hair every now and then, hugs me with her leg by squeezing me closer to her.  Later we swop her legs. She falls asleep at some point. 

Six hours later, Nick is waiting, smoking a cigarette by his car.  He seemed anxious.  Relief flooded his face when he sees us.  She seemed okay at this time, but I know we are in for a rough night. 

‘How was it?’  Nick asked.

‘It was great,’ she answered sarcastically. 

‘Sorry, that was a stupid question,’ he scrunches his face. 

‘No, I’m sorry.   It was okay.  It’s just really long, that was the most annoying bit,’ she slips into the car and leans back into the seat. 

Nick squeezed my shoulder.  ‘And you?’

I nod in determination.  ‘She took it like a champ.’

‘How did you take it?’  he asked.

‘It broke my heart,’ I admit quietly.

 You

‘Hey, Noah,’ you call to him.

‘Baby?’ he answers.

‘I need your help please,’ you approach him and he looks at you warily.  You take out the clippers from behind your back.  ‘It’s time.’

You can see the moment he realizes and you see the pain in his eyes.   He gets up without a word and walks closer to you and takes the clippers from your hand and then kisses you solidly on the lips.  ‘It’s not that bad yet,’ he says softly.

‘No, but a few clumps came loose in the shower and I just cannot handle it.  I need it to be over with,’ you explain.

‘Okay,’ he nods and takes your hand and he starts for the bathroom. 

‘No, can you do it in the kitchen?  I don’t want to see it in the mirror,’ you say and you feel shy about admitting that.

‘Whatever you want,’ he smiles.  When you’re in the kitchen he drags a chair closer.  You sit down and take a deep breath.  ‘You have a hair tie?’ 

‘Yeah,’ you dig the one you had out of your pocket.  ‘Why?’

‘So can keep the hair I cut together,’ he says and he gently and with so much care gathers your hair together and ties it at the back of your head. 

‘I thought I would feel sadder about this,’ you admit something to him again.

‘It’s just hair,’ he says simply.  ‘You ready?’

‘Mmm,’ and you feel him cut the hair with a scissor, you feel the weight of the hair disappear.  It takes him a moment before he holds the ponytail out to you.  You take it and hold it, run your fingers through it.  He leans over your shoulder and kisses your neck affectionately. 

‘Let me know when I should continue,’ he whispers. 

‘Now, please.’  You say, beginning to feel very anxious.  ‘Let’s get it over with.’

You hear the harsh sound of the clippers being turned on and then he starts running it over your head.  Whisps of hair fall down your back, over your shoulders, past your face and you hold your breath to not get any of it in your mouth.  It also helps to keep the tears back.  He takes his time; you feel him go over some spots to make sure its even.  When he switches the clippers off, the silence is deafening.

He runs his hand over your scalp.  ‘All done,’ he says. 

‘How does it look?’ you ask, brushing across your body to get the hair off you. 

‘It looks like you,’ you hear his voice is thick.  Both of you keep quiet for a moment, both trying to keep composure for the other one.  You busy yourselves with gathering the hair on the floor together and picking it up, using a dustpan to get the finer hairs.  When it’s all clean, he grabs your hand and pulls you to him and he wraps his arms around you.  With your face buried in his chest, you feel safe and like it will all be okay.  His tall frame is concave so he can hold you with as much of his body as he can.

‘Let’s go look,’ you say after a while and you drag him to the bathroom.  Even though you knew what you were going to see it shocks you.  ‘Jesus,’ you say immediately touching where your hair used to be. 

He is behind you nervously. 

‘I don’t hate it,’ you say after a while with a smile.  ‘It looks bad ass.’

He smiles with relief.  ‘It does,’ he agrees.  He steps closer and also touches your head.  ‘You are the most beautiful human,’ he kisses your bald head a few times and then buries his face in your neck.  You feel the wetness of his kisses and tears and pretend not to notice. 

You turn in his embrace and kiss his amazing lips.  God you will miss these lips.  You make the first move and slide your hands under his shirt and lift it up until he lets go for a moment to lift his arms so you can pull the shirt off.  You press yourself against his bare chest, immediately back to kissing him again.  He leads the way to the bed without losing contact with each other.

He lays you down and starts by climbing over you.  He kisses your stomach where the sliver of skin shows and moves your shirt up with his nose and he kisses every inch he can find.  He slides the shirt off with practiced ease and then kisses your chest, between your breasts and removes the bra you had on.  He lavishes attention on you with kisses and gentle bites. 

You grab his head and bring his mouth to yours and then you change your positions, so that he is on his back.  You undo his button, move the zipper down and then shimmy his trousers and boxers down at the same time.  All the way down, you nearly fall off the bed to get his long legs free.  He laughs for a moment.  ‘Do you want me to take your socks off?’ you ask.

‘No, it’s okay.  The pants were almost too much,’ he jokes.

You huff a laugh, ‘It’s not my fault your legs are that long.  Scoot up, please.  You are too tall.’

He moves up against the pillows, and lays diagonally across the bed.  This was really the only way his frame fits on the bed.  You have even taken to sleeping next to the each other stretched diagonally across the bed.  You settle down between his legs that he spreads for you. 

He was already halfway to being hard.  Before you touch him at all, you just look for a moment.  You have been feeling the strong need to memorize some things.  You find yourself staring at all kinds of things about life thinking that you must file it away.  But mostly it happened with Noah, who was worth remembering the most.  Every single inch of his being was being recorded in your mind.  His cock was slowly standing up, his balls contracting every now and again.  He was pale just like the rest of his body, his head slightly darker.  When he flexes again, you wrap your hand around him at the base where your hand almost rests on his balls.  You hear him let out a sigh.  You lick at his frenulum and he immediately bucks his hips. 

‘Sorry,’ he breathes out.  ‘I’ll keep still.’

‘It’s okay, baby.’  You lick again, pushing your tongue against him, before taking the head into your mouth.  You stay there for a while, until he was fully hard in your hand.  You start to take more of him in your mouth.  You go slow, going slightly lower. 

‘Oh fuck,’ he breathes repeatedly.  ‘Baby.’  He is struggling to keep his hips down on the bed and it gives you a thrill to see the impact you can have on him.  Even now.

‘Keep still for me, for a moment,’ you say, looking him in the eye.  He nods.  You sink down on him as far as you can go.

‘Fffffff, I…….  B…baby.’

You smile.  You love it when he couldn’t get a word out.  You keep at him, following the thick veins with your tongue, paying a lot of attention to his glans.  You lose yourself in your task.  You memorize the weight of him on your tongue, the slightly salty taste of his skin.  How his skin is so impossibly soft.  How he reacts to your actions.  How you feel his balls clench every now and then. 

Before Noah, you never understood why women would willingly do this.  Now you felt privileged to get to taste him and see him be so vulnerable with you. 

Eventually he stops you, and sits up to kiss you.  Your jaw hurts a little, but you kiss him back.  ‘Goddammit, I love you,’ he says into your mouth.  ‘Please take off your pants.’

You lay back to wrestle your pants off, he grabs the ends by your ankles and yanks.  ‘Lay back, like you were,’ you tell him.  He complies quickly and without argument.

You straddle his hips, and he moves the pillows so he is sitting up.  With you in his lap, you were closer to a similar height.  Your faces close to each other’s.  He grabs himself and guides himself to your entrance and then you lower yourself onto him.  ‘I love you,’ you breathe out.  You take it slow and just grind into his hips.  His hands moving all over your body, even lovingly over your head.  You breathe each other’s breath, skin to skin, whispering words of love into the other’s mouth, throat, ear.

After you both come, you fall forward onto him and he holds you.  He pulls the blankets over you both and you lay there like this is where you want to be for eternity – him still inside.  ‘I will always love you,’ you try to explain to him what has been battling through your mind.  ‘Nothing is going to stop me.’

He hugs you tighter.  ‘Death has already tried, my love.  It has no power over us.’ 

Noah

Nick drops us off after the final chemo session with bags of food and drinks and I hug the man before he leaves.  ‘I cannot thank you enough,’ I say gripping onto his jacket.

‘My guy,’ he says.  ‘I wish I could have done more.  I am so sorry for you both.’

‘You have done so much for us,’ I say pulling back.

‘Let me know if you need anything else,’ he smiles sadly.

Inside, she is eating food straight from the container.  I leave her, and go the bathroom, where I unroll the old sponge mattress and put a sheet over it, bring blankets and pillows.  I make sure there’s tissue, ice water a washcloth.  Then I join her for dinner and I have nice time.  She is making jokes and smiling at me. 

We shower together, we wash each other’s backs and I can tell she is trying to enjoy feeling human before the side effects hit. 

We sleep together on the tiny mattress, I keep holding her because she is cold.  She is always cold after.   We fall asleep peacefully.  But soon, I am woken by her ripping herself from my arms and she leans over the toilet on her knees and she throws up all her dinner.  It comes in waves, I kneel behind her and rub her back, keeping my body close to hers for heat.  She starts sweating, but her skin is ice cold.  I feel all the muscles in her back contract as she keeps vomiting.  She is shivering.  Eventually she sits back and I wipe her mouth with the wash cloth.  She blows her nose and takes a few sips of water.  I open my arms and she climbs into me as close as she can get.  I lay us down and cover her with the blankets. 

‘I am not doing it again,’ she says.  I thought she had fallen asleep.  I keep quiet.  I know what she is saying.  I suspected this was coming.  ‘I’m sorry, but I just can’t.’

‘It’s okay, love.’ I rub my hand along her arm to warm her up.  ‘I understand.’

‘I would rather just enjoy what I have left,’ she whispers.

I start crying, but I try to hide it from her.  But she knows.  She grabs my hand, and weave our fingers together.  ‘I’m sorry, Noah.’

‘Don’t be,’ I sob. 

‘You know,’ she sighs.  ‘The part that scares me?  I don’t want to leave you.  I am not scared of anything else.  Everything else is nothing.  I am terrified of not being with you.’

This makes me cry even harder.  I am shaking by the time I get a reply out.  ‘I am scared of a lot of things.’

‘Like what?’

‘This.  Watching you suffer is tearing me apart.  I am scared of you being in pain.  But, yeah.  I don’t know what will happen when…’  I cannot say it. 

‘When I die,’ she finishes for me.

I nod. 

‘Well, if my soul lives on,’ she says.  ‘What if I don’t remember you?  You know how you couldn’t remember anything.’

My heart clenches in pain.  ‘I will remember for us.  I will remind you of everything you need to know.’

‘I am trying to commit things to my memory.  Trying to burn it into my being, so that I will remember.’

‘Things like what?’  I ask, curious.

‘Mostly you,’ she answers.  ‘Running my fingers through your hair, how soft your lips are.  How cold your feet are in bed.  How your hand makes mine look ridiculously small when our fingers are together like this.  Your kindness, and your laugh and how utterly loved and safe I feel in your arms.’

I ugly cry into the skin of her bald head and squeeze our fingers together and pull her body even closer to mine.  I feel her start to hiccup too.  She reaches back with her free hand and cups my head.  ‘I will find you, love.  I found you once, I can find you again.  Just look out for me, I’ll be there.’

When we calm down, we make up scenarios of what our souls will do together.  She is exhausted, but she keeps going.  We fall asleep with wishes hanging on our tongues.

You

After all the bad side effects of the chemo were gone, I started feeling normal again.  My hair was growing back out, I gained a little of the weight I had lost to all the vomiting back and my body felt like mine gain.  It was a dangerous thing.  I could so easily fool myself that everything was fine.

I decided to fill my days with as many good things as possible.  Which meant spending time with Noah.  For months we made a point to just do all the things we wanted.

We have game nights with Nick, where we would play video games or board games, order loads of food, listen to music and waste hours and hours laughing and having fun.  It was so good to see the two friends together.  To see the friendship they had after all the years.  To see a different side of Noah when the two of them were heated in their discussions or arguments about game rules.  I memorized the carefree way he plays.  The freedom is his reactions.

You go on road trips together often.  You pick famous places you’ve never been and also pick obscure spots to go see if there’s anything worth seeing.  Noah always packs bags of travel accessories, he has gotten very good at it.  He remembers all your medicine, your favorite sweets, drinks, tissues and extra jackets for when it gets cold.  He knows how you will react better than you do yourself.  He knows what you will need.  While driving, you guys play the same games you started on the trip to see Nick for the first time.  You hold hands while walking around.  You cuddle and watch countless sunsets from the hood of the car.  Each trip was immeasurably special – not because of where you went, but because of the opportunities you had to burn memories into your soul. 

You spend hours cooking together in the kitchen, picking things you have both wanted to try.  This does not always end in success.  But it does end with dances in the kitchen, or kisses in the kitchen, laughing in the kitchen.  It ends with meals enjoyed together, feeding each other, cleaning up together.  Memories.

Lazy days laying about, reading books or watching movies – as long as the two of you were tangled up in some way, it didn’t really matter.  During this time, you learned by accident that he gets full body chills when you play with his ears.  You realised he falls asleep within minutes if you run your fingers through his hair.  You craved the feeling of his weight on you – his head resting on your stomach, his legs thrown over yours, his whole body on you with his lips against your neck.  You paid attention to all the details.

You and Noah had a lot of sex.  You both always took your time with it, savoring every moment you had to bring each other comfort and pleasure.  Even when you were being rough and harsh there was so much love.  It was a way to show each other the anger, disappointment, heartbreak that you both felt.  And at the same time, it was a chance to be close and pour affection and love into the other one.  Each time had a lot of ‘I love you’s whispered.  Each time had a rush of overwhelming emotion that caused at least one of you to cry.   

When you start to realise that the medicine was not really taking away your pain anymore, you knew it was time to have a conversation with Noah.

While you were in bed, his head resting on your shoulder while your fingers ran up and down his bare back, you take a deep breath before you begin.  ‘Noah?’

‘Mmmm,’ his face squished against you. 

‘I think the time is getting near,’ you say.

‘What time?’ he mumbles.

‘My time.  I don’t think we have very long left,’ you keep your voice low, like it would soften the words.

He lifts his head and looks at you with sadness.  ‘Why?’

‘The pain is getting worse,’ you say with a grimace.  ‘But, the reason I bring it up is because I have a terrible thing to ask of you.’

He closes his eyes.  Like he knows.  Maybe he does.  He knows you better than you know yourself.  This hurts your heart so much. 

‘I don’t want to suffer through it, baby,’ your voice cracks. 

He nods against you.  ‘I don’t want you to either, love.’  You run your finger over the frown on his forehead, wanting to smooth out his worry.

‘Will you help me?’ you ask.  ‘When it’s time?’

He shakes his head with small movement.  ‘I don’t want to,’ his face crumples in pain.  ‘I want to do anything you need, but how am I supposed to do that to you?’

‘I hate that I am even asking,’ you sniff.  ‘I will do it myself.  But I need you there.  I need your face to be the last thing I see.  I want you in my brain when it dies.’

Tears stream down both your faces.  It has been happening so often lately and yet it still broke you to see his nose turn red, his lashes clumped together.  He was still so fucking beautiful.  After a while of contemplation, he says, ‘Alright.’

Noah

Today was the day. 

When it started getting bad, it went downhill very quickly.  Her pain became worse, she had no energy, no appetite.  The life was draining out of her before my very eyes and it was infuriating.  I had rage in me that it had to be like this.  She deserved so much better. 

While I understand her decision completely, it didn’t make it easy for me.  The emotions warring inside me made me nauseous all the time.  But I wanted her to get what she wants. 

I made her her favorite breakfast that she nibbled on a little.  We spoke at length about out favorite memories of our time together.  We tried to make love, but I couldn’t get hard, so I made her come with my tongue and fingers instead.  We cried a lot.  She fell asleep on my chest, even though she said she wouldn’t, she didn’t want to waste any time with me.  But she was tired.  She was tired in more than one way. 

I had to get into contact with Nick to hook me up, because we didn’t know the area like he did.  He asked friends, that asked friends and eventually we got a lethal dose of prescription pain medication that we would use tonight.  She made sure that it was more than enough. 

So that evening, I crushed up the pills in the kitchen, while she was hugging me from behind.  I placed the powder in a glass and filled another one with water.  I placed it on our bedside table.  After a hot bath and a cup of tea she dressed in her most comfortable pajamas and we sat together on the bed. 

‘What will happen to you?’ she asks, leaning into me, her head on my shoulder. 

‘I really don’t know,’ I answer back.

‘What if you are not okay?’ she sobs. 

‘Don’t worry about me,’ I counter. 

‘I only worry about you,’ she cries.  ‘I’ll stay longer if it means you will be okay.’

‘It won’t, love,’ I put my arm around her and hug her into my side. 

‘Here’s what I think you should do,’ she says through the tears.  ‘If you can’t find me, I think you should go to Nick.  You two will take care of each other.’

I laughed.  ‘I did think of that.’

‘I am so sorry,’ she starts.

‘No,’ I stop her. 

‘I am sorry for so many things,’ she carries on.

‘Please, don’t be sorry for one single thing.  Please don’t think that even one single minute with you was not the best moments of my existence.’

‘You can’t remember your whole existence,’ she counters. 

‘I know.  But I know,’ I sigh.

‘You were definitely the best part of mine.  I can never express how much I have loved you since I have known you.  I owe my soul to you.’

I try to find words, but they won’t come to me.  There isn’t really anything I can say to her that I haven’t said already.  ‘You are my soul.’

She calls Nick to tell him she is about to do it.  He is supposed to notify authorities.  They have a brief conversation.  And then I thank him and tell him I love him.

She pours the powder into her mouth, makes a face at the bitterness and then swallows it down with a few gulps of water. 

She kisses me quickly.  ‘I love you.’  Then she lays down and cuddles into me and I hold onto her for all I am worth. 

I grip her while I cry and cry and hope to whatever god is listening that she will feel no pain.  That she will be okay wherever she will go.  I pray that I will find her again.  I feel her breathing stop after a while, her grip on my shirt goes slack, but I keep holding on.  The warmth of her body lingers and it comforts me, until I start to fade away.  I can feel myself slip.  Her peaceful face is the last thing I see before I, too, am gone.

 You

The fog around you is thick to the point where you find it difficult to tell what time of day it is.  Through the wisps of white you see tall trees all around you.  The temperature around you is comfortable, even though it seems like it should be cold, it isn’t. 

You have no idea why you are here or where you are going, and the fact that you cannot remember does not upset you.  You walk slowly through the trees and the almost complete silence until you see a path.  You follow the path as it winds between the trees and the further you go, the fog seems to lift little by little.  Then a warm light becomes visible and as you get closer you see a cabin.  Warm, yellow light glows from the windows, smoke curls out of a chimney, it is calling you closer.

Then when you have almost reached it, the door opens and a tall man steps outside.  Your heart beats faster at the sight of him.  He is wearing all white, beautiful tattoos showing on his skin, his dark hair frames his face.  He smiles at you.  Like he knows you. 

He takes light steps down to you.  ‘Hi,’ he beams. 

‘Hi,’ you say, unsure of what was happening.

‘Are you lost?’ he asks you.

‘No,’ you say.  ‘I don’t really know.’

‘It’s alright,’ he says.  ‘I can help you if you need it.’

You look into those eyes that are so dark they are almost black and you know that he is safe.  He feels familiar.  ‘Do I know you?’

‘Come inside for some tea?’ he says reaching out his hand.  You take it without a thought and your fingers twine like you have done it a thousand times before.  ‘I have a lot to tell you.’

Inside is warmth and comfort and home.  You sit near the fireplace and he hands you a cup and you drink it.  It is just like you like it.  ‘Who are you?’

‘More importantly, who are you?’ he counters.

You frown, not knowing the answer.  ‘Do you know me?’

He nods.

A/N: This part was never supposed to happen, but a comment from someone on A03 put my mind to work.  I’m sorry that this part was also sad, but in my mind, there was no other way to do this.  Thank you to everyone who took actual time out of their day to read my story. 

[clairedaring]

Compilation post of my favorite Nadao actors (Nonkul Chanon, JJ Krissanapoom, Tor Thanapob) & Bright Rapheephong giving some interview answers on why they decided to star in queer/LGBTQ+ coded series/roles, some of their takes on being in BL (Y)/Queer series.

note: if you find this post familiar, it's because i've posted this on Reddit before. reposting here for archival purposes

TOR THANAPOB

Tor Thanapob interview in April 2023 when being asked about starring in Midnight Museum (a queer-coded GMMTV series) - (translation by infinitygraph_)

Tor: I think nowadays we should stop talking about gender. It doesn't mean that I have to act with women all the time or I can't act with men at all. I feel that I have proved to everyone that, work is work, and everything is about art. Even my team who are staying with me all the time has all kind of sexualities. It's not strange if someday we want to try telling story of other sexualities that we feel that we might be able to help them telling. If you ask me if today I am like that, today I might not, but I have a chance to understand them more, so I want to do it. Q: Is it because of the spoiler that [Midnight Museum] might be a series Y (BL)? Tor: Nothing to do with it. I tell you, sincerely, it has nothing to do with the spoiler. I just want to say that you don't have to overthink about it because nothing is fixed. Actors are actors. These days there are some award shows don't divide genders into categories anymore. I think this is a great step. Actresses also don't have to act with men all the time, they can act with women. And they both being the main characters Right. Because not all the main characters from every project have to come with the word 'love'. Even if there's 'love', there're many kinds of love. It's up to the audience what kind of feeling they have. Do they feel the same as me or they even feel more than I do? Q: So that means these days you can accept the work without any limit about what you are, which genders... Everything is about the story/script-writing? Tor: Right. I admit that I was afraid before. I wasn't afraid about my image, I was afraid that I would tell the story without understanding it, because I didn't have any experience at all. But at some point I found the chance to be more open-minded, brave to act it out all the way, such as Midnight Museum...

Tor's Vogue Interview in February 2024 on Spare Me Your Mercy as another important milestone as an actor (all translation by saltymarbles on twitter)

Tor: As for Euthanasia, I’ve been interested in it just from its name. If we were to go back in time to the period of the Prime Ministerial elections last year, there was some talk regarding the laws about euthanasia. As such, I know the meaning of it but if I had to explain it, I wouldn’t dare to because I don’t know that deeply about it. Tor: Up to the day that this drama happens, the owner of this project told me he wanted to set this question before anything changed in society: ‘Actually, are humans capable of choosing their death?’. Tor: This question shot through the core of my brain and immediately, i was like: ‘I need to tell this story’. And the role that he hoped to give me also served that function too. It’s a character which sets up the question of ‘what is right?’.(t/n: "this question" likely refers to a more philosophical kind of question regarding morality which asks what does being ‘correct’ mean — what is ‘objective morality’ (if it exists)) Tor: Do the people who are really suffering have the right to ask to leave? (t/n: "leave" is just a polite way of saying die (Thai people usually don’t use directly use the word die when talking about humans, usually use a more polite way like how we say ‘passed away’ or ‘xyz has left us’) Tor: Thus I decided to play along with knowing that the timeline of Euthanasia will remain with one in a hundred (people), so I like shades of the polar opposite. If the first story is navy blue, the other will be red — not close at all.

NONKUL CHANON

Nonkul's response to the question “If you have a chance, would you consider playing in a BL series? If accepted, who do you to co-act with?” in a Facebook Q&A video in 2021

Nonkul: If that series is an interesting storyline for me, I am always open to any kind of genre. I never categorized BL series as an BL series, I just think of it as a series with another plot as part of my work. It is a normal series that can have any of the plots which I will categorize as Romantic Comedy, Drama or whatever. Thus, when I choose the BL series I want to work with, the love preference of the character does not affect my decision. If the plot of the series is interesting, of course I’m gonna do it for sure. Every work that I chose, I personally think it at least enjoyable for me. Of course, if in the future, there are BL series with plots that I find interesting, that I enjoyed the script. “Like, wow, that’s my type!”, I will definitely selected it to be my future project. A good written series is a good series. This is what I believe as an actor. For BL Series, I think I can work with everyone. I don’t think I have anyone in particular. One thing! I desire the character of that person/actor? to be close to the character in the series. At that point I will be satisfied. Sometimes, I as an actor have a chance to work with people who don't have a lot of acting experience. I will still discover something new from him as well. And there is a BL novel which I really like! [Nonkul explains the plot of his favorite BL Novel ‘Peremo’] I would prefer to choose the “heroine” role because it will be a new experience for me as an actor because it will be a new experience for me as an actor. Because basically I only play as a hero role for the main character or support character in my work, but a “heroine” role in a BL series is the only chance for me to play a character more feminine. So it is a new experience for me. [Nonkul continues raving about 'Peremo’]. But if you think that you can make [an adaptation of Peremo], please do not forget me, Nonkul! Pleaseeeeeeee, I will do my best, I promise!!! However, I’m not only fixated on this novel. I’m also open for many more BL series if there is an interesting plot.

Nonkul's response to being ask if he's worried about filming NC scenes in IFYLITA (translation by saltymarbles)

Nonkul: I have to say when I had finished reading [the novel] and it’s made me want to act (in this series). I am probably worried more about the CG because if it’s a fantasy story with time travel, if the CG isn’t good, people will feel that it’s ‘off’. Because CG is something we don’t know anything about until we see the final product. One of the reasons that I accepted this role is because for some series, when I’ve read (the script/novel) for homework, I don’t accept them because there are some scenes that are forced in just for the sake of fan service. And I’m not really into that. If it’s a natural NC scene, then I’m not bothered. I’m a person who places a lot of importance on the story in series making sense. So to me, if an NC scene is reasonable, I won’t be bothered by it. But if it seems forced, I’m not into it. It’s important to show human-ness.

Two clips of Nonkul being asked what he thinks about doing NC scenes in IFYLITA (Clip 1 and Clip 2). Nonkul said that he places great importance on the character's actions. If an NC scene is reasonable he wouldn't mind but would if it's not reasonable. For Nonkul, understanding character is very important, especially for himself as an actor. Nonkul also said previously he had rejected some BL series offers because he can feel when NC scenes are put in just for fan service, which is also a reason why Nonkul accepted to play Jom in IFYLITA is because the love scenes are natural and make sense.

JJ KRISSANAPOOM aka JAYLERR

JJ's interview in February 2024 on Spare Me Your Mercy and his chemistry with Tor (translation by saltymarbles)

JJ: The pilot of ‘Euthanasia’ has been received well since the novel has many fans already who are excited about it. JJ & Tor are similarly excited and are committed to doing their best. The chemistry between Tor & JJ need not be questioned according to JJ since they are already close with each other. The series is in the phase of pre-production currently.

One of my favorite fictional characters of ALL TIME (not just in Thai or BL series) has got to be Tangmo from Great Men Academy (2019) (the series that a lot of BL audience refused to admit it's a queer series). The character Tangmo (played by Jaylerr) was questioned by the press about his gay crush on the protagonist: "Do you think being gay affect your chance of winning the competition?" to which his reply was a stellar "Well then let me ask you something, Does being gay make my good deeds meaningless?"

This isn't the first time JJ has played a queer role, JJ has played a gay character in TWO seasons of the LGBTQ+ series Diary of Tootsies (2016 and 2017). JJ plays Gus, the love interest of the main character.

So even though many BL fans consider Spare Me Your Mercy to be JJ's "first" BL series (which I don't agree with this strict interpretation of BL series), it is definitely not his first QL (Queer Love) series nor queer-adjacent roles as shown through out his filmography.

It is also noteworthy that even during the airing of these series, JJ was already in a public relationship with his fellow actress girlfriend Thanaerng (who has also played sapphic roles). You can see that the real life relationship of JJ or Thanaerng do not influence how/what projects they take on because work is just work :D

BRIGHT RAPHEEPHONG (all translation by saltymarbles on twitter)

Bright at Mono29 Lineup event

Bright: I think that, as I’ve previously said, BL series are just like other ordinary series or movies. Like IFYLITA can be changed to be said to be more like a period drama. I feel that BL is just about two people loving each other, not about whether it’s about male-male or female-male. This series is a period drama and it’s a romantic comedy and the other series is an action drama.

Bright's Interview with LIPS Magazine

Q: What if one day, we’re sucked in by the ship? Bright: I think fans in this day and age don’t need actors to do fan service to that extent. For myself, I’ve never intended for it to be the foundation (of his work). I think it’s a matter of being partners and working together. As such, it’s somewhat good in every aspect because it’s not forcing it. But in some moments, there may some actions that may just be the result of being friends. So even if fans ship, it’s cute to me. (smiles) Q: Do you feel a sense of “newness” stepping into a full-fledged BL? Bright: I feel that BL series are another branch of acting. I don’t think of it as being a specific form of male to male communication. It’s just another type of series just like action dramas, comedy etc, it’s just another kind of role that we can play.

Bright's Interview with Praew Magazine

Q: How is it working with Nonkul? Bright: Nonkul is a person who already does a good job at his work. He does his homework and he is also good at delivering and receiving emotions when on set. It isn’t just Nonkul who is great but the other characters in this series too, this includes P’Tee, the director. We can always talk about ideas which made the work even better. If asked whether entering the scenes with Nonkul made me shy, I would say that BL series are just another branch (of acting), it is just another role. I don't think that when acting with another man, that there’s a need to feel anything. I feel that it’s just another form of work. Another thing is that our workshops were very complete. When we work together I know what level and extent I can go to, what I should do and also trying my best in how I should feel. Thus, I felt at ease working together.

Bright’s Interview with NineEntertain

Q: Are you happy to do “ship” activities like this? Bright: I feel that if there’s an opportunity with regards to being an actor, I don’t want to be stuck in ships like this. I accepted this role with the status of an actor and I want to accept various roles too. It doesn’t always need to be BL or a specific kind of series. I will have another series next year which is ordinary boy-girl relationship and not a BL series. I feel that BL series are just another category of series — not like BL series are just BL series. It’s another category like action, romcom, or drama. It’s just another category. Q: There is still the possibility of coming to act as per usual. (unclear of what the interviewer said) Bright: I feel that with every work opportunity, it’s more about the script and storyline of the work that I were to accept. For example, I accepted the role of Khun Yai in IFYLITA as i felt that it was a script that was suitable for me. I didn’t think of it as “oh it’s a BL series, I need to accept it” because to be honest, I have been contacted for various BL series but because [IFYLITA] storyline is really good, I wanted to try acting in it. Q: What is the difficulty of acting in BL as an actor? Bright: I feel like there isn’t any difference compared to regular series. I feel that when two men love each other or kiss, I don’t think of it as (me and) a man, I think of it more as each of the characters or persons. Q: Does that affect the trend of being a ship? Bright: Hmm… Actually I am not able to answer that because I feel like it depends on people’s perspectives. Because some people may prefer that (an actor) has a (onscreen) gf/bf but some people may be upset about it. I feel like the trend depends on the people’s perspectives as people have different ways of thinking (about it). I think that I am open to listening to all different opinions on this. I feel that working (in this industry), you should be able to explore different things and you should not be fixed in one thing. We need to continue moving onto the next thing. I feel that Non has his own work and I also have my own work, and other actors too have their own upcoming work. It doesn’t mean that coming to act in IFYLITA means that you stay in IFYLITA forever. Q: Some may feel that it’s sad their their ship is coming to an end and that they are gonna work with different people. Bright: Actually, there are still some upcoming pair events but as I’ve said earlier, everyone needs to continue to do their own duties as an actor. Q: What if people change their minds about shipping your ship in the future? Bright: I think it’s a normal thing. I feel that when someone (likes us), they also like our work. I feel like our fanclub likes both Yai and Jom, and they also like Bright and Non. They like the characters and that Bright and Non play these characters and they so they like us at this point. I feel like people who came to like us are also fans of other people. I feel that they are a source of encouragement for me when they like me but I am also glad if they meet someone new or support another person. I feel happy when they come to meet me and if they’re happy when they meet other (celebs), it’s a good thing for them. If there’s a new person, an older person, a regular person or a person they just met that they are happy to meet, I feel that it’s nothing to be stressed about. Let’s say a fan comes and likes me and is following my work and there’s someone new who enters and they like their work, I am glad for them to go support that other person because that person can bring happiness to the fan.

Wow, I really got carried away with this compilation but as a fan who's followed Nonkul, JJ and Tor since their Nadao days, watching them star in queer-coded series/roles like Bangrak Soi 9/1, Hormones, Diary of Tootsies, Great Men Academy... (or in Bright's case a gay character in lakorn Rivalry), I'm just so proud that they have been able to receive "BL" series script offers that they would like to take on.

I've never sat well with the difference in the treatment of the press to "BL actors" and "non-BL actors". I wish there weren't such a distinction because it feels like the notion itself holds a lot of prejudices baggage with it, to both "BL" and "non-BL" actors. To quote a friend on Reddit, "I believe most actors would feel more fulfilled if they knew their fans loved/respected them as individual artists, instead of only seeing them as one part of a unit whose value is lower when 'separated' from their official partner."

[frogs-mystery-sideblog]

Yk that post about Our Flag Means Death that’s like “every character in this show is experiencing a different genre” ?

Yeah, Dirty Work functions pm the same way lmao

Context under the cut, for anyone who is not familiar with Dirty Work and its messy dynamics:

Ford and Jolene (aka Dirty Work part 1)

Ford and Jolene become friends in college, when Jolene signs up for a scientific study Ford forgot about. The study is on parapsychology, and when nobody answered his “volunteers with experience in the paranormal wanted” poster, he moved on to a different subject. That was in his first year of college, and it’s now his last.

He’s supposed to be finishing up his PH.D and figure out what he wants to do afterwards, so when Jolene calls about the poster, he really should turn her down. But she claims to have weird, psychic experiences, and Ford, being Ford, can’t turn down the opportunity to expose a fake.

Problem is; Jolene herself is not entirely sure she believes in psychic abilities, and even worse, her preminitions are absolutely true. Ford would know; they’re about him. And she doesn’t even know it.

Hilarity ensues!

Fast forward to 1980. Ford and Jolene haven’t spoken except a few holiday cards sent by Jolene, to update Ford on how life is going now that she’s got a better understanding of herself and her “clairs”, thanks to him. But Ford is at a loss in his research. He knows there’s got to be a source out there but he just can’t find it. While digging through his research in hopes of finding *anything* useful, he uncovers his old research notes and interviews he did with Jolene.

Maybe…Just maybe, she could help?

Jolene agrees to join him, and together they strengthen her intuition further, while moving towards Bill (Jolene does not feel good about this, Ford, however is thrilled that they’re making such fast progress)

Fast forward again, it’s 1983 — everything sucks now! Fiddleford has left, and Jolene is very much intending to follow him. Ford is desperate not to be left alone with Bill, but obviously doesn’t want to show that. In a moment of panic, he proposes to Jolene, despite having like 0.5% romantic history with her. He shoots off a bunch of logical reasons they ought to be together, which is all a cover for his actual reason as to why he wants her there.

Jolene, also panicked, says yes. Its all very allegorical and whatnot.

—

Stanley and Jolene:

1983, portal incident occurs. Jolene is…Not home when it happens. There’s a long story there that we need not delve into.

She returns to the shack, aware that something bad has happened. When she finds the portal, and Ford’s belongings strewn about as if there was a struggle, she knows Ford is gone.

So seeing Stanley is a bit of a shock. Stanley, on the other hand, thought Jolene was an intruder and nearly had a heart attack when he bumps into her.

After the confusion settles, they agree to help each other build the portal to bring Ford back. Its very “While you were sleeping” (or, While you were stuck in an inter-dimensional portal for 30 years)

Hilarity ensues!

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.3)

You die in their arms (Part.3)

In the heat of battle, you succumbs to fatal injuries in the arms of your partner. Each X-Men, torn apart by grief, reacts to the devastating loss, facing the crushing reality that their greatest power cannot bring back the person they love most.

Characters: Wade Wilson, Mystique, Warren Worthington III, Bobby Drake, Laura Kinney, Kitty Pryde, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff & Sunspot

Wade Wilson

The battlefield was its usual chaos—blood, explosions, and a flurry of bullets—but none of it registered to Wade when he saw you go down. His joking banter stopped dead in its tracks, and for once, the Merc with a Mouth was silent as he sprinted over to you. His heart raced as he dropped to his knees beside you, his gloved hands shaking as he reached out to touch your bloodied form.

“Y/N, hey, c’mon... this isn’t funny,” Wade muttered, a nervous laugh escaping him as he gently pulled you into his lap. You were too still, too quiet, and it terrified him in ways he couldn’t put into words.

Your eyes fluttered open, and despite the pain, you gave him a small, familiar smile. “Wade... always the comedian...”

“Yeah, well, you know me. Gotta keep things light, right? But this... this isn’t light, babe. You gotta hang in there.” His voice cracked, and he cursed under his breath, trying to keep his usual bravado intact. But as he looked down at your wound, the blood soaking through your clothes, the reality hit him like a freight train.

“Wade... it’s okay. I’m okay,” you whispered, though your voice was weak.

“No, no, you’re not okay! You’re gonna be okay, though. You’ve gotta be, because I can’t... I can’t lose you.” His voice was raw, and for once, the usual joking tone was gone, replaced by desperation.

You reached up, your hand trembling as you touched his face, and he leaned into your touch, his heart breaking. “I love you, Wade... don’t forget that.”

Before he could respond, your eyes fluttered shut, and the weight of your hand slipped from his cheek. Wade froze, the world around him slowing to a crawl as he stared at you. “No... no, no, no!” He screamed, pulling you closer, his voice echoing in the chaos. For once, the man who always had a joke for every situation was left speechless, his heart shattered into pieces.

Mystique

The battlefield was nothing new to Mystique. She had fought in countless wars, led rebellions, and watched allies fall by her side, but none of that had prepared her for the sight of you, crumpled and broken on the ground, blood soaking into the dirt beneath you.

She shifted into her true form as she sprinted toward you, her yellow eyes wide with fear. When she reached you, she dropped to her knees, her usually stoic expression shattered by the sight of you so close to death. “Y/N,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a fear she rarely allowed herself to feel.

Your eyes fluttered open as she touched your face, her blue fingers tracing the lines of your features. “Raven...” you whispered, your voice weak and breathless.

“I’m here,” she said, her voice a mixture of desperation and determination. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll fix this.”

But as she looked down at the wound in your chest, her heart sank. Even with all her experience, all her skills, she knew there was nothing she could do to save you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to touch her cheek.

Mystique swallowed hard, her jaw clenching as she fought to keep her composure. “Don’t you apologize,” she growled, her voice rough with emotion. “You’re going to make it, do you hear me? I won’t let you die.”

You smiled weakly, your fingers brushing against her cheek as your strength faded. “I love you, Raven.”

Mystique’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She had been in love before, but never like this. The thought of losing you, of being without you, was more than she could bear. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes.

But as your body went limp in her arms, Mystique let out a strangled cry, her heart shattering into pieces. She pulled you close, her blue skin slick with your blood as she clutched you to her chest.

For the first time in her life, Mystique felt truly vulnerable.

Warren Worthington III

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the battlefield, but all Warren could see was you—lying motionless on the ground far below. His heart skipped a beat, panic rising in his chest as he dove from the sky, his white wings slicing through the air. Nothing else mattered but reaching you.

When he landed next to you, his breath was ragged. “Y/N!” he cried, his voice breaking as he knelt down, gathering you in his arms. His wings curled protectively around the two of you, shielding you from the chaos around.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely focused, and you gave him a faint, weak smile. “Warren... you’re here.”

He nodded frantically, brushing the hair from your face, his hands shaking as he inspected the wound on your chest. “I’m here, I’m here. You’re going to be okay, just hold on.”

But as he looked down at the deep, bleeding wound, his heart sank. He had seen injuries like this before, and he knew—he just couldn’t accept it. His wings trembled as he held you closer, cradling you in his arms. “Don’t... don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I need you.”

You reached up, your hand weakly caressing his face. “I love you... I always have.”

Warren’s breath hitched, tears welling in his eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your warmth fading. “I love you too. So much. Please, don’t go.” His voice was a broken whisper, the angel brought to his knees by the thought of losing you.

Your hand slipped from his cheek, and he felt your body grow limp in his arms. He let out a broken sob, clutching you close to his chest as his wings unfurled, stretching out toward the sky. For the first time in his life, the feeling of soaring through the skies meant nothing—because the only person who had ever grounded him, the only person who made him feel whole, was gone.

Bobby Drake

The battlefield was chaos, ice and fire clashing, mutants fighting for survival, but none of that registered in Bobby’s mind the moment he saw you fall. His heart dropped into his stomach, ice forming instinctively around him as he sprinted across the field toward you.

Sliding to his knees, he reached out, his hands trembling as he touched your face. “Y/N? Hey, hey, stay with me,” he whispered, panic lacing his words as he cradled you against him. The cold that usually radiated from him felt distant, irrelevant, as he stared at the deep wound on your side.

Your eyes fluttered open, weak and unfocused. “Bobby...”

“I’m right here,” he said, his voice breaking as he tried to smile for you. “You’re gonna be fine. We’ve got this, okay?”

But the truth hung heavy in the air, and he knew it. The wound was too severe, and the blood pooling beneath you wasn’t stopping. He wanted to freeze time, to freeze everything so that this moment wouldn’t be real. But time kept moving forward, and you were slipping away.

You reached up, your hand cold against his cheek, but it wasn’t from his powers—it was from the life draining from you. “I love you... I always have.”

Bobby swallowed the lump in his throat, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you too. God, I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.”

Your fingers slipped from his face, and your body went still in his arms. Bobby let out a choked sob, pulling you closer as the cold around him intensified, the frost spreading across the ground. For the first time, he didn’t care about controlling his powers. He didn’t care about anything, because the one person who made him feel alive was gone.

Laura Kinney

Laura fought like a force of nature, her claws slashing through the enemies with brutal precision. She had always been a weapon, honed and sharpened for battle, but when she saw you collapse on the battlefield, her heart clenched in a way that was unfamiliar—fear, raw and unfiltered, surged through her.

In an instant, she was at your side, her claws retracting as she dropped to her knees next to you. “Y/N!” Her voice was rough, strained with panic as she cradled you in her arms.

You opened your eyes, your face pale as you looked up at her, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Laura...”

“Don’t talk,” she growled, her hands hovering over your wound, unsure of what to do. She could heal, but you... you weren’t like her. She couldn’t fix this, and the realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

Your hand weakly reached up, brushing against her cheek. “I’m sorry... I didn’t... didn’t see it coming.”

Laura clenched her jaw, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. This wasn’t your fault.” She bit back the sob threatening to escape, her heart pounding in her chest as she held you closer.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice so soft it was almost lost in the wind. “Always.”

Laura’s breath caught in her throat, her grip on you tightening as she pressed her forehead to yours. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears slipped down her cheeks. “More than anything.”

But as your hand fell from her face and your body went limp in her arms, Laura let out a broken cry, her claws extending with a metallic "snikt" as she gripped your lifeless body to her chest. She had always been a fighter, a survivor, but in that moment, she felt powerless—because the one person who had ever made her feel like more than a weapon was gone.

Kitty Pryde

The battle was in full swing, with explosions and shouts all around, but the moment Kitty saw you go down, everything blurred into a distant hum. She phased through the chaos, slipping past debris and combatants until she reached you, her heart hammering in her chest.

Dropping to her knees beside you, Kitty gently pulled you into her lap, her hands trembling as she cupped your face. “Y/N, no… come on, look at me.” Her voice was urgent, but there was already a knowing fear in her eyes as she scanned the wound on your abdomen.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely focusing on her face. “Kitty…”

“Shh, don’t talk, okay? I’ll get you out of here, we’ll be fine,” she promised, though her voice wavered. Kitty had been through countless battles, but none of them prepared her for this—the thought of losing you.

You gave her a weak smile, reaching up to brush your fingers against her cheek. “You’ve always... been my hero.”

Tears welled in Kitty’s eyes as she gripped your hand, pressing it to her face. “And you’re mine. Don’t you dare leave me, Y/N. We were supposed to have more time, more—” Her voice cracked as she choked on the words.

You squeezed her hand one last time, but the light in your eyes was fading. Kitty felt the moment your body went limp, and she let out a broken sob, her forehead resting against yours. For a long time, she just held you, her tears falling silently as the world around her collapsed.

Wanda Maximoff

The battlefield was littered with chaos—magic crackling in the air, debris scattered everywhere. Wanda had never felt so out of control, her powers threatening to lash out as she saw you fall to the ground, unmoving. She blinked to your side in an instant, the world slowing down as she knelt beside you.

“Y/N... no, no, please don’t...” Her voice wavered, her hands hovering over you as if afraid to touch, afraid to confirm what she already knew. A deep gash marred your chest, and blood soaked through your clothes at an alarming rate.

Your eyes opened just slightly, and when they landed on Wanda, you smiled faintly. “Wanda... I’m sorry...”

She shook her head, her hands trembling as she pressed them over your wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. “No, don’t apologize. You’re going to be fine—I’ll fix this. I can fix everything!” Her voice rose in panic, and she started to chant, her fingers glowing with red energy. But no matter how much magic she summoned, it wasn’t enough.

You reached up, your hand weakly brushing against her face. “I love you... you know that, right?”

Tears streamed down Wanda’s face, her vision blurring as she cupped your cheek. “I love you too... please don’t go, Y/N, I need you.” Her voice was a broken whisper, desperation flooding every word.

But you were slipping away, your breath becoming shallow, your grip on her loosening. And as your eyes fluttered closed for the last time, Wanda let out a gut-wrenching scream, the magic exploding out of her in a surge of grief and fury. The world bent and warped around her, but none of it mattered—because the one person who anchored her was gone.

Pietro Maximoff

One moment, you were standing beside him, fighting off enemies with your usual grace and skill. The next, you were on the ground, bleeding out. Pietro’s world slowed down even more than usual, his heart dropping into his stomach as he zipped to your side, cradling you in his arms before anyone else could even react.

“Y/N! No, no, no... please don’t do this to me,” he whispered, his hands shaking as he pressed them to the wound on your chest, trying to stop the bleeding. His mind raced a thousand miles a second, calculating every possible scenario—but there was nothing he could do.

You opened your eyes, and when you saw him, you smiled weakly. “Pietro... you’re always so fast.”

“Not fast enough,” he said, his voice cracking as he brushed your hair away from your face. “I should’ve been there, should’ve protected you...”

You reached up, your fingers brushing his cheek. “You’ve always been... my hero.”

His breath hitched, tears blurring his vision as he pressed your hand to his face. “You can’t leave me, Y/N. We’ve got so much more to do. Remember? We were gonna run away together, see the world—just you and me.”

Your grip on his hand loosened, and Pietro felt your body grow still in his arms. He let out a choked sob, his forehead resting against yours as he held you close. For once, time felt too slow, and every second without you was a moment too long.

Sunspot

The battle raged on around you, the heat of Sunspot’s powers lighting up the battlefield as he took down enemy after enemy. But when he saw you collapse, his heart stopped, the fiery energy around him flickering for just a moment as panic surged through his chest. He flew to your side, his hands shaking as he dropped down next to you.

“Y/N? No, no, no... this isn’t happening,” Roberto’s voice was frantic as he cradled you in his arms, his usually confident demeanor crumbling. You were pale, your breath coming in shallow gasps, and there was so much blood...

You coughed weakly, your hand twitching as you reached up to touch his cheek. “Roberto...”

“I’m here, I’m here,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he pressed his hand over your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He had seen this happen in battle before, had seen friends and comrades fall—but not you. Never you. You were supposed to be safe, supposed to be by his side.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled faintly at him, despite the pain. “You’ve always... burned so brightly.”

“Don’t say that. You’re gonna be fine, okay? You’ve gotta be fine, because I can’t—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. Roberto wasn’t one to cry, but the thought of losing you? It was too much.

You gave him one last, soft smile, your hand falling from his cheek as your eyes slipped closed. Roberto felt the moment your heart stopped, and the fire inside him burned hotter, fiercer than ever before. But it wasn’t enough to bring you back.

With a broken sob, Roberto pulled you closer, his body trembling with grief. For the first time in his life, his powers—his fire—felt like nothing compared to the cold emptiness of losing you.

[deadbaguette]

I don't want to be repetitive but I love how you make the characters so tender and loving,,, so here's a weird request, do you have any scars hc? I mean, do (insert character) hide them? Or let their lover kiss and caress them? Oh, which characters I mean you say? Your pick, have fun!

It’s not repetitive at all 🥹 I love LOVE LOVE it when people describe my art as tender and loving because that’s absolutely my favourite thing to draw. But omggg scar headcannons … you just spoke to a specific part of my brain bcs I love thinking about scars, beauty marks, etc. I don’t have the time to make a fully fleshed out scar map, BUT alongside a small doodle for the character I have a definitive scar map for (Diomedes) I can share all the scars I hc and how they’re treated :D AUUGSGDH thank you for giving me the excuse to do this I always have so answering your asks <3

Scar hcs:

Firstly I think the only character I have a set in stone scar hc for is Diomedes! I draw him more often than I would like to admit, so the ones on his face are: one across his left eyebrow, one by his lip/mouth, one across the nose, one on the right cheek, one on the shoulder, one on the foot. He is the most scarred character I draw, and this is largely due to the fact that I hc him (it’s probably also to an extent canon) as reckless in battle. He’s not a pristine clean warrior, he’s all too familiar with blood and war. He carries the reckless scars he gained in Thebes with the other Epogoni throughout his adulthood, and for so long they served as a reminder of where he came from. Death and violence that’s haunted him throughout his entire life, and these scars are symbols of that. So, what’s a few more to gain in Troy? It’s not like it’ll make him look any less battle scarred if he gains a few more. He hasn’t had a good reason to care about his life until now, scars not only remind him of that but also make him feel like he can’t change it. But… I like to imagine the people that care for him (whether this be Odysseus, Sthenelus, or in an AU Penelope) treat them with such delicacy and care that it almost creates an entire other association for them. Sthenelus gently tending to a wound that will surely scar, so that when it does heal it no longer carries the association of a mistake in battle but instead a tender moment shared between them and them only. Odysseus and Penelope kissing the scars on Diomedes’ face is their favourite pasttime, because if he won’t love them (he feels indifferent to them), they absolutely will. A tender kiss to the cheek, a gentle kiss to just above his eye, a quick peck against the side of his mouth, a loving press against his nose that they would have to tiptoe to reach. Diomedes never felt any love, hatred, or feelings in general towards his scars. He never made any more to hide them, he wore what was convenient. If his new scars weren’t covered by the clothes he would wear, so be it. But in a way he’s grown to love them, or at least the memories and feelings they hold.

Will be more hcs below the cut!

Achilles is very unscarred. Like the only scar on his body by the time he was dead was the one on his heel. Patroclus is also relatively unscarred, but he has a few. There is one on his hand that Achilles loves to kiss, but like in a very specific way. I hc Patroclus to almost always the one to initiate the physical contact, and he tends to cradle Achilles’ face with his hand (literally one of my fav form of physical touch) and Achilles always leans into it and kisses the scar on his hand. Patroclus never really liked his scars, so he tends to cover them up. But I think I believe Achilles loved wholeheartedly every part of Patroclus and movements he’s spent with him and vice versa. Every scar he’s gained will have a story to tell, so even if Patroclus doesn’t show it to others, there is a story that Achilles will hear. It would be something as dramatic as gaining it in battle or something as small as “you got this when you fell from a tree? I love it.” They’re as much friends as they are lovers, and they actively choose to continue to be in each other’s lives. If this means sitting together recounting the tales of how Patroclus nicked himself carving wood a few years ago and scarred, so be it.

Hector… I need to talk about this one!!! So normal and sane about him. He’s undoubtedly scarred, what with him fighting at the front but he’s no Achilles. Hector hides his scars but not because he’s ashamed of them, it’s quite the contrary because he in a strange way enjoys looking at them, but rather that he knows it causes his family worry. Hector loves his family so much, and he sees the worry and sadness in their eyes when he comes back with new scars to Andromache. How she’ll stare at them like it’s another piece of him lost, and it won’t be long until he is wholly gone too. He hides them so she can focus on the him that’s there now, and comforts her saying that he will come back to her. When Kassandra looks at the new scars on his chest and she can’t help but sigh. She told him to be more careful, but truly in the end they’re both fighting a fruitless fight against the fates. Kassandra knows this, and she keeps count of how many her brother has until he gains his last lethal one. He’s hiding them so as to not cause his sister distress. She knows he will never believe her if she tells him what will happen to him, but she cannot help but mourn for the living man.

Agamemnon has quite a few scars. He’s the lord of men, the shepard of the people, and wealthy beyond what he needs. The scars don’t mean much to him, and if anything they’re even more a testament to his power. He’s no Achilles who can come out of battle unscarred, but perhaps that’s the difference in what makes him the leader of the Achaeans. The scars he bears are a symbol of his humanity and but don’t take away from his power and image. He SURVIVED these scars. But deep down? I do think it’s a little more complicated than this. I don’t think I’ve discussed Agamemnon that much, but I do find his character really interesting. His family name is uhh tarnished to say the least, but throughout all of it he’s had his brother with him. Agamemnon cares a lot about Menelaus, he goes to war for him, he sacrifices his daughter for him, and they endure 10 years of war together. Agamemnon maybe doesn’t care about his own, but he remembers every scar Menelaus has. Like that one scene in book 3 yk where he just starts doing all the dramatics of MENELAUS I WILL AVENGE YOU MY DEAR BROTHER and Menelaus is just sitting there… ever so slightly wounded… being like brother it’s fine and Agamemnon still goes like MACHAON DROP EVERYTHING AND TEND TO HIS WOUND IMMEDIATELY I WILL SLAUGHTER THESE DISHONOURABLE TROJANS FOR DARING TO LOOK IN YOUR DIRECTION MENELAUS. It’s just kinda silly and sweet how much he cares about his little brother. Ever scrape Menelaus got growing up I imagine it was Agamemnon tending to it, and remembers them all to prevent him getting hurt further. As an older brother, he made it his sworn duty to make sure Menelaus grew up strong and out of harms way.

[limelocked]

"oh i wish there was something like dr who thats not dr who, same exact type of silly loner walks into plot and solves peoples problems in exceedingly weird setting" i say to myself, debating yet another new who rewatch

but wait

two cakes

i could write that

[trappedinafantasy37]

There are multiple gods in the game that you can directly interact with and they all have ties to the narrative. You can interact with Shar via Shadowheart. You can interact with Mystra via Gale. You can interact with Myrkul via Ketheric when he takes on the avatar form. You can interact with Bhaal via Durge and in the fight with Orin. You can interact with Bane after killing Gortash and using "Speak with Dead" in which the soul you speak to is not Gortash, but Bane himself. I would include Vlaakith in this list but Vlaakith is not a god, she is a lich presenting herself as a god. And, of course, there is the Absolute which doesn't really become a god until it ascends into the Netherbrain (although that is debatable).

But, did you know that Lolth will also interact with you? As far as I am aware, Lolth is the only non-story related god in which you do have interactions with. One of them is only available if you are a Lolth-sworn drow, and the other is only available if you are a Cleric of Lolth (you do not need to be Lolth-sworn for it).

The first instance is in the goblin camp with the spiders in the pit. This does require that you are a Lolth-sworn drow and that you have the ability to speak with animals. When talking to the spiders, you will have the option to present yourself to the spiders as Lolth herself. If you fail the persuasion check, Lolth gets pissed off as she was listening to you and is not happy that you tried to present yourself as her. And she tells the spiders you are an imposter and they attack you. But if you succeed the check, Lolth doesn't do anything and the spiders will think you are Lolth. So, Lolth doesn't really have a problem with you pretending to be her. But if you are going to pretend to be her, you better do it right. If the spiders think you are Lolth, you can ask them about what's going on in the goblin camp and the spiders only talk about one thing. They immediately tell you that there is another drow in the camp who has forgotten her way and that she is forsaken. And, as I said, Lolth is here. She heard the spiders admit this. Lolth does nothing about it.

The second instance is in the Underdark with the Phalar Aluve. When you interact with the sword, you have two different checks, a Strength check and a Religion check. If you do the Strength check, you can just pull it out of the stone and be on your merry way. If you perform the Religion check, the narrator will tell you different things depending on certain conditions. If you are a Lolth-sworn drow and/or a Cleric of Lolth, the narrator will tell you that the religious rite to pull the blade from the stone is blasphemous as it pays honor to the weak. If you are of any other race and/or cleric of any other god, the narrator will tell you that the sword is of Eilistraee and the rite pays honor to the fallen. The religious rite is that you spill a little bit of your blood and the sword will rise out of the stone on its own. If you do this as a Cleric of Lolth (you don't need to be Lolth-sworn) you will feel hundreds of spiders crawl all over you as Lolth is warning you not to do shit like that ever again. Not only did you perform the religious rite of another god, you performed the religious rite of a god she hates. And she is letting you know how much she hated that.

These are the only two instances in the game that I have found in which Lolth interacts with the player but there are plenty of other moments in which Lolth could interact with you, but doesn't (such as with the Phase Spider, the baby spiders in Grymforge, Kar'niss, or the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar). Of these two moments where Lolth does interact with you, one of these instances is in the goblin camp, and the other is in the Underdark not too far away from the goblin camp. I don't think it is much of a coincidence that these two interactions occur in close proximity to Minthara. Almost as if Lolth has a reason to be in that area specifically to watch and monitor things, and you just so happened to be there. And the only things that compel her to interact with you is because you pissed her off. But, as long you don't piss her off, she will do nothing and she will say nothing.

When Minthara was being tortured by the Absolute, she prayed to Lolth and begged Lolth to give her the strength to fight her enemies. But Lolth does nothing and Lolth says nothing. In fact, that was the full extent of Lolth's "punishment" for Minthara, nothing. All Lolth did was not answer Minthara's prayers and not show up when Minthara needed her the most. Lolth did not torture Minthara like the Absolute did, Lolth did not turn her into a drider, nor did Lolth eat her. All she did, was nothing. And yes, Lolth is known for abandoning drow and no longer interacting with them. A drow has to do something incredibly awful in order for Lolth to just back away from them entirely. But you cannot convince me that Lolth is going to let one of her Baenre's go so easily. It's not as if Minthara has done anything truly awful either to make Lolth that mad.

According to Minthara, she herself has sinned against the Spider Queen, but it's not as if she chose to abandon Lolth, she was forced away and mind controlled into being devoted to another god. But would this make a difference to Lolth? Does it really matter if Minthara was compelled to have faith in another god besides Lolth? It isn't until Minthara is freed and feels the absence of Lolth that she chooses to no longer follow Lolth. Minthara even mentions how turning against Lolth is a big no-no in Menzoberranzan. Minthara herself at one point has hunted down and killed those who turn their backs from Lolth so she knows the same will be done to her if she were to ever return home. In fact, if you are a Lolth-sworn drow or a Cleric of Lolth, you are given unique dialogue options with Minthara to kill her because she is a traitor to Lolth and these options continue to show up until you recruit her into your party and she joins your roster. Despite all of this, Lolth does nothing. Minthara spews anti-Lolth rhetoric left and right, and Lolth does nothing. If you take Minthara to the tabernacle, she will spit on a shrine to Lolth, and Lolth does nothing.

Minthara is also able to walk through the Gauntlet of Shar, which is in the Underdark, and Lolth does nothing. Sure, you could argue that its connection to the Shadowfell and the fact that Shar is there via Shadowheart is enough to keep Lolth away. The lore of DnD does not make it quite clear what the relationship between these two goddesses are. But I am willing to bet that Lolth is smart enough not to step on Shar's toes because Shar would annihilate her. However, there is a small little section of the Gauntlet where it actually does spit you out directly into the Underdark and into Lolth's territory. Minthara can walk right out there just fine, and Lolth does nothing.

But most importantly, Minthara's default ending is her returning to the Underdark with the sole purpose of destroying House Baenre and then killing Lolth. Destroying House Baenre could lead to a chaotic and political disaster in Menzoberranzan, and Lolth does nothing. Minthara quite literally wants to kill Lolth and has intentions to do so after taking House Baenre, and Lolth. Does. Nothing!

If Minthara goes into the Underdark and destroys House Baenre, this will cause chaos and death. And the Baenre's won't be the only ones she has to destroy, but any and all allies of House Baenre in which they do have a lot. And Lolth will feed off of all the death and carnage and chaos that Minthara is about to bring to Menzoberranzan because Lolth loves chaos more than she hates traitors.

Maybe, Lolth has not abandoned her as Minthara thinks she has. Maybe, Lolth has done nothing and said nothing because Minthara has not actually upset her. Maybe, Lolth has done nothing and said nothing because Minthara is already doing everything Lolth wants her to do. And all it took, was making Minthara think that Lolth abandoned her. There was no need for Lolth to answer Minthara's prayers, because Minthara always had the strength to fight her enemies.

[andstuffsketches]

was explaining jason's story to my friend as "its like if little orphan annie died at the end"

[thegoldenhoof]

Izzy dies, not as Izzy but as Blackbeard and that is not fair

(Not just to Izzy but to the writing jn Ep 4-7)

I wasn't able to articulate it properly until I was writing a longer meta about the death of the mentor trope but another reason why Izzy's death felt jarring (other than the lack of plot common sense) was that Izzy died as Blackbeard.

Izzy did not create Blackbeard. Inspite of the misinterpretations of Jenkins last moment inspiration, Izzy did not train Blackbeard. Inspite of the extremely ridiculous dialogues shoved into Ricky's mouth we *know* Izzy was not the bains behind Blackbeard.

Izzy says he fed Blackbeard's darkness, not created, not forced, but fed. However we may interpret this the Burden of Blackbeard has been on both of them. One of them wanted to shed it because it was boring (and he was depressed) the other wanted to keep it because it was security, their way of life and his life's work.

And yet Izzy alone has to die as Blackbeard. Izzy gets to take all the burden of Blackbeard on himself and die for the symbolic release of Ed.

And in so far as you consider everything till Episode 2 or even Episode 3 this is perhaps fine. But Izzy who was the half of Blackbeard is already dead after that. He'd shot him in the head. By Episode 4 Izzy broken and purposeless asks himself who he was anymore.

Izzy lets go of Blackbeard in what Jenkins has called his moment of divorce from Blackbeard. Izzy gets to grow and learn about kindness and community. He learns to give back. He gives his approval for Ed letting go of his leathers and he does that from the experience of having let go of Blackbeard himself. (If Ed was indeed seeking such approval we are not shown that)

And yet...

Izzy dies as Blackbeard. All of this, all of his journey is rendered meaningless not because he dies, but because his role in Blackbeard was elevated narratively to serve as a vessel externalizing Ed's self-loathing. Izzy as a person recedes to the background.

Izzy had found healing and family over the season but he doesn't get to die as Izzy, he gets to die as Blackbeard. He dies with only Ed by his side and all the people he formed bonds with this season away, audience to the tragic spectacle because in that moment he is only Blackbeard, not Izzy.

Izzy never had a single hope of redemption because no matter what he did *he* could never shed his past. Stede's love is enough to save Ed from Blackbeard but apparently the crew's love was never going to be enough to save Izzy because Ed needed him to *be* the Blackbeard who died so he could be the Ed who lived.

Perhaps the lesson here is you have to get ahead in that redemption race because if you straggle behind you are fucked even if you try.

[admrlthundrbolt]

Alone Together (Nandor the Relentless x Chubby Reader)

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

Moving to a new home to take care of your grandfather was one thing. But finding out that the neighbors are Vampires. Well nothing could prepare you for that. If only you noticed just how much attention Nandor gave you.

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

Hi guys. I'm back at it again. I watched the newest season of What We do in the Shadows recently. Which reminded me of how much of a himbo Nador is. Including how quickly he falls in love. So it wasn't hard for him to become my muse.

Anywho, I hope you enjoy.

---------------------------------------------------------

Standing in the kitchen your gaze wandered to the window. The veiw was one you still hadn't gotten used to. Traveling halfway across the country can do that to you.

Turning back to the oatmeal that was bubbling away on the stove top, you stirred it. Spooning some into a couple of bowls, you set off for the living room.

��Here you go Papa.” Placing the bowl on a serving tray in front of him. You sat on the nearby couch, not yet eating.

He tore his eyes from the TV, playing old black and white reruns. Then frowned down at his breakfast. Placing his spoon in the oatmeal he scooped up a bit and let it fall back into the bowl. “Now I'm not one to complain.” You had to fight to keep the smile off of your face. “But honestly would it hurt to have something with a little more flavor?”

You let the smile slid onto your face as he finished. Heading to the kitchen you grabbed a jar of honey and started back. Only to give it a second thought, snatching up a tablespoon too. “I get where your coming from, really I do. But it's the doctor's orders, gotta watch your cholesterol.” Standing next to him you held out the jar. “I'll make you a deal. You can have a serving of this, if we watch something in color.” Noding he reaches for the jar. “That isn't the news.”

He deflated a bit at that, but still agreed. Then perked up suddenly and said. “Speaking of news, could you go grab the paper.”

“Sure, but I'm not leaving the honey.” Walking away, you chuckled at the mumbled obscenities that left his mouth.

Going out to grab the paper, you decided to check the mailbox as well. “Junk, junk, Bill, Nandor The Relentless?” It was an odd thing to see in a letter. Equally as bizarre was the ornate nature of the peice of mail. As you looked over the envelope, you realized that it wasn't your address. Glancing at the number's on the other nearby mailboxes, it seemed to match a neighbor's. It was the home that you had seen a nervous looking younger man. He was usually working on the yard or house. It was an older Gothic manor of a home, so the upkeep was probably brutal.

Heading back in you dropped the mail next to your grandfather's breakfast. Then turned and made for the front door again. “Going to give the neighbor's some of their mail we got.”

He nodded half heartedly as he stuck his nose in the newspaper. “OK, while your there see if they have something tastier for breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Waving your hand around, you beelined towards the mysterious letter owner. Not seeing anyone in the front yard, you made your way up to the front door and knocked. Glancing around the house as you waited, you couldn't help but admire the odd architecture. As you were about to knock again, thinking the home owner may not have heard you, the door swung open. It was the anxious guy and a camera crew? Raising a brow you held up the letter. “Hi, I live over there.” You pointed out your grandfather's house. “We got one of a piece of your mail, Mr. Nandor.” Holding it towards him, you smiled.

He seemed to be in a bit of a daze, until you moved the letter towards him. “Oh, thank you. I'm actually Guillermo, Nandor is my Master.” He seemed to flinch at his words and quickly changed the subject. “Isn't that Mr. Wilson's house. I didn't know he had moved.”

Shaking the odd feeling from your mind, you shook your head. “No, he's still there. He's my grandfather, after my grandmother passed. Well, I offered to move in and help out. It seems to be a good decision for both of us.”

He noticed how the smile slipped from your face as you explained. “I was sorry to hear about your grandmother's passing. I'm glad that Mr. Wilson has someone to count on.”

Your smile had returned at the statement. “That's if I can keep up with the old man. I'm (Y/N) by the way.” You held your hand out and was impressed with the grip his handshake had. “Speaking of, I should probably get back to the house. Before he sends out the search parties that is." Turning back towards your home, you threw a quick comment over your shoulder. “Hope to see you around."

This left a flustered Guillermo to rush back inside. Pushing the crew away from his flush expression, he made for his master's room. Placing the letter down on a nearby dresser. He left for his own room. To definitely not think about how great it would be to have someone outside of the vampire house.

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

Nandor was restless. Something was causing his slumber to constantly be interupted. That something happened to be a scent. The moment it entered his room he couldn't settle down. But his internal clock knew it was nowhere near sundown. So he tossed and turned, enduring the distraction.

“Morning Master.” Came the timid voice of Guillermo.

Before he could approach the coffin, Nandor burst from it. His glowing eyes searched the room. Taking deep breaths, he felt like a hound seeking out his prey. Following his nose he found a letter addressed to himself. Tearing it open, he rummaged for the source of the smell. Only to find that the letter itself was covered in the odor.

“Master?” The familiar glanced nervously at the documentary crew.

His nervous call, made the vampire finally notice that the familiar was in the room.

Gathering his composer, he turned to the other man. “Ah Guillermo, I was just inspecting this letter. Could you tell me why it smells this way.”

He was about to laugh off the notion, it was just a piece of mail. That was until he remembered how it got to the house, you. You had hand delivered the letter. He cringed at the thought of his master sinking his fangs into you. The new neighbor that was taking care of their newly widowed grandfather. So as his master glared expectantly down at him. He decided a half truth would be the best way to keep you safe. “It was delivered this morning. Maybe the post office has a new mailman.”

He towered over his familiar and a smile broke out on his face. “Yes, that must be it. A new person has started working at the postal building.” He placed the letter in his coffin. Trying and failing to be subtle about it. “Keep an eye out for this postal person. They may be more interesting than they lead on.”

“OK Master. Did you have anything planned for today.” Glancing at the crew He hoped the subject change would distract the vampire. At least enough to keep your name from spilling out of his mouth.

“Yes. I would like to look at horses. So I will need you to set up the light box.” With a flourish of his cape, he walked out of the room. A very relieved human following after.

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

Taking a long swig from your water bottle, you wiped the sweat from your brow. The feeling of your muscles burning was a pleasant sensation. It was nice having a bit more free time. But the thought of sitting around all day was not the way you wanted to live.

You were thankful for all of the gyms that were a stones throw away from home. It honestly seemed like you couldn't go a couple of blocks without passing a gym. But hey, you weren't going to complain about a convenience.

Finishing out your set, you cleaned the machine. The warmth built up in your limbs made you decide it was time for a cool down. Seeing a few treadmills free, you went to grab a spot. Only to shift paths to the bikes as you spot a familiar face.

Sitting down next to him, you felt bad at how much you seemed to startle him. “Sorry buddy, didn't mean to spook you.” Starting to pedal the exercise bike, you hoped he didn't mind you setting up next to him.

He shook his head. “No, you're fine. Didn't expect to see you here is all.”

“I get that.” A stale silence lingered between the two if you. Thinking that a subject change would ease the tension, you said. “So did Nandor get their letter?”

His shoulders tensed a bit at the mention of his Master. Glancing at you, he saw the gentle expression on your face. He was reminded that you were a regular person. That just seemed as lonely as he felt sometimes. So he nodded and gave you a quick smile. “He did, he got a little excited about it too. You know how older people can be about letters though.”

You nodded. “Oh don't I know it. Everytime my Grandfather gets a personal letter in the mail you would think it was his birthday.”

This confirmed your suspension of Guillermo being in a similar situation as yourself. You had heard from another neighbor that there were a group of people that lived in the house with him. And seeing him do all of the yard work. Well it wasn't like some elderly people could handle those type of tasks. It made you like him even more, knowing that you could have a kinship through caring for others.

So you cycled next to each other and made plans to meet up at the gym more often. You loved the idea of having a workout buddy. While he was relieved that he could spend some time with you, away from the house of course.

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

Finishing up another workout, you bid Guillermo a goodnight. No matter how many times you offered him a ride home he always declined. Even as the year settled into winter he still insisted. Something about how a brisk walk was how he preferred to end a workout.

Shaking your head at how odd he could act, you didn't notice the item in your path. Catching yourself on a nearby wall, you looked down. It was a worn out dark wallet. You picked it up to take to the front desk. Only to stop as you notice that Guillermo's license was in it. Walking to the front, you glanced either way down the sidewalk. His curly locks were nowhere in sight. With a shrug, you headed back towards the locker room. It wouldn't be a problem to drop it off to him. Plus it would be nice to meet the Nandor you've heard so much about. But had never had the opportunity to be introduced.

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

Hearing the front door open Nandor narrowed his brow. “Guillermo, come to the library. I wish to to purchase a item and need the plastic card.” The quick patter of footsteps followed the command.

“Coming Master.” Then a pause in his step and the sound of rustling. “Um, do you happen to know where my wallet is?”

Rolling his eyes, the Vampire rose from his seat. Making his way over to the familiar, he scoffed. “Of course not. If I did than I would not have asked you for the card.” Sending a look at the camera, he said. “Fucking guy.”

As the younger man went to tear his room apart, a knock rang through the house. “Could you please get that Master.” Then realizing that that could be seen as a demand he added. “So I can find the credit card for you.”

Throwing a hand over his shoulder, he headed to the entrance. “Very well, but don't expect this to become a regular thing.”

Swinging the door open he paused. He was sure that if he still needed breath to live, it would have caught. You were a beacon of beauty. A vision of soft splendor that he could loose himself in. Then your scent hit him and an indescribable hunger welled within him. A baser urge rose from within himself and he lunged towards you. Not sure what his inner instincts were forcing upon him.

Before you could get a word out, however, your muscle memory took over. Which caused the hand holding the wallet to strike out. Causing Nandor to halt in his movement.

“For fucks sake!” His hands cupped his nose and he was surprised to feel liquid. Pulling a hands back, he couldn't help but admire the blood coating his fingers. Glancing up at you he was taken aback at the compassionate expression on your face.

You quickly took his face into your hands and fussed over him. “I'm so sorry, it was just instinct. I can't believe I hurt you." Tugging a few tissues from you bag. You gently pressed them to his nose.

Even though he knew his vampiric powers had already healed him. He let you take care of him. Your touch was warm and gentle. Your soft hands flitted over his face in a pleasant manner that he could indulge in for hours.

The nose bleed had seemed to stop. Taking a step back,you gave him a nervous smile. “I really am sorry about all this. I just wanted to return Guillermo's wallet.” This caused the mystery man to step towards you.

“Why are you interested in seeking an audience with my familiar?” He had a disgruntled tone.

Brows furrowing at his statement, you repeated yourself. “I wanted to return his wallet. He dropped it at the gym and I thought I would give it to him. I mean it's not like it was out of my way or anything." You gestured to your home and sent him a hopefully pleasant grin.

Narrowing his eyes at the house. He wonder what else his familiar could be keeping from him. “I see, let me call for him.” Facing into the house, he said. “Guillermo, there is a visitor at the door.” Side eyeing the crew, he waited.

You both waited for him to return. Nandor took the time to admire you for a moment longer. While you were excited, yet confused, to learn about your friend's housemates. This honestly wasn't the situation you thought he was living in. Still it seemed that he helped the people he stayed with.

He jogged to the front, but slowed his stride at the sight in front of him. Two of the people he never wanted to meet, standing beside each other. His heart began racing. You being here was as surprising as you not being dead. The way his Master reacted to your scent. He belived if the vampire ever got downwind of you, it would be your end. Instead he was gazing down at you in wonder.

“Hey, I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time.” You sheepishly shifted your gazed to Nandor, then quickly back to him. “I just wanted to make sure you got this.” Holding the wallet out to him, you were happy to see the relief that spread across his face.

Taking it from your hand, he embraced you. “I can't believe you found it. Thank you (Y/N).” Shifting back, he was surprised to see the angry look on his Master's face.

“It's nothing really. You must have dropped it and when I happened to find it outside of the locker rooms. Well, I didn't think it would be a problem to drop it off. Not like it's a long trip or anything.” Grinning you pat his back.

Nandor stepped a bit closer to you. It seemed his familiar had grown close to what should be HIS. He had only known you a few moments. But he felt a possessiveness clawing at his insides. “Yes, she was just telling me about your time together at the gym. It has made my interest in the location grow. I should like to join you at your next session.”

Guillermo's eyes pleaded for you to say no. Knowing you though, there was no way that you would reject someone without a reason.

“Sure, the more the merrier.” Noticing how dark the sky had gotten, you stepped towards the door. “Text me the details Guillermo, I've got to get to my grandfather.”

Both men waved as you left. Each dreading you departure for very different reasons.

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

The next gym trip was an interesting one. You didn't expect Nandor to show up in only a pair of tight ornate pants. But if that was what put him in the mood for a good burn, then who were you to judge. It also didn't hurt that it made it that much easier to observe him. His muscles twitching and veins pulsing. All while he lifted over five time your body weight. Well it didn't take long for the more steamy thoughts of what his muscle could help with.

He was thoroughly enjoying his time with you. It was a nice change to have a workout partner. Watching as you pushed your body and strengthen yourself. It was enough to make him go wild. How could something be so soft yet ferice? If only he didn't have to share you.

“That's great Guillermo, just one more press.” You loved to encourage him. IT always seemed to help him push to new heights.

Noticing the vampire sneer from the corner of his eye, he shook his head. “No. I can't keep going.”

Your smile faultered. He was shaking and his breath was pretty labored. Sliding behind him, you positioned your hands under the barbell. “OK. If you want to burnout, I've got you.” Nodding down at him, you prepared for the worst.

He felt guilty for worrying you. Until he saw his Master holding back a hiss. So he moved the weights and focused on you instead. The only person whose treated him like a human. No, a friend, in a long time. Taking all his frustration out on his muscles.

That is if his sweaty palms didn't slip from the barbell. You caught it, but a sickening pop came from your shoulder. Crying out, you lurched backwards to keep the weight from falling on him.

The vampire sprung into action. One hand pulling the equipment from you. He cradled you against him with the other. Touching your shoulder, he was relieved to see that it only seemed strained. Though his frown deepen at the way your breath hitched. He whipped towards the other man. “You idiot, were you trying to kill her. You know how fragile humans are.”

He barely paid the vampire any mind. “I'm so sorry (Y/N). Are you ok? What am I saying, of course your not.” He began to pace.

You placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “Hey, it's OK. I think it's only strained.” You gave him a reassuring smile. “I'll just have to stick to legs for a bit.”

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

Even after offering to take you to Urgent Care and paying. You still insisted that you were fine. That an ice pack and some sleep would do the trick. That didn't stop the men from escorting you home.

Guillermo rushed into their house, trying his best to ignore his Master. It did little good.

“You are a reckless idiot. How could you let her get injured. You should have let those weights crush you.” He followed him through the house. Pushong passed the crew, irritated. Watching as he rifled amongst his things, the Vampire grew enraged. “Are you even listening to me!”

Swinging around to face the taller man, he was red with anger. “How could I not. Look i know I screwed up. That's why I'm getting my heating pad. Alternating between heat and cold should help her recover faster.” Then he quickly walked to the front door.

Nandor enjoyed the thought of you healing faster. But frown at Guillermo being the one to cause it. “Then we will take it to her together.”

The familiar came to a sudden stop. “No, I'm going to see MY friend. If all of this is my fault, then I should be the one to take care of it.”

Glaring down at the shorter man, he could feel his nail digging into his palms. “That is why I should go. To make sure you don't kill them.”

His face became a blank mask to shroud his emotions. As calmly as he could manage he said. “Actually Master, I think you have a much better chance of taking their life. Now if you don't mind, I have something to see to. Including not worrying about being invited inside her home.” He left swiftly.

A fact that Nandor was both angry and relieved by. Huffing he went to confide in the only man in the house that was successful in love.

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

Swaying through the air as a bat. He couldn't help but curse at having taken Laszlo's advice. How could he be stupid enough to believe that drinking from intoxicated humans would help. Now he was over thinking what you and his betrayal of a familiar were doing.

Veering away from his own home, he transformed back on your lawn. Stumbling to the front door, he didn't notice the light beginning to spill over the horizon. He called out to you, loudly wailing.

Making your way to the entrance, you were confused why someone would be here so early. That someone being a distraught Nandor was a surprise. Rubbing a hand across your face, you tried to focus on the situation.

He admired how your pajamas fit you. Taking a moment to try to commit the sight to memory. He attempted to throw himself into your embraced. But was halted by the very curse that Guillermo had thrown in his face. “Why must we be torn from each other?”

Staring at the man in bewilderment, you stepped forward. “Nandor, what are you talking about?”

He fell forward and wrapped his strong arms around you. Feeling your soft body fit against him pleasantly. “We are so different. You a human and me a vampire. You care for people, while I only think of them as food. Guillermo is right, I'm not good enough.”

Frowning at his drunken rambling, you heaved him towards your door. “I'm not sure what your getting on about. But why don't I get you some water and on the couch. Come on, let's get inside.”

He wiggled out of your arms, as much as he didn't want to. “No, you should be near me. I'm a monster that could kill you at any moment.” He turned to head home, but shrieked as the first rays of light hit his skin.

Shock ran through you. It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over you. You let instinct take over as you yanked him inside. Flinging the door shut, you went to check over his burns. After seeing they were only minor wounds, you smiled. “OK, so that wasn't just the booze talking.”

“No, I would not lie to you, you are to precious. Even now you have saved a monster like me." He took your hands into his own and leaned forward.

You met his lips in a tender kiss. Pressing your forehead against his own, you took in a shuddering breath.

“Is everything OK? I thought I heard…. oh for christ's sake!” There stood a disheveled Guillermo, a frown tugging at his lips. When he brought you the heating pad earlier he seemed so upset. You decided to invited him to stay over. But with the situation at hand, you didn't consider calling out to him for help. “You couldn't even wait another day to make a move. This is so like you, taking without considering others feelings.”

“Hey that's not fair. She obviously likes me.” Almost falling over himself to stand up and face the other man. “Why must you stand in the way of love?”

The familiar stepped forward and shoved a finger into his chest. “Because you're a killer that falls in love every other month.”

You had stood to the side stunned. You didn't realise the impact you had made on their lives until now. As you thought about it, you knew that you felt the same. It would hurt your heart to not have these men in your life.

Stepping between them, you took a breath to steady yourself. “I'd like a say in this. Being that I am the subject of the fight after all.” Placing a hand on each of their chest, you smiled reassuringly. “I'm a big girl. If I want to be friends with someone. Or date someone, it's my choice in the end.” You gave each of them a pointed look that caused their masculine ego to deflate.

Guillermo was the first to speak. “What if you break up? You won't want anything to do with things that remind you of Nandor…. Including me.”

The desperation in his voice broke your heart. You brought him into a tight hug. “You can't predict what the future might bring. But I can promise you that I don't veiw you as an extension of Nandor. So the chances of me not wanting to be around you aren't happening.”

He sniffled as you seperated. “Thanks, that's reassuring to hear.”

Turning to the Vampire, you patted his chest. “Nandor, I like you, a lot. But let's take things slow. It's obvious that there's still something that we need to learn about one another.”

He gave you a wide grin. “As long as it is time I get to spend with. Then I am happy.”

Guiding everyone to the couch, you made sure they both were comfortable. A simle settled on your face. Settling on top of Nandor and pulling Guillermo onto yourself. A calm washed over your heart. Things may get rocky, but you guys could figure it out together in time.

[drabbles-of-writing]

Pretending Not to See Your Ghost

AO3

Chapters: 1, 2

Summary: Darius has begun to notice a  few...𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 between Hunter and his old mentor. From  appearance, to speech, to the smallest of characteristics, he always  swears he'll blink, and his mentor will be standing right where Hunter  once was, as though nothing had ever changed.

But he's sure it's only a coincidence.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Penstagram, unfortunately, had become more of an eyesore than it used to be.

The Emperor clearly had no understanding of technology, and it became evident to many Coven members that places like Penstagram were practically free-range to do pretty much whatever they wanted. Of course, plenty still used it to find the locations of wild witches, but for quick communications or revealing faces, barely anyone batted an eye. There would be no punishments for it.

Darius tried to use Penstagram for normal things. Occasional pictures, deleting DMs he very much did not want to see, passively aggressively shit-talking his coworkers, and shooting a few quick, non-incriminating messages between himself, Eberwolf, and Raine when needed be.

And then there was Hunter’s account.

He’d only followed it to keep an eye on him. He knew the intricacies of what was and wasn’t allowed on Penstagram, but Hunter might not have. He found it ludicrous to suggest the kid would blurt Coven secrets on his account, but he was still paranoid. The boy thought sunlight was optional on functional growth, he didn’t know what else he’d assumed about life.

Much to his increasing migraine, most of Hunter’s posts were about Flapjack. His profile picture was of his own face, covering only one of his scars, in his Golden Guard attire.

Darius had nearly gotten a heart attack before he saw just how many people assumed Hunter was a fake account. Or some otherwise young child dressing up to pretend as the Golden Guard. He suspected the fact that most of Hunter’s posts were blurry disasters (that, to his credit, did exclude anything else that could be directly linked back to him or the Coven) did quite a bit to aid in this doubt.

No one would find his account on accident, it was far too obscure, and never tagged properly. Darius still monitored it, of course, but he was a little more at ease, figuring they were all in the clear. Even if he wanted to take the boy by the shoulders and plead him to be at least semi-functional with technology.

Then, as though Hunter had sensed Darius staring in dismay at his most recent failure of a post, the boy himself poked his head in through his office door.

“Uh, Darius?” Hunter asked, unsure, and Darius jerked his head up. 

He tried not to feel that old ping of nervousness when Hunter was slipping off his mask before he was fully in the office. Everyone knew Hunter’s face in the Coven, this was a normal, good thing. This was not something he had to be wary about others seeing.

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” Darius raised a brow, though he did set his scroll down. 

“Uh, well, y-yes, I was just doing that!” Hunter said quickly, and when Darius glanced down, he saw him holding his scroll up to his chest, walking over to his desk. “But then I started getting some messages, and I just wanted to…I wanted to see if these would be of interest?”

Darius, brow still raised, held out his hand. Hunter willingly handed it over without a second thought, Titan below this kid really needed to learn how to be a teenager, and Darius took a look at whatever he was talking about.

It was a DM, with what looked like a conversation between two hex-bots. Darius raised a brow, scrolling up—nope, that was Hunter’s texting. Good grief, it was atrocious.

The other one was a bot, at least. A very obvious one, in fact.

LIke.fabriCS? to muhc woRk ? CLICK HERE!

Hunter seemed to have been trying to respond to the bot, interrogating it about details. To which it fell apart into incoherent, insane texts.

“Hunter, this is a scam.” He deadpanned, though he supposed he could only be so exasperated. The kid had no phone, of course he didn’t know about people trying to hex scrolls.

“Gus said that, too.” Hunter frowned, ears pressing back. “He told me not to click a link?” He added, frowning, face scrunched up. 

“The underlined words. Of which he is correct.” Darius said, deciding not to ask who that was as he handed the phone back. “You’d get hexed.”

“Are you sure?” Hunter sounded truly disappointed, looking down at his scroll screen. “I thought more fabrics would be nice, ‘cause you have your own…”

“I have money to get more, just borrow mine.” Darius sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead. He tried not to feel too twisted up when Hunter looked at him with pure shock. “In the future, just don’t talk to any messages you get that aren’t from your friends.”

“But how could I get hexed through some…underlined words?” Hunter squinted at his scroll, holding his phone up to his face.

“It’s a link, Hunter.”

“Like a chain?”

“Titan’s sake,” Darius groaned, dropping his face into his hand, “it’s like teaching an old man.”

“I’m not old!”

(“You’re such an old man.” Darius snickered, looking from the crystal ball to the face smooshed up against it.

“Hey!” Jasper barked, finally tearing away from it to send a pouting glare, of which Darius could only barely restrain a laugh. “I’m not old! I’m practically your age!”

“Oh, so now you’re my age?” Darius scoffed, rolling his eyes and leaning back, smug. “Is that why you hate being called ‘sir?’”

“I’m as spry as a fox-spitter, I’ll have you know.” Jasper huffed, placing a proud hand to his chest. “These crystal thingies are just needlessly complicated.”

“It’s only kind-of new tech.”

“It’s confusing, is what it is. I’m convinced you’re just messing with me.”)

“Figure of speech,” Darius waved it off, sure his mouth was pulling at an uncomfortable angle, “just be more careful in the future. Titan’s sake, you don’t need to fret about getting your own things.” He rolled his eyes. “I have more than enough to share. I already gave you a scroll.”

“Well…yeah.” Hunter hunched his shoulders a tad, looking from his scroll to Darius. “I-I just…you already got me the scroll, so…you’ve gotten me enough.”

“I’ll say when I’ve gotten you enough. This is not even close to the limit.” Darius said, firmly, if only because it made him feel…odd. This didn’t sound the least bit like a spoiled brat. “Now, scurry back to that important work you were having with your friends on Penstagram.”

“Acquaintances.” Hunter reminded, more of a grumble, than anything, neatly tucking his scroll underneath his cloak and into a pocket.

“No, they’re not. Run along.” Darius waved his hand, going back to pretending he was working on his own papers. “I’m sure teenagers like you have much to talk about.”

“I’m…working on that.” Hunter hummed, frowned so thoughtfully like he was solving some secret that it had Darius snorting, watching him turn away and pull his mask back down again.

Hunter’s fingers lingered, he noticed, over the nose. The tips scraping down slightly, pausing as though thinking something over. It was so painfully familiar he half expected to see a tangle of uncombed, wild hair when Hunter turned back to him.

But it was only his normal, somewhat-combed hair. Of course it was.

“Um, thank you.” Hunter mumbled, nodding jerkily. “For-for the assistance.”

“Happy to help.” Darius said, and if anyone said he sounded softer, they were a liar. “You can continue checking-in sometime in the future.”

It sort of slipped out. Not that he didn’t mean it, but he hadn’t really thought about saying it. The words were simply out there before he could think much. Though, he couldn’t really find himself regretting it when Hunter perked up, just the tiniest bit more interested.

Perhaps that should’ve been harder to tell, with his movements so subtle and face covered. But Darius liked to think himself an expert in such mannerisms.

“Thank you.” Hunter repeated, sounding suspiciously genuine, bringing his hood up. His small strand of hair still hung free, uncovered as he pulled open Darius’s door.

It looked a lot like Jasper’s, he noticed. There was always that one strand of hair poking free, refusing to obey the chaos of the rest of his mane. Hanging right in front of his face, bothering him to hell and back.

Then, Hunter was out the door, and Darius was alone in his office.

He shook off the weight on his chest, though it lingered like fog, and reshuffled his papers.

Perhaps he should do some real work.

[hood-ex]

Honestly amazing to me that fic crossovers between the same characters from different universes aren't more popular in our fandom. Like where's a fic where main universe Dick, Talon Dick, Earth 3 Dick, and Dark Knights of Steel Dick all end up in the same universe and have to work together?

[hellonpluto]

Sometimes i get the urge to rewatch ALL of miraculous bc

1) marinette is insane(fun to watch)

2) Alya

3) adrienette interactions(marinette is insane pt 2)

4) MARICHAT 🎉🎉🎉🎉

5) Luka

6) thinking abt how awesome it wouldve been if they had made adrien be more snarky like how chat is

7) drawing characters while im watching bc re-designing is soooo fun when u know what ur doing

8) second-hand embarassment is actually super fun when it's not real people