#embrace the void ending

[maxlovespigeons]

Kingdom Rebuilt: Chapter 1 pg 1-3

Read the Prologue Here

I've had these three pages sitting in my files for a year without realizing I've never posted them on Tumblr, so there you go :)

[dooblebugss]

so... what would happen if ghost died in the hollow fables au?

what i'm mainly asking is: would a shade show up, or would the shade lord show up? or would nothing appear as if it was a steel soul run?

Thats definitely a spoiler ;3

[newnevermind-sanity]

Many many years later, a friendly Ghost still wanders the ruins of Hallownest, helping people who accidentally go too deep and returning them to the surface.

Though strangely they always know where they are, and are very quick to get to them.

[nonuggetshere]

Saying fuck it and making transfem PK canon in my FaaF AU variant that follows Embrace the Void game ending (last 3 tags explain the AU roughly if you're new here good lird I need to make a master post)

Spent so long in the dream realm alone that it fucked with their gender, or rather spent a long enough time from how their subjects perceived them that they decided to get funky with their gender presentation

Gets on Bug HRT

Hornet's gonna jokingly poke at them whenever their voice cracks

[abyssembraced]

(Plotted starter for @succiduxus!)

They had been trapped in this realm for an uncountable length of time. The Godseeker had claimed this was where they belonged now, in this Home of the Gods, to be attuned to and ascended by their ever-loyal followers and worshippers.

They had helped her and her people, she said. Saved them. Brought to them the “God of Gods” they had been searching for for all their lives.

They were an ascended deity now. The Lord of Shades. The Void united and given focus through divine ritual. Though they had split off from their siblings after defeating the Light at the height of her strength, manifesting themself in their familiar, miniscule form as the excess Void laid dormant in the pits of Godhome, their divine power and control over the substance remained. This place was where they were meant to stay.

...

They didn't want to.

The Godseekers offered praise and adoration, but little in the way of companionship. One would think that, given their past as a lone traveller, they would be accustomed to such solitude, yet they found themself becoming... Lonely. They longed to see their friends again. They were the Ghost of Hallownest, as their sister had once dubbed them, not Godhome's ultimate God of Gods.

Yet, no matter how hard they tried to cut themself free from this dream, nothing seemed to work. Normally, their Dream Nail allowed them to traverse between the realms of waking and sleep with ease, but this time the tool apparently proved insufficient. Sometime after their ascension and subsequent (accidental) destruction of the original Godhome, the nail had lost its Awoken status, and the essence once contained within the blade had scattered out across the Dream Realm. Perhaps that was the reason they were now trapped in here? With no knowledge of what had occurred in Hallownest following the defeat of the Absolute Radiance at the Pantheon's peak, Ghost didn't understand what was so different about this reconstructed Godhome compared to any other dream.

Still, they needed to keep trying. With enough persistence, maybe eventually they would create an opportunity to break free from this land, or at least find a way to contact someone from the outside world.

...Wait. Though most of the “gods” they'd faced in the Pantheons were merely illusory constructs—stronger imitations of the opponents they'd slain in Hallownest, summoned only to fight—perhaps some of them had truly been alive, aware. Ghost recalled their battles with Sister Hornet, and the inner thoughts her mind had relinquished to them in the moments she had staggered and stopped to catch her breath.

“...Do they watch us struggle?..”

“Little Ghost... What dreams we share...”

“Do you haunt my dreams... Or I yours?”

Maybe... If the real Sister Hornet was truly aware of and remembered their dream battles, maybe she would be able to help them.

With that thought in mind, Ghost dashed over to Godhome's Hall of Gods, paying no heed to the Godseekers that bowed to them as they passed. There, they could contact Sister Hornet directly, without any need to scale one of the Pantheons beforehand. Standing in front of the Sentinel's statue, they drew their nail in a stance that signified a challenge, transporting them to the arena at the sound of a bell's chime.

Though it retained Godhome's signature architecture, the battlefield was also littered with piles of ash, reminiscent of the clearing in Kingdom's Edge where Ghost had once fought Sister Hornet in a similar battle. Crowds of smaller Godseekers surrounded the arena on all sides, eager eyes watching the two combatants' every move as they waited for the battle to begin. Among them, sitting high above on her golden throne, was the Seekers' leader, leaning forward in anticipation, surely expecting a glorious fight between her “God of Gods” and their demigoddess sister.

However, this time the Godseekers would not be getting the grand battle they craved. Ghost would have preferred that they not be here spectating at all, but there wasn't anything they could do about that. So, they simply ignored the audience, just as they had done in the Pantheons, and focused entirely on their sister as she dropped into the arena from above.

Rather than draw their nail and fight, as they normally would have done, Ghost took it and tossed it to the side. They looked back at the other expectantly. If this was the real Sister Hornet and not one of Godhome's simulations, then surely she would take notice of their behaviour and cease to attack, right? The action left them vulnerable and would put them in a dangerous situation should their attempt at communication fail, but it was a risk they needed to take. Besides, even if they were to perish, they knew that they would simply wake up in front of the statue anyway, as though the encounter had never happened at all.

[solivagantingrebel]

Writing got easier when I just embraced the fact that I'm a true pantser tbh. An outline just wastes my time because I end up deviating from them anyway (the 'outline' I have in my head seems to work better, just like - a vague beginning, middle and end, with details filled out when I'm actually drafting).

[n1ghtmaremachine]

oh my god rain world. holy shit. oh my god.

[eggs-can-draw]

so really it only has two endings and both are extreams

eather hornet dies and radiance and little ghost get out

or somehow becoming a dreamer made it so hornet couldn't die like that so now the black egg is compleatly sealed off for good even if the radiance starts leaking again

(there is some inbetweens but for the sake of this im just looking at the diffrences between the "Good" option and the "Bad" option)

I mean. All the dreamers themselves seem to have seals of binding on them so I see where you’re coming with that, but the knight still has the dreamnail. Fucker could still kill her from there

[littlepurplewakiya]

I really want make a Kira playlist but I always get too squicked by the possiblity that someone will find it horrible & OOC and bully me for it but??? then I remember that the circle of everyone who even as much as acknowledges his existence at all consists of maybe 4 people and 5 lemurs in a trench coat pretending to be a person (aka me) and I honestly dk which is worse...

[cambriancruelty]

CAMBRIAN: being held closely by my dearest darlingest Peridot might not be able to solve my problems, but the world feels infinitely less insurmountable this way

[xyywrites]

Writing Grief Without Romanticizing It

Grief is raw, messy, and deeply personal. It doesn’t follow a neat arc or fit into tidy narrative beats. While stories often use grief as a dramatic device, romanticizing it can cheapen the emotional reality. Writing grief authentically means embracing its discomfort and unpredictability, not sanitizing or idealizing it. 

What Romanticizing Grief Looks Like

Characters who seem emotionally wrecked but always manage to look graceful in their suffering.

Overly articulate monologues that sound more like a eulogy than a real moment of loss.

Depictions of grief as a singular, cathartic event instead of a long, jagged process.

Romanticized Grief:

“Every day without you is like a piece of me fading away into a tragic, beautiful void. I’ll carry this pain forever, for it’s all I have left of you.”

This might be poetic, but it lacks the authenticity of how most people actually process grief.

Realistic Grief:

“I forgot your birthday. I didn’t mean to, but when I remembered, it was already too late. And then I hated myself because forgetting felt like erasing you.”

Writing Grief Authentically

1. Show the Physical Toll

Grief isn’t just emotional��it’s physical. Insomnia, headaches, exhaustion, or even the inability to move can be part of the experience.

“She woke up in the middle of the night again, choking on the air. Her chest felt like a cinderblock had been wedged inside, heavy and unmoving. It was three days since the funeral, and she still hadn’t slept longer than an hour.”

2. Let Grief Be Messy

Grief isn’t a perfectly linear journey. There’s no logical progression from denial to acceptance—there are setbacks, breakdowns, and even moments of denial long after healing has started.

“He yelled at his mother for throwing out the cereal box. ‘It was his favorite,’ he said. She didn’t remind him that it had been expired for months. She just handed him the trash bag and walked away.”

3. Avoid Glossy Sentimentality

Sometimes grief isn’t poetic; it’s ugly, blunt, and devoid of grandeur. Characters might lash out, shut down, or isolate themselves.

Romanticized: “I’ll cry every day, but I’ll keep going because you’d want me to.”

Realistic: “They said time would heal it. But it didn’t. Time just put more space between me and the life I knew before.”

4. Let Grief Manifest in Small, Unexpected Ways

Grief isn’t always about sobbing—it can show up in mundane moments: hesitating to delete a voicemail, holding onto an old sweater, or instinctively setting the table for someone who’s gone.

“She turned to tell him the joke, the one about the broken lamp, and stopped halfway through. The silence hit harder than the punchline ever would.”

5. Highlight the Absurdity of It

Grief can be absurd and disorienting. Characters might laugh inappropriately, obsess over trivial details, or feel disconnected from reality.

“At the funeral, all she could focus on was how crooked the flowers were arranged. She kept wanting to fix them. If she didn’t, she thought, none of this would feel real.”

6. Explore How Grief Changes Relationships

Grief doesn’t happen in isolation—it affects relationships, often in unexpected ways. Some people pull closer, others drift apart.

“Her friends stopped asking how she was doing after the first few weeks. She didn’t blame them; she didn’t have an answer. ‘Fine’ wasn’t a lie—it was just easier than saying, ‘I still can’t breathe when I see his empty chair.’”

7. Show the Longevity of Grief

Grief doesn’t end when the funeral does. Let it linger in your story, showing how it ebbs and flows over time.

“It had been five years, but she still called his number when something exciting happened. She didn’t know why. Maybe it was just habit. Or maybe it was hope.”

8. Allow for Moments of Respite

Grief isn’t constant agony. People still laugh, find joy, and go about their lives—sometimes feeling guilty for it.

“She smiled for the first time in weeks, and then immediately hated herself for it. It felt like betrayal, like forgetting.”

[zehecatl]

i'm not saying i'd kill a god for a lowpoly retro-styled video game where you explore an oilrig that defies the laws of reason and physics but. i would

[cas-spirit]

Give me more platonic affection.

Give me omega timeline residents approaching Asgores because they give the best hugs.

Give me Ink, learning about physical affection by observing people, having Blue explain the different ways people hold hands. Him tackling Top and Aster to the ground trying to figure out how hugs go.

Give me Dream who only cries when someone’s hugging him because it’s the only time he feels shielded enough to break.

Give me Nightmare and Error, who after years of working together, finally end their deals with a handshake.

Give me Blueberror who’s off button is any kind of physical affection.

Give me Core Frisk, still a child, clinging to people’s hands, holding a larger hand in both of theirs.

Givr me Nightmare falling asleep on a movie night and the rest of the gang can’t move because his tendrils lay on top of them like sleeping cats.

Give me Blue forcing his two semi-immortal friends into cuddle piles so they actually sleep for once.

Give me Fresh showing trust by letting people hold his head, so close to the eyesockets that hold his true form.

Give me Error and Geno readjusting to touch after the emptiness of their containments, telling the other that they’re there by knocking knees.

Give me Frisks in the omega timeline offering a shoulder to lean on for Charas, or anyone who asks.

Give me Underfell where the skelebros curl up around eachother to watch the other’s back, even in sleep.

Give me Outertales where handholding is common to make sure no one floats off into space.

Give me Gasters who use their many hands to give head pats to their sons/coworkers (Sans, Papyrus, and Alphys) as well as doing science work stuff.

Give me Nightmare who curls his tendrils on top of his subordinate’s heads like a strange pat on the back.

Give me Horror who will simply pick his teammates up and hold them like the wet cats they are.

Give me Cross who’s so unused to any physical affection he freezes up, and Killer using this to his advantage by grabbing his hand to distract him from the cow nearby or to get him to stop training for a bit.

Give me Nightmare laying a tendril over Dream’s shoulder to remind himself that his twin is there, and they aren’t fighting anymore.

Give me Dusts that will curl up on top of people like a cat.

Give me Inks who give surprise hugs to his friends.

Give me Errors who wrap his strings around people to give them hugs.

Give me Horror Papyrus becoming the center of hug piles in Nightmare’s gang because the boys miss their brothers a lot, and he’s the closest they’ll get with the gang’s reputation.

Give me Killer, just met Nightmare, and the baby goop clings to him while they explore the multiverse.

Give me Ink and Error pulling eachother along by the scarfs.

Give me Dancetale where duo dances end with a hug (or high five if too sweaty for a hug)

Give me Fell Papyrus holding Fell Sans’s hand out and about, using the excuse of making sure Sans doesn’t wander off when asked.

Give me post-truce spontaneous skeleton cuddle piles.

Give me Killer randomly tackling his teammates.

Give me Ink being so physically affectionate people think he’s flirting (he’s not).

Give me Papyrus calling Sans a cat while he curls up on his shoulder.

Give me Sans holding Geno’s hand carefully when things get a bit too much after his time of the Save Screen.

Give me careful fingers tracing the edges of Papyrus’s rarely-seen hands.

Give me Dust trying, and failing, to touch his Papyrus.

Give me Passive Nightmare’s ghost curling up around Dream’s shoulders like a purple boa, hugging him around the neck when things get rough.

Give me the gang curling up on Nightmare’s tendrils when he’s not paying attention.

Give me Dream learning about the different meanings behind touch after he breaks out of stone.

Give me Gaster’s who are almost too scared to embrace Sans and Papyrus incase getting out of the void was a dream, and Papyrus accidentally sending him to the floor with his enthusiastic hug.

Give me Undyines randomly carrying their Alphys around.

Give me Frisks who press their forehead onto people (Sans’s back, Papyrus’s thigh, Toriel and Asgore’s arm, Alphy’s side, Undyne hip) and lean on them.

Give me Frisks who randomly lean on people, almost falling over because Chara is a ghost and incapable of being my leaned on.

Give me Dust laying his head on Killer’s lap when Killer gets twitchy, because what’s he gonna do, move Dust?

Give me Error who’s glitching feels kinda like a massage, holding his hands to Nightmare’s back, Horror’s skull, or Geno’s wherever when they get pain.

Give me Ink who uses hand holding like a recalibration test after he goes blank.

Give me hand holding and head pats and hugs and cuddle piles.

Givemegivemegivemegivemegivemegiveme

[eggs-can-draw]

Im tiny determaned and have alot of teeth I can eat the void goop

IT WILL FUCKING KILL YOU THO

[deunmiu-dessie]

a paralysis demon plays with you at night, this time you're finally awake to see it.

you're not sure how it started. just that one day it did.

you'd wake up with sticky inner thighs and ruined sheets; the familiar pulsing of your clit, begging for attention almost overwhelming, and your muscles ached as if you had run a marathon the day before. tentatively you'd dip your hand into your panties, nimble fingers finding the hood of your engorged clit, eyebrows pulling together at the almost painful feeling it brought; then they'd drift lower, immediately sinking into creamy, wetness that pooled from your entrance and smeared your labia.

this perverse ritual had become your waking nightmare, weeks upon weeks of waking up to ruined panties and an insatiable hunger that couldn't be sated alone. frustration and tears intertwine, as your lithe fingers desperately caress and coax your clit but to no avail. it'd leave you cranky most days and unapproachable the rest.

what the hell was happening? at first, you believed it to be mere wet dreams, lost in the recesses of your mind. but the inability to find release, even with your touch or the mechanical hum of a vibrator, defied all reason. your sanity teetered on the edge, the constant ache and unrelenting wetness between your thighs, the demands of university, and the grueling hours at the fast-paced coffee shop on campus only exacerbate your torment.

breathe; you had told yourself. you just needed a day to sleep, in order to get back into the groove of your usual hectic life. and so, you make the decision to abandon your responsibilities, forsaking work and classes, seeking solace within the confines of your bed.

but that day you saw it.

as the night grew later, you found yourself slipping in and out of consciousness, struggling to keep your eyes open, you clung to the last shreds of wakefulness, determined to finish the movie that had lured you in with its promises of thrills and chills. the laptop, perched on your chest, emitted a faint glow, casting eerie shadows across the room. but despite your best efforts, the battle was futile. with a heavy sigh, you surrendered, closing the laptop and setting it aside.

that should've been it, you should have gone to sleep and woken up the next morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, no longer raging and horny, stressed and tired— just your normal self. yet, as if possessed by an unseen force, your eyes snap open, jolting your mind from the peaceful slumber you had so eagerly embraced, but not your body.

the room was cloaked in darkness, save for the feeble glow of a night light by the door. the time couldn't have been later than two in the morning, leaving you with ample hours until you needed to start getting ready for the day…so why were you up?

grunting you attempt to reach across to your desk and grab your water bottle, your throat suddenly dry and scratchy. but you couldn't move. in fact, your whole body felt numb, as if you'd been submerged in an ice-cold lake. you could feel the hair on your arms standing on end, your heart thumping painfully in your ribcage, desperate to escape from your chest and out the window just above your bed. frantic, your eyes darted around your room, flitting over the darkened corners and further on before subconsciously gazing upwards. it gazed back at you.

it was inky black, as if a void had materialized on your ceiling. barren of any discernible features, a foreboding presence emanated from it, sending chills down your spine. its limbs, neck, and torso twisted unnaturally, giving it a grotesque and elongated appearance. tears welled up in your eyes upon witnessing it, and you attempted to scream, only to find your mouth was sealed as if stitched with needle and thread.

the creature descended from above with erratic movements, settling above your figure and menacingly bringing its face closer to yours. this couldn't be happening, it must be a dream and in a desperate attempt to escape, you tightly shut your eyes and began counting backward from ten, gasping for air with each haggard breath.

however, a phantom graze on your thigh startles your eyes open. the creature was still there, its taloned, inky black hand slowly trailing along your clammy skin. even without a face, you could feel its gaze upon you, sinister and scheming. swallowing thickly, goosebumps follow in the wake of its touch, like tiny flames igniting your skin.

and almost as if accustomed to its advances, your body ignites with a dizzying heat, pussy weeping and your clit throbbing eagerly, readily despite your heart skipping and restarting all in one second with fear. its touch is tantalizing and deliberate, momentarily vanishing underneath your oversized night-shirt before returning to the heat of your thighs, talons pricking your flesh.

the creature's game finally comes to an end as it finds your fattened clit, which eagerly presses against the fabric of your panties, craving any form of touch. its assault is steady but firm and the touch immediately sets you off. your body, needy from weeks of being unable to orgasm, finally reaches its limit. you can feel the knot tightening in your tummy, a sharp, zinging pain in your lower abdomen, and the tensing of your thighs.

however, just as you approach your climax, the creature abruptly stops, shifting its touch to your slick inner thighs, face pressing closer to yours, leering and mocking. without the constant stimulation, your orgasm subsides, leaving you with a throbbing ache in your hips, cunt drooling with your arousal profusely.

your eyebrows cinch together, tears staining your cheeks before you're hit with a realization. the constant feeling of never being satisfied and not being able to cum, was because of this…creature.

its pitch-black visage suddenly splits into a sinister grin, revealing rows of serrated teeth gleaming with viscid, thick saliva. its voice is otherwordly deep, it's guttural, and raspy; fingers returning deftly to your clit to rub circles. "do you remember now?"

[xxcrystalinerose]

the older designs for the sibling trio, which i never posted outside of the HK discord, for some reason (???). featuring some annotations because i like infographics and slight vessel anatomy notes on hollow's. i'll redesign all these in due time. also, i've kinda wanted to make a fashion chart for all 3 siblings (spoilers: hornet is the one with the best fashion sense).

some notes on this AU:

it's set after the Embrace the Void ending where ghost did not kill any of the dreamers pre-ascension; as a result, characters like quirrel and lurien's butler are still alive.

however, despite the radiance's death and the seal over the black egg temple breaking, none of the dreamers have woken up.

hornet is left taking care of her long-lost, dying sibling, and recovery for them and the kingdom is difficult.

to add insult to injury, not long after the unsealing, the void sea began to rise for unknown reasons. if left unchecked, it would eventually drown hallownest, but no one is up to the job in a godless, dying kingdom. unless...

(it's a shame that ghost has no idea how to deal with godhood. if only someone could help with that).